Our last full day at Northern Tier was by far the coldest.
Not because of the temperature.
But because the camp took away our clothes.
The camp had supplied the boys and me with the proper clothing to wear (fleece pants, insulated outer pants, wind pants, fleece shirt, insulated jacket, snow boots, etc.) but had us return them at 3:00 the afternoon before our departure. This left us to deal with the elements in nothing but our Texas clothing. Yes, we still had thermal base layers, heavy jackets, hats, facemasks and gloves, but they offered little in the way of protection against the snow and zero-degree weather. Because of this we spent most of our remaining camp time inside our small cabin.
This lead to all kinds of trouble.
Boys complained about having to stay inside, not having Wi-Fi, and the smell within the cabin. They passed their time moaning, getting on each other’s nerves, and doing all they could to add to the horrific stench of the cabin by way of forced flatulence.
I could hardly wait for lights out.
The next day saw us say goodbye to Northern Tier. We left Minnesota and drove back to Texas stopping only for gas, gas station food, and to sleep in Minneapolis and Wichita. It was a grueling three-day ordeal. My mood lifted considerably when we reached the church parking lot and I was able to send the boys home. The boys thanked me, their parents thanked and pitied me, and I drove home.
I walked inside my house and straight to the refrigerator. I pulled a Miller Lite, popped the top, and drank it in less than a minute. I belched then started another beer. I walked to my humidor, grabbed a cigar, and lit up. I killed that second beer then began my third. I paused to contemplate bringing in my belongings from the van then thought better of it and had another beer.
And then another.
And another.
And another.
I spent all of the next day outside enjoying the sunny 75° day. I shaved my beard, smoked cigars, and drank beer. It was a perfect day of recovery.
Until my phone alerted me of the next activity. It read, “Six months until Boy Scout trip to Philmont.”
The thought of spending two weeks hiking upwards of 20 miles a day in the mountains of New Mexico with the same group of boys I’d wintered with left me with a sudden sinking feeling of dread and despair.
I drank another beer and tried to put the trip ahead out of my mind.
For your viewing pleasure, a short video of the author’s return to civilization. https://www.facebook.com/authorGayneYoung/videos/1997231790355013/
A very special thank you to Dr. Richard Allen for loaning me his Air Force issued survival coat. I’m sure it saved my life.
Want to help Troop 137 reach Philmont? Or to see Gayne suffer some more? CLICK HERE to donate!