624-Oscar-8

Day 1:

5:00 am. That was the time we had to wake up. That was the time we double-checked our backpacks to make sure we each had our fair share of twenty pounds of food and troop gear.

I stepped out of the tent and closed my backpack. We sweeped out the tent to fulfill the boy scout principle of 'leave no trace' and placed our backpack back inside, to keep them safe while we had our last meal before venturing into the mountains and canyons beyond us.

We were served sausages and hash browns, complete with maple syrup and our choice of either orange juice or lemonade (I chose lemonade over the juice because I could). It was a delicious meal, by camp standards at least, but for some reason... I felt as if it was to be the last meal before the execution.

I shook the thought off 'It was just nerves. We're hiking eighty-one miles in twelve days.' I looked around at my friends. I doubted if any one of them wasn't scared out of their minds about this. This was bigger than anything any of us had done. Just outside the mess hall we would be able to see the famous 'Tooth of Time'; just days away from that moment was the infamous 'Mount Baldy'. The elevation of the Tooth of Time was only 9,000 feet (Base Camp was a relatively flat 8,700). The elevation of Baldy was 12,440 feet, the tallest point on Philmont property.

We left not long afterwards. We filled our water bottles, pulled on our packs, and climbed the small, crowded school bus that smelled of sweat and fish (for some reason). We merged into the highway and began driving. By now, the sun was high above our heads, and shining through holes in the patchy clouds. Angelic rays of light grazed over the buffalo plains and scraped across the tallest mountains.

Out, miles away in the distance, I could see the peak of Baldy. It stood higher than any other mountain. Silky white snow rest on the very top of it, but besides that, the rocky top was clear of any trees or vegetation. It seemed bald, hence it's name.

Three rangers stood at the front of the bus to accommodate the three crews that were in the bus. There was 624-Oscar-2, our sister crew that we would be tailing (or, more likely, they would be tailing us) and 624-Alpa-3, who was taking a completely different itinerary, and we would not be seeing each other again until we returned to base camp twelve days from now. Our crew had been given the identity of 624-Oscar-8.

We passed the small town of Cimarron, and merged onto a dirt road leading into the canyons. Most of the drive was off-road. For an hour, we climbed higher and higher, driving next to what looked like a dangerous fall if the bus tipped. Fortunately, there were no accidents. The bus finally came to a stop at a point called 'six-mile'.

We exit the front of the bus and were instructed to go the back, where the packs had been stored. The scouts formed a line and we were each passed a random backpack by the rangers inside. I, by sheer luck, was passed my own backpack out of thirty others. I thought that I was lucky that I was given my backpack then, but that was not the last time I would be happy, taking my backpack into my own hands.

The second our backpacks were unloaded and set into three lines, the rangers told us they knew how to make the packs disappear: We all stood by the backpacks and placed our hands on them, then on three we would pick them up and put them on. When the ranger said the word "three" we all swung the backpacks onto our backs. I buckled under the weight of fourty pounds being hoisted onto myself all at once.

Our sister crew took off without any hesitation, hoping to get a head start on us, making their way down the road to look for the trail that we would soon follow them on.

624-O(scar)-8, however, stayed behind to double-check our map, and prepare ourselves mentally for what would soon become the adventure of our lives.

I stood in the open, shielding my eyes from the boiling sun with my full-brimmed hat. We were at the edge of a canyon. Beyond us, was a large mess of mountains and cliff sides, behind us was a large, flat plain. It was so flat, that if I brought my dog, and let him go, I could probably watch him run away for a week. I grinned, thinking about my crazy dog. It had barely been two days since I had last seen him, but I was already missing the friendly growling noise he makes when he sees me, and his strange little dance he does when I pet him.