Idaho Wilderness Boys Camp Journal
by Hans Mast
Day Two
As follows is the continuing story of my time at Idaho Wilderness Boys Camp. The narrative starts with the second day’s adventures.
I was selected the day leader for the second day (we didn’t have one on the first day). This included a lot of work and responsibility. The day leader had to get up a lot earlier, get a fire going, and cook breakfast. He had to make the decisions during the day (and no one envied the decisions I had that day), get somebody to help with the noon and evening meals, and lead the way wherever we were to go.
We got up, ate breakfast, and then went off the swing for a while. We then bid, “adieu” to Group B; we weren’t supposed to see them again until the end of camp. Chief Steve told us that we were going fishing, so we stopped at a grocery store and I tried to buy a fishing license, but I didn’t have my required social security number, so my efforts were futile. I bought a bag a bite sized Snicker bars (I was later to regret not packing them with us) and a 12-pack of Cream Soda, and we were set to go! We drove way back in the mountains on a dirt road that snaked inches from a plummeting death of hundreds of feet. We soon stopped for lunch, and with boonies brushing both sides of the truck we squirmed out of the cab or as was my case, hopped off the back. Jean Byler had made our lunch of sandwiches and cookies, and I provided the Cream Soda, as a supplement to the available Capri Suns.
After we finished lunch we asked the Chiefs, “Wassup?” Chief Marcus just gave us a sly grin, eyes sparkling ‘neath the bill of his cap, and handed me a map. It was a topographical map with all too many elevation lines to suit us, and a very unpleasant looking valley with a steep climb afterwards between our goal and us.
About that time Chief Steve reached behind his seat and pulled out a .45 automatic and strapped it to his waist. When we asked him about it (you know, boys and guns) he muttered “Bears…(pronounced Bars).” Well, a little bit of a shiver went up each of our spines, a little fear maybe, mostly excitement though, but each of us gave the nearest bush a quick once-over, just in case. I doubt there wasn’t one of us who didn’t dream of a bear sneaking into camp, and being the only one to awake, grab the gun and shoot it dead thus heroically saving everybody; just like you read in Reader’s Digest. As you shall see later, bears were not a mere figment of our imaginations on our trekkings.
Well the gun proved a bit of a welcome distraction from contemplating the torturous and confusing trek ahead. How were we greenhorns, specifically myself, to find our way with no assistance from the Chiefs and no trail to follow? How were to descend into the forest, lose all but a single redeeming point of reference, and find our way with a cheap pocket compass? To add to my discomfort at the prospect, I was day leader and had to figure out which way to go and take responsibility for any mistakes. The Chiefs “reassured” us that if we got totally and hopelessly lost and it was dark (we had no flashlights) they would help me. I was like thanks a lot! Their sole means of emergency communications was a cell phone that didn’t have any reception. Considering these factors you can kind of imagine my state of mind at this point.
We were situated on one mountain range, with a valley before us and then another mountain range. We had to descend into the valley, proceed a ways along the valley floor, and then ascend, excuse me scale, up the other side. Right below us, in the valley, was a little stream that flowed down from the lake we were to go to and then flowed along the valley floor. I decided we had better cling to that stream of LIVING water (if we didn’t we’d have a good shot at dying) if we were to ever reach our destination. We traveled as far as we could along the road, which paralleled the valley on top of the first mountain range. The road came to an abrupt end after about a quarter of a mile, so we went straight down the side of the valley till we hit the stream; we crossed the stream and then walked along it. This was no idealistic stroll along a “sparkling mountain stream”; this was trading off a backpack that actually gained weight as time went on, fighting our way through thick brush, falling between logs, picking off burs (or whatever those little #######, sticky things are), walking uphill and always making sure we kept the stream in sight. We had to be careful of branches of the stream that went off in a different direction. The stream gradually took a turn to the left and then we learned what climbing was; we did what our rock climbing instructor later told us was a “3”, “using both hands and feet.” This continued in the same manner for four to six hours. In all we climbed 1400 ft and traveled 1 distance/surface mile.
Amazingly enough, we eventually topped a rise and there Myrtle Lake stretched out before us, sparkling and shimmering in the setting sun. We later nicknamed it Murder Lake, in honor of it’s hike of ascent. It was then that we began to think, “How in the world are we going to get back down before dark, even if we turn right back around and leave without doing any fishing?” We asked the counselors, and they said there’s a shorter TRAIL that goes down. We were a bit ticked at them making us bushwhack through that junk when we could have been on a trail, but we realized, “Hey, we’re here for the experience, not the armchair.” And then they continued to impart us with the encouraging information that despite there being an easier way down we were not going to begin that journey this evening; we were to spend the night up here! It was survival night!
The sky seemed to darken and the wind seemed to take an additional chill as we took stock of our situation. We had zip food, ditto on tents and sleeping bags. All we had for warmth was matches and paper-thin “space age” emergency reflective “blankets”. Before the night was through it certainly felt like space, the temperature level and staring up at the cold stars was reminiscent of the outer reaches of the galaxy.
We tromped over to the other side of the lake and Kyle went skiing on the snow at the lakes edge, while the Chiefs jumped in the lake. We were at that point still containing enough sanity not to join them. Later, as you shall see I went off the deep end in more ways than one. I spent about an hour helping Chief Marcus gather as much firewood as we could find; despite our efforts, it lasted hardly half of the long night. While searching for firewood, I found the motherlode; three cold beers resting in a spring. Later as the night grew cold we wished we would have partaken of the blood-warming brew that seemed so providentially provided for the very occasion. The others applied themselves to catching fish, if indeed they can be properly called fish. The largest was about six inches long, and the smallest was my goldfish’s brother-in-law. We ate our meager supper and then wrapped the thin emergency blankets around us.
It wasn’t until about four hours and half the night later that I learned from my constantly waking companions that to work properly, the emergency blanket must be wrapped around the whole body, including the head. From then on I got at least a little sleep. About three hours after retiring, Kyle and I were huddled close to the very much dying embers, and talking to keep our mind off of the incessant cold, when suddenly a large rat about 8-10 inches long sporting a long hairless tail ran down and bumped into Kyle and then ran off again. Kyle stood up and commenced to peer into the surrounding bushes looking for it. It then made its last mistake of the night and once again ran into Kyle. Kyle lifted his foot and brought it down heavily on the creature’s head. In the morning we contemplated eating it for breakfast, but decided against that level of experimentation. As you shall see later, Kyle showed an affinity to bold rodentia throughout the trip, and a rodent of some sort found me a tasty treat as well.
The theme verse of the day was Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” The theme of the day was to keep on going when the going got tough and to turn to the Lord for strength. It certainly was a very pertinent theme.
To Be Continued…
