A Week at Summer Camp

A week that began with a car breakdown on the drive to camp, which was just a hint of the car troubles to come. Problems with a fuel injector, a dead battery, a starter motor that went out and a blown-out tire were some of the challenges our vehicles faced throughout the week.

A week of living in this little "village":

A week that that included several bear sightings and the pillaging of the girls' tent--twice.

A week when aforesaid bear was not content with rummaging through our things--he had to take Kelly's entire backpack up the mountain behind our campsite, claw through it and examine all of the contents. After consuming several granola bars, he grabbed the sleeping bag, took it farther up the mountain and shredded it royally.

A week of nicknames (inside my head mostly but not entirely) that began with "Harrah", ended with "Rambo" (Mark's nickname for Kelly) and included: Moose, Spike, Rye, Pocahontas, Bee, Cap'n, Mountie and Bush.

A week with a few trips to the First Aid Hut as well as to the hospital in Pueblo. Dehydration, allergies, a swollen ankle, a serious fall, a skinned shin or two and an emergency appendectomy were some of our medical issues.

A week when the boys accomplished much: merit badges, advancement requirements, Totin' Chips, Fireman's Chips, 25 miles on a backpacking trip, the 50-miler award, several 20-miler awards, a climb to the summit of one of the Spanish Peaks for two of our guys and a "beginner's hike" that lasted 6 hours, covered 7.6 miles and ascended to an altitude of almost 8900 feet.

A week when good character shone:  big guys helping little guys, boy scouts respecting authority, no complaining about the peas that showed up at dinner three days in a row (cleverly hidden in raman noodles, tuna casserole and vegetable stew), diligence and perseverance as they hiked and climbed and attended classes daily.

A week of stories and legends--around the opening campfire, around the fire in our campsite and on the "Legends" hike.

A week that included some scary moments: the bear incidents, of course but also the startling appearance of a fawn who bolted of the woods, practically knockng us over before he dashed into the woods on the other side of the road, scary "animal" sounds at night (some of which were later determined to be of human origin), rodents nibbling on things under the tent platform and one who actually popped up his head between the floorboards. And not to forget the very scary time when one of our guys went home after dark to the wrong campsite.

A week when food was mostly a positive topic of conversation and a highly anticipated event. Bonds of friendship were forged over slices of bacon. And we all knew who we could count on to be at the front of the line for dinner and who would be first in line for seconds.

A week when we watched for the legendary Indian Chef Grandote's shadow on the mountain. (Feathered headdress is to the left and his profile is to the right)

A week with an abundance of wildlife: pronghorn antelope, mule deer, hummingbirds, chipmunks rabbits and bears. And an abundance of Colorado wildfowers:  bluebells, columbine, queen anne's lace, daisies, clover and Russian thistles.

A week at camp where every day ended with cups of coffee (or cocoa) and our last day ended with a beautiful rendition of "Taps."


A week that will be forever in our hearts and memories.

Four Years ago

Four years ago I was the mother of an enthusiastic Tiger Cub Scout.
Four years ago Monday nights were the highlight of his week.
Four years ago I volunteered to help our cub scout leader so we could continue meeting.
Four years ago the helper became the leader.
Four years ago I thought I would just finish out the school year until they could find someone else.
Four years ago it was a duty, an obligation so my son could go to the meetings he enjoyed so much.

Today it is a joy.

And I am still the mother of an enthusiastic Cub Scout.

Just a little nostalgic right now. Last night was the Arrow of Light ceremony for the oldest Cub in our den. Before the ceremony we worked on our last project together as The Three Musketeers. If I think about it very much, I just might cry.


When I took on the challenge of leading little boys, I didn't think I would like it. I am more into arts and crafts than sports, more into sewing than leatherwork, more into reading than chemistry, more into Mozart than "Shark Attack."

I thought I enjoyed girl talk more than jokes about body chemistry. I thought girlish giggles topped fist pumps. I thought little girl hugs were sweeter than high fives.

But I was wrong.

In the last few years, I have learned to appreciate sports (a little bit, anyway), to let boys run and wrestle (preferably outdoors), and to laugh at their jokes (or at least smile).

I have learned not to get *too* mushy with them, although there are times when I just want to squeeze their little cheeks or grab them and give them a big hug. I have learned not to talk "at" them too much but to ask them questions and let them talk. I have learned that a snack at the end of the evening is pretty much a requirement.

I still roll my eyes at their corny jokes. I still flinch when they do a face plant on the floor. I still wonder how in the world they can eat that much. In short, I am still amazed at how different they are from little girls.

My little boys are turning into little men. Sometimes even little gentlemen. (I really like this part!) And they need to be with older guys. They need to see older Boy Scouts leading and learning. And they need to learn to lead.

And so, too soon, I will watch as the rest of "my" boys step into the ceremonial teepee, trade their blue uniform shirts for khaki uniform shirts and cross over into Boy Scouts.

Some Things at the Great Salt Plains State Park

Part II of our Boy Scout Adventure

Some things we saw:

the glow of a lantern inside a tent
a great blue heron
a flock of pelicans on the river
several big raccoons who intended to ravage our campsite

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Some things we heard:

an owl
a group of noisy scouts--in the campsite across the swamp
the trickle of water in a little stream
birds chirping and pelicans quacking (if indeed pelicans quack)

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Some things we tasted:

quesadillas with rotel tomatoes
chai tea
red beans and rice (I didn't know they could taste that good!)
bacon, sausage and eggs

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Some things we smelled:

let's not go there

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Some things we said:

"What are you looking for with that metal detector?"
"Metal"

"The pelican, the pelican
Its beak can hold more than its belly-can."

"we ought to 'debrief' after this camp out"

"There's a spider in the bathroom!"
"Then go in the girls' bathroom..."
"That's where the spider is!"

"What are you writing?"
"You know my blog doesn't just write itself."

"The way you can tell if a person is a real minister is to quit paying him."

"Be quiet."

"Bacon is a thing of beauty."

"The really successful people aren't the people we put on pedestals."

~~~~and my favorite quote of the whole weekend~~~~

"Take the spoon out from under your arm, and come here and cook!"

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Treasure at Great Salt Plains State Park

Part I of our Boy Scout Adventure

Sprouting like mushrooms, the tents popped up all over the glen. Two cub scouts, six boy scouts and six adults occupied the campsite and those seven tents.

Among the men and boys:

There was the boy who knew his way around a frying pan and the one who was not afraid to get his hands dirty. There was the self-acclaimed firestarter and the universally acknowledged leader of (young) men. The chaplain and the cook. There was the bargain hunter and the ultimate salesman. The theologian and the philosopher. There were those who took a shower every day and those who did not. There was the cub scout I only saw at meal times and bedtime and the other cub scout who could hold his own (and then some) with the older boys.The treasure hunter and his assistant. And there was the snorer whose identity was never determined.


And...there were us girls...yeah...but we were determined not to let that get in our way. There was no "pink" at this camp out---no make-up, no mirrors, no fluff. (although I did find some "Sweet Pea" hand lotion in my coat pocket which I was kind enough to share with our scout master who was secure enough in his manhood to use) We pitched tents and hammered stakes. We picked up trash and did our share of K-P (but no more than our fair share.) We dug holes in the Great Salt Plains and discovered crystals. We used latrines without complaint. (although in the interest of complete disclosure, I did catch a ride with some guys to the "nice" bathroom a couple of times) We slept in our clothes, cooked our hotdogs on tree branches and ate food off the ground (okay, these last three are total exaggerations but the point is, we were troopers!)

We went to the Great Salt Plains to discover treasure but we came home with more treasure than the muddy crystals in our buckets. Memories of emerald grass under a sapphire sky, the twin gems of fellowship and friendship, and the numerous nuggets of laughter that were scattered throughout the weekend. But the greatest treasures of all were the glimpses we caught of the fine men our boys are on their way to becoming.