Lost:
I joined the Boy Scouts near the end of sixth grade. Being a Boy Scout meant you had taken your first steps into the realm of adult hood. I was now to be given a taste of some of the freedoms and responsibilities that came with it. However as this story relates, responsibility can be a dangerous weapon, especially if it is in the hands of one with little experience in the adult world.
There were about six or seven guys in the pack I belonged to. We were all new recruits and our first order of business was to elect a leader. I do not remember how the selection process was handled but I think we went by age and elected the oldest member. As new members I don't think any of us were too anxious to take the lead reins. After the droll business of electing a leader we got down to the really important business of coming up with a name for our pack. I am sure we must have debated heatedly over different names but from that day forth our pack was known as the Cobras. The world had to take us seriously; you could not easily ignore someone called the Cobras.
Learning what being a Boy Scout was all about and preparing for an upcoming camping/canoeing weekend trip occupied our first several meetings. This trip would offer plenty of opportunities to earn badges. Badges were earned by mastering different skills such as canoeing, knot tying, fire building, etc. Respect and admiration went hand in hand with the amount of badges a scout displayed on his uniform.
The day of the big trip was finally here and after what seemed like eternity (about a 45 minute drive) we arrived at the campgrounds. Everyone was excited about the canoe trip and there were alot of us here. It was not just our pack but all the local Boy Scout packs in the area. It was going to be a great weekend of canoeing, earning badges, hiking and exploring the woods. I could smell it, adventure waiting around every corner.
After depositing our gear at the campsite we drove to the point on the river where we were going to launch the canoes. The sight and sound of the running water made the anticipation unbearable. I wanted to hop in the canoe and go. Surprise and disappointment; the scout master informed us only scouts who had earned their swimming badge would be allowed to go canoeing. The Cobras and a few other raw recruits absorbed this with stunned silence. I guess in our preparatory meetings we did not study the prerequisites for the canoeing badge. There was no finger pointing but I was glad I was not the leader of the Cobras. All though this was a big disappointment, I figured there was still plenty of adventure waiting to be discovered in these woods.
Unfortunately the scoutmaster who was in charge of all the packs had a different idea. This man was not human, he was some monster created to torture scouts. He barked out commands like a marine drill instructor. The second we got back to camp he had us comb the entire campground for litter. Not the smallest shred of litter was to be left on the ground. Each piece of litter I picked up increased my desire to be done with this trip. Just because I did not have a swimming badge I was left on shore to pull litter patrol. This seemed hardly fair. A stern voice broke me from my dark thoughts. There was no time to waste the drill instructor wanted the tents pitched and there was only one way to do it so we better pay attention. This was no camping trip it was a labor camp. The morning wore on this way jumping from chore to chore but finally the drill instructor relented and we were given some free time.
It was early afternoon and there was still a couple of hours left before the canoes would reach the landing spot. It was a very hot and humid summer day. A few of the dads who had come along to help supervise on the trip were going to go into town to get some cold drinks. My dad happened to be along for this trip and it was decided at his suggestion that the other dads would drop us off at the landing spot on their way into town. He was not one to let an opportunity to go fishing pass him by. In two seconds my dad had his fishing pole and tackle and was ready to go. He loved to fish and I think that was one of the main reasons he came on this trip.
The fishing like the rest of the trip so far was rotten. For a solid hour we threw everything in my father's tackle box at the fish and didn't even get a nibble. We still had an hour to kill before the canoeists were scheduled to arrive. If the fish weren't going to bite we would just have to find other entertainment. We accomplished this by throwing the rocks along the shore at the different objects that came floating down the river. Sticks were battleships, leaves were small ships and points were earned by direct hits. My dad was of the same opinion as me regarding the scoutmaster. He believed a camping trip was to be enjoyed, not to be a labor camp. There was one particularly large stick that came floating down the river. I don't remember which one of us yelled out that this was the drill instructors ship but as soon as this was declared it suffered a bombardment of rocks like none of are other targets had.
This got to be old after a little while and I think my dad was relieved when the other dads drove by to take us back to camp. There was still about a half hour left before the canoes would be arriving, so I was volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye out for canoeists. When the dads got back to camp they were going to send a couple of the other land-ridden scouts to help me keep watch. My reinforcements arrived shortly and after about forty minutes the lead canoe was spotted. Upon seeing this, one of the scouts dashed back to camp to alert the dads.
All of the canoeists were glad to be on land again. They looked tired and hot from their day’s journey. They also shared another common trait-they were beet red. Every last one of them was sunburned. The canoes were loaded in the vehicles but before we were able to depart a lady approached the group. Apparently there was some dispute about whether the landing spot was public or private property. The canoeists all groaned in unison. They just wanted to get back to camp and collapse but here they hand to stand and wait while this dispute was being resolved. One of the scout leaders realizing this asked me to lead the canoeists back to camp while they settled this dispute.
Sure, I replied confidently. I was given charge to lead all the canoeists, adults, and scouts alike safely back to camp. I may have replied confidently but I had never taken the trail from the landing spot to camp. I was dropped off here in the car and had not really paid to much attention to the route. The only thing I remember that it was a windy dirt road. The problem was that all the roads in this area met this description. My plan was simple, just remain on this road and wait for the vehicles to catch up. At the time it seemed like a good plan. Really no need to admit I had no idea where I was going.
We had been walking for about a half hour and I thought it strange that the vehicles had not passed us yet. I knew camp could not be to far from the landing site because the scouts who kept watch with me were back with the dads in about 20 minutes after the lead canoe was spotted. Some of the scouts began complaining and were wondering if I was taking them on a site seeing tour. Not only were they tired and hot but they were also very thirsty. This condition must have worn down there patients because they began to ask how much further camp was and if I was sure we were going the right way.
Panic was beginning to set in but I was not ready to give up my bluff. Being resourceful, I decided we needed to back track. My excuse to the group was that I believed we were supposed to turn off at the last intersection we had passed. There was always the possibility that this was true. Well this went on for about another hour going back and forth up the same trail investigating the different cut off's. After we had back tracked two or three times, one of the adults took over and instead of sending the whole group up a trail, two scouts were sent ahead to investigate. The game was up, it became apparent to everyone that we were lost and that I had no idea in which direction camp lay. Fortunately for me the canoeists were worn out from the day’s journey and were eager to get back to camp, otherwise I think at this point they would have scoured me on the spot. There patience was at an end. This unplanned hike with the sun beating down on their sunburned bodies was more than they bargained for.
Back at camp they must have realized something had gone wrong because for the last hour they had search parties looking for us. It was one of these search parties that finally located our wayward group. A great whoop went up and everyone was ecstatic to be found. All in all we had been lost for about two hours. Apparently in our wanderings we had passed the cut off to camp several times, which was only about ten minutes from the landing spot. Of course, since I had never seen this cut off because I had been dropped off at the landing spot by car from the route going into town, I had no idea what it looked like. Hence the reason why we passed it up so many times.
As soon as we got back to camp they attacked the water coolers with a vengeance. Now that their thirst was satisfied everyone back at camp wanted to know what happened. It was at this point I decided to make myself scarce. I took refuge in one of the tents. It was not long before they began their search for me. The whole time they were looking for me I could here them yelling threats. Dehydrated, sunburned, tired, and angry scouts are not a pleasant site to see. They were very determined in their search and they found me hiding under a sleeping bag in one of the tents. At this point a couple of the larger scouts hauled me out of the tent and stretched me out on top of a picnic table. With my arm and legs pinned down someone yelled Burleigh bonfire and soon everyone in the group was chanting this. Burleigh bonfire, Burleigh bonfire . . . . After a few minutes they did let me up. They said they were just having some fun with me and not to worry about it. Although latter in the night I did keep my distance from the campfire to play it safe.
That is the story of how me, a mere 6th grader lost an entire troop of seasoned Boy Scouts. Also to end that day on a sour note every individual pack was responsible for cooking there own dinner. I will not go into details but due to inexperience, suffice it to say the Cobras and any dad that accompanied them went to bed that night with no dinner. I was not ready for the adult world and the adult world was not ready for me. My dad with his empty stomach whole heartily agreed with me on that one. |
