Wednesday, July 1, 1998 !
The hike up Baldy;
the Aztec Mine,
the Hail Storm
French Camp
and the Boys become heroes.

Wednesday, July 1, 1998 ' . The hike up Baldy; the Aztec Mine, the Hail Storm, French Camp and the Boys become heroes.
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The day began as had the previous three. We got up at 5:00 a.m. as Andrew had arranged. We ate breakfast and reviewed our gear. This would be the first time that we would not have to break camp, but we did need to pack our gear for a hike. The adults also reminded everyone that they should check their tents to ensure that they would withstand any rain while we were gone. I checked the rain fly of my tent and made certain that Jr.'s and my saddle bags and boots were placed under it.

I also took a sweatshirt in case it got cold at the top of Baldy, which, at 12,5001 was likely to be far cooler and more windy than where we were-some 20001 below. I carried two water bottles and also brought along a backpacking shower device, which held about a half a gallon of water. Given the heat, the altitude and the exertion we would encounter during the course of the day, my biggest concern was that we all had enough water to drink.

Andrew took charge and led us back through Baldy Town where we stopped to fill all of our water containers. The trail up Baldy started immediately on the outskirts of "town." It was just after 6:30 a.m. when we got started.
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For the benefit of the adults, the group maintained a slow to moderate pace for the first couple of hours. The trail was quite smooth and easy to follow and, while steep in places, the footing was solid. The differences between the physical capabilities of middle aged men and teen aged boys began to manifest themselves as the hike progressed. The boys were eager to press on to the top while the advisors continued to suck wind. Finally, a compromise was reached. Andrew and the eight other boys would hike at their pace to the top while the three adults would follow at a pace more appropriate to their sensibilities.

When this compromise was reached we probably were less than a mile from the Baldy summit. The boys immediately moved out and soon were out of view. Tony, Jim and I adopted a deliberate pace with frequent stops to rest and soon reached the part of the mountain from which its name is derived. We were now above the tree line and had entered a vast expanse of rock and dirt. Until this point, the trail had wound around the mountain. From now on, we would be hiking pretty much straight to the top.

The steepness of the trail increased noticeably. About a quarter of a mile ahead, we could see the 9 boys eagerly ascending. I moved ahead to a position about halfway between where the boys were and where Tony and Jim had last stopped. That way, I could keep everyone in sight-at least until we got close to the top.

I found it difficult to go more than a hundred yards or so without having to stop to catch my breath. I'd hiked at altitudes above 10,0001 before, but I don't think I'd ever done so at this height-and certainly not in the last 15 years. The knowledge that the entire remainder of the trip would be downhill after we left the Baldy summit, however, kept me going.

The boys appeared to be nearing the top as the trail veered to the left. Tony and Jim were about a quarter of a mile behind me and were making steady progress. I lost, sight of the boys a short while later and did not see them again for almost a half hour when I reached the top. I've climbed a few mountains and have always enjoyed the sense of accomplishment upon reaching the summit and viewing the surrounding countryside from a superior vantage point. That sensation was magnified ten-fold from the top of Baldy. What a magnificent viewl The rangers had told us that we could see land in four states-New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma and Texas from up here. There was even a rumor that Kansas was visible on rare occasions, however, I figured that would be difficult to substantiate given the reality that most people have no way to prove that they're looking at Kansas even when they are within the state boundaries.

We could see snow capped Rocky Mountain peaks, the Spanish Sisters and endless vistas of desert plains in every direction. It was very windy on top. The legions of prior visitors had taker. steps to alleviate the problem by constructing walls with the tons of loose rock which were scattered on the summit. Most of us picked up a rock or two to keep as souvenirs of our climb.
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There were several other groups at the summit when we got there. Some had hiked from Baldy as we had, while others had hiked up from French Camp, our next destination. We had encountered one group of trekkers on our way who had hiked up before dawn to observe the sunrise from the summit. That must have been spectacular. We met another group whose objective was to climb all of Philmont's peaks during their 12 day trek. Now, those guys were some serious backpackers I expect to read about them sometime conquering K-2 and Everest on the same expedition.

our aspirations were not nearly so lofty. We were content to reach the top in good condition and with sufficient time to complete the rest of the day's itinerary. Tony and Jim reached the top about 15 minutes af ter I did. We took a number of pictures, rested awhile longer and headed down the opposite side of Baldy toward French Camp and the Aztec mine.

As noted earlier, the top portion of Baldy is mostly rock and loose rock at that. We had followed a trail up the south side of Baldy and, while steep at times, we did not consider it to be particularly difficult. The trail down the opposite or north side of the mountain was a different matter altogether. Not only was it significantly steeper, it was cut through loose rock, making the footing difficult and frequently treacherous. The initial half mile of the trail from the summit was virtually straight down-at least a 40 degree grade-through loose rock. With each step, a minilandslide of rock and dirt would ensue; my foot would slide a foot or each time I planted it.

Again, the boys did not appear to mind the footing as much as the adults. occasionally, one would lose his balance and fall on his butt, however this did not appreciably slow their progress. They were excited about reaching an area of u=elted snow, which was along the trail about a quarter of a mile from the summit, and were not about to let a little loose rock deter them. I, on the other hand, was not enjoying the composition of the trail nor its steepness one bit. My knees were hurting and I found that, when I lost my balance and fell, my ability to -bounce- back up- was decidedly inferior to the.boys' capacity-in this regard.

After the initial quarter mile or so of steep descent, the trail appeared to level off somewhat and follow a trough back down into the trees. I expected, or at least hoped, that the going would get easier after we got through this first phase of the descent. Before I could wallow too long in my perceived misery, the boys called out and directed our attention to a brown, furry creature descending the mountain side a quarter to a half a mile ahead of us. Yes, we were observing our first bear in the back country.

Although we had been warned about significant bear activity at every campsite we'd visited, we had not seen one. The bear we observed while climbing down Baldy was reddish brown and appeared to be significantly smaller than the black bears which frequent the Sierras. We subsequently learned that Philmont rangers referred to the local bruins as -mini-bears" and that a patch bearing this nickname had been created several years ago. In any event, this bear was negotiating the Mountainside with far more aplomb than the senior members of the cavalcade and he soon disappeared from sight.

When the adults reached the snow patch, a full-blown snowball fight was in progress. Of course, a few -errant- missiles smashed in our general vicinity. More troubling than the snow, however, was the realization that we had not reached the end of our descent through the loose rock. In fact, after a brief interruption, the loose rock continued for as far as we could see into the valley-at least another mile or so.
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The nine boyg continued the descent about a quarter of a mile ahead of the adults; far enough away that neither group could hear the other complaining At my instruction, the group took a detour to the left to follow what appeare 'd to be a better trail. David Fisher tried to warn me that this was not a good idea but I was too stubborn to listen. Fortunately, I was the only one to suffer any consequences for this bad decision.

The detour trail, while it was mostly dirt, was a lot steeper than the rock trail we had been following. It also was right next to a small stream and, consequently was muddy and quite slippery. I lost my balance and fell several times, completely ripping out the lef t bottom of my hiking shorts on one occasion. I must say that the rip significantly improved my ventilation and I'm sure that everyone appreciated the viewl To say that our patience and good spirits were beginning to wane at this point would be something of an understatement. We were getting tired, seemed to be getting nowhere and were not exactly certain how much farther we had to travel before we redched French Camp. It was after 1:00 p.m. and we knew that we still would have to hike back to Baldy Town that evening. We'd been told that the hike back was relatively easy; however, that's what we'd been told about the hike into French Camp and it was proving to be a nightmare.

Our morale got a slight boost when, at last, we reached the end of the loose rock and the trail resumed a more reasonable appearance. Our concerns about our timing and return to Baldy Camp persisted, however. We decided to stop for lunch at a campsite which was supposedly about an hour's hike from French Camp. Peanut butter and jelly squeezeables and some kind of fruit bar.

As we were eating it began to rain softly. This was a relief more than anything else. We did not mind getting a little wet and figured that the showers would pass quickly. We could see clouds building up behind us, however, and a thunderstorm appeared likely. We were glad that we were not on top of Baldy at that moment.

After lunch, we resumed the hike to French Camp, the boys again maintaining a substantial distance ahead of the adults. We had not traveled very far when we came to a point where the trial diverged. Scott and several of the other boys were leaning against a post while the other boys seemed to be waiting for the adults. I guess I should have expected that something was amiss since the boys were waiting for us, but I did not pick up on it. Instead, when the adults reached the boys, I simply told them to keep going in the direction they'd been heading.
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Several of the boys-notably, Scott and Jr.-inunediately said okay and started heading off in the direction which I had indicated. Alex alerted me to the fact that I might want to check out the trail sign around which Scott had been draping himself only moments before. When I did, I noticed that the trail to French Camp veered off to the left. Continuing in the direction I had instructed the boys to take would lead us directly back to Baldy Camp.

I saw red! The boys apparently were content simply to head back to Baldy Town instead of continuing the remaining distance to French Camp. I was disappointed both by their lack of fortitude as well as the deceitful way they had elected to avoid fur.ther effort. Granted, we were all tired, frustrated and not a little irritable. Such characteristics commonly are associated with exertion at high altitude and are to be expected during hikes such as they one we were making. They appeared to be "wimping" out and I had expected more from them.

Initially, I was tempted to let them do what they wanted and simply head back to Baldy Town. After all, the Cavalcade was supposed to be the boys, expedition. The adults were only along for the ride, so to speak. When I considered, however, what I'd just gone through-the hike down all that loose rock, my ripped shorts and aching knees, I decided, boys' trip or not, I was not going to hike all of the way down the back side of Baldy just to hike back to Baldy Town. If that's all that we were going to do, we should have turned back when we reached the top. We were going to make it into French Camp now no matter how long it took us to get back.

I communicated this to the group in a rather terse fashion and I suspect that my tone of voice reflected my anger and frustration. No one offered any resistance and we pressed on. As I look back, that moment at the sign post was the nadir of the trip. our group reached a symbolic as well as a literal "crossroads" at that point. Later events confirmed that pressing onward to French Camp was the correct choice, but we did not know that at the time.

The next mile or so of the hike was quite steep as we descended along a stream. My only thoughts at this point focused upon whether I was being too stubborn in continuing the hike and wondering whether we would have to hike back up this same steep trail on our way back to Baldy Camp a few hours later. I tried to put such thoughts out of my mind, but was not successful.

Just about the time that I had concluded that we'd be hiking for the rest of our lives, we arrived at the trail head for the Aztec mine. French Camp was still about a quarter of a mile away. Now we could concentrate on something other than how tired and frustrated we were and how long would it take us to get back to Baldy Camp.

The trail to the mine took us over some interesting terrain and we had to cross a small stream by walking across a fallen log. This log was rather slippery and, speaking for myself, anyway, prompted no small amount of caution in traversing. The boys did not seem to notice any potential risk as they scooted across. The adults were decidedly more deliberate, however, every one made it to the mine entrance safely.
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When we got there, a young man in overalls and a black hat was puttering about. The entrance to the mine was a large hole in the mountainside-8-10 feet in diameter. Not more than ten feet inside, a wooden door controlled further access to the interior of the mine. A set of railroad tracks extended some 30 feet outside the mine and continued inside and under the door beyond our view. Two or three small ore-carrying cars were parked on the tracks outside the mine.

We milled about for about five minutes as we checked out our surroundings. The thunderclouds which we had first observed about an hour before were continuing to build and it had begun to rain softly. We were not very concerned. A little rain was not going to af f ect us. Besides, it would be nice to be cool for a change af ter the previous days of unrelenting heat.

The young man in charge of our presentation introduced himself with the singular moniker, Monkey Tool. He told us that was not his real name, but that is how we were to address him. A monkey tool, apparently was an instrument of great importance to the mining trade-unfortunately, I don't remember what purpose it served.

Monkey Tool gave us a brief history of the Aztec Mine. In addition to what has been related above, we learned that the Aztec Mine was the most profitable mine on Baldy and that it still contains an estimated $20 million in gold. The hitch, according to Monkey Tool, is that extracting the remaining gold would cost more than its fair market value, so it sits there untouched.

We had come to the mine to take the tour. In that the rain was beginning to resemble a downpour more than a shower, Monkey Tool wasted little time having us grab hard hats and directing us inside the mine. In true Cavalcade tradition, the boys went in first with the adults bringing up the rear. I was last in line.

The inside of the mine was very damp and cool. We walked along the main shaft a distance of about 50 feet or so before stopping. Monkey Tool had a flashlight as did several members of the group. There was no independent light source in the mine. The height and width of the shaft varied. Typically, however, the ceiling was a little over 6 feet and the shaft width was 7-8 feet. Wooden be s had been erected every 10 to 15 feet to provide structural support. We quickly learned to duck low when passing beneath these supports. In the dim light of the shaft it was difficult to see anything and, even wearing the hard hat, bumping into one of the beams was a painful experience.

We walked in a single file line. Wooden planks had been placed on the floor to make walking easier. Otherwise, we likely would have tripped on the railroad tracks. Monkey Tool explained how the gold mining was accomplished. Two man teams utilizing a long metal shaft as a drill bit and a sledgehammer as a driver would "drill' a circular pattern of holes about 6 feet in diameter. A dynamite specialist would then place explosive charges in each of the holes, fixing the detonators and fuses so as to achieve the desired effect. When everything worked properly, a symmetrical hole about four to six feet deep would be created.
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The goal was to drill into the mountain side until a vein of gold was discovered. In essence, the miners accomplished this by removing the rock surrounding the vein. This was back breaking and frequently very dangerous work. Occasionally an explosive charge would not detonate. When this happened, someone had to go back to the site and either set it off or replace the charge-sometimes with tragic consequences.

Miners faced dangers from deadly gas (they kept rats to alert them to dangers-when the rat began to leave an area, that was a signal for the miners to follow suit.) They also risked injury or death from cave-in, explosions and the dangerous equipment they were required to utilize. For example, imagine being the person holding the metal drill shaft-using your shoulder to support its weight-while your partner strikes it with an 8 pound sledge hammer, each blow landing within a foot of your head and in lighting on par with a dark alleyl Talk about your substandard working conditions.

According to Monkey Tool, most of the men who worked in the mines did so primarily to have food and shelter, which the mining companies provided. Makes one stop and think about the lives these men must have led prior to coming to the mines if they preferred such an existence. Life expectancy for a miner was rather abbreviated.

Monkey Tool described the various jobs which had to be performed in the mine and showed us how and why the shaft was constructed. For instance, going into the mine, the shaft was on a slight uphill grade. This kept water from collecting on the floor and made it easier for the ore carriers to be pulled along the rails by donkeys.

We walked deeper into the mine as Monkey Tool continued his presentation. He had us turn out all of our lights so that we could see certain phosphorescent minerals in the rock walls. We could also discern some gold flakes. While the lights were out, Monkey Tool explained that all miners had to be prepared in the event that a cave-in occurred. Remember, it was pitch black while he was saying this, and, as the words "cave in" escaped his lips, we heard a deafening, metallic crash!

of course, our initial reaction was that a cave-in had in fact occurred. The sound gave us all quite a start-and in some cases, I'm certain, severely challenged bladder control. In any event, a few moments later, Monkey Tool advised us that we would now have to "muck" ourselves out of the mine as any miners in our predicament would have to do.

We then learned that "mucking out" required the person closest to the mine's entrance-in this instance, me-to face in the direction of the entrance, place his right hand against the wall and his left hand above his head until it touched the ceiling. The person directly behind me-Jim Fisher-placed a hand on my shoulder and the person behind him placed his hand on Jim's shoulder until everyone in our group had followed suit. Then, using my hands against the wall and the ceiling to guide me, and calling out all turns and low points, I slowly led the group back in the direction we had just come.

We had been in the gave approximately 20 minutes when we started to "muck" out. During that time, we had heard occasional rumblings of thunder. We did not give it much thought, figuring that it likely was raining outside and that the storm likely would have passed by the time we reached the entrance. The rumblings continued as we "mucked.-
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As noted earlier, the walls of the cave were quite damp and cool. It was not long after we commenced the slow trek out of the mine that my hands and fingers became slimy and numb from the continual contact with these surfaces. Additionally, my left arm grew tired from having to keep it continually above my head. We progressed steadily if slowly. The group maintained surprisingly good spirits and no one seemed overcome with claustrophobia.

After about 15 minutes, I saw what I thought was a flashlight way up ahead of us. I initially thought that Monkey Tool had somehow gotten well in front, however, the light did not move. It finally dawned on me that what I was observing was the legendary light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, the light was emanating from around the door to the mine's entrance

In another 5-10 minutes we reached the door and after warning everyone to guard their eyes, I opened it and walked back into the daylight. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight which I beheld at that moment. In every direction, for as far as I could see, the world was draped in white!

On the ground and dripping f rom the trees was a sea of ice-hail to be exact. During the forty minutes or so that we had been exploring the mine, a hail storm of inunense proportions had taken place. At least four inches of the stuff had accumulated on the ground. The trees were encased in white and the whole area had taken on the appearance of a winter wonderland. The situation caught us all entirely by surprise and we were dumbstruck for a few moments.

When the boys did react, it was apparent that this unexpected turn of events had wrought an amazing transformation upon them as well as the surrounding countryside. Although the hail had stopped, it was still raining and the temperature had dropped at least 25 degrees since we had entered the cave. Did the boys complain or whine about being wet or cold or the prospect of having to trudge thro ugh slush and ice for the rest of the trip? Most emphatically no! The boys appeared energized by the hail storm and became far more animated than they had been during the last few hours. No longer were they pouting about having to hike so far; they seemed genuinely excited by the challenge of dealing with the ice. We came together as a group at that moment, in my estimation.

We left the mine in high spirits and headed on to French Camp. This had been another settlement during the height of the gold rush and offered several buildings similar in construction to those at Baldy Camp. The place was pretty deserted when we arrived, everyone having sought shelter from the weather. Two program offerings were available-a blacksmith demonstration and gold pa=ing. As it was after 3:30 and we still had to get 'back to Baldy Camp and fix dinner, we decided to participate in only one of these activities. Given that the blacksmith demonstration took place under cover and the gold pa=ing did not, the choice was an easy one. In addition, the blacksmith forge gave off a lot of heat, which would be welcome to the members of the group who had not brought along any outer wear. (Again, nothing like the back country to provide tangible consequences to decisions made by individual members of the group!)

The black smith turned out to be from Great Britain and we occasionally had difficulty understanding him because of his heavy accent. He was pretty good natured however, even when Chris Bosch lost his sun glasses in a vat of oil used to cool the red hot metal from the forge. (Actually, it was just the glass lens, which Chris was allowed to retrieve).He guided the boys as they made a decorative -S" hook with twists. everyone got a chance to work with the hot metal and Andrew was awarded the final product upon completion.

The rain had stopped for the most part by the time we completed the blacksmith activity. We got additional good news when one of the rangers advised us that the return trip to Baldy Camp was a relatively short and level one along a road.

The boys advised the adults that they intended to maintain a very rapid pace back to Baldy Camp and we gave them our blessing to leave ahead of us, requiring only that they stay together. They readily agreed and soon were out of sight.

The three adults were happy to let the boys depart on their own. We figured that they'd keep themselves wa= with movement and that they'd be a lot happier without us slowing them down.

We followed a dirt road around the western side of Baldy Mountain and found the going to be exactly as advertised: fast and level. It was a novel experience walking through slush in July and, although our feet were getting a bit wet and cold, I think that we were so relieved that we would not have to hike back up through loose rock that we hardly cared.

occasionally, we would come to a fork in the road, and at each one, the boys had constructed sign posts to indicate for us the direction they had taken. It seemed pretty obvious which way we needed to go, but it was reassuring to know that the boys did not want the old guys to get lost.
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After about 45 minutes we passed a camp site which I knew to be relatively close to Baldy Camp, having seen it marked on a map of the area. We had not traveled more than a hundred yards f rom that point when we encountered a group of backpackers heading along the road in the opposite direction. One of them inquired whether we knew anything about a boy suf f ering f rom hypothermia. As these were the first people we'd encountered since we left French Camp, we did not know what they were talking about.

They told us that a group of scouts had reported that someone needed immediate medical attention. of course, our immediate thought was that one of our boys had gotten hurt, however, upon further reflection, we thought that possibility remote because we had not encountered anyone along the way-and we'd been following their tracks for the last hour. Unless they all fell of the road en masse, we didn't see how we could have missed them. More likely, in our view, the person in trouble was from the campsite which we had just passed.

We continued along the road and, soon, could see Baldy Town, and the horse corral some distance away and below us. We figured we were probably a little more than a mile away. Although still a bit concerned by the news we'd received a short while back, we chose to believe that our group of nine boys would stick together and, if someone did need help, they would have figured out a way to handle the situation. our faith in them was rewarded a few moments later.

The remainder of the walk back to Baldy Town was uneventful and passed rather quickly. Tony took some pictures and we continued to marvel at the winter like scenery-it soon had become apparent that the hail storm had hit the southern side of Baldy with even more intensity than it had hit usl Hail stones the size of golf balls had pelted the horses for almost 20 minutes, Jeremy later told us. He had come close to turning them loose to find their own shelter.

It was about 4:45 p.m. when we strode back into Baldy Town. At first, we were a little concerned because the place seemed deserted-no sign of the boys. After a minute or so, however, they all poured out of the museum where the rangers had made a big pot of hot chocolate. They teased us about being old and slow and then proceeded to tell us how, as they passed the campsite a few miles back, A scoutmaster had informed them that one of his scouts was suffering from hypothermia and needed immediate assistance. Jr.,Scott, Chris Bosch and one or two of the other boys volunteered to run back to Baldy Town to get help. The rest of the group followed a short distance back.

Jr. is an accomplished high school track performer. Scott, Tom and Justin also are good athletes. The other boys did not allow their lack of training to stand in their way, however. All nine of them virtually ran the entire two miles or so back to Baldy, informed the rangers of the situation and made certain that help was sent immediately. That was the group the adults encountered as we were walking back.

All of the boys clearly were pumped up about what they had done. The run had warmed them up and they were really energized when we got back. They appeared so confident and almost impervious to the elements. It should be noted that there were a number of backpacking groups that were encamped with us at Baldy Town. These guys appeared almost demoralized by the chain of events. Where our boys were joking around and making light of the hail, the rain and the cold, their counterparts from the other groups had something of a glazed look in their eyes. A couple of the adult advisors even asked the rangers to drive them back to headquarters campi And these were the same guys who always made it a point to emphasize that Backpacking treks were far more strenuous than Cavalcades.

They might be right about that, but they sure weren't any tougher than I can say without equivocation that watching how the boys handled the adversity of the hail storm, how they united in their efforts to help a scout in trouble and how they dealt with being wet and cold that evening was my proudest moment of the Cavalcade. Although we had accomplished most of what we'd set out to do up to that point, we came together as a group when we -mucked- our way out of the Aztec Mine only to discover that the world we'd left behind had changed completely. The boys changed, too-most decidedly for the better. Not only did they respond successfully to a difficult challenge, they thrived on it. All nine demonstrated the hearts of champions
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Jeremy was as proud of the boys as I was and, believe me, he let the rangers in charge of the various backpacking groups know it. My only regret was Jeremy's and the other rangers' continued insistence that no campfires would be permitted. Normally, I would have proceeded anyway-after all, I did not think that the fire danger was particularly high given that there was three to four inches of hail on the ground and a light rain was falling. I made the tactical mistake, however, of suggesting a campfire in the presence of Jeremy and several rangers as well as the boys and was told that this would not be permissible. As idiotic as that seemed to me, I felt that I had an obligation to obey the rangers-wouldn't want to set a poor example for the boys. So, other than the stoves, there would be no fire.

Although disappointed about not being able to have a campfire, which I thought would be useful in keeping everyone in good spirits as well as warm, we did not make a big deal about it. Jeremy told us to get dinner prepared as quickly as possible and to "bivvy down" in our tents and sleeping bags without staying up too late. Frankly, we did not have many other options-unless we wanted to stand around in the dark in the slush. Without a camp fire, there really wasn't much that we could do.

We picked up the two water jugs that we'd left in Baldy Town that morning, filled them along with all of our water bottles and headed back to our camp site. Having learned of the size of the hail stones that had pelted Baldy Town during the storm, we all wondered what we'd find when we got back. Did our tents and personal gear survive the onslaught?

We passed the corral and our horses appeared calm and none the worse for their recent ordeal. I'm sure that they'd experienced worse-remember, they spent the winters here as well. We found it reassuring to know that our "rides" were in good shape. Now, all we had to find out was whether our stuff was dry. The prospect of spending the night in a wet sleeping bag was something none of us wanted to contemplate.

When we arrived at the camp site, we were relieved to see that the bear bags were exactly as we'd left them-dripping a little water but otherwise alright. The cooking area was covered by slush, requiring that we rinse out some pots and pans, but this, too, was no big deal.

Next we walked the hundred yards or so to our tents to see how they had weathered the hail storm. At first glance, things did not look too bad. Most of the boys' tents were sagging noticeably, but none had collapsed. Some of them had not properly stowed their gear-boots, items of clothing, etc.-and this was pretty wet. All in all, however, we'd come through the storm in pretty good shape.

Andrew got the group working on dinner and, while that was in progress, the adults went around and helped the boys get their tents back in order. As explained previously, all of the tents had rain flies, which, if utilized properly, kept the tents dry and liveable-neither too hot nor too cold.
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Previously, the boys had demonstrated very little concern about the rain f lies and some had not bothered to use them at previous camp sites. Although they had all set up the rain flies at Baldy, none had done so properly and that is why their"tents were all pretty wet when we returned. The adults' tents, on the other hand, were quite dry. I attribute this to the fact that, being older, we'd all learned the hard way why it was so important to put the rain flies up the correct way. Now the boys had learned the same lesson. (Note: Human beings, unlike other species of living things have the capacity to learn from the experience of others; not just themselves. I've often wondered, however, if that applies to teenagers!)

Jim, Tony and I went f rom tent to tent and helped the boys address any problems with their tents and gear. The rain had stopped and a gentle breeze was blowing. By getting the tents and rain flies set up properly, we were able to start getting things dried out. Some of the boys would have to sleep in damp clothing,

but things appeared quite tolerable. More importantly, the boys proved to be a very rapt audience that evening. The adults did not have to nag or plead with them to listen as to how they should go about doing things to avoid getting wet and cold.

Dinner went very well. The medicinal and morale building impact of a wa= meal was very much evident. The act of preparing and consuming a hot meal together distracted us from worrying about being cold and wet or having to spend a long evening in damp clothes. I think that we all recognized that creature comforts would be in short supply that night and, rather than bemoan that reality, we all simply decided to concentrate our energies upon things that we could control.

The boys were generally in goo d spirits-I did speak to one or two of them about looking on the bright side of things, but no one appeared to be overly depressed about the turn of events. Alex led a group of them in a circle walk-for what purpose I never discerned and the Piedmont contingent-Scott, Tom and Justin-demonstrated an unknown Native American Snow Dance-or so it appeared.

We ate, cleaned up, replaced the bear bags on the cable and retired for the night at around 9:30 p.m. We'd accomplished a great deal, both literally and figuratively, during the previous 15 hours or so and welcomed the opportunity to rest. The boys may have had some doubts, but the adults knew that fatigue would fade,, bruises would heal and wet clothes, shoes and sleeping bags would dry. The lessons that we had learned, the maturity which the boys had gained and sense of pride they had developed in overcoming.a series of difficult challenges-we hoped would stay with them forever.
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