703 PSA-2 1993

An Account of the 1993 PSA Trek

It was that time of year again where Philmont staffers from previous years headed to New Mexico for the Philmont Staff Association meeting, and of course, the PSA trek. This is the story of 703 PSA-2 and how they spent six days and five nights on the trail.

703 - We all arrived at Philmont at different times, but Saturday afternoon was the day we actually formed a crew. The members included Andy and Lynda Battenfield, Bill and Mary Ann Daily, and Kevin Thomas and his girlfriend, Marie Mrotek. Mark and Dave Schweer were also in the crew, but they were coming late and would have to catch up on the trail.

The crew drew up plans for an itinerary and then met their Ranger, Jeff Kinney. Jeff got us through the Base Camp routine in record time, and then it was off to Cimarron for a final get-together with the Staff Association. A buffet was served at the St. James, and everyone got their chance to see each other one last time before heading home or striking out on the trek the next day.

704 - The morning brought a bright, blue sky. There were absolutely no clouds. It hadn't rained for two weeks, and it looked like the sun would rule for at least one more day. The crew made last minute preperations, divided up the food and equipment, and met their bus. It was off to the Lover's Leap turnaround for a hike to Miner's Park. Philmont had been building new trails to keep scouts from hiking on the roads, so the crew headed out on the trail that worked itself to the top of Lover's LEap where packs were temporarily abandoned for cameras.

The trail then moved down in Lover's Leap Camp, and that was where the crew experienced its first dilema.

We knew how to get to Miner's Park. The problem was we couldn't pick up the next leg of the trail. After a little exploration, we gave up and followed the road to the point where the trail and road intersected, allowing us to take the trail the rest of the way.

Lunch was eaten in the shade, and Miner's Park was reached by early afternoon.

Some of the crew went up to the rocks for some rock climbing while a few stayed in camp. The rock climbing area at Miner's Park is about a thirty minute walk from the cabin, it being a good ways off and a good climb up. Because of this, a box latrine was strategically placed for those requiring such a necessity.

One of those people was Marie, and she found the latrine to be inspiring. A great view is of Urraca Mesa, Stonewall Pass, and Fowler Mesa is to be had while one sits there doing their business. Only those who have been to Philmont can appreciate how performing a bodily function can turn into a Kodak moment.

Dinner consisted of the usual freeze-dried mish-mash. Being new to the delicacies that fall under the definition of "trail food," Lynda and Marie commented about how parts were not fully reconstituted, but despite any opinions, the pot was licked clean. Advisor coffee hour was spent down at the staff cabin, and then the crew bedded down for the night.

705 - The same blue and cloudless sky greeted the morning, the sun promising to make afternoon hiking regretful for any crew that was slow in getting on its way.

The Schweer brothers hadn't arrived yet and it was thought that they'd be dropped off above Black Mountain where they could meet us. Camp was broken and the group headed for Black Mountain Camp via the North Fork Urraca.

The Grizzly Tooth was kind enough to pose for pictures, and the hike up the North Fork began. We knew the hike to Black would be a gradual uphill, but fading memories forgot that some agility was required in a few places. By the time the crew reached Black Mountain, the North Fork was crossed forty-nine times. Along the way a Ptarmigan and its baby chicks were spotted and wild roses were in abundance. The stream was low due to lack of rain and the vigilant sun.

Lynda and Andy were good friends with Kevin Conn, the camp director at Black Mountain, so it was a pleasant reunion for them when we arrived.

It was a liesurly afternoon; a little blacksmithing, a round with black powder rifles, and a lot of taking it easy. It was getting late and time to be making dinner when the Schweer caught up with us. It turned out they were dropped off at Miner's Park after we had left. However, Mark and Dave mumbled something about a little side hike over   Black Mountain, and they proceeded to collapse in the meadow and fall asleep.

Dinner again was judged by Lynda and Marie as to the crunchiness of the ingredients, Mark and Dave got set up in camp, and then we went down to hear some tales related by the mountain men of Black Mountain. Another Ranger in camp was having a birthday, so some of the best cake ever conceived on a wood cook stove was passed around that evening.

The coffee was good, the stories were almost believable, and the crew went to bed pondering the story about moose-turd pie, curious as to what moose-turd pie would taste like.

706 - Once again the sun ruled the morning; the afternoon would be hot and dusty as it had been for over two weeks.

Our Ranger, Jeff, was supposed to leave us and hike in, but since he had a day off, Jeff decided to hike with us to Cypher's Mine. However, Jeff had a problem. He had a bad toe that was swollen and causing pain, but Jeff decided to continue on with the PSA crew.

We bade farewell to the Black Mountain staff and headed on up to Comanche Pass. Despite an uphill climb, the trail was a little more even and easier going than the day before. A new trail contours into Lambert's Mine Camp, but it was a long walk down. The heat and dust of the late morning took its toll, so we eventually stopped for lunch to take a pack break even though we were only a half mile from Cypher's Mine. There were huge patches of wild strawberries going into Cypher's but the lack of rain only saw them shriveling and turning brown.

Cypher's Mine has those adirondacks so we didn't have to set up tents. It probably didn't matter; tents are mainly used to keep you out of the rain, and it definitely wasn't going to rain.

There was a truck in camp when we got to Cypher's Mine, and Jeff's toe said it needed a ride back to Base and a trip to the Health Lodge. Good-byes were said and Jeff was on his way. What can be said about Jeff? We had found some Fruit Loops left on the trail by another crew, and Jeff had picked them up and ate them. Jeff was a Philmont Ranger.

The crew took a tour in the Contention Mine and then took showers. There was a strange echo going through the canyon during dinner; it may have been Charlie Cypher himself, but whoever it was was saying something about the crunch-quocient of the trail food.

The day was rounded out by attending the Stomp. Cypher's Mine is a camp where guitars are warmed up and tall tales are stretched into something even taller. It was a Philmont evening, perhaps just a typical Philmont evening, but it was an evening that is yet to be found on a fifty-four channel cable-TV box.

707 - The blue sky once again greeted us for the morning, and the crew set out for Sawmill. The trail slowly climbs up to the base of Comanche Peak and then the route to Sawmill heads off in a northen direction. This past of Philmont is generally nameless; that is, if you look on the map, none of the peaks have a name. They're just there. Yet, it's a place where you're above 10,000 feet and the views are spectacular.

We passed a crew coming the opposite way and they had bad news. The lack of rain was threatening the water so there would be no showers at Sawmill. The sun continued with its bright smile, satisfied in knowing that it was winning whatever game it was playing with northeast New Mexico.

The Sawmill staff were an easy-going lot; there wasn't a mat out that said "welcome," but none was needed. Camp was set up and the men went off to shoot guns while the women stayed behind to do women things. The girls were invited to come and shoot gund and stuff, but they declined; it was speculated that rinsing out socks and dirty unmentionables were of greater importance than to to be politically correct.

Lynda and Marie cooked dinner, their first time ever to cook trail food. There was great anticipation in having a dinner that would be reconstituted properly. One of the main courses was mashed potatoes, so one would assume that it would be impossible to have anything in there that would be crucnhy. It was a correct assumption; dinner was definitely not crunchy, not the slightest bit. However, when adding water to food that is in a power form, and you might have to think about this, but shall we say the word for the evening was flavor-booster? Perhaps a lesson was learned; it if ain't burned and if it ain't runny, it's good.

Regardless, the pot was licked clean.

708 - The morning brought the realization of how dry things were getting. There is always dew on a tent so when breaking camp, the tent is usually packed last since it's draped over a bush where the first rays of the sun can reach it to dry off. But there was no dew, no moisture, no wet tents, nothing on the tents except dust.

Again it was all sun, all blue sky.

The crew made its way to Cimarroncito, by way of Ute Gulch for a food pick up. Because of the timing, lunch was eaten in from of the Cito cabin, and then we followed the staff up to the rocks to check out the rock climbing. After watching for a while, we worked our way down to Hidden Valley and proceeded to Window Rock.

Hidden Valley is really a small ridge system, so if you go to the opposite side of the ridge from Window Rock, you'll find yourself above the Hunting Lodge and standing on an outcropping of rocks that must be undoubtably the most panoramic view of south-central Philmont. From the plains to Tooth Ridge, then swinging along Black and Bear Mountain and around to Comanche Peak with everything in between; with such a view one almost wonders if the contractor screwed up and put Window Rock in the wrong spot.

The crew eventually worked its way back to camp and set things up, taking showers and starting dinner. As luck would have it, there was an old picnic table in the campsite which allowed the last dinner on the trail to be a right special sit-down affair. It was a good dinner too. The trail food wasn't runny or burnt. Dessert? Well, dessert was this thick brown stuff mixed in a frying pan with crunchies on top.

The crew now knew what moose-turd pie tasted like.

Advisors coffee was almost an event in itself for Bill because he was a first year Ranger. Literally, that is. Bill was a Ranger in 1957, the year that the Ranger department was formed. He spent much of the summer at Cito, so after being away for three decades, the memories worked their way back and the life experiences of one person were able to complete their circle through time.

But, as with time, the old gives way to new, so those of the past slowly made their way back to camp, leaving those of the present to carry on.

And as the crew turned in and thought about the day, one thing came to mind: moose-turd pie is good.

709 - The crew hiked past Cathedral Rock and down to the Cito turnaround; the trek was over. There were some clouds, more than usual, but not like the clouds from the past week where they would come, drift by, wander, and disappear like a lost crew.

Tents and gear had to be returned in Base Camp, pictures and forms picked up, and other chores attended to. While this was going on the clouds slowly built up, somehow managing to join together and feebly block the sun for short periods. Finally, after lunch, the clouds ganged up enough to move across Philmont and shower enough rain down to hold the dust. It rained several more times as the day progressed, each storm lasting longer and providing a greater rainfall.

After three hard weeks, the drought, at least temporarily, was over.

For those who had returned to Philmont, the drought was over, for the time being. You work at Philmont for a summer or more, but the day comes when you are not current staff, but former staff. Former staff come back to visit, for PSA meetings, and even as advisors. Those who have been to Philmont and hiked her trails find that they thirst for something while they're gone, each visit breaking the long dry spell of being away. Some invariably come back almost every year, and some wait for more than thirty years before returning.

But they return, returning for whatever it is that only Philmont can quench.