4/8/2000 2:39 PM

            I might as well put down now what Philmont means to me. Why going back means something different for me. Please note that I will be somewhat brief on the staff experience. This is not the time to go into a journal about those experiences. If you want my ideas and thoughts about that, please email me.

            Philmont wasn’t a place when I first heard about it. It was a magical far away land that existed someplace west of Baltimore. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to go. Growing up, I had a family living next door that turned into my surrogate older brothers. There were four all together, but three were in the local Scout troop. All three are Eagle Scouts and to this day stay VERY involved in Scouting. I had to join Scouts to do the same stuff they were. When they got back from this place called Philmont, the stories they told were the stuff of dreams, a magical land. The pictures had no relevance but it didn’t matter. I was hooked; nothing was going to beat backpacking.

            When I was fourteen, the troop went back on the second 50^th anniversary year, 1989. As things shook out, I didn’t go. For reasons that seemed to be in my grasp, but as it turned out, I would have been eaten alive out there. (Not literally) I shrugged it off, and was still determined to go.

            In 1991, my Troop sent two crews at the end of the camping season. A shorten trek of about seven days total. It was a hard trek as during one of the shakedowns, one of the fathers had a heart attack. He died two months later from another one. We were a tight crew, and this made us all the tighter. I figured that was the end of my Philmont experience at eighteen.

            That fall I got an application from Philmont, I figured "what the hey." I had worked the local Scout camp for a season, and I couldn’t imagine them actually offering me a job. I didn’t give it a thought when I sent the application back. A couple months later, April actually, I was planning my Eagle court of honor with my Eagle advisor when Philmont called offering me a position. I took it. Within a week of each other, I had my graduation, Eagle court of Honor, and birthday. Not bad.

            I went to Philmont, not knowing a soul. Not knowing what I would be doing, and basically going to live at someplace I had only visited briefly a year before. But off I went nonetheless. I wound up the summer repairing tents, backpacks, and such for base camp. Not a glory job, but my foot was in the door, or so I thought.

            At the end of that summer, I reapplied hoping for something either like Ranger or backcountry. Well, they offered me cook at PTC. I knew the score and was disappointed. I rejected the offer and worked again at the local camp. After that summer, I gave Philmont one more chance; I applied again for a Ranger spot. This time I got it.

            The next two summers as a Ranger, I had an unbelievable time. Those two summers single handily grounded me into backpacking as a lifetime event. I met more people, had a better time, and generally loved every second of it. Don’t get me wrong; parts of the job were just that, a job. Most days were great, but some days were the best thing since, well, ever. I then reapplied for what I thought would be my last summer, and I wound up getting a position in Logistics. That summer had it highlights and lowlights. One that covered both points was the tornado in Cimarron. I also learned the summer of 1996 would be the last time I would work at Philmont probably forever. So the next time I would be hiking the hills in NE New Mexico would be as a visitor. But when?