In Remembrance of 9/11

There has been much said in recent days about 9/11/2001 being a day anyone old enough will remember where they were and what they were doing---another JFK assassination moment. However, I must admit the details have been strangely fuzzy for me, to the point I have had to reconstruct the circumstances of the day. Certainly there is much I do recall. But some of the most obvious details have eluded me as I reflect on that day ten years ago.

For example, which day of the week was it? Where exactly was I when I heard the news? How did I first find out about it? What was my life context on that day? Why aren't such bits and pieces seared into my memory?

It was a Tuesday. I know this because I have one of those circular 40-year calendars to tell me the day of the week for any date from 1995-2034. A little over a month before, I had started a new job as a manager in a research and evaluation unit in the Department of Social Services. My new office---and I actually had an office---was in downtown Sacramento, CA in the northwest corner on the 12th floor in one of two buildings widely known by State workers as the "Twin Towers".

The day started like most other work days. I was up early as usual---I like the morning quiet. Then the phone rang. Who could be calling unless it was a family emergency? In fact, it was my wife's mom two hours ahead of us in the Central Time Zone. "Turn on the TV! There's been a horrible air plane accident in New York!"

Still I was not registering the urgency of the call. Plane crashes are usually for the evening news, aren't they? But this wasn't just a crash, mind you. The plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. You've got to be kidding! I remember almost immediately calling my closest high school friends in Dallas to share my disbelief about what we were watching. Secretly I hoped they would tell me this was all just another "War of the Worlds" mass hysteria hoax. It wasn't.

My wife and I sat watching, awestruck and helpless, yet mezmerized by the unfolding events three time zones away. Can't we rewind the movie reel and intercept those planes? How could this have possibly happened? Realizing there was nothing we could do but watch, that's what we did, as both towers fell, the Pentagon was hit and Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.

At that moment we could hardly imagine how we could possibly leave the growing spectacle on TV. But by 7:00 a.m. our interrupted morning routine was beckoning somewhat impatiently as a full hour had evaporated while we watched the continuing news feed. It was past time to wake our grandson up and take him to school---he had just started First Grade the week before, still full of excitement about being a first grader. And there was a full day of work for my wife and me. She was in the middle of a pre-doctoral internship at Yolo County Mental Health and I had a full day of meetings ahead of me.

After making my way through the usual snarled traffic, the office routine sputtered all morning. Everyone was clearly distracted by the weight of the news, although we were disconnected inside our office spaces from any media sources of information about what was happening on the ground. Every news snippet coming in via phone calls from outside spawned a new round of speculation and shock.

Meetings were cancelled---I know this because my planner has all my meetings crossed out---and all but the most critical business was suddenly on the back burner or off the stove all together. A decision about about a multi-million dollar research contract got lumped together with the report about a broken copier. All was eclipsed by questions about how we would know our children would be safe if disaster struck our building. And all those seemingly mindless practice evacuation drills? They now took on new importance.

Then we wondered if there might not be something---anything---we could do individually or collectively to help. It was as if someone had stuck a stick in a giant ant hill and the entire nation was trying to sort out what to do next. Of course, there was nothing we could do for those so far away except to tighten things up our in own house, to hold those close to us dear, to reach out to distant family and friends and to share, even if only virtually, this common national tragedy.

In the years since the events of that day, we have remembered what it is we were doing and how we felt as individuals and as a nation. Now, ten years later, it is good and right that we once again take time to reflect or to do some particular thing to acknowledge our differences and celebrate the strength of our commonalities.



So, today, my Boy Scout Troop will retire several American flags whose service is done. In this small way, we will share the sacrifices made on our behalf, symbolized by the flags we fly. We do it to establish a clear bond between those who have no recollections of September 11, 2001 and those who saw it and felt it.

Always remember. Never forget.

Day Five On The Pacific Crest Trail

Notes to Readers---Three things:

First, as I write these accounts of each day on the trail, it strikes me that the great advantage of specific events is they give us opportunities to focus our thoughts for a short time on some particular thing so we can record as accurately as possible what occurred. As time goes by, the recollections of the details around the edges of the experience may fuzz up a bit. If any of you have considered capturing your own life experience "on paper", as a good friend has reminded me, there is no time better than now to start.

Second, if any of you are inclined to share a comment about what you read here, feel free to leave it directly on this blog site if you wish. Realizing that may require some type of recognizable identity so "Blogger" will accept your comment, if you prefer not leaving a comment here, that's fine too. But if you already have such an identity (under Google or Yahoo or Blogger or other portal), I would enjoy reading your impressions.


Third, I've spent a fair amount of time describing the trail, including its beauty and its challenges, along with some of what our daily routine has been. But I now realize I haven't provided much detail about what we are eating along the trail or about some of the decision process we used to get beyond obstacles of one sort or another. In the last two installments, I'll try to do a better job of that at least as a point of reference for what we liked or didn't and what seemed to work or didn't for our group.

DAY FIVE: Wednesday, August 3

We are up early this morning, knowing that topping off our water will take a little longer as our access to Whiskey Creek is about 200 meters behind us and off the trail. But the day is glorious once again and we enjoy breakfast of either oatmeal reinforced with GORP (that would be me), freeze dried eggs or of some sort or oatmeal (that would be Matthew and Mark) or a wholely cooked exotic grain (prepared by Ike and Joseph).


The concept is to get down some quick and easy calories (as many as possible) and to stock our easily reachable pockets with high energy snacks to consume on the trail. Some choose power gels, others concentrated fruit bars or jerky. And of course, a cup of hot chocolate (or coffee with a hot chocolate boost in the case of Ike and myself) goes a long way to getting the day started right. And by way of a personal anecdote, Starbucks VIA instant coffee makes a good cup and is a great way to reduce pack weight. After each meal, everyone collects their trash and stores it away in our individual bear cannisters. And as room is made inside the bear cannisters, other items fill the void as a way to manage the bulk inside our packs.


After breaking camp, the boys find a nearby rock the boys to test their cell phone reception. We're in luck and Matthew updates Bob and Sandra Puliz on our anticipated arrival time at Donner tomorrow---not that we are eager for an end to our adventure, mind you. We agree to make contact with Bob and Sandra again this evening after we know how far we are by day's end and how far we will have left to hike out tomorrow. By 8:45 a.m. we are underway from CS1140 on what we know will be a hard "up" from our current elevation of 7,300 feet to over 8,500 feet (then back down to 8,300 feet at way point WACS1143) where the trail will be due east of Granite Chief Peak.

We make a pre-planned stop at what we believe is way point WACS1143 to pump water and refill all bottles and camelbacks. Instead, our stop is at WACS1142---a small error but that means we still have 1/2-mile of "up" ahead of us before we reach our first of two major crests of the day at 8,500 feet. Always in search of a silver lining, on the plus side, except for a couple short climbs, the next nearly three miles on the map and elevation charts are more or less downhill to just beyond way point 1145.


I digress. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, soon after our water stop, we are not at all surprised to see snow patches, just as we had learned from other hikers the day before. So, wouldn't you know it, because we now don't need the snow along the trail, we get it in spades!

We have now learned not to get all giddy on the trail about how well we are doing because you never know what awaits over the next hill. In fact, appearing before us as we look across Squaw Valley is what I can only describe as a vision of death at first glance---at least to someone who isn't a fan of roller coasters, jumping off ledges or slipping and sliding uncontrolably.


For some reason, others in the group see the 100-foot drop from a snow ledge, down a steep embankment to rocks and trees below as a fun diversion. I'm thinking I should have called my life insurance agent before we left....

Struggling somewhat to stabilize our footing at the top of the ledge, the group concludes that although there are several variations of how to get off this ledge, hiking down either with or without packs isn't an option. To get down the slope, basically there are two methods. To paraphrase Mr. Miaggi in Karate Kid: packs on or packs off.


Joseph Krieg is the first to test the packs-off approach. We combine two lengths of para-cord to provide enough rope to lower his pack to the bottom. Then, in a giant leap for the team, Joseph takes the slide for life, maintaining remarkable control all the way down. After unhooking his pack down below, Mark pulls the rope back up to the top to lower the next pack.

Ike Krieg goes down next, using the "packs-on" method with his hiking poles as stabilizers---a successful slide on all accounts. Ike is followed by Matthew Puliz, without pack, in a daring slide with brakes only on one side after losing a pole on the way down. Having seen three variations, I decide if I were going to die, I won't be the last one down the hill.


Lowering my pack, I prepare myself for an uncertain immediate future, although I am empowered by the visual evidence that some control is possible using boots in the somewhat slushy snow. The fact that we haven't lost anyone yet is also quite reassuring. Truthfully, I don't remember much about the trip down. But suddenly at the bottom of the hill my advance is arrested by Ike and Joseph as Matthew captures the slide on video. I haven't seen it yet. But who knows? I suppose it could go "viral" if/when it hits the web.

At last, Mark Matney opts for "packs-on" and flies down the slope in a blur until he is grabbed by Ike and Joseph with all pieces still connected.





Now with wet butts all, we congratulate ourselves on our human tobogan skills and strike out across the next snow field toward a marshy meadow below. Our earlier estimate of a short day has totally evaporated as we search for the trail which we lost in the snow at the top of the ledge. We still have long way to go before reaching way point 1152.



As an observation, there's nothing quite like a level or down pathway before one's feet to take one's mind off the details of where one is going, especially with beautiful vistas all around. Life is good and the trail seems to be acting just as the map suggests it should---or perhaps more accurately, as we want it to act. One "down" slope is as good as another and when small streams appear where you think the map says they will be, what more confirmation does one need about the rightness of the route.

Well, had we been paying closer attention to the map, we might have noticed a key Pacific Crest Trail intersection with the Granite Chief Trail at way point 1144. But, hey, we can hear a creek off to our right and it seems to be exactly where we think way point WACS1143is on the map. So, obviously, we still have a ways to go before passing way point 1144, right? Of course, we also have a little suggestive help from the trail: precisely at the actual Granite Chief Trail split, there is a large patch of snow with a trail marker right in the middle of it.


After studying the trail, the snow and the marker---noting how unfortunate it is that someone relieved the marker post of its triangular, metal PCT badge---we decide the obvious Pacific Crest Trail path before us is straight, then slightly to the right. Oh, sure, there is a scruffy looking trail off to the left, well beyond the snow patch. But the more obvious trail is in front of us. So, off we go, pleased at how well the day is going. Man, are we making good time!

The trail continues down for a while with the sounds of a stream still gurgling off to the right of the trail, further reassuring us of the rightness of our decision. Then, lo and behold, we come to the aforementioned small stream, crossing the trail ahead of us, pretty much where we think it should be. Little do we know this stream is NOT the one at WACS1143 (now behind us) but is instead one of those spontaneous snow melt trickles we have been hoping for---except later in the day.

However, ignorance is indeed bliss as our perception becomes our reality. And after breaking for a leisurely lunch and pumping water, we strike out with confidence that we will be in camp tonight even earlier than expected. Wild visions of even going farther today, thus reducing our hiking distance for tomorrow, start to pepper our conversation and play with our senses.

But, alas, the trail starts changing and the direction takes a dramatic turn to the east. What was a fairly heavy forest canopy above us quite rapidly opens to full sun. And the trail narrows amid large rocks, with heavy scrub brush almost blocking the way. Realizing something is awry, our bushwacking instinct takes over---the real trail must be directly above us. Well, after 30 minutes crawling over rocks and through sage brush, we return to our lunch stop near the stream, tired, sweating and down nearly a liter of water.

About that time, two day hikers who we had met earlier in the day (we'll call them Mary and Doug), arrive at our lunch log and see our obvious exhaustion here on the Granite Chief Trail. That's when they clarify our error and tell us where the trail split is 30 minutes behind us. By the time we regroup and pick up the PCT again, three hours have passed and it is now 3:30 p.m.

Although today is our first experience with feeling the need to be especially conscious as a group about our water supplies, given the availability of snow at several points along the trail this year, our practical risk is quite low. And if push comes to shove and we need water, we could always stop and melt snow. Or there is also the option of a short side trip to Mountain Meadow Lake---either is only a small inconvenience. All this means any available trickle from snow melt that crosses the trail will be gravy instead of a necessity.

Back on track, we resign ourselves to getting as far as we can get by the end of the day, knowing fatigue is already starting to set in as we have added at least three miles and three hours to an already hard day. The exhilaration of the morning slide in the snow is now just a fond memory. Now we have Anderson Peak as our next target.


The climb is long and steady for most of the 1,200 feet of elevation gain and the final 2-1/2 miles are along a ridge line approaching Anderson Peak. Along this stretch, camping spots and water sources are non-existent. We are up high where the trail traces the top of the ridge line with a clear down slope on both sides of the trail. Although we are making good progress due to very little elevation change, time is now working against us at the end of the day. As the sun dips lower in the western sky, it is fast approaching 7:30 p.m.


The wind is picking up, steady at 15 - 20 mph and temps (mostly due to wind chill) are dropping. The trail urges us on and we have now decided way point 1152 is out of the question---it would likely be at least 10:30 by the time we reach that point. So, now, a certain urgency enters the equation as we start looking for any flat spot where we can pitch our tents. We will even settle for a spot big enough to spread out our sleeping bags in a bunch. But there is nothing along the ridge.

Anderson Peak towers ahead of us, leaving us wondering yet hopeful that decent camping spots are waiting for us in the next half-hour, after we girdle the roughly 3/4-mile semi-circle around the peak---or so we thought. Then, rounding an unexpectedly sharp corner in the trail, we run dead on into a huge field of snow under which the trail disappears.

The snow field has to be at least 10 - 15 feet deep and about 100 meters across above the path of the trail. Looking down the expanse of the snow field, the slope drops steeply over 400 feet to where it thins out amid boulders and loose rock far below. There's no way we will cross this snow field---not tonight and probably not tomorrow. One slip and there would be no way to stop.

To our left and below us is a thick stand of tall trees, rocks and underbrush. In the dimming light, the steep slope is showing no signs of giving way to a stopping place. But Joseph Krieg picks his way down the slope ahead of the rest of us and finds a rocky ledge in the trees 100 feet below us. We don't take much convincing to follow him down in hopes there is enough space to camp for the night, even without tents if necessary.


In fact, there is just enough space for three tents, even if on a bit of a slant. Inside 15 minutes, packs are off, tents are up and dinner is underway. I am so tired, all I can manage to do after camp is settled is sit on the ground and breathe. Darkness has now overtaken us and this is the first night we are using our headlamps. It's been a long day---12 hours on the trail and 13.5 miles covered, albeit nearly four miles of which were off-course over some challenging terrain.


A double helping of Mountain House freeze dried beef stew is enough to take me close to comatose status---right after securing our bear cannisters away from the tents. I must admit, it's hard to imagine a bear going to the trouble of retracing our steps to our landing spot on this night. By 10:00 p.m. lights are out and we are in our tents---but not before marveling at the starry-starry night. Matthew makes one final update call to Bob and Sandra Puliz to revise the estimated miles from two to around six remaining for tomorrow's hike out to Donner. We are already wondering what the morning will bring to block our intended reconnection with the trail.

Day Four On The Pacific Crest Trail

DAY FOUR: Tuesday, August 2


With renewed energy after a relaxing end of the day in camp yesterday, we are pulling out of camp at 8:20 this morning, heading north---or so we believe.


After about 15 minutes and a half-mile into our hike (along steady uphill switch-backs, by the way), we encounter two day hikers, Larry and a friend, on the trail heading toward our departure point.

Exchanging trail news and our intended directions, it doesn't take long to realize we are going the wrong way.

Somehow, in our departure from camp, we jumped on the only clear exit from camp. In retrospect, our entry into camp the day before had followed sharp diagonals across deep snow fields had actually cut across the true trail into camp, which was lost in the snow. It is purely our good fortune to have run across those two hikers so soon after our departure.


Reversing our course, we are now back on track a half-hour later, in the direction of Twin Peaks. If our initial false pathway had been uphill, our corrected route is also uphill (how can that be?) as we zig-zag our way up, eventually hitting deep snow on north facing slopes. Thankfully, the trail flattens out after about two miles or so near the intersection with the Tahoe Rim Trail around way point 1132.


Finally, we are making good time and at 10:30 we reach Twin Peaks four miles into the day. The more or less flat section of the trail continues along a long ridge at about 8,000 feet elevation above and to the west of Lake Tahoe.



The views are spectacular (again) and we are filling our eyes (and taking lots of photos) of the vistas all around. Wild flowers are popping out everywhere along the trail.


On top of it all, cell phone reception is great when we stop for lunch near way point 1134 at around 12:15. Taking advantage of the unexpectedly clear cell service, I surprise mom and dad in Fort Walton Beach, FL with a call.

Blue skies and full sun with a steady breeze at about 10 mph (ergo no mosquitos) make this stop feel like we are on top of the world---"as good as it gets" comes to mind.


At 1:30, the lunch break is over and we are on the trail again, spirits bouyed by the energy boost and a section of trail that makes hiking feel easy. Even a heavy pack doesn't detract from the moment. Can we just call for a helicopter for a pick up? The 3-1/2 hours to way point WACS1138 pass quickly as most of the trail is flat or "down" and at 4:00 p.m. we stop to pump water sufficient to get us to our campsite at way point CS1140 (elevation 7,600 feet).

The continuing easy "down" of about 400 feet gets us to our campsite by 6:00 p.m. As it turns out, there is a fast flowing creek within about 100 meters of our camp. We hadn't counted on having water so close. That will allow us to top off tomorrow morning after breakfast before heading into a long, dry section of the trail. The only relief will be snow melt streamlets in places where they wouldn't normally be this time of the year.


In camp we make our first (and only) fire on the trail---just large enough to smoke out the mosquitos and remind us of what a campfire in the outdoors is like. Tents are up in no time and dinner is underway.


In the midst of it all, David, a British native now living in Canada, stops by for a short break---he is hiking on from whence we came and is planning on making it to WACS1138 by nightfall. So, he only stays for a few minutes for some company and trail talk. He makes particular note of our "pieces of Scout garb" and tells us he figured we were Scouts. I have the sense that his experience is seeing British Scouts in full uniform, even on the trail. So, our BSA hiking shirts and neckerchiefs are sufficient but only partial evidence of our Scout identities.

David is a lone hiker and he says he is making his way toward Kearsarge Pinnacles where he had last left the trail after a full week in deep snow several weeks ago. He is clearly feeling better about his chances now, even with the snow we describe on the trail ahead of him. That optimism is somewhat hard for us to grasp as he will be fighting the uphills in snow. But contending with snow 100 percent of the time for a week must be enough to make anything else seem tame.


Overall, today has been a very good day---challenges early, then we made good time the rest of the day, putting in 10.5 miles by day's end, the last 2.5 miles of which were down. After a filling dinner and replenished water bottles, we are down for the night by 8:30.

The MCL injury seems to be holding steady with the improvised "sock sleeve" and an ace bandage provided by Mark Matney, one of our Eagle Scouts. A couple Advil gels are my insurance for the night. Tomorrow's objective is to reach as close to way point 1152 as possible. But we already know there are two major "ups" in the way not to mention unknown snow barriers. Sleep calls....

Day Three On the Pacific Crest Trail

Note to Readers: I am remiss. If you have taken the time to drop by, thanks for your interest. And if you feel moved to follow this blog, all the better. I welcome your thoughts and comments.

As for my omission, some of you may have been wondering about the weather on our trek. The forecast just prior to our departure hinted at a chance of thunder showers off and on through most of the week. Instead, the weather has been nearly perfect---not a drop of rain (as of Day Three), which will end up holding true all the way to the end. A few clouds formed in the distance on the second afternoon but didn't produce anything where we were.



The temps all week have been in the high-70s or low 80s during the day, with virtually no clouds. A slight breeze materialized from time to time to cool us down and keep the mosquitos at bay. Overnight, the temps have been in the low 40s except for the last night when the overnight low dipped into the mid-30s. So, overall, we couldn't have asked for better weather.

DAY THREE: Monday, August 1



At 8:30 a.m. we are pulling out of our camp just shy of the PCT intersection with the Genevieve Trail. The three-mile hike en route to Richardson Lake is a steady but easy "up" and then "down" as we approach the lake. Although the mosquitos are swarming while we are breaking camp, they don't seem as troublesome first thing this morning. Maybe mosquitos take a while to wake up as well. As we get into our daily hike toward Richardson Lake, the mosquitos seem to have evaporated all together.

The climb out of camp is steady but we are keeping a good pace---maybe close to 2 mph, which is good time in backpacking terms. En route, Miller Creek and North Fork present challenges as we have to cross them on logs over fast flowing water. Nothing quite like a wiggly log over a "background" of water in motion to keep you on your toes. For those of you who know me, you might attest I am not a great fan anything where my footing is not secure. These crossings are ample fun and excitement for me.

During the remaining hike to the lake, we are seeing some snow patches but nothing that is slowing us down. Along the way we are seeing the first signs of true spring in the High Sierra with wild flowers (lupens, mule ear, sheep's ear, cats paws and a host of other flowers) just starting to make their appearance. This is definitely a weird year for weather effects.



At lakeside, we pump water to top off all our bottles and camelbacks. It could be a long, dry stretch before our next water stop. While there, we take advantage of an information swap with three hikers (two men and a woman) who have just come from where we are heading. Likewise, we share our recent experience having come from Echo Lake, where they are bound. They tell us of a clear trail ahead with the heaviest snow patches mostly beyond Barker Pass. As for water on the trail, we had hoped for at least small streams forming from snow melt, which the hikers confirmed will be the case. On that basis, we now feel confident that the dry stretches will likely be short-lived.



The climb out toward Barker Pass is grueling. Several large patches of snow on the north facing slopes slow our pace dramatically. And even on the clear, south facing slopes, the uphill is a challenge. During the last mile or so before Barker Pass, wide meadows of mule ear and sheep's ear stretch on both sides of the trail. The pictures just won't do these scenes visual justice.

With excellent reception at Barker Pass, I got a call out to my wife to let her know we are pretty much on schedule and are doing well. Besides the great cell phone reception, Barker Pass has picnic tables and a vault toilet---what more could one ask for than two types of comfortable seating---and no mosquitos. All of us are enjoying the break and are gobbling down some much needed calories---I must admit, it will likely be a while after finishing this trek before I will dig into a GORP bag with the zeal I had the first day.

With such inviting accommodations as the Pass has to offer, our break is seriously eating into our remaining hiking time for the day. Time to get socks, shoes and packs back on before rigor mortis sets in. We still have about 2.5 miles to go before we sleep. So, it's time to saddle up and get to our stopping point for the night.



Almost immediately snow fields are slowing our pace and we realize those last 2.5 miles to way point WACS1129 will not be easy. Even the last few hundred meters to the campsite take us over steep, rugged terrain almost completely covered by deep snow under a dense forest canopy. Punctuating the day is one last stream crossing with dubious snow bridges separating us from our camp. By the time we land on terra ferma , it is 5:30 and we are ready to stop and recharge while there is still some daylight left.



Within minutes, our packs are off, tents are up and we are pumping water to refill our reserves before getting dinner underway. We even have enough daylight left to do some exploring around camp. Who knew we would have that much energy? Without a doubt walking uphill without a pack is way cool. From the top of the ridge above camp, the views of Lake Tahoe in the distance are spectacular.



What a great way to end the day, after 11 challenging miles. Although we are already anticipating the hard uphill climb out of camp in the morning, we are optimistic that the trail will be mostly on south facing slopes, clear of snow.

Backpacking the Pacific Crest Trail: Echo - Donner

This post is the start of a series of posts summarizing a recent backpacking trek along a section of the Pacific Crest Trail (or PCT as it is known), which extends 2,627 miles from the Mexican border to the Canadian border. I was priviledged to share the trail with four others from Boy Scout Troop 259 in Sacramento, CA, where I am the current Scoutmaster. Others in our party included Ike Krieg (Assistant Scoutmaster), Matthew Puliz (Eagle Scout), Mark Matney (Eagle Scout) and Joseph Krieg (Star Scout).

As treks along the PCT go, our six-day trek was relatively short by comparison, covering only about 66 miles. Many others have hiked far longer stretches, including the full length either on one trip or in pieces. But I would have to say, the 66 miles we covered were plenty challenging enough to create memories that we will no doubt be talking about for a long time---including how much we might have left behind to lighten our packs.

Before striking out on the trail on July 30, we overnighted at the Thompson cabin near Echo Lake, about 1.3 miles from the trailhead at the Echo Lake spillway. We were grateful for the hospitality---a huge loft with plenty of flat space to bunk our group on July 29.

That layover night was money in the bank on two accounts. First, we had a chance encounter with three "through trekkers" who had left Mexico two months before and were on their way to Canada. Their packs looked like not much more than day packs compared to our over 50-pound packs. Second, the layover allowed us to acclimate to the elevation at around 7,500 feet before kicking it up a few notches on the trail.

Hereafter, the action will be in the present tense.

Tonight (July 29), we are eating our sack dinners as our last meal before embarking tomorrow. Having a little time on our hands, we are also jettisoning some non-essentials from our packs to get our pack weight down---probably not nearly enough but it's a start: Camp shoes, gone. Fleece sleeping bag liner, gone. Three small fuel cannisters, gone. 50 feet of climbing rope, gone. Long Johns, gone. I'm feeling better (and lighter) already.

DAY ONE: Saturday, July 30

The first day our destination is Dick's Lake, nearly 15 miles away. Under normal trail conditions, that distance would be very doable. And based on our start at the Echo Lake PCT trailhead at 7:30 this morning, we like our chances. An earlier start would have given us a little more breathing room. But estimating a steady yet comfortable speed of 1.5+ miles per hour, how can we not make Dick's Lake by sundown? Little do we know what lies ahead.




After some moderate "ups" and "downs" along the trail, we left Lower Echo Lake and Upper Echo Lake behind us. The trail is good and we are eager for a memorable trekking experience. Soon after passing Lake Tamarack, we are seeing the first traces of snow along the trail. By Aloha Lake, the traces are becoming more frequent and more expansive. To boost our water supply for the remaining long miles today we decide to pump water at Aloha Lake. The rest stop with packs off is welcome as we snack on GORP, jerky and energy bars.


Leaving Aloha Lake (elevation 8,120 feet), we have now officially hit our first major patch of snow not just along the trail but on the trail. In fact, we have lost the trail with no idea where we will pick it up. It has now taken us nearly an hour of wandering before we reconnect with the trail around 3:00 p.m. between Aloha Lake and Heather Lake. The snow fields and patches are deep but the surface is slushy, generally allowing good foot placement for traction. But on one patch, I have managed to lose my footing and twist my lower right leg at the knee on the way down.

Not sure what the injury is but the knee is very sloppy laterally and painful to the touch. Fortunately, up/down and forward movements of leg and foot are fine. So, we continue toward Susie Lake, enjoying a comfortable "down". Yet we know what's coming---a steep ascent beyond Susie Lake toward Dick's Pass (elevation 9,380 feet). The knee will need some doctoring before we strike out on the long uphill tomorrow.

The "up" after Susie Lake was gruelling but is just a taste of the elevation gain approaching Dick's Pass. Every pound of pack weight is now feeling twice as heavy as when we started. Given the lateness of the hour (now 6:00 p.m.) and the elevation gain immediately in front of us, our decision is clear: Dick's Pass will have to wait until tomorrow. We are just yards from an ample water supply in a fast flowing (and noisy) stream near Gilmore Lake. And apart from the swarms of mosquitos, stopping for the night short of our planned destination is looking like a really good idea.

A dinner of freeze dried Spaghetti and Meat Sauce ("cooked" with two cups of boiling water in 8 - 9 minutes), plus a hot chocolate chaser took less than 15 minutes to prepare and dispatch. It's now 8:30 and all are in our tents looking for sleep before sundown. As for the right knee, practicing some Wilderness First Aid creativity, I have cut the toe out of a spare sock and am using the resulting sleeve" to support the knee. That plus a couple Advil and I am good for the night. Today we have covered about 12.3 miles plus an additional 0.8 miles of snow-forced detours. Tomorrow the ascent to Dick's Pass awaits.

Poem A Day Challenge For April 3

April 3—Write a poem in which you imagine the world without you. The world could be a much worse place, pretty much the same, or even better. Anyway, it's interesting to contemplate our individual contributions to this planet in ways small and large. 

Were I Not Here 

By Bill Kirk 

Were I not here, 

The lawn might be mowed, 

The weeds would be whacked and 

The bare window sill would already be primed and painted. 

Were I not here, 

The blown down back fence would be replaced, 

The crack in the driveway would be patched and 

The front door latch would work and not stick. 

Were I not here, 

The ivy would not have overtaken the side yard, 

There’d be no birds nesting in the attic and 

The perilously leaning pine would be long gone. 

Were I not here, 

The taxes would be done before April 14, 

There might be more money for vacations and 

There’d be less money needed for life insurance, 

But were I not here, there would also be 

Fewer cups of coffee at bedside each morning, 

Fewer lunches made each work day, 

Fewer omelets cooked each Sunday after church, 

Fewer miles run for the pure pleasure of it, 

Fewer pick-ups after school, 

Fewer haircuts at Grandpa’s house, 

Fewer children’s rhymes written and read, 

Fewer reminders about Scout meetings, 

Fewer camping trips with the old man, 

Fewer holiday turkeys cooked and carved, 

Fewer New Year’s Day black eye peas for good luck and 

Fewer kisses goodnight. 

So, all things considered, 

Consider me here.

On Becoming An Eagle Scout

Parents, Honored Guests, Friends and Fellow Scouts:

I am honored to have this opportunity to speak to you about the meaning of Scouting in the lives of the young men who choose to be part of it and particularly those who persevere on the Trail to Eagle. But I must say, some of you know all too well there is a great risk in giving me a podium and an audience with a whole evening before me and a subject I love. All I can promise is to try to practice the Ninth Point of the Scout Law and be "Thrifty" with your time this evening.

Scouting is one of the greatest organizations in the world to foster the highest ideals of citizenship and service. It is little wonder then that so many of our nation’s greatest leaders had some of their earliest leadership experiences in Scouting. Some aspects of the Scouting program may have changed over time. But one thing remains constant. That is, the total development from boyhood to manhood is still founded on the physical, mental, and moral excellence expressed in and demanded by the Scout Oath and Scout Law.

When most boys enter Scouting, they likely picture themselves as someday becoming Eagle Scouts. But as often happens, many activities and interests clamor for their attention as they enter their high school years and the early Scouting flames and aspirations may dim to ashes and flicker away. After all, historically only about four percent of Scouts have achieved the Eagle Rank.

So, what does the Eagle badge represent in the lives of the young men who earn it? Certainly, it means that a Scout has set his eyes on a challenging goal and has worked hard to achieve it. But more importantly, it is a measure of a boy’s future potential as he grows to manhood. In truth, achieving the Eagle Scout Rank is not an end but simply an open door to the future.

There is much that can be said about the Trail to Eagle, about the challenges along the way and about the accomplishment itself—the what, how and when. But I would like to highlight one point that is often missed. That is, long before a Scout can actually reach this high honor, he has a decision to make. That decision is the fundamental answer to the question, “Do I want to be an Eagle Scout?”

In fact, this very question is the “why” that drives each prospective Eagle Scout forward. It is a decision only the Scout himself can make. That these young men are here before you is clear evidence each one made the decision and stayed the course.

Certainly, their family and friends encouraged them and maybe even gently nudged them at various points along the way. And any Scout would likely tell you that an encouraging word can be like gold when the journey gets tough and a Scout has to dig deep, then deeper still, just to keep going. But ultimately, and by design, the Scout must answer the call of the soaring eagle for himself, just as each of these young men did.

For some the decision may have come early in their Scouting careers. For others, it may have happened much later, after an awakening about what becoming an Eagle Scout means to them. And did I mention there is a clock ticking away in the background? Yes, at age 18, the Trail to Eagle ends for all Boy Scouts.

But regardless of when the decision occurs, that is the moment each Scout truly learns the importance of the Eagle Scout Rank in his own life. It is at that decision point when he accepts the challenge, makes the commitment and maps out a personal plan and strategy to meet the goal.

How many Ranks and Merit Badges do I have left and can I complete them all in time? What will I do for my Eagle Service Project and how long do I need to finish it? Have I completed all my Leadership requirements and have I done my best to be an active mentor to other Scouts in the Troop looking to me for guidance? These are the questions each Scout must answer for himself, often when facing the many other demands of an increasingly busy schedule of school, family, sports and even work activities.

On occasion, the Scout’s decision to embark on the Trail to Eagle may be challenged by others—peers in school, team mates or even friends—who may not fully understand the pull of the spirit of Scouting. No matter, because it is a Scout’s own personal motivation which will carry him across the finish line.

As I thought about each of the young men seated before you this evening, I noted a common theme along their Trail to Eagle. It has been a clear and strong sense of self and, yes, even a bit of a stubborn streak, that has stood them in good stead on their individual journeys. Indeed, I would have no trouble speaking volumes about the strong personal attributes of each one.

Some have left their mark on academics, others in athletic competition. Some followed Eagles in their own families or reached that goal as the first. Some have excelled in math and science, others in the arts. Some have dug snow caves that would match any survivor's story, others have climbed mountains or backpacked for miles for the sheer joy of it.

However, regardless of their individual accomplishments, skills and talents both inside and outside of Scouting, they are now bound together by one common conviction—they are, and always will be, Eagle Scouts who are 100 percent guilty of being Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent.

Gentlemen, Welcome to the Eagles' Nest. It is a personal honor and a singular pleasure to be in your company.

And it’s a great day for Scouting!

Yosemite Adventures

Prologue: Boy Scout Troop 259 in Sacramento, CA goes out camping or backpacking usually once a month to give our Scouts an opportunity to experience the great outdoors. California has a wealth of natural beauty within a few hours of almost any place in the state. This month, a small group made a trip to Yosemite National Park. The following account documents the trip for the record and to help inform the Troop's planning for future such trips. For the Half Dome portion, here is a link to an informative video to help prepare for the hike:

https://pwrcms.nps.gov/yose/photosmultimedia/hikinghalfdome.htm .

August 20, 2010: We got a late start departing Sacramento at 1:30 in two groups---one group of nine campers bound for Crane Flat campground in Yosemite Valley and the second group of four backpackers bound for Half Dome. The two groups would be separated by several miles between our camps save for a brief encounter along the trail en route Vernal Falls on August 21.

The backpacker group arrived in Yosemite Valley too late to pick up our wilderness permit and tickets for Little Yosemite Valley (LYV) camping and climbing Half Dome. We found our overnight spot in North Pines backpacker campground and set up camp for a short stay---sack dinners followed by turning in early and sleeping under the stars to save time breaking down camp the next morning. Notably, at about 8:30 that evening, park rangers made their appointed rounds to alert all the campers to the possibility of bear visits, usually between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m.

At 4,000 feet, the night was not cold (low 50s) but cool enough that my fleece bag was not quite sufficient for a deep sleep. The boys slept well in their down bags. But tossing and turning was my lot until 4:00 a.m. when a 400 pound black bear wandered into camp as if on schedule, to snack on food in an unclosed bear box and bear cannister left unsecured in another part of the camp. The bear stayed 15-20 minutes before leaving camp, despite the clanging pots and shouts from several campers. Not much chance for sleep after that.

August 21, 2010: We were up for good by 5:30 a.m. for story swapping about the bear and a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and hot chocolate/coffee. I walked one mile to the Yosemite Wilderness Center to pick up our wilderness permit. The four of us in the backpacker party finally got underway by 10:30 a.m. after tying up loose ends and a few false starts. By the time we headed up the three-mile trail from Happy Isles toward Vernal Fall (5,044 feet), there was already a crowd on the trail. Most were day hikers with no more than fanny packs and water bottles and an occasional day pack. The true backpackers on the trail were easily identifiable.

Each of us carried two-to-three full liters of water. And between us we had three water filters to pump water along the trail if needed. It was a steady uphill, 1.3 mile climb between Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall. Our 40-pound packs made for slow going, particularly on the long series of steps leading up to Vernal Falls and steep trail up to Nevada Fall (5,907 feet). The "up" was relentless and brief "catch your breath" stops were essential. After a 15-minute layover at Nevada Fall to rest legs and check for hot spots and blisters, we continued toward LYV, pulling off the trail one time along the way to pump water from the Merced River, which was running serenely this time of year.

It was an uphill 1.4 mile hike from Nevada Fall to LYV. But the broad trail made it manageable despite the loose sand in places. Walking sticks were definitely helpful on the steep trails. Once at LYV (6,100 feet), we dropped our gear and set up camp by 3:30 p.m. in anticipation of a late afternoon climb up Half Dome (8,836 feet). After leaving Nevada Fall, the crowds on the trail had thinned out, although there were plenty of day hikers who continued to Half Dome. However, most of those on the trail by mid-afternoon was returning from their Half Dome climb earlier in the day and were on the way down to camp or homeward bound. Only the backpackers were overnighting at LYV.

Despite our fatigue and the lateness of the day, we decided to press on toward Half Dome the same day rather than wait until the next morning. In retrospect, that decision was a good one. Our group felt we might not have it in us to complete the 3.2 mile hike and climb up Half Dome the next morning, then hike all the way back to the valley floor. However, by way of lessons learned, we should have pumped water at the river before leaving LYV for Half Dome. Yes, we still had water from our earlier filtering stop. Just not enough.

Knowing it would be a late return to camp for the night, we packed our day packs with jackets, gloves, flashlights, first aid kit, snacks, water and our dinner supplies (stove, fuel, matches, dehydrated meals). We knew we would likely have to cook dinner on the way down to replace the calories we had used on the trail.

Almost immediately after finding the trail out of camp toward Half Dome, the level terrain around the LYV backpacker campsite once again changed to steady uphill. We proceeded northerly for 1.2 miles. Even without our heavy backpacks, the trail was not easy---perhaps a measure of the fatigue in our legs at that point.

As we switched to a westwardly direction for the final two miles, a quick assessment of our available water supplies illuminated our failure to account for the demands of the 6.5 mile round trip late in the day. Fortunately, and totally unexpectedly, we encountered a very small muddy patch of ground on the side of the trail. To us thirsty hikers, that wet spot looked really good. It turned out to be a surface pop-out of a small underground stream or the exit of a tiny spring.

Although at first the water appeared not much more than a mud hole, we detected a definite flow to the water and clean sand which had collected in the bottom of a four-inch depression. That small water source became cause for celebration as we filtered enough to refill several bottles for the rest of the hike. Admittedly, we got some odd stares from hikers as we tapped our dubious water supply.

It took us three hours to hike the steep trail from LYV to the sub-dome, get up and over the sub-dome and reach the bottom of the cables. By that time all of us were experiencing mixed emotions as we stood depleted at the base of the granite mass above us. Did our legs have one more steep climb in them? Could we push ahead into the 40 mph cross winds, chilling us through our sweat-soaked shirts and jackets? Did we have time to make the ascent, then get off the rock before night fall? We had one hour on the clock to make it to the top, spend a few minutes getting our eyes full, then make it back down. Were we to take longer than that, we knew we would no longer be able to see where our foot strikes would land.

Silently, we voted with our feet and started the ascent, reluctantly at first, then with determination. Each of us had brought ropes and carabiners to thether ourselves to the half-inch steel cables if necessary. That's how it started. Moving step by step on the steep granite face, we pulled ourselves up the cables with gloved hands, clipping and unclipping the carabiners until we no longer felt the need.

Leaning into the wind, progress was slow between the parallel pairs of heavy cable supports placed about 15 feet apart up the rock wall. At last, we reached the top, where we allowed ourselves a "Yes!" moment before contemplating how we were going to get back down. I must admit, a helicopter rescue did cross my mind more than once as we watched the sun setting beyond the distant horizon.

Indeed we did just make it back down at dusk. Darkness overtook us as we arrived at the tree line below the granite subdome base. All four of us were famished and totally spent. Without hesitation, we broke out our dinner supplies and ate our fill by flashlight before our two-hour return hike in the dark to LYV. At 10:30 p.m. we were down for the count until morning.

August 22, 2010: We slept in until 6:00 a.m. (the boys until 8:00) and took our time breaking camp, anticipating an easy five-mile downhill return hike to Happy Isles and our drive home. Indeed, the return hike was easier and we were happy to take an alternate route along a portion of the John Muir Trail out of Nevada Fall. However, by the time we had hit the flats at Happy Isles, we were glad even the downhills were over. Our quads were trashed from steadily putting on the brakes for nearly five miles. After a four-hour ride home, including a stop at In-and-Out Burger, we pulled into the Elks Lodge parking lot at 5:30 p.m. A good time was had by all.

Epilogue: After climbing up Half Dome, I know why I'm not a rock climber. There's something about holding on for dear life that I would just as soon leave to others. Granted, fatigue was clearly a factor in the feelings of being on the edge of my physical capabilities. Nonetheless, making it all the way up and back down was a thrill and I'm glad I did it. At the very least, I can say it's off my bucket list.

And though I suppose it could happen, I'd wait a few days before asking me if I'll be going back to Half Dome....

Recalling The National Scout Jamboree---Got GORP?

Below is a short rhyme in honor of Scouting and an often used energy source on our many campouts and backpack treks. But first a brief recap of our recent Jamboree experience in the company of about 45,000 other Scouts and Scout leaders at Fort A.P. Hill near Fredericksburg, VA.

After three years of planning, nearly two years of monthly meetings, two preparatory campouts and hours of gateway construction, patch sewing and packing, Jamboree Troop 640 of the Golden Empire Council left for the 2010 National Scout Jamboree on July 22 and put it in the history books on August 4.

Our departure from Sacramento on July 22 went smoothly after meeting at the Sacramento International Airport at 0430 hours for a 0600 departure. We began our four days of almost non-stop touring of the Washington DC area virtually as soon as we picked up our 40 matching black duffel bags at Washington's Reagan Airport. There were memorials and monuments galore along the full length of the 1.9 mile Capitol Mall, followed by a tour of the Capitol, the National Archives, several Smithsonian museums.

At Arlington Cemetery we watched the changing of the guard and laid a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We couldn't leave the capital without a stop at the National Boy Scout Memorial where a baby bald eagle also stopped by as if to acknowledge our current and future Eagle Scouts. Rounding out three full days of touring in the capital was a special viewing of the evening parade at the Marine Barracks at 8th and I Streets, presented by the "President's Own" band and Drum and Buggle Corps.

Capping our pre-Jamboree touring was a morning stop a Jamestown, an action packed afternoon and evening at Busch Gardens and a tour of Williamsburg before our leaving for Fort A.P. Hill. We arrived at the Jamboree site amidst tight security and set up our home away from home for the next ten days. Reveille at 0530 hours daily and Taps at 2200 hours set the official boundaries of waking and sleeping, although the sleeping part seemed to last much shorter than the clock would indicate. Days were filled with patch trading, meeting Scouts from all over the U.S. and several visiting country delegations, outstanding arena shows, meals at camp and an occasional shower to counteract the products of heat, humidity and dust.

Even the last night did not disappoint as a lightning storm blew in just after 0300 hours to give us a good soaking as we slept under the stars on our last night in camp. Seemingly working in concert, a sister storm in the Chicago area delayed all flights, including our flight out of Reagan National Airport and our connecting flight out of Chicago. Nonetheless, after visiting the Marine Corps Museum at Quantico and the First President's Mount Vernon home, we arrived back home, minus our duffels at midnight August 4th. Despite the no doubt quickly fermenting laundry in our baggage, the misrouted duffels remained in luggage limbo for two more days. From what we could tell, the delivery agent simply dropped the bags at each house, rang the doorbell and ran.

All in all, the 2010 National Scout Jamboree was a memorable celebration of the first century of Scouting in the U.S. and the final National Jamboree at Fort A.P. Hill, VA. The next National Jamboree will will held in 2013 at the Boy Scouts of America's new Jamboree location at the Bechtel Summit in West Virginia. Planning is already underway for the next Jamboree and the next century of Scouting.


Got GORP?
By Bill Kirk

Some Good Old-fashioned Raisins
And Peanuts—that’s for me.
When hiking in the mountains,
It boosts my energy.

Yes, GORP is what they call it—
A strange, odd-sounding name.
But who cares what it sounds like?
I’d eat it just the same.

I’d munch GORP in the morning
In oatmeal, with a spoon,
And later, by the hand full,
I’d nibble some at noon.

I’d scarf it from a baggie—
Or snag it from a sack.
It’s chewy and it’s crunchy;
Just perfect for a snack.

So, when your “let’s get going”
Has gotten up and gone,
Your energy is flagging—
There’s no more forging on;

Forget about your manners
If consciousness goes warp!
Quick! Guzzle down some fluids
And grub a little GORP.

What A Day It's Been

By Bill Kirk
Bill Kirk's Website

(Published in Scouting e-zine Cracker Barrel, 2008)

You'd think it would be easy,
To tell about the day's
Events and how they happened
In ordinary ways.

But this day wasn't normal,
Though it was kind of cool.
I learned to care for victims
At Boy Scout First Aid school.

At first I was a victim.
I had a "broken arm"
And "bruises" and a "headache"
As if I'd come to harm.

An "accident" had happened
On my "mountain bike."
But soon I was "discovered"
By "hikers" on a hike.

They checked out all my "bruises,"
And bandaged all my "scrapes."
In no time they had splinted
My arm with sticks and tapes.

Soon after I was "stable"
I had another role-
To help a rock slide victim
Impaled upon a pole.

Of course, he was "unconscious."
His "skull" had hit a "rock."
Because we had just "minutes,"
We worked against the clock.

At first we rolled him over
And "stabilized" his "spine."
We did a lift and carry;
In no time he was fine.

Several hours later,
The day was finally done.
Although the lessons were intense,
We'd learned while having fun.

When I got home, exhausted,
My wife said, "How's your day?"
"You won't believe..." then I just couldn't
Bring myself to say.

The End: National Poetry Month Is Over

April 30: “For today's prompt, write a letting go poem. The poem could be about letting go of a relationship; it could be about letting go of anger; it could be about letting go of a tree branch; or it could even be about, yes, letting go of this April challenge. There are so many things we can let go.“

Alas, the end has come to National Poetry Month and to the Poem A Day Challenge for April. Writing a "letting go" poem offers many paths. But in honor of squeezing yet another poem into a day, busy-ness came to mind. Today's offering is short and sweet because now I must get busy so we can leave for a weekend camping trip---lots to do. Busy, busy, busy....

Letting Go Of Busy
By Bill Kirk

Busy is as busy does.
So, why are we so busy?
Should busy bees our mentors be
And life be all a-tizzy?

Why not add a little sloth—
Try letting go of busy?
Moderation in all things
Will make you far less dizzy.

Guess I’ll kick back and enjoy
A few things I have missed.
But first I’d better check things off
My daily duty list.

Stone Skippers

Boys and rocks and water. What more do you need? There's something about that combination of ingredients that is unlike any other. The locations where the ingredients are combined may vary. But in the end when it comes to skipping stones, location is totally inconsequential.

This weekend, the location happened to be on Angel Island in San Francisco Bay---not bad as real estate goes. On Saturday morning a small but determined group of Sacramento Scouts ferried across from Tiburon to Ayala Cove on the island. With our backpacks securely strapped on, our party of 11 made the short hike to the Kayak Group campsite on the west side of the island. After setting up camp, the water's edge was calling and all in our group answered that siren's call.

The adults among us mostly enjoyed the momentary respite from the weekly grind as small, wake-driven waves lapped at the narrow rock-strewn beach. But the boys? Well, for anyone who might declare that imagination is dead, this day told a different tale. Each Scout became an instant expert in the fine art of stone skipping.

What makes a good skipping stone, anyway? Is it a particular rounded edge that cradles perfectly in the curve between index finger and thumb? Must it be thin and flat? How large should it be? Too heavy and the toss results in a resounding "SPLOINK!" Too small and whatever happens is just not very satisfying. And almost intuitively, all stone skippers know shape is important for a great skip. Yes, you can almost skip anything once. But to get the repeating hops across the surface in rapidly increasing succession takes a shape within certain generally accepted tolerance limits.

But, ultimately, a good skip doesn't just depend on the stone. It also requires the right speed and the right angle, both of which are totally in the hands of the skipper. There's almost nothing worse than wasting a good skipping stone on an insufficiently serious toss. Rarely will a casual approach to skipping earm the accolades of one's fellow skippers. But a good skip is pure joy.

However, much like the short-lived laurels awarded to ancient Olympians, a record breaking skipping toss is transitory and in the moment. Judging is instantaneous by those present and not subject to review. To witness a great toss is its own reward. In fact, even being lucky or attentive enough to see a great toss, sets one apart from those who might have missed it either because they weren't present or simply because they blinked or looked away at an inopportune moment. Yet even the declaration of a record-breaking toss is sufficient to lay down the gauntlet to all others who might attempt to best it.

And so, as boys have done for as long as there have been rocks and water, our Scouts followed suit on this March day on Angel Island, California. They joined all past, present and future skippers, bound in silent brotherhood, standing at water's edge, searching for just the right stone to fling with just the right speed, at just the right angle, hoping to catch the most air or the most bounces across the surface.

Such is the way of the stone skippers.

When Opportunity Knocks---Be Prepared

Sometimes you get a surprise. On a lark I sent a poem (this one is a rhyme) to Boy Life magazine. Although it didn't quite fit the needs for the magazine, the editor offered that they were hoping to put it in a Scouting blog in what is known as the Cracker Barrel.

Let's face it, he had me over a barrel so how could I refuse. Knowing the Cracker Barrel is used as a source of useful information, helpful hints for Scouting activities and generally to give Scouts and Scouters a chuckle, I am a fan. So, I was glad my rhyme about taking a weekend Wilderness First Aid course would in some way contribute to the greater good. Besides another credit is one more cobblestone on the road to writer heaven.

Here's the URL that will take you to the Scouting blog if you wish to check it out. On the Trail to Eagle, it's all good.

http://blog.scoutingmagazine.org/2009/07/what-a-weekend-rhyming-edition.html#more .