The bus stopped abruptly in the traffic lane. Following a meandering road along the Russian River, and then the Cazadero Highway, the bus driver must have been hypnotized by the curves in the road. Or maybe he was just really focused on not crashing? Whatever the case, the entrance to Camp Royaneh was half a bus length back, and the line of cars was already forming behind us. We got out and tried to manage traffic so that the driver could do something like a 3-point-turn, but the impatient July 4th weekend drivers would have none of it. They passed the bus on a double yellow line, and into a blind uphill curve. What could possibly go wrong there? After most of the cars cleared through a more patient driver held off the remaining traffic and the bus was able to negotiate the turn and exit the highway. The scouts had finally completed their 2.5 hour bus ride and arrived at Camp Royaneh.
My 3rd Boy Scouts of America camp in less than 1 calendar year; this one felt the most like a traditional summer camp. The kind that "Meatballs" movie might have been based on. Nestled in the hills comprising the Coastal Range in Sonoma County, this camp had all the dust, poison oak, and pine trees you could handle. The tract was actually a former redwood grove, with plenty of young-skinny redwoods and lots of old stumps to prove it. Down by the creek at the foot of the camp one could even get that enchanted forest feeling. But the heart of the camp was mostly cleared and quite sunny. The weather was nice upon arrival, but you could tell it was the kind of place that would feel hot when the weather shifted.
We carried our bags to our campsite and got the usual inspections, injections, neglections, detections and selections. We filled out all the forms on the Group W bench and checked to make sure we were, in fact, the same scouts we said we were. I must say we were a bit puzzled at the timing and organization of the registration and swim test, but in the end the boys were all checked in. We were ready to begin our stay in camp.
About that campsite, it was situated nicely on a hillside with a clearing and horse pasture below, allowing for lots of daylight. There were plenty of oaks and bay laurels in the vicinity but three redwoods centered and grounded the site to a fixed location. Our troop had used this specific site before and, for good reason, picked it again for this trip. The whole camp was built on a downward sloping hill and our camp was in the middle of the hill. The chow hall and parade ground wasn't too far. It was also close enough to the pool and a short walk to the hilltop where all the fun shootin' stuff was (black powder guns, rifles, archery, and trap shooting)
But I fancy myself to be a hiker. So, once the scouts were in good shape, my first move was to get a map and locate the good trails. I had ordered maps from the USGS but, apparently, the 7.5 minute maps had to be printed to fill my order. [I am back from Camp at home now and the maps still aren't here!] So, I had to rely on the available maps at the Camp administration building. The maps looked o.k., so I took a cartoon-like version and another version with topo lines. I also learned that there were cairns placed around the Camp and if a person signed into the notebook inside of each cairn, there was a pewter boot to be awarded at the end of Camp. Moreover, if during the course of the week one ran a combined total of 14 trail miles and signed all of the books in alphabetical order, then one could be awarded with an orange pewter boot. Challenge Accepted!
Boy Scouts is a great program for young men. For those who don't understand the organization, it is based on many things, including an oath, a law, a motto, etc. But in large part the day to day life revolves around two concepts known as "The Scout Method" and "The Patrol Method." The reason I bring this up is, that if a troop is being run well, the Assistant Scoutmasters (Me) should not actually have to run around after the scouts all day long and bark orders, maintain discipline, etc. The best adult leaders handle transportation and logistics, account for safety, handle administrative functions, contribute wisdom and guidance when needed, and help the scouts get their advancement requirements signed off on. The scouts themselves elect a leader and, based on their patrols, a chain of command is established. The organization unit gives orders, follows orders, and helps answer any questions that arrive during scouting. Yes, it is quasi-military. It is a bit more complicated than that, but I am writing this to provide some general philosophical perspective. A troop that features a bunch of unruly scouts being harried by shouting adults is probably a dysfunctional one and breaking most of the principles of good scouting.
My son ran unopposed to serve as the Senior Patrol Leader (SPL) at this Camp and I could not be more proud of him. Having done a lot of his growing toward adulthood, the 15 year old stands at 6'3" and towered over many of the younger 11 year olds. I don't know if it was his physical presence or pitch-perfect demeanor, but the boys worked very well as a unit and his leadership was notable in light of prior trips. Sorry for gushing, but it would be a greater act of malpractice to fail to recognize his good leadership. Yes, a lot of credit also goes to the new crew of scouts who just came over from being Webelos and behaved well in Camp, and to the capable lieutenants who helped my son shepherd the herd.
But in addition to good scouts we also had a good crew of adults. My fellow scoutmaster Robert was particularly well-suited for the occasion. An Eagle Scout himself, Robert has led many scout trips and had led this same trip to Royaneh a couple years prior. He knows about all the knots, all the basic fire and knife skills, and has the patience to sit in camp and teach the boys how to negotiate the first couple steps in the trail to scout advancement. We also had another new Assistant Scoutmaster Doug, who was very helpful and quick with a camera, feeding updates to the moms and dads who couldn't make the trip, but were anxious to see how their boys were doing. Another dad Paul also chipped in his time and was appreciated around the camp.
The reason I bring up the SPL and my fellow Assistant Scoutmaster is that they were so good at what they did that I had time to sneak in and out of Camp during the day, hitting the trails. I just looped my runs so that I would come through Camp frequently enough to check in on things, and then otherwise trust the patrols to do their job. By the end of the first day I had negotiated my way along improved trails, unimproved trails, and roadbeds to check off about 1/3 of the cairns in the Camp.
The second day featured an early rise from bed. After getting breakfast I made sure the scouts were headed in the right direction and then hit the trails. I immediately set out for a cairn marker on the southwest corner of the property. This marker was named on the map "Lonely Tree-0" and I was trying to guess what exactly that name might mean. Was it three trees, set lonely on a hill? Was it a certain type of tree, set lonely among other species? I couldn't be sure. But after several hours of looking and a hyperextended knee, I decided that I must have been doing something wrong. So, I returned to camp to ask the staff. [I edited this part]
[I was going to give up on this post because my summer was so hectic, but after POTUS gave such a ridiculously political speech at the BSA Jamboree, I changed my mind. Scouting is a great experience for young men, and I am happy to be a part of BSA. Like any organization, there are a lot of folks with different views, and a lot of jackasses. But I am not BSA's chief apologist, I am going to keep making the organization better by leading by example.]
There were four adult leaders on out trip and one of them was Paul. Paul has a son who is a scout and Paul also has a job that keeps him busy. It was all he could do to take half the week off to help the other leaders in our chaperoning duties, and we were grateful for his sacrifice. He was getting bored of sitting around camp too, so he agreed to go with me on my quest for the "Lonely Tree-0" cairn. We headed down the trail. When we arrived at the suspected location, we bushwhacked relentlessly. Because of the known inadequacies of our map, I should have asked camp staff very specific questions about the exact location of the cairn, with respect to known knowns. A good question might have been "How far, in inches, is the cairn from the trail?" I didn't ask this because other hikers told me they had to bushwhack to find it, so I assumed that it was at least 5 yards off the trail. In listening to those other hikers, I abandoned a principle that I had held for decades - Don't trust information about trail conditions coming from other hikers unless you have separately made a credibility finding about those people and you trust them. This usually involves more than just a passing conversation.
Turns out, it was in a tree that was directly adjacent to the trail. Paul and I never found it that day. It would take a return trip the following morning with another dad, Doug, to locate the suspect tree. I know what you are thinking at this point, how is a cairn in a tree? Don't get me started.
Having located the most difficult cairn, the gang returned to camp, ate lunch, and then I proceeded on my own to knock off the rest of the list. Victory was at hand within a day. By Thursday night, at flag ceremony, I was expecting my awesome pewter boot, but they must have been out of orange spray paint, so I had to wait. Frankly, I didn't care if I ever got it, I was just happy to have done what it takes to earn it. I also went on to catch a small steelhead in the stream below the camp on my fly rod, earn the Daniel Boone pewter trinket for shooting various weapons, the mountain man pewter for throwing axes and building a fire, the polar bear pewter for jumping into a cold swimming pool early in the morning, the knife pewter for peeling an apple skin off in just one piece, and the thunderbird pewter for just being a dad in camp. I could also have earned the craftsman pewter for making a woodcarving. I forgot to pick it up, but that is fine, I have my woodcarving and, again, the activity was the goal, not the jewelry.
In the end, I am too old for scouting and will never earn a merit badge, but I am always a kid at heart and for a time, I was having some fun at scout camp.
Then, there was the last night. It was a dark, stormy night, except without the storms. I went to sleep just fine and was thinking about the return trip home. At about 3:30 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of something sniffing and digging. When you have spent as much time in the woods as me you can pretty much tell from the sounds an animal makes about what size it is. I had this one pegged to be a raccoon. I was set on ignoring it and letting it pass, but it really was right next to my head on the opposite side of my tent platform. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute, I got up, stepped off of my tent platform, and shone a light on the suspect critter. Curses! It was a skunk! Worse still, it was digging up a wasp nest! Over the course of the two prior days a couple scouts had been stung by the yellow jackets that were nesting in holes around our camp. I was alarmed that an entire nest was now stirring. Worrisomely, the angry wasps were now attracted to my flashlight. So, I quickly turned it off. There I stood, in the dark with angry wasps swarming about, and a skunk about ten feet away from me. The skunk was being stung by the wasps as he dug up their nest. There were a lot of things that could possibly go wrong here. I could not shew the skunk away and there was no screened-in structure where I could hide from the wasps. I went and sat on a picnic table until the dust settled. After a short while the skunk left and I returned to sleep. The next morning I did a damage assessment and discovered a battle scene that looked like a draw. The skunk didn't appear to have found the nest proper, only digging a few inches deep.
We saddled up on our bus the next morning and drove home. The driver took a nice turn through wine country and we got back on schedule. There were plenty of other parts to this story, but in the end it was a successful trip. I was very grateful to my friend Robert who worked tirelessly on advancement matters with the scouts so that I could chase cairns and run from wasps!
