PHILMONT SCOUT RANCH, New Mexico
Ask any American Boy Scout anywhere, no matter what age he may be, about camping and the camps themselves, and the conversation will, at some point, turn to a Boy Scout camp way out West, known as Philmont!
Philmont is a sprawling Scout ranch located in the vicinity of the towns of Cimarrón and Ratón, N. Mexico. Although thousands of boys go to this wonderful place every year, sadly most who go through scouting do not make it to Philmont. After my esperiences there, I have to say that it's really a shame! For me, this trip was the pinnacle of my Scouting experience, and I am very glad indeed for having made the trip.
I arrived there on a chartered bus on July 10, 1966. I was 14 years old.
THUNDERSTRUCK!!
31 March, 1996
VIEW OF MT. BALDY FROM MIRANDA CAMP WHERE WE WERE BASED.
Our main objective in our Philmont expedition was to climb a mountain known in those parts as "Old Baldy" - so-called because it was completely void of vegetation at the top, resembling a bald head. It was the tallest mountain in the area, and received the greatest number of lightning strikes. The higher up and the taller the tree grew, the more likely it was to be hit and killed by lightning strikes, and there were ashen logs lying about in mute testimony to the power of a bolt from the blue.
"OLD BALDY" IS STRAIGHT AHEAD!
[12,441 ft elevation]
Sadly I did not record the exact date of our ascent of this magnificent mountain, but I estimate it was mid-July - July 15, give or take a day, approximately the halfway point in our 10-day trek. We began our ascent early that morning, and by noon, the twin-peaked summit loomed before us, framed by an azure sky, decorated with white puffy clouds.
We finally arrived at the top, and the clouds were getting thicker and darker, and there was a bit of moisture in the air, indicating rain in the distance. When in a very arid climate, water can be felt and smelled miles away.
The view from the mountaintop was breath-taking. For anybody who has never climbed a mountain, there is no way to adequately describe the feeling of reaching the summit! The view is much different from seeing the same topography from a plane. That panorama amply rewarded the pain and expense of getting there. The valley below was misty, and the air was cool and damp.
I had brought along my Kokak Instamatic camera and rolls of film - so I was well-prepared for such a moment and I began to snap away, taking several pictures all around. I was on the taller of the two peaks, along with three other members of our expedition. The rest were on the lower part of the mountain, and we had fun waving and shouting for them co come up and join us.
Just then, I heard a low rumbling sound, as of thunder in the distance. I looked about and saw the dark clouds of an approaching rainstorm. I noticed the line of dead trees slightly below me, and thought this might be a warning to us to leave.
"Hey, guys!" I called out, so that they could hear on the other peak, "Look at those clouds over there! I think it's gonna rain! We'd better get down from here!"
BLACK RAIN CLOUDS ABOVE REALLY DO NOT LOOK THREATENING.
"You're CRAZY!" said one guy, "We just GOT here after five days hike, and you want us to leave NOW??"
"Those clouds are miles away!" said another.
"Just the same," I said, in Brainy Smurf fashion, "it's heading this way!" I admonished the others, testing the breeze by wetting my index finger and holding it up.
The top of the mountain was covered with potato-sized rocks. Stumbling on one of them, I accidentally dropped my camera. I bent down to pick it up, and as I was straightening up, WHAPP!! I got knocked on the head very hard. I thought someone had thrown a rock at me and nailed me good, right on the old noggin.
At the exact same instant I saw a brilliant white flash of light and heard a deafening roar or boom. This all seemed to be happening in slow motion, but in fact, it all took place within a matter of a few seconds. I fell to the ground - or rather I was knocked to the ground - by the force of the blow to my head. I went a*s over teakettle, and wound up lying on my back.
I was very angry at whoever threw that stone at me, but as I lay there face-up, I realized I could not move! Although I felt a tingling sensation all over my body, and my ears were ringing, I could get nothing to respond those first few minutes.
The guys who were on the other peak came running up to me, shouting excitedly: "Are you all right??"
"Who threw that rock at me?!" I said, pleased that at least I could talk, and I was so angry...
"ROCK?" asked one of them, "You guys just got hit by LIGHTNING!!!" I realized I was surrounded by several of the others, all with worried looks on their faces.
We were looking your way when this bolt came down and struck the mountain top - it hit the ground right in the middle of the four of you. That was the MAIN strike, but there were these four branches that split off and hit you all!"
They were right: my three other buddies were also lying down on the rocky ground, same as I, trying to get up, and acting groggy. It had been a close call! A VERY close call, indeed.
Mother Nature has a way of letting us know who's boss, and can sometimes be forgiving, as She was that day. To this very day I have a healthy respect for thunderstorms and lightning. Thank God nobody suffered any injuries, and our trek that was nearly at its end at the halfway point, fortunately continued without further incident.
This trip was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I am all the richer for having done it.
"Silver on the sage, starlit skies above,
Aspen covered hills,
Country that I love!"
Philmont, here's to Thee,
Scouting paradise...
...out in God's country tonight!!!"
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