20 Shots

We have doubled the number of authors contributing to this site. Check out the load's inaugural post below.
We all live inside our heads to some extent.  I certainly did in my mid-20s.  Thought I was invincible and the cat's meow and a golden boy.  This was based on the somewhat dubious criteria of receiving great ratings from trek groups, hooking up with the limited female staff at Scout camp, and generally breaking every rule I could while still excelling at my job.  Of course the last happened in my head, so I basically had a self reinforcing loop of meta something going.
This rather convoluted introduction is an attempt to explain why I showed up at the end of Ranger week (when some staff would come up a week or early to do manual labor for very little money) wearing a really tight pair of brown polyester pants, a shirt that John Travolta (Stayin' Alive John Travolta) would have been proud of and some Kangol style hat, all of which I picked up earlier that day at a thrift shop in my hometown.  I was so sure of my awesomeness that I felt I could wear and/or do anything and still have everyone love me.  And it worked.  When I arrived everyone laughed and enjoyed the joke and I felt right at home.  Of course the 5 hour drive from Long Island and my late leave time, meant I arrived just about dinner.  After a quick meal at the dining hall it was time to hit the previously posted about P-House.  Being that this was the Friday before the weekend when all staff arrived from the 3 camps in the tiny little village of Brant Lake the bar was quite busy (though not mid-season capacity filled) with it's usual triad: 18-24 year old staff members, Summer time residents of Brant Lake and the year rounders (definitely a separate post there).  Filled with confidence, a very youthful energy, and a desire to let loose and have some fun, I sat down at the bar and ordered 20 shots of tequila, which in this strange, not-NYC, not-Long Island bar, only cost me $40.  Well me and the Voyageur knocked back some shots, as did a friend or two from staff, acquaintances from the bar, and people I didn't know.  However that still left me with about 4 more shots, which I happily downed quickly.  Let the party start.  I know I kissed at least one female patron from the bar that night as I continued to drink and party.  I remember in my ego and arrogance I held her at arm's length thinking to myself that I didn't want to get tied down at the very beginning of the Summer, but also really excited that I had somehow pushed out past the boundaries of my ridiculous outfit (yes I still had it on) and got a cute girl to hook up with me.
I can't honestly tell you exactly what happened next.  I have two separate memories and to this day I'm not sure if they happened during the same night, different nights or even in different Summers.  See it was typical to arrive at camp, meet your friends, and go out to the bar, before figuring out which tent or building you were going to sleep in that night.  So after getting dropped off at the dining hall I recall thinking the back of the blue Ford pick-up was a good place to sleep as there was a lot of cardboard there. However I woke up in a ditch on the side of the road covered in the cardboard.  At least that's my memory - I'm sure it's wrong somewhere.  At least it was a warm Adirondack June night/morning.  So that weekend staff comes in and everyone starts to get to work.  I wasn't on staff that year.  I had served as a guide for three seasons and director of Summit Base for one (in my head) glorious season, but this was my Summer to float around the Adirondacks on my own .  Not tied down to anyone or anything - hiking and climbing where and when I wanted.  Again, that's me living in my head.  What I really wanted to do was hang out with my friends at camp helping to set up during staff week.  I figured at some point I would roam away and have an adventure.  Of course I wasn't nearly as independent as I thought or I would have split camp after the weekend.  As it turns out I didn't have a choice.  The director had a few words with me and very casually told me he didn't want me around during staff week as he thought I was a bad influence on the staff.  He was right of course, I was unpaid, on my own, and up there to have fun and adventure - in my own mind the free labor I was offering plus my previous work at the camp earned me a place that week, but he was having none of it.  So off I went.
I stayed a few days at the house of an older couple, one of whom had worked at the camp and been a member of the council for decades.  That was nice of them.  I chopped some wood in exchange for room and board.  I camped out at the Reality Walls, climbed Moxham Dome with a friend of Rick's (more on him later) and then it was off to Pharoah Lake.  Pharoah Lake is one of the nicest places in the 'Daks.  It's the largest unsettled lake up there.  (I've read the guidebook a lot.)  If you hike up to it and then out to Beaver Pond, you can use map and compass to find your way up Mt. Stevens - which borders camp.  Of course this means you're in the wilderness on your own hiking up a mountain without a trail.  After one night at Pharoah, I set up the mountain.  After a while in the trees and brush one mountain looks like another.  After a few hours I was pretty freaked out thinking I was totally lost.  After 4 hours I was at what looked like the top and certain I was lost because none of it looked familiar.  What I didn't realize is Stevens is flat on top and there's a good bit of the top that I hadn't explored in the previous 4 years.  After some exploring, during which I was sure I was hopelessly lost on the wrong mountain, I ran into some boy-scouts.  I stupidly asked them what mountain I was on and they answered Stevens.  I felt dumb and relieved.  Camped on top for a few nights, burned my sleeping bag drying it out by a fire, snuck down the trail side of Stevens into camp, left cryptic notes for my friends at Summit and eventually took off for the Daks.  I did get to spend my time having my adventure.  I went up to the High Peaks and bouldered a lot, climbed more than a few 4,000 footers, and eventually took off for Maine where my friend Chris was a whitewater rafting guide.  I hung with him and drank and climbed and rafted and then headed back to the Daks.  I decided to check in at Four Corners.  This was an area in a town (can't recall the name) near Moxham Dome that was named because there was a store on each of four corners and nothing else.  One of these stores owned by a guy named Rick and run by him and his family; it sold hiking and climbing stuff along with a lot of basic Adirondack tourist stuff.  It was the closest place to camp to buy climbing gear and Rick knew of a lot of local areas to climb not yet in the guidebook so we often found ourselves there on weekends.   When I checked in, Rick looked up and searched his brain and claimed he had a note for me.  Which was strange.  The note said that I was needed at camp to run a few treks.  Which was not strange.  I suppose it was the most typical thing of the way camp (and perhaps all Scout camps) was run that I would be kicked out for possibly being a bad influence on staff after sleeping in a truck/ditch one night, and then several weeks later a note would be left at a store 30 miles away, hoping I would stop in there, asking me if I could lead some treks.  I went back to camp, met with the Summit Base director, he confirmed that they were short a few guides for August and needed me.  So I ended up back at camp working once again.