Portrayal of America, Part IV

Camp T. Brady Saunders

A month later, Trevor finds himself at Camp T. Brady Saunders, waking up at the crack of dawn every morning. Before breakfast at the mess hall, his troop hikes to the demonstration field with thirty other troops from all around the state of Virginia to raise the flag and start the day properly. Waking up so early is difficult at first, but Trevor’s tent partner offers encouragement and motivates him to get out of bed. The afternoons consist of merit badge classes. Trevor has signed up for swimming, canoeing, rifle shooting, and cooking, and so have most of the other boys his age; therefore, they walk to the classes together, and Trevor finds himself actually enjoying the activities. Through the courses, he even grows closer to his patrol members. Swimming and canoeing are hard work, though. He has never been much of a swimmer, but the scout leaders in charge of the merit badge help him a great deal and ensure him he can accomplish whatever goals he sets for himself.

On the final day of summer camp, Troop 220 takes a four-mile group hike. The older boys lead the way, and the scoutmasters walk casually in the rear. Trevor has never walked so long in his life, and he doesn’t have the appropriate footwear to comfort his feet on the rugged terrain. He is struggling to keep up.



Looking back from the head of the group, Jonathan, a Star Scout, stops momentarily to see how everyone behind him is managing. He instantly notices the young newcomer, stumbling behind, sweat pouring down his face from exhaustion. A Scout is helpful, Jonathan remembers. He walks over to Trevor and doesn’t even bother to ask before leaning down and picking him up. Seated atop Jonathan’s shoulders, Trevor feels the heat surging through his muscles begin to subside. He gasps in relief and is gracious for this older scout’s willingness to help. Suddenly, he begins to see a whole other side to Scouting. If this is what being a Scout looks like, he realizes, it is something he wants. This is something he’s never experienced before. Why would an older guy like Jonathan want to help a little twerp like him? There is something special here.

Not long later, Trevor asks Jonathan to put him down. He wants to walk the last mile on his own, determination settling in. Jonathan complies with his request and sets him down, offering to help him again if he needs it. Trevor thanks him and continues the hike, joining the boys in his patrol. They finish the hike together.


Accomplishment

When someone earns the Eagle rank, Boy Scouts far and wide celebrate with him by conducting an Eagle Scout Court of Honor, a formal and exciting event, in which the scout is presented with the award and has the opportunity to thank all the people who helped him along the way. An Eagle Scout is a boy transformed, no longer the meager kid without a clue that he may have been upon entering his troop; he is now self-assured, responsible, knowledgeable, well-grounded, and ready for life’s challenges. Eagle Scouts also experience an assortment of advantages in later life, such as nation-wide recognition, an overall good reputation, and improved chances of being accepted into college, because the Eagle rank suggests the boy has initiative and determination to succeed. The Eagle rank is not easily earned, and most Scouts do not complete the requirements until their sixteenth or seventeenth year, if at all. A Scout has until their eighteenth birthday to be eligible for the rank. There are currently approximately 997,398 registered Boy Scouts in America, and only three out of every one hundred of those scouts will earn the Eagle rank. In ninety-four years of Boy Scouting in America, only 40,029 Eagle awards have been earned.

Portrayal of America, Part III

The Journey

The process of mastering the outdoors takes from two to three years. It begins with the ordinary rank of Scout. One becomes a Scout after attaining the proper uniform – beige by today’s standards, olive drab in the decades past – memorizing the Scout Oath and Law, vowing to live by it every day, and attending a camp outing.

The rank of Tenderfoot follows. By this time, the Scout is becoming more experienced in the outdoors, learning to build fire, use knives and other sharp tools with which to cut wood. He is learning to set up a tent and prepare a meal with a camp stove. He is learning to survive in the biting cold by a mummy bag and layers of clothing. In the summer, he learns to keep himself hydrated in the boiling heat while biking up and down mountain trails. This process continues through Second and First Class. It typically takes two and half to three years to reach the First Class rank and only after a Scout has experienced a wide variety of camping experiences. A Scout ranked at First Class is considered beyond proficient in the outdoors, resourceful for their age, and independent in many areas.


Camp T. Brady Saunders, Virginia – July 2004

Trevor has only been a Boy Scout for three months, and he despises every aspect of it. The meetings are boring. He doesn’t know anyone in the troop. And camping is, quite frankly, miserable. Trevor has no father, only a mother who desperately wants him to make friends and mature into a responsible, knowledgeable young man.

“I just don’t like it, mom!” the eleven year-old complains every Monday night after the troop meeting. “Camping sucks.”

Trevor is shy and doesn’t make friends very easily. Skinny as a beanpole, he’s frail and awkward during outdoor activities. He lacks the self-confidence necessary to help him endure hardship on camping trips, but his mother knows that this is one of the ideals the Boy Scouts focus on. If he doesn’t give up, he’ll grow confident. It is not a prerequisite for joining the organization.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Promise me you’ll go to summer camp next month. Promise me you’ll just give it a try. If you still don’t like it, even after that, then I won’t make you keep doing it. If you want to after that, I’ll let you quit.” Trevor accepts the offer only after a large degree of pleading.


The Journey

The rank of Star on a Boy Scout’s uniform denotes that he is self-assured, resilient, and familiar with being in a leadership position, such as Troop Guide or Senior Patrol Leader, whose duty is to oversee the Troop as a whole. Yet, a Star Scout is only beginning to understand the fundamentals of leadership. He is only beginning to grow comfortable in this new position, a position he still sees more suited for older men…adults. But he is becoming an adult, a man, whether he realizes it or not.

The rank of Life comes next and is one step away from Eagle. A Life Scout is in his prime, typically the leader of the troop and the go-to guy for serious problems amongst the younger Scout community. He assists in planning the camping outings, since the basic philosophy in the Boy Scouts of America is that the boys lead. He helps to train the younger boys, and he participates in the financial aspects of troop management. He sets a daily example by the way he lives his life, always doing his best to follow the Oath and Law. He is always prepared, as the Scout Motto stresses. He leads other Scouts in Patrol Leader Councils, their purpose in keeping the troop functioning as a whole. A life Scout is nearly at the end of his journey. Next is the final and most coveted rank in the Boy Scouts of America: Eagle Scout.

Portrayal of America, Part I

November, 2004

Out of sheer boredom, I found myself perusing my old word documents this evening and stumbled upon a college essay I wrote my sophomore year. The assignment was titled, "Portrayal of America," and I chose to write about the Boy Scouts of America, being fresh out of the program and a proud Eagle Scout. Anyhow, my writing skills are not that developed yet, but I think this is a pretty cool treatise on the Boy Scouts as an organization...how it came to be, what it stands for, and what it has to offer the youth of our nation. While all of the events depicted in the article are real, I took the creative liberty of changing names and details. Here follows Part I...


The Longest Hike

The Appalachian Trail – April 1999

At 7:30 in the morning, the sun sprinkles droplets of light through a canopy of overhanging tree branches. Beneath it, the boys of Troop 891 awake and crawl from the comfort of their tents and squint in awe.

“It’s a beautiful morning, boys!” cries a strong-looking man wearing a bright red fleece jacket, olive green shorts, socks hiked up to his knees, and a pair of well-worn, sturdy hiking boots. A dozen boys, ranging from the ages of eleven to seventeen, come out of their temporary homes, their hair in shambles and eyes sagging to their chins.

“The early bird gets the worm,” says the man adorned in traditional Scout fatigue, their Scoutmaster, Mr. Reynolds. The boys groan but know he’s right. They have six more miles to hike that morning – all up hill – and they hiked eleven the day before. If they intend to make it the distance, they had better consume a decent breakfast.

They split into their patrols – each with its own unique name – and the designated cooks gets to work on the meal. However, some boys are less prepared than others. Those who have not brought along the proper equipment mope around, kicking small rocks and stirring clouds of dirt. No one has been cheated here. It is their own fault if they’re unhappy. Some of these boys are learning self-reliance the hard way. No one is required to help them, but someone always does out of kindness.

It requires some time to take down their tents, shake the rain flies dry of the dripping dew, clean up their cooking utensils, and secure their backpacks with all their gear. Some boys have more to carry, because they have brought some items they did not need. With experience, they will learn to weigh the necessities. The boys sleep two to a tent; therefore, they split the weight when hiking. The younger boys are far less experienced when it comes to camping, and it is the senior Scouts’ duty to aid and encourage them in this new experience. Paul and Drew – both seventeen – are the oldest on this trip, nearly Eagle Scouts. After packing up their gear, they tend to the younger boys’ needs, and they do it willingly, because they remember when they, too, were young and needy.

In little over an hour, the boys are ready to go. Paul and Drew lead the Troop on this six-mile portion of the Appalachian Trail in Northern Virginia, with the scouts ages thirteen to fifteen trailing right behind. Mr. Reynolds takes up the rear with another volunteer scoutmaster, Mr. Haywood, in order to make sure no one is left behind. The youngest Scouts hike just ahead of them, awkwardly lugging their twenty to twenty-five pound external frame backpacks. Determined to prove themselves capable, they complain little and help each other along the way.

The six-mile ascent proves long and tiring, even for Paul and Drew. But they eventually reach the parking lot where their trailer and vehicles have been awaiting their arrival. Paul unfastens his waist belt and lets his pack slide off his back. Leaning against the trailer, he breathes in deeply before taking a huge swig of water from his indestructible Nalgene bottle. Realizing he has just completed another grueling hike on a tough mountain trail, he grins in satisfaction. It has been a weekend well spent, and he’s proven to himself yet again that he is up to the challenge.

The Linville Gorge: North Carolina's Wilderness Frontier

March, 2009 ~ North Carolina

Kenny and I are in the Linville Gorge Wilderness, lumbering up the Little Table Rock Trail, and let me tell you: it's a doozy.

We have come to this pristine wilderness for an overnight backpacking venture across exposed ridges, rocky slopes, and precarious outcroppings; it is among North Carolina's greatest frontiers. Our journey begins near the base of Hawksbill Mountain. We heft our backpacks and embark down the Spence Ridge Trail. The Linville Gorge Wilderness, west of Morganton, NC, is host to numerous trails, offering plenty of opportunities for day hikes and multi-day backpacking endeavors. But, being a wilderness area, the trails are unmarked, so a map and a plan of attack are essential. Kenny and I take a left onto the Little Table Rock Trail. It is early on, and we feel fresh. We have no idea how steep it will soon become.

A mile later, we stagger onto the first rock outcropping, where we are presented with an impressive view of the gorge. The Linville River snakes through the basin below and is surrounded by steep, rock walls. We have an obscured vantage on Table Rock Mountain, our destination. After a bite to eat, we carry on and quickly intersect the Mountains to Sea Trail, which takes us to the Table Rock spur.

The steepness increases. We push on, feeling the burn in our hamstring and calf muscles. It seems the higher we climb, the heavier our packs weigh. Gravity tries its hardest to pull us down. But, at the same time, the mountain emboldens us. It beckons to be explored. It lures us with its solid presence. This mountain is powerful.

As we reach the top of Table Rock Mountain and see the magnificent Linville Gorge in its entirety, our exhaustion and frustration vanish. This view was worth it. In the distance, we see Lake James, where they filmed some pivotal scenes for the film, "The Last of the Mohicans." On a sunny day, it would surely shimmer, but today the skies are overcast. The anticipation of rain has hung over us since we began our trek, but it looks as if the hazy clouds on the horizon are going to miss us. We are deeply thankful.

We explore the summit of Table Rock, recognize another spot from Michael Mann's frontier epic, and shoulder our packs for the return journey. What we just came up, we must now go down. While going downhill is easier on one's respiratory system, it is far more strenuous on one's knee joints. As we descend the mountain, I feel a burning sensation in my knees, a nuisance I have had to deal with since my hiking injury in '07.

Eventually, we reconnect with the Spence Ridge Trail and turn left towards the Linville River. A mile later, we arrive at the bottom of the gorge. The water is deep, and class III rapids rage up river; water gushes over rocks, and strong currents sweep underneath the two wooden bridges that cross the river. They are narrow and single-railed, so Kenny and I maneuver over them carefully.

As we enjoy the lively sounds of the water, we are greeted by several college students, whom we first encountered on Table Rock. The leader of their pack carries an empty liquor bottle, and - words slightly slurred - tries his darndest to convince us to sleep in "that sweet cave over there!" He points downriver, and we kind of nod, giving them something to get excited about, and they go on their merry way. Kenny and I quickly decide against sleeping in the "death cave," as neither of us are keen on being eaten by a bear or drowned in a flash flood.

Later, we hike a quarter mile back up the trail, till we find a suitable campsite by a babbling brook. There, we take a load off and reflect on our exciting day. Kenny soaks his feet in the cold stream, and I snap some shots of the water cascading over mossy stones. Building a fire proves challenging, since most of the wood is damp, but we manage, somehow, to get a fine flame going, and we pass the evening in its warm glow.

We wake up the next morning at 5 am; Kenny has an engagement to attend in Greensboro at 10 o'clock. So we hike the last mile of our journey in the dark, led by the LED beam of my headlight. For Kenny, this is a trip of firsts - his first backpacking adventure, his first taste of "backpacking food," which is always delicious when you're starving, and his first hike in the dark. By its indiglo light, my watch reads 7 am when we reach the car. As we load our packs and prepare for the return voyage, we thank God for his grace upon us. We are tired, but energized. Dry and joyful. We have been to and from the mountains, and we will surely return, because we were made for the wild. But for now, it is time to go home.