Monday, March 10, 2014
Crash! - (with minor profanity)
I had originally held off posting this one hoping to crowdsource the names of the two jerks whom I have indicated by blank lines in the narrative. But the Voyageur said the story was funny enough as is and he couldn't recall their names either. So here it is.
One Sat. morning we woke up early and took off for Lake Placid. It was me and C and B. For the record, the crash was not due to fellatio or tetrahydracannabinol. That makes a good story, and the rumors dogged me for a while from those who wished there were crazier reasons going on, but neither were taking place that day. We were in my '86 maroon Plymouth Reliant. The muffler was held on with bailing wire, duct tape and melted on soda cans. But it worked fine and got us where we needed to go. I don't know why camp was so empty that weekend, but it was just three of us and we made the usual rounds: EMS, With Pipe and Book, the Alpine Gear Shop, the other bookstore, and some place to eat. On our way back it was rainy, I was sleepy, and my tires were thin. I think we were all asleep/nodding off, but at some point I heard B say, "What are you doi....?" That's when it happened.
If you know route 73 between Lake Placid and Keene Valley, you know how it winds as it passes Cascade Lakes going downhill. This wet, windy, downhill road on an early Sat. morning with the sun shining was just begging for me to close my eyes and drift off. So I obliged. I don't recall the impact, but I do recall the massive g-force as the car swerved off the guard rail into the road and then back again as I grabbed the steering wheel and turned back towards the guard rail which I scraped along for a while before spinning around 100 degrees or so and coming to a rest facing uphill a little bit. Thankfully everybody was okay though obviously shook up. When we checked out the damage, the car was totaled. The right side looked like it had met a can opener, the front axle was cracked and lots of other little things were smashed. The guard rail ended a few feet after the site of the crash, if I had fallen a sleep a few seconds later, we would have been down a ravine.
The state trooper was really cool. My car got towed to a junk shop at the bottom of the hill. (I later sold it for scrap for $50.) She took us to the Stewarts (I actually wrote 7-11 originally, memories do fade!) where we called camp. Here's where the dickish part happened. We called the main reservation office, Summit Base (not sure they had a phone yet) and Buckskin and got no answer. So we called Waubeeka and got ________________. He was reluctant to come and get us, but through a combo of anger and despair I finally convinced him that it was his duty. He arrived with, ________________ in tow in a tiny hatchback. With the two of them in the front seats, C, B and myself had to squeeze into the backseat, where there clearly was not enough room for us. And then he drove like a total asshole. The three of us had just been in an accident where we really were lucky to have not been seriously injured or killed and now we were being driven like sardines towards Armageddon. He sped, he swerved, he rushed to make lights, he overtook. I remember feeling sick and queasy and I think it was C who yelled at him to slow down already. Which he did for a bit. And then returned to his hellfire ways.
The staff at camp, and especially at Summit could treat each other very cruelly. A mixture of testosterone, age, freedom from parents (and anyone over 25), ego, and macho insecurity, plus general hijinks could often lead to people being assholes. But it was always in good fun and never intended to hurt anyone (and always aimed at other members of the group who were "in on it") but we always, always knew when to stop. There were certain things you didn't do and places you didn't go. I felt extremely violated in the backseat of that car (no jokes) as it was zipping about; it felt like we were intentionally being put through some sort of hell by two staff members I barely knew for some odd reason.
The next week I hitched a ride home with some troop from Long Island, and came back with an '82 Buick Regal and my dog (also named Summit), so it wasn't all bad.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
The Flying Disconnect
Any group that is comprised largely of males in their late teens and early twenties will tend to be reckless and not overly concerned with safety. If you give this group access to power tools, large trucks and construction equipment, all bets are off.
K.W., M.L. and I were clearing out some brush in one of the campsites. We were using one of the newer toys at camp, the wood chipper. The wood chipper was a hell of a machine. It took branches up to 12" in diameter and turned them into wood chips. It was self feeding. There are two wheels that grab the branch and pull it through. Once the machine had the branch, it was going to eat it. Fortunately, even if you were somehow unable to let go of the branch there were a number of safety levers. Once the lever was hit, the machine would stop. Still, it was scary. M.L. and I would never be able to operate it on our own, but K.W. was more experienced than us and made sure we didn't get into too much trouble.
We finished up in the campsite and were preparing to move the chipper to another site. We pulled the chipper with an all wheel drive dump truck. It was the most powerful truck at camp and only K.W. was allowed to drive it. K.W. was always a bit more responsible than the rest of us. Also, he drove big trucks and operated heavy equipment semi-regularly, so he knew what he was doing. For the rest of us, the only vehicle we had experience operating were our cars.
Unfortunately, K.W. got the truck stuck. It wasn't his fault, the road was extremely muddy, we were travelling uphill and the chipper weighs a few thousand pounds. After trying to rock it back and forth, we had only succeeded in getting it stuck a bit more. That's when K.W. pulled an ace out of his sleeve.
Camp happened to own a large tractor with a back hoe attachment. This was also off limits to most of us. We drove down to the maintenance shop, picked up a length of chain and the Tractor. Now, we had two vehicles that only K.W. was authorized to drive, but only one K.W. So, per the usual, we bent the rules. K.W. got back in the dump truck and I got on the tractor. I was in no way qualified to drive the tractor, but I was eager to learn. M.L. was about to get the most dangerous assignment.
At first, we couldn't get the truck unstuck even with the tractor in low gear. Once we rigged the chain to the backhoe bucket, we were able to pull the truck out of the ruts. The truck still needed the tractor's assistance, but we could pull it with the tractor now. There was no reason to do what we did next, I don't think any of us appreciated the risk.
At some point, it was clear that the truck was completely free and could move under its own power. The chain began to slack and the truck and the tractor were both moving at probably 6 mph or so. Faster than walking speed, but not faster than M.L. could run. I told M.L. to disconnect the chain while we were still moving. My thought process was that if we took the time to stop the truck may get stuck again. Disconnecting the chain, is not difficult, under normal circumstances. There is a large metal hook that goes over one of the links. While, not difficult, it is not a trivial either. It requires both hands, and some concentration. M.L. had to run alongside two very heavy pieces of machinery while holding the chain in his hands. He then had to manipulate the hook to free the chain. At any point, if the speed of either vehicle had varied or if M.L. had tripped, it would have likely ended in disaster. Amazingly, he was able to get it done without incident.
It wasn't until later that we realized how dangerous and dumb we had been. There was absolutely nothing malicious behind the "plan" it was just a result of being young and reckless. M.L. is one of my best friends, and if he had been injured or killed, it would have been my fault. We were talking about it the other day, and we couldn't believe that I had suggested it and he had agreed to it. Incidentally, once we got the chain disconnected we stopped the vehicles to pick up the chain. The truck didn't get stuck. Not even close.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
A World of Different Fire Extinguishers
I am very smart. About some things. I am very ignorant. About some things. Some things I used to be ignorant about I am no longer ignorant about. Fire extinguishers are one of those things.
So apparently there are different types of fire extinguishers. Some squirt foam to smother a fire and some squirt a chemical substance that quells the fire. This second type is not fun to take in the face.
Anyway at some point Voyageur and I were riding around camp in a vehicle. There was some sort of water pistol fight going on amongst the staff. I believe it was a weekend so no Scouts in camp. We liked a friendly bit of rivalry at camp. Between troops or between staff from the different camps. It was all good. So some people had water pistols and were trying to sneak up on others and squirt them. Cool. But as Voyageur and I were coming up the road towards Buckskin we were set upon by a group of Buckskin staff. They were driving one of the ubiquitous blue ford pick-up trucks. Only they were driving dangerously fast, had staff members sitting on the edges of the truck bed and they had one of those massive metal can/water pumps used to put out campfires that get too unruly. They soaked us and several others as they passed by.
Now this could just have been my ego and it's certainly not a rational reaction but Voyageur and I were enraged. At camp you're supposed to drive ridiculously slow (<5 mph), always wear a seat belt, and have your headlights on at all times. We by no means did this because we felt it was overkill. But we adhered to a personal code of safety that was clearly violated by this racing truck with the staff members on the side squirting water from this massive pump.
So we went to get revenge.
We followed the truck and as they got out at the dining hall I grabbed the closest thing I could find that I felt rivaled the big red water pump they were firing: a fire extinguisher. In my mind I pictured streams of foam covering the staff and joyful frivolity ensuing. However I had one of those chemical fire extinguishers I told you I was ignorant about. Ooops. No joyful frivolity, just stinging eyes and yelling. Things wound down quickly. I was verbally assaulted by the head of Buckskin, a retired cop trying to stick up for his staff. When he yelled, "Why did you do that?!" I yelled back about that they attacked us and I thought it was foam. He was not amused, I did not care, his staff was breaking all sorts of rules so he had no leg to stand on. I was given an order to keep a distance of 100 ft. from the young man whom I had targeted, we'll call him M.
I found this order amusing, but since we spent no time together it didn't bother me much. Apparently M was upset though and had vowed to kill me. Cookie told me this. She shared a cabin with another kitchen staff member who was dating someone from M's group. After lunch they would all gather and discuss the event for a few weeks. M would actually say he wanted to kill me. At one point Cookie reported he was carrying around a butter knife. I'm not making this up.
M's dad spent too much time hanging out with teenage staff members. Just thought I'd add that last part.
A not so Brady Sequel
Most of the trips that I took out were boy scout troops. Occasionally, there would be a girl scout troop that came through though. One of our guides took this group out and had a great time. He managed to pass the long nights with the adult leader, Brady, a young lady in her early twenties.
I took the group out the following year and it was a disaster from the beginning. From the outset, there was a power struggle. Brady had only been on one trip before and at this point I had been guiding for a couple summers. Brady was very much like I was on my first trip, but taken up a notch. She was even more controlling than I was. Also, at the end of the day, the guide is in charge. Usually this wasn't an issue because most of the adult leaders just go with the flow.
The first issue was with pack inspection. We were canoeing, so weight wasn't much of an issue. At this point I had also realized that not too much could go wrong. Probably the worst case scenario that had any real likelihood of happening is that a black bear may get into your food stash. We camped in popular areas and the bears learned to associate humans with food. The rememdy was to tie a line between two trees 25-30 feet above the ground. You would then hoist your bag midway between the two trees with a second line. If it is just a couple of people, this is pretty easy. However, with a group of 15, particularly on the first night, the bag is close to 100 pounds. It is a pain to properly hang the bag and people take a number of shortcuts. One solution was to float the bag in the river on a canoe. Bears can swim. Also, unless anchored, the canoe has a tendency to drift towards the shore. Another solution is to climb a tree, throw the rope over a sturdy branch and pull the bag up. However, the bag is close to the tree and bears can climb trees. Some have even learned to hack at the rope and let the bag fall to the ground. A number of guides had their food raided by a bear. Most of the time, they either made do with the remaining food or were resupplied. The bears posed no threat of attack, they simply ate the food and left. Other than that, it was generally smooth sailing.
During pack inspection, we try to ensure that everyone has some sort of waterproof jacket. A 60 degree day, combined with rain, can make you quite cold if you don't stay dry. Some go as far as to parrot the saying "cotton kills". The rational is that cotton is a wonderful summer fabric, it is light and durable. However, when cotton gets wet, it loses all insulating properties. Many synthetic fabrics and most famously wool, still insulate when wet. It would be foolish to climb a mountain, in the middle of winter, wearing only cotton. Very foolish. I have done this. (There is at least a post's worth of material there. Suffice to say, it involved KW breaking trail through 2+ feet of snow the entire trip and still hiking faster than the Load and I. It also involved near suffocation by putting too many people in a tent that did not ventilate well.) It is not foolish to take a trip in the summer and wear cotton, particularly if you have some halfway decent rain gear. So during my inspection, I noticed that a number of the participants clothes were primarily cotton. I remarked that in general, cotton was not the best material, but it was no problem on this trip. Brady did not like this. Apparently she had been lecturing the group for months leading up to the trip on the dangers of cotton. She was adamanant that she had lectured every single participant. She was further angered when I asked her why no-one, including her, had followed the advice. Regardless, the trip would go on. So we finished the inspection and called it a night.
The route was Long Lake to the end of the Raquette River. Total distance was just a tad over 30 miles and we had 4.5 days. There was no mountain to climb in the middle of this trek, it was all canoeing. Throughout the trip, there were just lots of little things that bothered me. Second guessing campsites and how to properly set up a tent or cook a meal. This was not gourmet cooking. You boiled water and added it to the food. Regardless, Brady treated it like we were on Top Chef or something.
The only challenge was a 1.5 mile carry around some rapids in the Raquette River. A 70 pound canoe is not too difficult to carry for an adult male. It takes some practice to get it from the ground level up to your shoulders, but once you master that it is pretty easy. For smaller people, the canoe is typically carried by two people. There is less weight, but there are a series of drawbacks. First, you really can't see anything. Your head is inside the canoe and you can see only a few feet ahead of you. When carrying solo, you can tilt the bow of the canoe up and get a good line of sight. With two people though, the canoe is horizontal. The second issue is that if you and your partner are not in step with each other, and invariably at some point, you will not be in step - the canoe will start to bounce. Sometimes, you can experience a phenomenon similar to what happened to the Tacoma-Narrows Bridge in a windstorm. In that case, the bridge was designed in such a way, that the wind interacted with the deflection of the bridge in such a way that a positive feedback loop was created. Each subsequent gust of wind amplified the deflection of the one before and the bridge quickly experienced enormous deflections and collapsed. It is somewhat similar to pumping your legs on a swing; the pumping of your legs, if done correctly, can cause the swing to go higher and higher. Most of the time, if the bridge is designed correctly, the loop is not positive and deflections due to the wind quickly die out; It is somewhat similar to sitting on a swing and just pumping your legs randomly, the swing will move a bit, but not very much. In the context of carrying the canoe, you can experience a slice of this phenomenon where the canoe just starts bouncing a lot. It is not comfortable. It is even less fun when you are constantly tripping over roots and rocks because you can't see well. As you can imagine, things can get pretty heated. Many a good argument happened under a canoe. My general approach is to carry my canoe and gear to the end and then make trips to help those who are struggling. This way I spend the least time with those who are frustrated.
Everyone was struggling on this trip. The trail was littered with girls fighting, sometimes crying and canoes and gear strewn across the trail. Wherever the canoe happened to be when it was flung down in a fit of despair, is where it looked like it would remain. Some canoes had not made it more than a hundred yards. At this point, I had mellowed, so I did not order anyone to pick up the canoe and carry on. Rather, it was easier to simply carry the canoes myself. Everyone appreciated it. Except Brady. She was determined to carry her own canoe. She probably weighed 125 pounds. She also wanted to carry her pack while she carried the canoe. The nice part of carrying both the pack and the canoe is you only need to make one trip. Plus, you can rest the canoe on your pack and carry most of the weight on the hip-belt. Unless you are the German. I imagine he would have either paddled through the rapids, or carry one canoe in each hand like a pair of suitcases. I didn't have the German, I had Brady. Over the next hour or so, I would pass her either as I was carrying a canoe to the other end, or returning to pick up the next one. I offered help on a number of occasions, she always refused. Never politely. After the second time, I stopped caring. I would cheerfully pass her and give the canoe a friendly tap. An aluminum canoe is not unlike a bong in this respect. She was inside the bong and I am sure the friendly taps gave her the movtivation to carry on. Finally, we got all the gear and the scouts to the other end. The other end is very pretty, it is right at the end of the rapids and it is a fun place to eat lunch and swim. We did this for over an hour. Finally Brady showed up. She had done it, but she was at the point of exhaustion. This did not improve things. We were supposed to paddle a bit further, make camp and get picked up early the next morning.
Instead, I decided that every empty campsite was either full or not suitable. In reality, there were plenty of perfectly good campsites. So we ended up at the takeout. The night before we were scheduled to. Not even Sarge arrived that early. I decided that I would hike to whatever was nearby and see if I could make a call to camp. Brady insisted on coming with me. I have no idea why. We were not going to have a pleasant stroll. I didn't even know where we were going. Instead, we just walked in silence. We located a phone, made the call, and waited. Finally, it was over and the van arrived. As a bonus, it was not the usual drivers, but some younger guys who liked to have some fun. On the ride back we had to stop for some gas and I picked up some beer. Up to this point, I had never drank while still returning from the trip. But this was different. I needed a drink. There is one upside. After that trip with Brady, a beer never tasted so good.
I took the group out the following year and it was a disaster from the beginning. From the outset, there was a power struggle. Brady had only been on one trip before and at this point I had been guiding for a couple summers. Brady was very much like I was on my first trip, but taken up a notch. She was even more controlling than I was. Also, at the end of the day, the guide is in charge. Usually this wasn't an issue because most of the adult leaders just go with the flow.
The first issue was with pack inspection. We were canoeing, so weight wasn't much of an issue. At this point I had also realized that not too much could go wrong. Probably the worst case scenario that had any real likelihood of happening is that a black bear may get into your food stash. We camped in popular areas and the bears learned to associate humans with food. The rememdy was to tie a line between two trees 25-30 feet above the ground. You would then hoist your bag midway between the two trees with a second line. If it is just a couple of people, this is pretty easy. However, with a group of 15, particularly on the first night, the bag is close to 100 pounds. It is a pain to properly hang the bag and people take a number of shortcuts. One solution was to float the bag in the river on a canoe. Bears can swim. Also, unless anchored, the canoe has a tendency to drift towards the shore. Another solution is to climb a tree, throw the rope over a sturdy branch and pull the bag up. However, the bag is close to the tree and bears can climb trees. Some have even learned to hack at the rope and let the bag fall to the ground. A number of guides had their food raided by a bear. Most of the time, they either made do with the remaining food or were resupplied. The bears posed no threat of attack, they simply ate the food and left. Other than that, it was generally smooth sailing.
During pack inspection, we try to ensure that everyone has some sort of waterproof jacket. A 60 degree day, combined with rain, can make you quite cold if you don't stay dry. Some go as far as to parrot the saying "cotton kills". The rational is that cotton is a wonderful summer fabric, it is light and durable. However, when cotton gets wet, it loses all insulating properties. Many synthetic fabrics and most famously wool, still insulate when wet. It would be foolish to climb a mountain, in the middle of winter, wearing only cotton. Very foolish. I have done this. (There is at least a post's worth of material there. Suffice to say, it involved KW breaking trail through 2+ feet of snow the entire trip and still hiking faster than the Load and I. It also involved near suffocation by putting too many people in a tent that did not ventilate well.) It is not foolish to take a trip in the summer and wear cotton, particularly if you have some halfway decent rain gear. So during my inspection, I noticed that a number of the participants clothes were primarily cotton. I remarked that in general, cotton was not the best material, but it was no problem on this trip. Brady did not like this. Apparently she had been lecturing the group for months leading up to the trip on the dangers of cotton. She was adamanant that she had lectured every single participant. She was further angered when I asked her why no-one, including her, had followed the advice. Regardless, the trip would go on. So we finished the inspection and called it a night.
The route was Long Lake to the end of the Raquette River. Total distance was just a tad over 30 miles and we had 4.5 days. There was no mountain to climb in the middle of this trek, it was all canoeing. Throughout the trip, there were just lots of little things that bothered me. Second guessing campsites and how to properly set up a tent or cook a meal. This was not gourmet cooking. You boiled water and added it to the food. Regardless, Brady treated it like we were on Top Chef or something.
The only challenge was a 1.5 mile carry around some rapids in the Raquette River. A 70 pound canoe is not too difficult to carry for an adult male. It takes some practice to get it from the ground level up to your shoulders, but once you master that it is pretty easy. For smaller people, the canoe is typically carried by two people. There is less weight, but there are a series of drawbacks. First, you really can't see anything. Your head is inside the canoe and you can see only a few feet ahead of you. When carrying solo, you can tilt the bow of the canoe up and get a good line of sight. With two people though, the canoe is horizontal. The second issue is that if you and your partner are not in step with each other, and invariably at some point, you will not be in step - the canoe will start to bounce. Sometimes, you can experience a phenomenon similar to what happened to the Tacoma-Narrows Bridge in a windstorm. In that case, the bridge was designed in such a way, that the wind interacted with the deflection of the bridge in such a way that a positive feedback loop was created. Each subsequent gust of wind amplified the deflection of the one before and the bridge quickly experienced enormous deflections and collapsed. It is somewhat similar to pumping your legs on a swing; the pumping of your legs, if done correctly, can cause the swing to go higher and higher. Most of the time, if the bridge is designed correctly, the loop is not positive and deflections due to the wind quickly die out; It is somewhat similar to sitting on a swing and just pumping your legs randomly, the swing will move a bit, but not very much. In the context of carrying the canoe, you can experience a slice of this phenomenon where the canoe just starts bouncing a lot. It is not comfortable. It is even less fun when you are constantly tripping over roots and rocks because you can't see well. As you can imagine, things can get pretty heated. Many a good argument happened under a canoe. My general approach is to carry my canoe and gear to the end and then make trips to help those who are struggling. This way I spend the least time with those who are frustrated.
Everyone was struggling on this trip. The trail was littered with girls fighting, sometimes crying and canoes and gear strewn across the trail. Wherever the canoe happened to be when it was flung down in a fit of despair, is where it looked like it would remain. Some canoes had not made it more than a hundred yards. At this point, I had mellowed, so I did not order anyone to pick up the canoe and carry on. Rather, it was easier to simply carry the canoes myself. Everyone appreciated it. Except Brady. She was determined to carry her own canoe. She probably weighed 125 pounds. She also wanted to carry her pack while she carried the canoe. The nice part of carrying both the pack and the canoe is you only need to make one trip. Plus, you can rest the canoe on your pack and carry most of the weight on the hip-belt. Unless you are the German. I imagine he would have either paddled through the rapids, or carry one canoe in each hand like a pair of suitcases. I didn't have the German, I had Brady. Over the next hour or so, I would pass her either as I was carrying a canoe to the other end, or returning to pick up the next one. I offered help on a number of occasions, she always refused. Never politely. After the second time, I stopped caring. I would cheerfully pass her and give the canoe a friendly tap. An aluminum canoe is not unlike a bong in this respect. She was inside the bong and I am sure the friendly taps gave her the movtivation to carry on. Finally, we got all the gear and the scouts to the other end. The other end is very pretty, it is right at the end of the rapids and it is a fun place to eat lunch and swim. We did this for over an hour. Finally Brady showed up. She had done it, but she was at the point of exhaustion. This did not improve things. We were supposed to paddle a bit further, make camp and get picked up early the next morning.
Instead, I decided that every empty campsite was either full or not suitable. In reality, there were plenty of perfectly good campsites. So we ended up at the takeout. The night before we were scheduled to. Not even Sarge arrived that early. I decided that I would hike to whatever was nearby and see if I could make a call to camp. Brady insisted on coming with me. I have no idea why. We were not going to have a pleasant stroll. I didn't even know where we were going. Instead, we just walked in silence. We located a phone, made the call, and waited. Finally, it was over and the van arrived. As a bonus, it was not the usual drivers, but some younger guys who liked to have some fun. On the ride back we had to stop for some gas and I picked up some beer. Up to this point, I had never drank while still returning from the trip. But this was different. I needed a drink. There is one upside. After that trip with Brady, a beer never tasted so good.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Everyone remembers their first time
A lot of things happened in 1995. The criminal trial of O.J. Simpson, Thunder Gulch wins the Kentucky Derby and Jerry Garcia died. Perhaps not as well known, 1995 is the year I started guiding trips at Camp.
In 1993 and 1994, I worked in the Ecology department. This was a lofty name for what was really a small wooden building and a pit where we kept frogs, snakes and turtles. We offered classes in Environmental Science, reptile study, forestry, insect study etc. The idea is that over the week we could get scouts to a certain level of proficiency and the scout would earn a merit badge. Merit badges were necessary to advance to the next rank.
For the first half of 1995, I was the assistant Scout Master for what was called the “provisional troop” or “provos”. The provos were a group of scouts that came up to camp without their troops. You would have 10-20 scouts from all different locations and there were two “adult” supervisors. I was one of them. The big perk to the job was that you really had nothing to do while the scouts were at different areas of the camp during the day. The downside was that you never really got a night off, because you had to be in the camp.
½ way through the summer, one of the regular guides got sick. They asked me if I was willing to fill in for the rest of the summer. Typically, a new guide goes to a week long course to get some training. I didn’t have a week. I had one day. Fortunately, the load was an experienced voyageur and gave me compressed voyageur training. This training consisted of climbing the aforementioned Mt Stevens, setting up a tent, and learning to use the backpacking stoves. We made dehydrated eggs for breakfast. They were every bit as delicious as you would expect dehydrated eggs to be. We did not eat much. That was it. I was trained.
Unfortunately, I did not fully grasp that I was there to be a friendly guide. Rather, I viewed my role as someone who had to prove himself. So, I got my first group and immediately upon meeting them advised them of all the rules I had. This did not go over well. I made things more difficult than needed. For instance, we were leaving at 6 am on Monday, but I made everyone report at some ridiculous hour like 4:30. Not surprisingly, the dining hall was not ready for us because they expected us to arrive at 6 am. Unfortunately the poor decisions continued from there.
Instead of letting the scouts choose who they would partner up with in a canoe, I decided. A canoe is not particularly big. Learning to canoe is not particularly easy. You can always identify new paddlers by the S-shapes that they weave as they make their way up the lake. Even if you have no idea what you are doing, it is always safe to blame the other paddler. This experience is made even more unpleasant if you are forced to paddle with someone rather than picking your partner. The cherry on top was my view that instead of adopting the reasonable pace that these trips were designed for, we would simply go full out until we reached the campsite. This meant that we typically reached the campsite around 11 am or noon (sometimes earlier since I insisted that we wake up very early each morning). Once at the campsite, there was not much to do. Understandably, I had the beginnings of a mutiny on my hands. Being the hardheaded stubborn guy I was, my solution was to push even harder.
The middle of most of our canoe trips involves a short canoe paddle to a nearby mountain. The bulk of the day is spent climbing the mountain and then returning to camp. It is supposed to be a welcome break because there is no need to break camp that morning or set up a new camp that evening. The paddling is a little bit easier because you are not carrying any gear.
The paddle to the mountain was approximately 60-90 minutes. A group of scouts asked if they could put 4 scouts in one canoe. There was nothing wrong with doing this, they were light and without the gear the canoe could handle it. They would also be faster with 4 people paddling and it would be more fun. Not surprisingly, I said no. They had the last word though. On the way back from the mountain, I noticed that one canoe was sitting very low in the water and that it was attached to a canoe with 4 people in it. These scouts had intentionally swamped one of the canoes, i.e. filled it with water. Even full of water, the Grumman canoe will not sink, another great design feature. It is, however, less of a canoe at this point and more of an anchor. Even with 4 scouts in one canoe, they were hopelessly slower because they were trying to tow the swamped canoe. We emptied the swamped canoe and I let them tow it back empty. That was the happiest I had seen them.
Fortunately, I mellowed after that trip. I realized that I was there mostly as a teacher and as a safety net. All these scouts needed was someone to answer questions from time to time and point them in the right direction. I wish I could have realized this before I took out my first trek though. Still, I wish I could have heard the scouts’ discussion immediately prior to intentionally swamping the canoe.
In 1993 and 1994, I worked in the Ecology department. This was a lofty name for what was really a small wooden building and a pit where we kept frogs, snakes and turtles. We offered classes in Environmental Science, reptile study, forestry, insect study etc. The idea is that over the week we could get scouts to a certain level of proficiency and the scout would earn a merit badge. Merit badges were necessary to advance to the next rank.
For the first half of 1995, I was the assistant Scout Master for what was called the “provisional troop” or “provos”. The provos were a group of scouts that came up to camp without their troops. You would have 10-20 scouts from all different locations and there were two “adult” supervisors. I was one of them. The big perk to the job was that you really had nothing to do while the scouts were at different areas of the camp during the day. The downside was that you never really got a night off, because you had to be in the camp.
½ way through the summer, one of the regular guides got sick. They asked me if I was willing to fill in for the rest of the summer. Typically, a new guide goes to a week long course to get some training. I didn’t have a week. I had one day. Fortunately, the load was an experienced voyageur and gave me compressed voyageur training. This training consisted of climbing the aforementioned Mt Stevens, setting up a tent, and learning to use the backpacking stoves. We made dehydrated eggs for breakfast. They were every bit as delicious as you would expect dehydrated eggs to be. We did not eat much. That was it. I was trained.
Unfortunately, I did not fully grasp that I was there to be a friendly guide. Rather, I viewed my role as someone who had to prove himself. So, I got my first group and immediately upon meeting them advised them of all the rules I had. This did not go over well. I made things more difficult than needed. For instance, we were leaving at 6 am on Monday, but I made everyone report at some ridiculous hour like 4:30. Not surprisingly, the dining hall was not ready for us because they expected us to arrive at 6 am. Unfortunately the poor decisions continued from there.
Instead of letting the scouts choose who they would partner up with in a canoe, I decided. A canoe is not particularly big. Learning to canoe is not particularly easy. You can always identify new paddlers by the S-shapes that they weave as they make their way up the lake. Even if you have no idea what you are doing, it is always safe to blame the other paddler. This experience is made even more unpleasant if you are forced to paddle with someone rather than picking your partner. The cherry on top was my view that instead of adopting the reasonable pace that these trips were designed for, we would simply go full out until we reached the campsite. This meant that we typically reached the campsite around 11 am or noon (sometimes earlier since I insisted that we wake up very early each morning). Once at the campsite, there was not much to do. Understandably, I had the beginnings of a mutiny on my hands. Being the hardheaded stubborn guy I was, my solution was to push even harder.
The middle of most of our canoe trips involves a short canoe paddle to a nearby mountain. The bulk of the day is spent climbing the mountain and then returning to camp. It is supposed to be a welcome break because there is no need to break camp that morning or set up a new camp that evening. The paddling is a little bit easier because you are not carrying any gear.
The paddle to the mountain was approximately 60-90 minutes. A group of scouts asked if they could put 4 scouts in one canoe. There was nothing wrong with doing this, they were light and without the gear the canoe could handle it. They would also be faster with 4 people paddling and it would be more fun. Not surprisingly, I said no. They had the last word though. On the way back from the mountain, I noticed that one canoe was sitting very low in the water and that it was attached to a canoe with 4 people in it. These scouts had intentionally swamped one of the canoes, i.e. filled it with water. Even full of water, the Grumman canoe will not sink, another great design feature. It is, however, less of a canoe at this point and more of an anchor. Even with 4 scouts in one canoe, they were hopelessly slower because they were trying to tow the swamped canoe. We emptied the swamped canoe and I let them tow it back empty. That was the happiest I had seen them.
Fortunately, I mellowed after that trip. I realized that I was there mostly as a teacher and as a safety net. All these scouts needed was someone to answer questions from time to time and point them in the right direction. I wish I could have realized this before I took out my first trek though. Still, I wish I could have heard the scouts’ discussion immediately prior to intentionally swamping the canoe.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Accidents on Purpose
America was not known for producing exceptional mid-sized automobiles in the 80s and 90s. Nevertheless, the load did his part in supporting the industry. At one point, he drove a mid sized maroon colored buick. It was quite the vehicle. The muffler was attached with baling wire. A ski pole was used to hold the trunk open and when filling it up with gas, you usually had to add a quart of oil as well. Though it was rear wheel drive and low to the ground, he would take it off roading on occasion.
Then there was Annie. Annie was not a hardworker and was not that bright. Consequently, it was easy to see through her excuses that involved her avoiding work. As you would expect, most of the staff members at a boy scout camp were male. The few females that worked there often felt they had to prove themselves. Some chose to prove themselves by working very hard. A select few chose to dedicate themselves to raising morale one staff member at a time! Annie did neither
There is a fair amount of pranking that goes on at camp. For some reason, there was an enormous stash of badminton birdies in the basesment of one of the buildings. Truly enormous, thousands and thousands of them. There was no net or rackets, but countless birdies nonetheless. One favorite prank was to fill up someone's car with these birdies. Another was to hide someone's car.
The load had what I consider one of the best pranks. It was dedicated exclusively for Annie. Annie drove a brand of vehicle I had never heard of before. It was not a fancy car, the few of us that did have vehicles rarely had new cars. On a number of occasions, if we saw Annie's parked car, we would pretend that the load's vehicle had lost its brakes. It was more that just a gentle nudge, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. It was extra fun if Annie happened to witness it. There would be lots of yelling immediately prior to the impact and then her little car would jump forward. Then there was always the story that this had never happened before, and was a one time fluke. Kind of like the whole run-away Prius issue a few years back.
Then there was Annie. Annie was not a hardworker and was not that bright. Consequently, it was easy to see through her excuses that involved her avoiding work. As you would expect, most of the staff members at a boy scout camp were male. The few females that worked there often felt they had to prove themselves. Some chose to prove themselves by working very hard. A select few chose to dedicate themselves to raising morale one staff member at a time! Annie did neither
There is a fair amount of pranking that goes on at camp. For some reason, there was an enormous stash of badminton birdies in the basesment of one of the buildings. Truly enormous, thousands and thousands of them. There was no net or rackets, but countless birdies nonetheless. One favorite prank was to fill up someone's car with these birdies. Another was to hide someone's car.
The load had what I consider one of the best pranks. It was dedicated exclusively for Annie. Annie drove a brand of vehicle I had never heard of before. It was not a fancy car, the few of us that did have vehicles rarely had new cars. On a number of occasions, if we saw Annie's parked car, we would pretend that the load's vehicle had lost its brakes. It was more that just a gentle nudge, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. It was extra fun if Annie happened to witness it. There would be lots of yelling immediately prior to the impact and then her little car would jump forward. Then there was always the story that this had never happened before, and was a one time fluke. Kind of like the whole run-away Prius issue a few years back.
Mission Accomplished
Initially, I planned to limit this blog to camp stories. I still intend to keep the focus there, but I may stray from time to time. This is one of those times. Also, there is a bit of profanity in this post. I think it is necessary for the story.
From May 2006 to May 2007 I was deployed to Kabul, Afghanistan as part of Operation Enduring Freedom. Yes, the Navy was in Afghanistan. In many ways, it was a lot like camp. You ate all your meals at a dining hall (DFAC), wore uniforms and saw the same people day after day. We even went on trips, but we called them missions. If I ever take a trek group out again, I am going to refer to the trip as a mission.
I wasn't in direct combat. I was over there as an engineer and spent most of my time designing Forward Operating Bases (FOBS). These FOBS were designed to support a few hundred US and Coalition forces. They were not luxurious, but did have electricity, limited plumbing and heat. Additionally we needed to ensure that there was plenty of force protection measures in place.
Just as at camp, there were a number of characters that I encountered.
LCDR Frankenstein: So named, because he really did look a lot like Frankenstein. He had an enormous head. Really enormous. They had to order a special helmet for him. He wasn't a really big dude, but he had a head that wouldn't fit through most windows! He was also incredibly forgetful and absent minded. Some highlights:
1. In the middle of the night he left the tent we were temporarily bunked in, presumably to use the head. There were probably 25 of us in the tent. After being gone for about 8 minutes, he came back in and I assumed he was going to get back in his rack. What followed was some rustling, and then a very loud voice: "What the FUCK are you doing?" Turns out in the space of 8 minutes, Frankenstein had forgotten which rack was his and climbed into a rack occupied by one of our saltier electricians!;
2. He was forever leaving our office only to return a short time later because he had forgotten something. This would range from relatively important things like his rifle to smaller items like a notebook. One time, he left and one of my office mates started counting down. He came in exactly as my office mate finished saying "1";
3. On a number of occasions, he would go through the chow line and somehow lose his tray in the 25 feet or so it took to get to our table. It may have been at the salad bar, it may have been somewhere else. He never went to look for it. He simply went through the line again. I don't think he ever misplaced two trays in one meal, but perhaps he did.
4. There were a number of occasions where we had to fly around by helicopter to various bases. There was a set flight that visited a number of different bases. It was sort of like a bus, it had a set schedule and route. Frankenstein managed to pull off two feats. First, he fell asleep. These helicopters are loud and the seats are not comfortable. Plus, you are wearing your body armor. Also, the doors are open for the gunners. Finally, they test fire the weapons from time to time. (Incidentally, the first time this happened to me, it scared the hell out of me. We were flying fast and low and all of a sudden both machine guns go off. I grabbed for my handgun, as if that would help. I saw the pilots laughing.) Nevertheless Frankenstein fell asleep for a little bit. The second thing he did was fail to get off at the proper stop. You know what number your stop is going to be ahead of time, and count down. Somehow, Frankenstein, an engineer, couldn't quite count to 4. He ended up doing the whole circuit and arrived back at our camp later that day. He had to take the flight the following day. They sent someone with him, just to make sure he didn't get lost.
BUC-O: In the Navy, our senior enlisted personnel are called "Chiefs". One of our senior enlisted was classified as a "Builder" and the abbreviation for a Builder Chief is BUC. Fortunately his last name began with an O, so it was only fair to call him BUC-O. BUC-O was a reservist and when he wasn't in the Navy he worked at a prison. He had a very colorful way of talking and introduced me to a few lovely phrases. If we had a big job to do, his suggestion was always to "gang fuck" it. Meaning, let's put a lot of people on it and get it done. His other trademark phrase was "Don't exaggerate the big fucking point." I never quite understood this phrase because he applied it across a broad spectrum. When they served a very good Thanksgiving meal he admonished us not to exaggerate the big fucking point. When we were preparing for a mission and deciding who should go in which vehicle, again the same refrain. I really liked this phrase, because I had never heard it before and it appeared that you could plug it in anywhere. It was quickly adopted by all of us. BUC-O never told us if we were using it correctly or not. That was for him alone to know.
Captain America: This was an Army guy who worked with us. In the Army, you can be classified as an engineer even if you don't have formal engineering experience. Captain America fit this bill. What I remember most about him is that he had a mail order bride. He would be the first to bring it up and tell you all about the process, just in case you were considering it! He seemed particularly proud of it, perhaps he thought he had figured out the way marriage was supposed to be.
The Angry Asian: The thing about reservists is, that some of them are pretty old. Older than most of the active duty guys. Consequently, we had a couple of senior officers that were Vietnam War vets. During a training exercise, one of the vets accidentally shot (with blanks, not real bullets) one of our junior officers. That junior officer was Vietnamese. We joked that the senior officer had a flashback. The junior officer was not amused. He was very rarely amused. I think he was just wound too tight. He seemed to love misery though. All through our deployment, he was desperately trying to get another deployment. Finally, he was successful, and after a lot of begging and pulling strings he was able to secure a deployment to Iraq. He then would constantly complain about how he was being sent on another deployment. He just loved being angry. He also had a bit of a fling with an Air Force officer. I won't say she was unattractive, but she certainly was not attractive. The Air Force did 4 month deployments, so she traveled back to the states while we were still there. On one occasion, she sent him a package. The entire unit got all its mail at once, and it may sit in the office for a bit if someone is out on a mission. So we found ourselves in constructive possession of a small package for the Angry Asian. We did not open the package, but we did alter the customs slip to indicate that the package contained various sultry items like underwear. When the Angry Asian saw the slip, he was actually happy. When he opened the package, he was angry, but not nearly as angry as we thought he would be. If anything he was slightly less angry than his baseline level. He actually thought it was a pretty good joke.
Our Not Very Fearless Leader: The overall officer in charge of our 100+ sailors was not a bad guy. He was a terrible leader though. He was a reservist. In his day job he owned a successful law practice. He was not cut out to be our leader. For one thing, he was known to break into tears, in public. Sort of like John Boehner. The thing is, we never experienced anything bad. Yes, it sucked that we were away from our families, but no-one died. No-one got seriously injured. Our whole group was in a support role.
(The most serious injury I got was while jogging around the fence line at remote base. A group of afghan kids kind of joined in from the other side of the fence. I thought I was doing my part of nation building. Evidently not, one of them lobbed a rock over the fence and hit me right in the noggin. Nothing serious, just a small cut and a nice little bump. The medic who saw me was a special forces medic and had served in Vietnam. He very seriously told me that I should have shot the kid. I am glad I did not. In fact, the thought never crossed my mind. I probably would have missed anyway. Also, this kid had damn good aim, he threw a rock at a moving target, over a 15 foot fence over a distance of about 50 feet!)
Regardless, our leader would break into tears just discussing the logistics of certain operations. He also cried when he was briefing the team that would replace us. I think he was discussing something incredibly emotional, like what kind of long underwear to bring.
He also pulled a move that left him despised by everyone. One bright spot in the year long deployment was that you were given two weeks of leave (vacation). It was a great perk, the military would fly you anywhere you wanted to go. Some people went to Australia, others to just back to the states. Everyone was in a set rotation. A rotation set by our leader. His leave, not surprisingly took him home for Christmas and New Years. His rationale "I have never missed a Christmas with my family, I am not going to start now." It didn't matter that for some people they had missed the last 5 Christmases, or were expecting a child at that time. People may have forgiven the crying, this was not forgivable.
------
I am sure there are other characters. Overall, the deployment was more good than bad. It would be tougher now with kids, but it is the families that stay behind that have it worst. They have to do all the same things they used to do as a family. For us, it was a big adventure.
From May 2006 to May 2007 I was deployed to Kabul, Afghanistan as part of Operation Enduring Freedom. Yes, the Navy was in Afghanistan. In many ways, it was a lot like camp. You ate all your meals at a dining hall (DFAC), wore uniforms and saw the same people day after day. We even went on trips, but we called them missions. If I ever take a trek group out again, I am going to refer to the trip as a mission.
I wasn't in direct combat. I was over there as an engineer and spent most of my time designing Forward Operating Bases (FOBS). These FOBS were designed to support a few hundred US and Coalition forces. They were not luxurious, but did have electricity, limited plumbing and heat. Additionally we needed to ensure that there was plenty of force protection measures in place.
Just as at camp, there were a number of characters that I encountered.
LCDR Frankenstein: So named, because he really did look a lot like Frankenstein. He had an enormous head. Really enormous. They had to order a special helmet for him. He wasn't a really big dude, but he had a head that wouldn't fit through most windows! He was also incredibly forgetful and absent minded. Some highlights:
1. In the middle of the night he left the tent we were temporarily bunked in, presumably to use the head. There were probably 25 of us in the tent. After being gone for about 8 minutes, he came back in and I assumed he was going to get back in his rack. What followed was some rustling, and then a very loud voice: "What the FUCK are you doing?" Turns out in the space of 8 minutes, Frankenstein had forgotten which rack was his and climbed into a rack occupied by one of our saltier electricians!;
2. He was forever leaving our office only to return a short time later because he had forgotten something. This would range from relatively important things like his rifle to smaller items like a notebook. One time, he left and one of my office mates started counting down. He came in exactly as my office mate finished saying "1";
3. On a number of occasions, he would go through the chow line and somehow lose his tray in the 25 feet or so it took to get to our table. It may have been at the salad bar, it may have been somewhere else. He never went to look for it. He simply went through the line again. I don't think he ever misplaced two trays in one meal, but perhaps he did.
4. There were a number of occasions where we had to fly around by helicopter to various bases. There was a set flight that visited a number of different bases. It was sort of like a bus, it had a set schedule and route. Frankenstein managed to pull off two feats. First, he fell asleep. These helicopters are loud and the seats are not comfortable. Plus, you are wearing your body armor. Also, the doors are open for the gunners. Finally, they test fire the weapons from time to time. (Incidentally, the first time this happened to me, it scared the hell out of me. We were flying fast and low and all of a sudden both machine guns go off. I grabbed for my handgun, as if that would help. I saw the pilots laughing.) Nevertheless Frankenstein fell asleep for a little bit. The second thing he did was fail to get off at the proper stop. You know what number your stop is going to be ahead of time, and count down. Somehow, Frankenstein, an engineer, couldn't quite count to 4. He ended up doing the whole circuit and arrived back at our camp later that day. He had to take the flight the following day. They sent someone with him, just to make sure he didn't get lost.
BUC-O: In the Navy, our senior enlisted personnel are called "Chiefs". One of our senior enlisted was classified as a "Builder" and the abbreviation for a Builder Chief is BUC. Fortunately his last name began with an O, so it was only fair to call him BUC-O. BUC-O was a reservist and when he wasn't in the Navy he worked at a prison. He had a very colorful way of talking and introduced me to a few lovely phrases. If we had a big job to do, his suggestion was always to "gang fuck" it. Meaning, let's put a lot of people on it and get it done. His other trademark phrase was "Don't exaggerate the big fucking point." I never quite understood this phrase because he applied it across a broad spectrum. When they served a very good Thanksgiving meal he admonished us not to exaggerate the big fucking point. When we were preparing for a mission and deciding who should go in which vehicle, again the same refrain. I really liked this phrase, because I had never heard it before and it appeared that you could plug it in anywhere. It was quickly adopted by all of us. BUC-O never told us if we were using it correctly or not. That was for him alone to know.
Captain America: This was an Army guy who worked with us. In the Army, you can be classified as an engineer even if you don't have formal engineering experience. Captain America fit this bill. What I remember most about him is that he had a mail order bride. He would be the first to bring it up and tell you all about the process, just in case you were considering it! He seemed particularly proud of it, perhaps he thought he had figured out the way marriage was supposed to be.
The Angry Asian: The thing about reservists is, that some of them are pretty old. Older than most of the active duty guys. Consequently, we had a couple of senior officers that were Vietnam War vets. During a training exercise, one of the vets accidentally shot (with blanks, not real bullets) one of our junior officers. That junior officer was Vietnamese. We joked that the senior officer had a flashback. The junior officer was not amused. He was very rarely amused. I think he was just wound too tight. He seemed to love misery though. All through our deployment, he was desperately trying to get another deployment. Finally, he was successful, and after a lot of begging and pulling strings he was able to secure a deployment to Iraq. He then would constantly complain about how he was being sent on another deployment. He just loved being angry. He also had a bit of a fling with an Air Force officer. I won't say she was unattractive, but she certainly was not attractive. The Air Force did 4 month deployments, so she traveled back to the states while we were still there. On one occasion, she sent him a package. The entire unit got all its mail at once, and it may sit in the office for a bit if someone is out on a mission. So we found ourselves in constructive possession of a small package for the Angry Asian. We did not open the package, but we did alter the customs slip to indicate that the package contained various sultry items like underwear. When the Angry Asian saw the slip, he was actually happy. When he opened the package, he was angry, but not nearly as angry as we thought he would be. If anything he was slightly less angry than his baseline level. He actually thought it was a pretty good joke.
Our Not Very Fearless Leader: The overall officer in charge of our 100+ sailors was not a bad guy. He was a terrible leader though. He was a reservist. In his day job he owned a successful law practice. He was not cut out to be our leader. For one thing, he was known to break into tears, in public. Sort of like John Boehner. The thing is, we never experienced anything bad. Yes, it sucked that we were away from our families, but no-one died. No-one got seriously injured. Our whole group was in a support role.
(The most serious injury I got was while jogging around the fence line at remote base. A group of afghan kids kind of joined in from the other side of the fence. I thought I was doing my part of nation building. Evidently not, one of them lobbed a rock over the fence and hit me right in the noggin. Nothing serious, just a small cut and a nice little bump. The medic who saw me was a special forces medic and had served in Vietnam. He very seriously told me that I should have shot the kid. I am glad I did not. In fact, the thought never crossed my mind. I probably would have missed anyway. Also, this kid had damn good aim, he threw a rock at a moving target, over a 15 foot fence over a distance of about 50 feet!)
Regardless, our leader would break into tears just discussing the logistics of certain operations. He also cried when he was briefing the team that would replace us. I think he was discussing something incredibly emotional, like what kind of long underwear to bring.
He also pulled a move that left him despised by everyone. One bright spot in the year long deployment was that you were given two weeks of leave (vacation). It was a great perk, the military would fly you anywhere you wanted to go. Some people went to Australia, others to just back to the states. Everyone was in a set rotation. A rotation set by our leader. His leave, not surprisingly took him home for Christmas and New Years. His rationale "I have never missed a Christmas with my family, I am not going to start now." It didn't matter that for some people they had missed the last 5 Christmases, or were expecting a child at that time. People may have forgiven the crying, this was not forgivable.
------
I am sure there are other characters. Overall, the deployment was more good than bad. It would be tougher now with kids, but it is the families that stay behind that have it worst. They have to do all the same things they used to do as a family. For us, it was a big adventure.
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