Continue to the final day
Day Eleven, Cathedral Rocks to Tooth of Time
We were up again at first light and moving quickly to get the bear
bag down, tents struck, and breakfast finished. We left another
clean campsite and were on the trail. I believe we were energized
with the knowledge that we had unburdened ourselves of excess gear
the night before.
There was some uncertainty as to which trail to take from the
reservoir. We made a decision and set off at a good clip and
soon came to the Clarks Fork of Bear Creek. Clarks Fork Camp is a
horse camp. When we arrived the wranglers had not yet finished
their breakfast, which gives you an idea of how well our crew was
functioning this morning.
We met a young lady staffer at this stop that was here from Bend,
Oregon. She told us that her decision to come to work at Philmont
was made when her and her family were looking through a list of
summer camps for employment opportunities. Her dad become very
excited when the name Philmont came up because he had hiked here as
a scout years before. She said he was so excited that he got her
excited as well so she decided to come to Philmont. She told us she had
not regretted the decision.
It was reported that no other crews had passed by this morning so
we were fairly certain that our sister crew had camped farther
along the trail at Upper Clarks Fork Camp as they had planned. We
also expected this to be the last good opportunity to get good
water until we got back to base camp. We knew that Tooth Ridge
Camp had no water and that the spring at Shaefers Pass was not
dependable. We drank all we could and filled every container we
had that would hold water and hit the trail. We were confident
that we had made a good decision to stay with the original plan to
camp at Cathedral Rocks the night before. Our suspicion was that
the sister crew would have had to come back down to Clarks Fork to
get water before striking for the pass. Upper Clarks Fork Camp was
only a mile away, so we figured that would have been their plan.
When we came to Upper Clarks Fork we could see where they had
probably camped, but they had already moved out. We continued up
the trail half expecting to see them at any time.
Before we reached the pass we could see Shaefers Peak on our left.
We could see people near the top and what looked to be tents or
tarps spread out. None of the equipment looked like it belonged
to our sister crew, but it was too far away to be certain. Would
they have hiked all that way yesterday?
We quickly came to the pass but didn't see anyone so we were
uncertain as to where they might be. No one was in need of rest
and we had plenty of water, so we decided not to stop, but to press
on to the steep climb up Shaefers Peak on our left. We had not gone
far when we looked back and saw the other crew. They had continued
over the other side of the pass to where the spring was supposed to be
located and had stopped to get water. We had passed them and could
see that they were shouldering their packs to follow us up the peak.
We rested briefly on the climb a few times to catch our breath but
still managed to make the summit ahead of the other crew. When
they reached the top we were having some lunch and had pretty much
caught our breath. Our crew put their heads together and decided
to move out immediately and give the other crew the summit.
The trail along the ridge is very rough, with a great deal of rock
hopping over sharp lava. We were glad that Ted didn't have to
struggle with this section of the trail. I was finding it painful
on my feet whenever I had to step down off of a boulder.
We passed the marker that someone had placed on the trail in
memorial to a scout that had died some years past. The marker is
weather worn and difficult to read now.
When we came to the Tooth of Time it looked like it might try to
rain. We decided to not make that climb at this time in case a
storm should hit. Tooth of Time ridge has been hit many times by
lightning and we did not want to take the chance. We could try
later in the afternoon or the next morning. The better plan was to
get to our campsite and get ready for the storm if it was going to
hit.
Sure enough, before long it began to rain on us. This was the only
time that it rained while we were hiking with our backpacks. We
dug out the rain gear and headed for the lower elevation where we
would set our last trail camp at Philmont.
In a few hundred yards we came to a kind of saddle and could see
that this was the camp area. We knew we could have the choice of
campsites because we were ahead of everyone. After setting our
packs down we took some time and looked around to make sure we got
a good site. We found what we were looking for about a quarter of
a mile off the trail to the south.
It was an expansive park land under tall Ponderosa Pines. At various
places there were oddly shaped protrusions of white rock sticking out
of the ground like frozen beasts. The native Americans had called
those kinds of rocks "Skookums," and they indeed considered them to
be creatures frozen in time. The Skookums gave the park an air of mystery,
but they were beautiful. We chose a site at the edge of the park where
you could look out across the plains of Eastern New Mexico. The
sunrise should be magnificent from here. We could also look down
on Tent City in Base Camp. This would be my favorite campsite for
the whole trek.
We went back to the saddle to retrieve our backpacks. By this time
the other crew had reached the saddle and had begun to set up their
camp. They had gone up the Tooth of Time before coming in to camp
and seemed overly tired and irritated. We left them to their task and
returned to our chosen place farther out in the park.
Our rain fly and tents went up quickly. I placed my Sphinx tent
right at the edge of the bluff with the entrance facing the open
expanse. I would be able to lay on my sleeping bag and look out my
front door at the plains for what looked to be a hundred miles.
This was perfect.
I had carried a small American flag with me that had been given to
me by the crew of 1988 when I had first been to Philmont with my
oldest son Alex. Each of the crews chiefs had been given one on
this trip also, but we didn't often display it. This was such a
beautiful camp and since it was our last trail camp I felt moved to
put my little flag up. The red, white, and blue fit quite well
with the natural colors of the park.
I gazed out at the flatness of the plains which were in stark
contrast to the mountains and valleys that we had been hiking
through for the last 11 days. The colors were soft pastel, fading
and merging into the sky on the far off horizon. Above me to the
right were several rock piles of black basalt that rose up about 20
feet. There were a few small pines scattered around the rock piles
and some of the scouts had already gone up to check out the view
from those points. They reported to all that it was awesome. Off
to my left were pillars of the dacite porphyry, white in color as
is the Tooth of Time itself. This is the substance of the
laccoliths or "skookums" that are scattered through out the park.
They are inviting exploration as well.
Aaron came over to visit from our sister crew and to get away
for awhile. He reported that his crew had spent too much time
trying to locate the spring at Sheafers Pass and when they did
finally find it that it was just a tickle. Then when they saw our
crew come along they had decided to try and catch up to us on the
trail up Sheafers Peak. Consequently they didn't get enough water
and were in pretty tight straits.
Aaron visited with us for quite a while, sharing stories and
concerns. It was pleasant for Stewart to have his son in camp.
They had agreed to be in separate crews so as not to interfere with
each other on the trek. I could see that they both enjoyed being
together for a while.
After a time the sky darkened again and let loose with more thunder
and heavy rain. We just sat it out under the rainfly and went
ahead with the preparations for dinner. We were used to this by
now. Someone noticed how much rain was pouring off of the rainfly
and wondered just how fast a water bucket could be filled from it.
We quickly set out several pans and buckets at the corners to watch
the fun and in no time at all they were all filled. We had collected all
the water we could use in our only dry camp of the trek.
This turned out to be very good for our sister crew. We decided to
visit them as Aaron had visited us and take them some water as
well. I remember the expression on their faces when we handed them
several buckets full. They had been concerned about their shortage
and were very thankful for our gift. We told them about the beauty
of our camp site and some of them later came over to see for
themselves.
The sun was out again and had turned the park all golden and brown
with the dry grass and red bark of the Ponderosa. The fresh smell
of the pines after the rain had fallen was pungent to our senses.
I remember hearing a voice from one of the scouts, but could not
see where it was coming from. I looked up and there at the top of
one of the thin columns of dacite porphory, perhaps 100 feet up
stood one of the scouts. I couldn't believe he had climbed what
looked to be a nearly vertical rock face to that height.
It was Aaron. I got Stewarts attention and told him to look where
his son was. He had the same disbelief that I had. A number of us
immediately went to see how this was possible and for the next hour
and a half we climbed and explored the many crevices and nooks that
were all around those giant skookums. On the side away from our
camp the slope was not so steep. These are all more or less
miniatures of the famous Tooth of Time. In fact, this ridge is
often referred to as the "Gums of Time" because of all the "teeth"
of dacite porphory that have been exposed from centuries of
erosion.
This evening there was a lot of mixing between the two crews. It
was our last night on the trail and I could sense many different
feelings in all of us. Some were weary from the physical effort we
had put out. There were many sore feet in the group. There was
talk of the pop and ice cream that would be found in the snack bar
at base camp. There were also those that, if possible, were ready
to reverse the trek and spend another 12 days in this high mountain
air. Many were thoughtful, reflecting on what we had been able to
accomplish as individuals and as teams.
Some of us had climbed to the top of the basalt rock piles to watch
the eastern plains darken. There was a lightning storm moving
across the open expanse far to the east. It was so far away that
no sound came from it, only the occasional flash that would
brighten the clouds for a moment, then role around like a pot at
slow boil. Below us the lights of base camp were coming on. We
could pick out the Seton Memorial Library as well as the cafeteria
and other buildings of base camp. We thought we could identify the
lights where the opening campfire was being held for new arrivals
to Philmont. Out on the plains we could see where the lights moved
along the Interstate. All of this was so far away that it seemed to
be in another world. We had not yet been pulled back into it.
By the time we were ready to turn in for the night it was quite
dark around us. The black basalt that we were on was part of the
night and we had to feel our way back down to camp. The rock had
been gathering heat for most of the day inspite of the heavy rain, and
was warm to our touch as we worked our way off this high place and back
to our tents.
It was also warm in the tent and I just lay out on top of my sleeping
bag for awhile. Zach and Luke had remained on the rock pile after
the rest of us had left and I could just catch a few of their words
coming down in the dark. If I looked very closely I could just see the
two friends outlined against the stars that were beginning to brighten
the sky with their own light.
It rained briefly during the night and I awoke at the sound. It
was a comforting sound and not at all threatening. I remember
hearing the sound of coyotes calling to each other from the
darkness. Then I went back to sleep.
Day Twelve, From Tooth Ridge to Base Camp
I was awake at first light. Stewart, Luke and Kelsey got out early
to hike to the top of Tooth of Time to watch the sunrise. They
reported later that it was a great experience. I regret that I
missed that event. At the time I needed just a tad bit more sleep.
However, I did watch the sunrise from the top of the rock pile.
This was our last day on the trail and I felt myself hanging back a
bit. Breakfast was easy and the tents came down with out problem.
Zach was a little slow and Luke got his goat by collapsing the tent
on top of him.
At 7:45 we hiked out through the park and joined the other crew
where the main trail crossed the saddle. When everyone was ready
we started down the the ridge towards base camp. Other crews had
entered the park late the day before and all now seemed in a hurry
to get down the trail. Not me, I am one who wants it to last as
long as possible.
This part of the trail gets a lot of use and has grown wide. The
farther down we went, the wider the trail became. I suspect many
day visitors to Philmont make this hike to the famous landmark
above.
The pines soon give way to juniper and sagebrush. This continues
to thin out and Cholla Cactus with reddish blooms begin to show up
at the lower elevation. Jonathan is also hanging back with me and
I tell him that the Cholla is often called "jumping" cactus because
of the way a slight breeze will make it "jump out" and leave a
passer-by with thorns in his hide. As an unexpected example, I
accidentally brush a cactus and collect one of those proverbial
thorns. It was a teachable moment. Now I know why cowboys wear
chaps to protect their legs while on horse back.
Out on the prairie we can see Webster Lake and a farmer working on
one of the Ranch fields. I can't tell from here what the crop is,
but it is bright green in contrast to the natural desert tan.
The trail follows the crest of the ridge but far enough to the
north side that we are out of site of base camp until we reach the
bottom. Jon is going very slow now and the rest of the crew has
gone ahead and are out of eye sight around the end of the ridge. I
encourage him that we only have a short way to go, and before long
come to a gate that tells us we have arrived back at Base Camp.
It is 9:00am when we begin our processing back in which takes us
until 2:30 to complete. Processing includes returning all of the
gear and tents that we had checked out from the quartermaster when
we arrived 12 days before. We are assigned tents in the area that
is set aside for crews returning from their trek. Our neighbors
look lean and strong like us. It is quite easy to tell who the new
crews are when we visit the cafeteria for lunch. They move slower
and their shirts and boots are too clean. Our scouts stand out
with trail worn clothes. The older boys are all sporting some
facial hair. My own beard seems to have grown some as well.
At some point I get a chance to see why Jon was slow on the trail
at the end. He has developed huge blisters that cover the whole
bottoms of his feet. I am amazed that he didn't complain about
them. They must have been extremely painful. My feet don't feel
bad at all now after seeing his.
I think a number of things contributed to Jon's blisters. Over
the course of the trek we had lost excess fat which made our feet
shrink some. Also, our boots were now well broken in and in some
cases were slightly larger. In addition, our wool socks were
about worn out and had become thinner. As a precaution, we should
have been wearing newer socks at the end or at least doubling up
on the socks.
It takes us awhile to be reunited with Ted. He had been busy and
having a good time. The Rangers felt sorry for him and treated him
very well. We are all glad to see him and glad that his ankle is
feeling better.
After we finished our processing and had our fill of ice cream from
the snack bar we take some time to visit the Ernest Thompson Seton
Memorial Library and Museum. I am fascinated by the large
collection of books that have been written through the years about
scouting. My own collection seems very small by comparison.
We also walked down the road to the Waite Phillips Villa to take
the guided tour. It has been kept much as it was when he lived
here and entertained guests on his ranch from the early days.
Portions of the mansion are now used for leadership training. As
we walked the grounds we met scouters from all over the country who
had come to learn or just to revisit an important part of their youth.
After the tour of the Villa we went over to the Trading Post where I
purchased Philmont paraphernalia such as patches, books, maps,
shirts, etc. to help us remember our experience.
In the evening we sat at a table for dinner, the first time in 12 days.
We have all had at least one shower since arriving back at base
camp. Some have had more than one. We are tired, but looking
forward to seeing family and having home cooked meals again.
At dusk most of us are back in our tents getting things packed up
for the trip back to Oregon. A flock of Nighthawks have been
diving for insects over tent city and random ground squirrels have
been trying to steal candy from the tents.
The closing campfire program was an awards assembly and reportedly
serves to reintroduce us to civilization. We are reminded that
modern conveniences exist such as flush toilets, electricity, and
VCR's.
Towards the end of the program our crew leaders, Kelsey and Rusty,
were called forward with their patrol size American Flags. The
Advisors were then called to stand behind them, at which point the
flags were ceremonially presented to the Advisors. Mike and
Stewart accepted the flags for our crews. As I reported earlier, I
had received one from my crew leader in 1988, and have carried it
with me on every campout and backpack trip since that time. That
small backpacking flag has special meaning for me because of my
experience at Philmont. Kelsey and Rusty also received a packet of
the special Philmont Arrow Head patches to be given to each of the
members of our crews. These patches are not for sale, and no scout
who has received one is ever likely to give it up.
After the campfire program some of us wandered over to the snack
bar to watch the heavy trading in patches. The collectors were
there in strength with shoe boxes full of patches and photo albums
with plastic display sheets. They sat at the patio tables, on the
rock walls around the patio, and some even had space on the patio
stones as well. It was interesting to see all the different
patches and to see the action of the barter. Some patches were
worth more than others. The Oregon Trail patches that we wore were
in high demand to the right trader. The patches from scout
councils in the south western states were more common and so they
often didn't trade well.
When I returned to our tents things were quiet. All of the noise
came from the new crews that had not yet been out in the back
country. At base camp, Stewart and I again shared a tent. The
canvas of the tent was warm from being in the sun all day so we
again left the ends open to let the cool desert air come in. Tent
City indeed seemes like a small city. But, even with all the
people that go through base camp each day it was still a nice place
to be. I drifted to sleep thinking of the campfire program and
deeply aware of the sent of sagebrush hanging in the air.
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