Philmont Expedition 727-E1-1994 – 31 July 1994: Rain and Shine / Day 4: Best laid plans…

Rain and Shine

Our March campouts always seemed to attract disaster. The first one I went on was up Woodcock Mountain, close to where our Scoutmaster lived. It wasn’t a particularly long hike, but the rain started as we crossed a field at the base of the mountain. Our progress was slow and we were completely soaked by the time we set up camp. Shelter was a top priority. I set up my tent and dried off as best I could.

Josh wasn’t so lucky. He set his tent up next to mine, but for some reason it quickly filled up with water. With his tent flooded, he asked to tent with me. I reluctantly agreed. That night, he was still soaked and hypothermia was a concern. With his sleeping bag wet, he was having trouble warming up. So he wanted to zip our sleeping bags together. Now, the zippers were different and this clearly wouldn’t work, but I had reached my limit. Unless he was in imminent risk of death, he could sleep in the bed he made for himself. Bad luck or otherwise, he seemed to bring this on himself and I didn’t want to suffer as a result.

He was alive in the morning. The rain had stopped and we packed up, policed the site for trash, and made our way back down the mountain. The return trip seemed much shorter. Hiking in the pouring rain may not have been the best plan.

My next hike at Woodcock Mounting went a bit differently. The weather this time was perfect, not a cloud in sight. Should make for an easy hike.

But we’ll never know. Why bother hiking into the woods when there’s a nice clearing right here? Why not skip the hike, set up camp right now, and take some time to enjoy the beautiful weather? We didn’t need much convincing. We found a nice spot at the edge of the field and set up camp.

One benefit of our chosen campsite was that the Scoutmaster’s house was just a short walk across a field away. So we all went over there after dinner to hang out on the deck. It almost seemed a shame to have to go back to camp.

There are times to press forward with a challenge and there are times to relax and enjoy where you are. Knowing the difference can be a matter of life or death.

Day 4: Best laid plans…

“It can’t be that much further.” -Ron, and it was…

After a successful first rangerless day, we were confident that we had this place figured out. With half of our starting food supply gone, our packs were getting lighter. We were settling into a routine. Life was good.

Breakfast was not. Granola and dried pineapple cubes. Not granola bars, just loose, dry granola. Pemmican bars may have been a more attractive alternative…

But we were glad to be back on the trail. Our next stop was Clarks Fork, a staffed camp with a western theme, complete with a chuck wagon dinner. It would be an easy evening once we got there.

Standing in the way was Tooth Ridge, so called because it featured both the Grizzly Tooth and Tooth of Time rock formations. Our path would take us over the ridge at Shaefer’s Pass. From there, it was all downhill to camp.

Tom suggested taking photos at a spot that overlooked the Tooth of Time. So we all have before photos for what was to come. We didn’t take after photos, though Tom suggested one of those as well. We were just relieved that there was an after.

We reached Shaefer’s Pass at 8:30am, already more than halfway through the day’s hike. One key point wasn’t lost on us – this is the closest we would get to the Tooth of Time. Other than using what little time we had at base camp, this was our best opportunity to hike the Tooth. Looking at the map, it wasn’t too far away. Maybe an hour. We were close to our destination, we could afford a slight detour. It all made sense.

Joe volunteered to stay behind with our packs and nap in the shade. It was settled. Eight of us set off for the Tooth of Time. Nothing would stop us.

But it should have. Our water was already running low when we reached the pass. Rather than searching out more, we set out with what we had. It wasn’t enough. East of the pass, there was no cover until the base of the Tooth of Time. And the sun was bright and hot. Our water was gone in no time.

Our breakfast didn’t do us any favors. We still had some leftovers, but without water, there was no way to get any of it down. So we had no source of extra energy. An hour in, we were running on sheer willpower. Somewhere along the way, we passed an ominous broken sign.

Decades later, I would decipher it. This was the site of a lightning strike almost exactly 25 years earlier. On August 13, 1969, a crew of 13 boys and two or three (accounts vary) adults was hiking the ridge in stormy weather when lightning struck them. Two people died, the sign was a memorial to them. This ridge was no joke; it will kill you if you’re not careful.

We weren’t. Out of supplies, we pressed on. Travis needed to drop out. He wasn’t feeling well, threw up three times. Needed to go to the bathroom. Signs of heat exhaustion. Could progress into heat stroke. Ron volunteered to stay behind with him. Now there were six.

Half an hour later, we finally encountered human activity at the outskirts of Tooth Ridge camp (a dry camp, so no help on the water front). The Tooth of Time was close. When we asked people returning from the top how far we had to go, we found out that we were 15 minutes from our goal. So close.

At this point, Tom felt the need to step in. Ultimately, the decision was ours, but he wanted to lay out the facts. 15 minutes up meant 15 minutes down. We left Travis and Ron about 45 minutes back. And it was more than an hour from there to the packs. That’s about two and a half hours plus the remainder of our hike to Clark’s Fork. And we didn’t know what state Travis was in. We all knew what we had to do.

We turned around and abandoned our quest. The safety of our crew took priority. We found Travis, delirious but stable. And we made the long trip back to Joe and the packs without further incident, arriving looking like the living dead. Maybe Joe had the right idea all along.

Next: 1 August 1994: Man(hunt) Up / Day 5: Midnight Horse at Clarks Fork