Disasters of week three

Every week here at the training center sees a couple of group leaders with manic smiles in the dining hall; GLs that stagger back to the staff area at the end of the day too exhausted to keep their own heads balanced on the ends of their own necks. This week it happened to be me. I had the sidewinders this week, which is normally a very fun group for me, but... I should probably stop there. I hate to put negative experiences on the internet, and the individuals in the group were not terribly bad - just their collective energy made them challenging in the extreme.

What compounded the problem was that three times this week our schedule was off. On Monday morning we hiked to Zastrow turnaround, only to find that I had to run/walk to Abreu turnaround to retrieve our bus. Thursday I actually snapped at Emily because the bus barn had somehow decided that the Sidewinders and Deputies were one group and our bus driver almost didn't let us on. Then on Friday we arrived at the Villa at precisely 10:15 for what the Villa staff was sure was a 10:30 tour.

Of course, troubles are known to come in threes; an axiom felt all too clearly this week by the celebrity community. The injury added to the insults of this week were the stories. Stories have begun to circulate through the participants this week; stories I recognize, stories I told to other staffers about the long history of the Philmont staff. The problem is that the context has been changed from things that circulated when I first came here to something that happened last year, turning a story of long ago stupidity into a clear and present tragedy. The same staffer has been saying that certain back country camps have been refusing our groups program; a statement that has been refuted by another staff member on the same hike. A phrase used by my favorite author that seems appropriate is that a lie can travel around the world before the truth has got its boots on - the problem here is that a falsehood that is believed true by the teller is stronger and faster than both.

On the upside, last night Jess and Danica did the Captain Campout closing. They skipped my favorite skit, the incredibly long and difficult "Who's First Class" skit, but they did the program in a way I'd never seen before and it worked very well. They nailed almost every line and their costumes were fantastic. It's a little weird to me to be in the audience during closing program, but I'm pretty glad to see a staff where people volunteer- and volunteer quickly- to do a task that needs doing.

Week 2: Blowing in the wind

This week has been a little slow. With less than 100 participants at PTC and only forty of them in family program, half of the staff has been on what we call work crew. Essentially, we haven't got groups and instead we are doing little things around camp that need doing. What's surprising about this is how much we've found to do and how much of it actually needs doing. I'll admit, I thought that we would be put to busy work, and in a sense we have, but we painted signs that really did need a touch up, we finished binding the GLHs (which at least two group leaders have been doing without), and we went through the tents that we use for overnighters and fixed the bad knots on them. It all had to happen at some point, and better now than Wednesday morning.

Speaking of Wednesday, it was truly a day of adventure for us all. I gathered Jenny, Tayton, and Jerica and we went out on a hike to the waterfalls. The trail seemed to cease to exist in many places, but we finally found our way to a (comparatively) huge fall with a small lake at the top. We spent rather a lot of time staring at the rolling snow melt before I put on my swim suit and carefully put a foot in - I may as well have plugged it into a power line. Then Jenny told me to check it at the bottom of the lake. Those not familiar with the check it game (ie almost everyone) might be a little confused at this point: when someone tells you to check it on something or someone, you put your hands on or in front of it and pump your legs. Thus, if I told you to check it on your monitor right now, you would place your hands on the monitor, but if I told you to check it on the sun you would just put your hands up toward the sun and check it from there. Checking it on the bottom of the lake meant wading in to chest height in freezing water and reaching down as far as I dared. Fortunately, there is an advantage to being told to check it somewhere absurd: instant retaliation. Jenny got to check it on the fall feeding into the lake. Jeri and Tayton also managed to get out there for pictures.

The hike wasn't hard, but was very draining, and most of us slept away the afternoon. Then the wind picked up. Elizabeth from ETC was coming back from Raton at the time and said that it looked like a tornado touching down on base camp. To me, it looked like my tent ripping free of all of the nails holding it to its base. My gear literally scattered to the wind; I later found most of it wrapped around a barbed wire fence, including my exercise ball. For an hour we tried desperately to hold and hammer the tents down until the wind slowed enough to stop knocking them to the ground.

Then we had the mystery dinner: it was a costume party in the dining hall. I thought myself too exhausted to dress up, but after seeing some of the other costumes, I felt I had to make the effort. I threw on the Lemming costume from the super villains program and joined the others. And a good time was had by all.

Week one adventures

Sometimes I wonder why I've worked here so long, why I keep coming back. This is not one of those times. Week one put me with Pam, Lindsay and the Ropers (8-10 girls). The girls were amazing: any game we played they could play for half an hour without stopping. Any song we sang they wanted to sing a hundred times more. One of the discipline techniques I use is that when I call for the kids to get in a line, I promise to tell them a Philmont story if they can do it in less than five seconds; these kids earned more stories than I had time to tell. On Thursday night I worked at handicraft and three of my girls tracked me down to give me a little pocketknife that they got for me at the trading post, emblazoned with my real name. I think I'm still speechless about it. We did the submarine skit for closing program, and I think it got the biggest laugh of anyone.

More amazing than the kids, though, was Lindsay. I am aware that with my years of experience I can be intimidating to work with. A lot of group leaders, when teamed with me, tend to stand back and wait for me to tell them what to do. Lindsay led games in every down moment. She had our gear ready every morning before I finished picking on the bosses in the office. She led songs before I was too tired to lead them myself - in my mind an act of service worthy of a medal. I would love to work with her again, but I doubt I'll get the chance; she's too good to put with me.

Elizabeth is waiting for a computer, so I'll be brief. Brenna, Pam, Cameron, Krista, Morgan and I hiked Hart's Peak this weekend. For those of you with a Philmont map, we started at Ponil turnaround, hiked to Ponil, over the peak, got lost in a beautiful valley about half a mile from IW and had lunch, found the trail again, hiked down into IW, entirely failed to see Dan Dan, and hiked out to Six Mile Gate. The plan from there was to hike the road back to Ponil turnaround, but as luck would have it, Nick was there with an RT friend of his. The RT drove me the five miles back to my car and I drove back to pick the others up. All told, we hiked about six miles, but that seems to be enough for one day.

Let the games begin

It's day one of week one and as of eight o'clock in the morning, nothing is happening. I would call it a tense calm, but to be honest everybody's still asleep. I wonder how my new staff feels about it, or will feel about it when they wake up. They leave a few hints: Brenna is chomping at the bit, Nick seems a little nervous about the particulars but ready overall, little things like that. What's strange to me is that the staff isn't hopping up and down in anticipation or bracing themselves like sailors before a wave; they seem to be facing the unknown with a sense of mild curiosity.

Training week seems to have flown by. Everyone knows a few games and songs and we even picked up some new ones, courtesy of British Jenny from England. Yes, our goofy collective sense of humor is in full swing now, too. Our hikes went well and quickly, our boring, mandatory lectures were absorbed and our special duties have been outlined. Let's get some kids in here already.

Tonight we face our first - no. It's not our first challenge. I was going to psych myself up for opening program by calling it our first true obstacle or some such rot, but to do that would be to ignore the baptism by fire that was the Window Rock hike. And opening program is really only a challenge for a few - all of them capable. Alex (playing the stranger) could work on his volume, but he knows his lines. Brenna's already changing Acuma to be a little less hokey/Tonto. Steve and Valarie delivered the traveler and matron perfectly at practice. I coached Nick a little in the farmer yesterday, I'm sure he'll be fine on stage. So as long as the lawman (Dan) doesn't explode out of his vest we should be good. As for me, I'm playing a part that seems made for me (possibly because I wrote it): the old codger.