Greene family, Troop 448 complete Philmont

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By Bill Greene

For the Salisbury Post

“We all made it!”

That’s what the souvenir T-shirt my wife, Cora, got from Philmont Scout Camp proclaims boldly. That’s also my No. 1 answer to everyone who has asked about the Greene family trip to Philmont.

To be fair, it is hard to describe the Philmont experience to those who haven’t ventured out to Cimarron, N.M. and braved the great outdoors on their own trek.

I’ve enjoyed when I have bumped into or received a note of congratulations from a Philmont alumnus. There is an instant bond of fellowship and often a knowing smile or pat on the back.

And time doesn’t dull the enthusiasm, I’ve had people that attended 20-30 years ago seek me out to relate our common experience.

“Was it fun?” Yes. “Was it tough?” Yes. “Did you really go two weeks without using deodorant?” Yes. (That response consistently gets a grimace from folks!)

But how do you describe the Philmont experience?

I thought long and hard, and the best idea I came up with was a simple exercise that we did each night called “Thorns and Roses.”

Before hitting our tents, we would all gather in a circle and each trek member had to relate three things. The “Rose” was the best thing about the day. The “Thorn” was something that could have gone better or was not enjoyable. The “Bud” was something that you looked forward to.

The process always allowed us to reflect on the highlights of the day, gave us a list of things as a group we could work on and, most importantly, helped us to look forward to what was coming.

It was a wonderfully simple and honest exercise, and even if you thought it was cheesy, it worked. Now I will confess our group was controlled by 13- to 16-year-old boys, so our ceremony quickly became “Guns and Roses.” Rock on!

I had many “Roses” for the trip. The top one, by far, was the chance to do the trek as a family. It was a special experience to face the highs and lows as a family, and the Greenes came through with flying colors.

A leadership lessson

Each crew elects a crew leader, and my son Sam was the man. The crew leader had the thankless job of handling everything from the paperwork to assigning duties in camp to each crew member.

Sam learned that leadership isn’t easy. My proudest moment was the second to last day. As a crew we arrived at our campsite and promptly began to do

our own thing, setting up personal tents (Scouts and adults)

and ignored Sam as he tried to get the group activities accomplished.

He waited quietly until that night’s Thorns and Roses and then chewed all of us out. He let us know his disappointment. As a final flourish he threatened to withhold the bus tickets that would allow us to go into town for a victory cheeseburger at the St. James Hotel.

We did much better the next time. I have never been so proud to have my butt chewed.

Stepping up

My son Nick was one of the most physically fit of the crew. He prepared for the trip by becoming an avid runner, and his conditioning showed. He was the youngest Scout in our crew, and he routinely carried a pack that weighed between 45-50 pounds. Philmont recommends someone carry a pack that weighs only 25 to 30 percent of their body weight, and Nick weighs only 110 pounds.

But he wasn’t only a backpacking machine. What made me proud of Nick was that every time Cora or I lagged behind, I could always count on Nick to pause, look back and wait for us to catch up. Then he would always ask, “How are you doing, Dad?”

I can’t tell you how many times that kept me going.

Keeping up with the guys

For those who have wondered, my wife Cora survived with flying colors. The fact that she was the only woman out of the 42 who attended from Rowan County was a non-issue — although on shower day, she had the “spa” to herself in the ladies’ showers.

She did, as the nurse on the trip, have to suffer the indignity of having everyone who thought they had a blister sticking their smelly feet in her face.

But she walked every mile and carried her share with all the other guys. I was most proud of her the day we climbed Mount Baldy. It was a brutal climb and Cora hit her limit. But she did it and watching her struggle up the hill gave me the will power to make it up myself.

Beauty abounds

There were lots of “Roses.” The scenery of the high country of New Mexico is worth the trip by itself. It’s hard to describe the thrill of trudging up a ridge line and then breaking into an open area that offers a breathtaking vista of mountain peaks and valleys.

We would also be walking through the woods and then out of nowhere, a high mountain meadow would appear with green grass and purple and yellow wild flowers sprinkled throughout.

The back side of Mount Baldy provided a snow field — yes, it was June — that provided 4-foot snow drifts to trudge through and places for an impromptu snow ball fight and sledding.

And as we continued down the draw, the snow melt became a roaring stream that guided us down the mountain.

Close eye on critters

There were plenty of critters. We came across four bears on our trek, including one on the last day that surprised us about 20 feet up a hill. He proved content to dig for grubs though and enjoyed scratching his belly on the log as we moved down the trail.

Deer were everywhere and in the mornings and evenings they would be out among the tents grazing in the meadows. We saw wild turkeys and a mysterious new creature called the “mini-bear.”

None of us could figure out the first few days what the staff folks were talking about when they kept warning us about “mini-bears” until we finally figured out they meant chipmunks.

Chipmunks were everywhere and, just like the real bears, you did not want them chewing up your pack looking for food.

Finally, in the high meadows of the staff camps, you could always count on a hummingbird feeder being out. I watched in amazement as dozens of hummingbirds swooped out of the pine trees and buzzed the feeder.

If you were very still, you could even hold your finger under the feeder and a hummingbird would land on your hand to eat.

Climbing Mt. Baldy

Our biggest accomplishment — and a “Rose” — was our climbing of Mount Baldy. Baldy is the second highest peak in the Sangre de Cristo mountain range and at 12,441 feet you can see it from many places in Philmont.

To summit it gives you extra bragging rights and it supposedly was a side hike on our trek. The part they fail to stress is that it is brutal.

Our summit attempt started at 5 a.m. as we raced to the staging area in Baldy Town. We were not the fastest group up the mountain. We relied on the “caterpillar” (thanks, Al) to get us up the steep slopes.

It’s a climbing method where the last person in line goes to the front and then is followed by the next person. That, paired with a silly rhyming game played over and over again by Al Wilson and Glenn Dixon, got us up the mountain.

“What rhymes with cut?” “Yes, Glenn I am stuck in a rut.”

Almost 6 hours later we were 3 feet from the summit, and we joined in a line, locked arms and walked up together. Several folks wanted to cry, most of us just collapsed, but everyone smiled as we were finally looking down from the top.

And as an added treat, it was Father’s Day, and I spent it with my two sons on top of the world — at least from our viewpoint.

I do confess I mumbled to my kids that next year I would be happy with a new recliner!

There were lots of other “Roses,” but I did want to relate two last ones.

Pizza paradise

First, Simple Simon’s Pizza delivers. We only crossed one paved road the whole trip (Hwy 64 heading out of Cimarron), and when we reached the underpass where the trail passed under the bridge we took a break along the nearby Cimarron River and dropped our packs.

Unknown to most of us, Glenn Dixon had skipped ahead and finding spotty cell service had arranged for the pizza delivery guy to deliver pizza to the underpass. There, halfway through our trek in the middle of nowhere, we had the best pizza party ever. I wanted to cry when they poured me a Pepsi with ice in it.

An outstanding family

For my last “Rose” I wanted to qualify my first “Rose” by saying that I not only did it with my regular “family,” but the “family” that was the outstanding crew we took.

There was Seth Culp, who will now be known as the “Burro Whisperer.” He could rig up the burro in 15 minutes and could always be found hugging our burro, Vanilla Face, and feeding it treats.

Murray Farrington was the “heart” of the crew, always upbeat and positive, and by some miracle able to run uphill with a 50 pound pack on his back and blisters on his feet.

Spencer Dixon did not want to be there at all. He was emphatic about it, but he pulled his weight every day and I think secretly enjoyed it (also winner of the cheesiest moustache).

Neal Emmett, who we worried about initially, turned out to be a polite young man who tried hard and in his free time actually read a book for fun. As a bookstore person, this gives me hope.

Josh Billingslea was the last Scout and the “soul” of the group. Every night he consistently said he didn’t have any “thorns” and one night put it all in perspective when he announced for his “rose,” “I don’t know about you, but this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen!”

The final members of the family were Glenn Dixon and Alfred Wilson. Glenn always had a smile on his face, even when I know he was hurting.

He showed his true colors when he bawled tears of happiness when his “rose” was spending Father’s Day on top of Baldy Mountain with his son, Spencer.

Finally, there was Al, who often got the short end of the stick as everyone yelled for “Mr. Wilson” when something was wrong.

When we were grouchy and tired, it was easy to chew on Al because he never stopped. But none of us would have been there if he wouldn’t have brought us together in Troop 448 and kept us together until we had a chance to attend Philmont.

There were some thorns. It was a tough and trying trip and many of us hit our personal walls.

Cora’s was the last day as we finished down 3 miles of switchback trails (with the base camp always in sight with each turn) down the Tooth of Time ridge line.

The long hike and the heat took their toll and, when she finally reached camp, she was rewarded with a cold shower. My favorite line that she muttered was, “THIS TRAIL was not designed by a woman!”

She mercifully recovered after we got ice cream into her and she realized it was over. My wall came early as my body got used to the altitude and the weight of my 65-pound pack. The hills were killing me and up to the time we reached the staging area at Baldy Town, I seriously doubted I was going to attempt to climb Mount Baldy.

But something kicked in, and my crew got me to the top. I had one of the best Father’s Days ever.

For those that have been to Philmont before, it only rained once on us in the two weeks. This is not normal as it is the spring rainy season and usually afternoon storms sweep in and cool the area.

The result was a very dusty trail and many of us sported dirt tans and looked like raccoons when we pulled off our sun glasses. And everything tasted and smelled of dust.

Finally, as every Boy Scout at camp complains, the food stunk. The Philmont folks packaged meals designed to load us with salt and carbohydrates to the tune of 3,000 calories a day. With the exception of one hot entrée every night, most of the food consisted of items that you would find on the snack aisle of a convenience store.

The only good news was that I lost 20 pounds because I couldn’t eat it. That and Tabasco Sauce can save anything.

To close there are the “Buds.” I look forward to being able to look back over the years and remember fondly my family and crew on this trek. The tough parts will fade but the good parts will shine on.

I look forward to watching the young men I shared the trail with grow up and become the great adults I know they will be. I look forward to the friendships and shared sense of accomplishment that will always bind my crew — 615-Q- Rocks.

I also look forward to always being able to say that the Greene family stuck together and “We All Made It!”

Finally, I can’t say that I will ever go back to Philmont, but my last “Bud” is a wish that one day my sons might wish to take their children to Philmont.