The Ponil staff continues its service streak by making a chuckwagon breakfast for the crews (with some help from the crew advisors). Everybody swarms for seconds and thirds on the pancakes and sausage.

A last visitor to our campsite before we head out — the kind of furry visitor I like.

Today’s hike is only to the Ponil Turnaround, where the bus picks us up and takes us back to Base Camp. Just like that, we’re back in civilization, indulging in hot showers and cafeteria meals. We pick up mail at the Base Camp post office, where Tonie rakes in tons of letters from her family. She will show them her appreciation with tons of trading post gifts (including a minibear toy for her sister).

This time in Base Camp, we can see the Tooth of Time in the distance.

The Base Camp area offers more than just Tent City and its support services. There’s also the Philmont Museum and Seton Library, which we toured before our trek, and Villa Philamonte mansion, the summer home of Waite Phillips, which we tour after our trek (and after hot showers, of course).

After 11 days on the trail, Assistant Scoutmaster Forkner isn’t exactly up for the tour.

The tour guide invites Blake to entertain us on the Villa Philamonte piano. Note his sock feet: no shoes on the tour.

Tonight, the Farewell Campfire show is held in the Philmont outdoor arena. The show, with its funny minibear-attack skit and scenic slideshow, leaves us with lots of laughs and some deep thoughts about what we’ve just experienced at Philmont: 83 miles of tough terrain, slippery mud, restless nights, breath-taking scenery, fun program activities, strong crew unity and the satisfaction of a job well done.

“It was the best backpacking trip I’ve ever taken,” Charlie declares, “and the best I ever will.”

You said it, Charlie.

The next morning, former crew leader Kevin is homebound from Tent City.

I had a great time. Really.

CREW 807-G’S FINAL STATS

Number of:

• Times hailed on: 5
• Times lightning procedures carried out: 3
• Trail meals consumed: 27
• Wild turkeys sighted: 8
• Times minibears stole any food: 1
• Nights bears were worried about: 10
• Bears that visited our campsite: At least 1
• Bears actually sighted: 0
• Good times: 1 gazillion

Special Recognition: Crew 807-G would like to thank their official mascot, Darla (and her sister, Nalgena), without whom we never would’ve made it. (Well, we would’ve made it—just without as many laughs.) See the crew hike in her honor:

“You’ll be eating dehydrated food for lunch everyday,” Kevin laughs.

“And putting everything you own in Ziplock bags,” Travis adds.

That might have been just a dream, but here’s something that wasn’t: We woke up this morning to a pile of bear poop only 10 feet from our tents. Yikes!

Charlie and yours truly have different reactions to the bear poop discovery.

Last night, Assistant Scoutmaster Ken Forkner called it. When we were pitching our tents, he advised us to keep them clear of a path running from the nearby creek through our tent site to the Bearmuda Triangle. He guessed — right on — that if a big furry visitor came through, it would take this path. Fortunately, we had done a good job with our bear procedures, so our visitor didn’t bother us or our stuff.

Christian doesn’t want to come out of his tent into the drizzly morning.

We head out for Ponil, the last camp on our trek. We make really good time and get there in time for a horseback ride.

We and another crew listen up before the ride.

I don’t have much experience around horses, so I listen carefully to the staff talk before our trail ride. They tell us to be sure to take charge of your horse and show it who’s boss, because it can sense if you’re nervous and will push you around. As the staff is giving out the horses, I’m thinking: Please, please, please let me get a reallllly easy-going horse.

Instead, I get Bob. He’s a big guy with a glint in his eye. I get on him and before I know it, he’s moved into the middle of the corral, even though I’ve been pulling on his reins to get him to stay put. Everybody’s looking at me from the perimeter of the corral where we’re supposed to be lining up, probably thinking, “Boy, she needs to show that horse who’s boss …” In a fake stern voice, I tell Bob what’s what, but I don’t think he’s buying it.

Fortunately, the ride is just a leisurely stroll single file through Ponil Valley, so Bob doesn’t go wild. Although pretty gentle, most of the horses have a bit of a stubborn streak: “My horse kept nudging me if I quit petting him,” Tonie reports, after the trail ride.

“Mine kept eating the grass along the trail like he wasn’t supposed to,” Charlie says.

Well, I’m glad to hear my horse wasn’t the only one with a mind of his own.

Hitting the trail in nice single file.

Travis giddyaps with Kevin not too far behind.

Equestrian Kendall feels right at home in the saddle.

Christian gits along.

Trevor holds his horse.

Bob has me smiling before the trail ride is over.

Bob and buds back in the corral.

After our trail ride, we hit La Cantina de Ponil for our first taste of home: sarsaparilla. Well, it’s actually rootbeer, and to us it’s the best-tasting rootbeer ever. It sure beats the water and Gatorade we’ve been drinking nonstop for the past 11 days.

Kevin downs a taste from home.

The gang plays a friendly card game of President in a nice dry place.

Not only do we get rootbeer at Ponil, but we also get a chuckwagon dinner — beef stew and peach cobbler. The best part is that the staff cooks it for us.

Christian pitches in and helps stoke the coals for the chuckwagon dinner.

Then, at 8 o’clock, we get live entertainment at the cantina from the staff. Boy, I’m starting to like all this service.

We get a little bit of singing …

And some fiddling …

And some laughs …

And some Philmont history from Sheriff Charlie.

Before heading to our campsites, staffer Sheriff Charlie gives us a pep talk: “We’ve had 24 straight days of bear sightings here at Ponil, so be very, very careful with your bear procedures tonight.”

To drive this point home, we’re treated to a viewing of a previous Ponil camper’s Nalgene bottle. It’s punctured all over by big ol’ bear teeth marks.

O.K., so let me get this straight. We’ve made it this far—to the very last night on the trail—and chances are that we’ll be encountering a bear tonight? Great.

Pedro and pals having breakfast in the corral.

The burros get overly friendly with Charlie.

Christian communes with one of the corral’s horses.

So we’re off, burro-less, down the trail. Along the way, we see other crews with burros.

Do these guys like alfalfa milkshakes and tumbleweed tacos?

Judging from the way some of the crews are wrangling with the stubborn animals, we’re not so sad that we skipped out on them.

We stop for lunch and the program activities at Pueblano camp, the site of the former Continental Tie & Lumber Company.

So the program is—surprise—all lumberjack-related.

The crew gets the Pueblano “porch talk,” in which the staff tells us about the fun stuff offered at the camp.

Before we can dive into the program, those predicted thunderstorms kick in. Fortunately, we can take shelter on the camp porch.

Everybody’s happy to take shelter from the rain, for once.

Our fearless crew leader is reduced to a green blob.

When it finally stops raining, Travis, Kevin, Christian, Trevor and Charlie do a little spar-pole climbing. After detailed instructions and a safety talk, the guys strap on shin guards, spikes, harnesses, ropes and helmets (a.k.a. brain buckets). The mantra is “Spike! Spike! Lock knees! Heave belt!” all the way up the very tall spar pole.

The safety talk before the guys hit the spars.

Travis is all geared up and ready to go.

Christian concentrates on the spar of the moment.

Kevin works it …

Digging those spikes in …

And heaving that belt.

Travis and Charlie have lots of spar power.

Trevor makes his way …

Higher and higher …

To the top!

Watch Travis making his way up…

…and back down again.

Christian gives it a go:

We head for our campsite at Flume Canyon, where we get hailed on during dinner—that’s the fourth time now. It’s cold and we’re all crammed under our muddy dining fly, but there’s a lot of loud laughter going on. A big part of Philmont is being miserable together but still having fun.

Kendall and Tonie pitch their tent after the storm passes.

Trevor stakes his tent in the mud.

Charlie gets a little overenthusiastic in the sunshine.

We take off into a CLOUD. The entire mountain is shrouded as we begin our ascent. It has a weird effect: Everyone’s voices are muffled as we spread apart on the trail.

Charlie’s view — a CLOUD.

After a while, it starts to get very rocky and steep.

Kevin puts his trekking pole to good use.

Tonie looks waaaay up the slope at her crewmates.

Baldy Mountain vet Blake tells everyone, “It’s pretty much like this to the summit, so crawl at your leisure.”

Like a ghost in the fog, Trevor approaches the summit.

And we do take our time trudging up the mountain. Some of the crewmembers feel like they’re running out of air.

“It’s going to be hard,” Blake acknowledges. “After all, we’re hiking at the altitude where planes fly.” Wow. I hadn’t thought about it that way.

Like Blake warned, it IS hard. But we all make it to the summit. And when we get there, everybody wants to celebrate—even if we’re doing so in a CLOUD:

Now that we’re on the summit, it’s getting colder so everyone puts on their jackets to eat their lunch.

Christian’s not so sure about the powerbar in today’s lunch.

“I’m disappointed that there’s no payoff for our hard work getting to the top,” Tonie says. “I mean, there’s no pretty view or anything.” Oh, well, it was still a big accomplishment that we all made it.

There’s a bit of excitement on our way back down the mountain when we’re attacked by the Crazy Moss-Haired Mountain Man.

Watch Christian barely escape alive:

At the base of the mountain, we stop at Baldy Town camp, which at the height of Baldy Mountain’s gold-mining operation had a population of about 2,000.

We’re here for another food pick-up. Uh-oh. Kevin forgot to bring his “Life.” And he’s really worried: “The staff is gonna kill me! What if they won’t give us our food?”

We all reassure Kevin that the crew won’t be left to starve. Now, as for the staff killing him? Well…

Wow! For the first time on the trek, showers are available for our use here in Baldy Town. But we’re still in the cloud, so it’s damp and chilly. Meh — what’s another few days without a shower? We decide to just stick it out.

Heading back to Miranda, we meet up again with our long lost pal: sunshine.

Back at camp, some of the crew takes in a little tomahawk throwing. Watch Christian score:

and Charlie:

Fun and games around the campsite.

We’re so tired after our mountaineering adventure, we have Thorns and Roses while lying in our tents. Kevin’s Rose: “The Baldy Town food pickup guy didn’t eat me alive for not having my Life. He just kicked boxes around and acted like he was mad. Then he was really cool and gave us some extra food. Good stuff, too, like tortillas!”

Kendall gets friendly with one of Head of Dean’s residents.

Kendall and Tonie take advantage of the rare opportunity to wash clothes while we wait for our Head of Dean challenge to start.

The first challenge is a “group sit.” See how well it goes:

The next challenge has the crew trying to get a tire over the top of a pole without touching the pole.

Next up is the Nitro Crossing, in which each crew member has to somehow get a rope using only their body and then swing across a line—and do it all without talking. Watch Travis and the gang go for it:

And then Charlie and company finally get it:

With the Spider Web challenge, the crew has to get each member through rope web (with two people blindfolded), using each hole once and not touching the ropes. Watch as a blindfolded Charlie encounters the web:

Last is the Wall challenge. This one’s a toughy. Everybody has to make it up a 12-foot wall with the help of everyone else who hasn’t yet gone up it. It’s not as easy as it looks, as Christian can testify:

But the crew gets the hang of it, and they start making it up the Wall. Here’s Trevor:

Since Tonie’s last, the crew tries a different technique with her:

Finally, success!:

Working the Wall.

After the challenge course, we’re off to our next camp: Miranda.

When we start hearing rifle shots in the distance, we know we’re getting close. Miranda has a black-powder rifle range.

When we get there, we find that Miranda is a wildlife paradise. The camp is set in a wide mountain meadow of green grass and colorful wildflowers leading up to a big white tepee and staff cabin. We spot turkeys loping nearby and hummingbirds feeding at orange, trumpet-shaped wildflowers.

Kevin checks in at the Miranda staff cabin.

After check-in, we head to the black-powder rifle program, where we learn how to load and fire the old-timey guns. Everybody places their caps, bandanas, camp shoes—whatever they don’t mind getting a hole in—on the range as targets. Watch Crew Leader Kevin take aim:

As a staffer looks on, Trevor pours the black powder in the barrel and rams it down. The result? A shot through his cap (He wasn’t wearing the cap at the time.)

Christian has good luck with his bandana.

Charlie has a blast at the rifle range. “You feel on top of the world when you shoot a gun,” he says. As for the old-timey black-powder rifle? “It was easy to fire. There wasn’t as much of a kick as I expected.”

This evening, the crew is invited by the staff to a friendly game of Mountain Ball. Miranda’s staff is well-known as a bunch of crazy mountain men, and their game is as crazy as they are.

Mountain Ball is a version of baseball, only everybody plays as a mob, self-pitching and running the bases in no particular order. Oh, and the best part? The mountain men ALWAYS win, even if they have to cheat to do it. Tonight they win 10 to 0.

Miranda Mountain Ball: Crazy, I tell you.

Back at our campsite, the moon is bright, bathing the meadow grass and fir trees in silver.

Tonie, Trevor, Christian and Charlie build a campfire.

Fortunately, the moon isn’t so bright that it washes out the Perseids Meteor Shower tonight. Every once in a while we catch quick streaks of light across the sky.

Finally on the right track: Blake and Christian cross the Cimarron River.

It’s a looooong and pretty difficult hike to Upper Dean Cow trail camp today. But, hey, nobody’s complaining. It doesn’t rain.

Christian poses in a burnout area, where wild fires raged a few years ago.

Charlie, Christian and Kevin check out the Upper Dean Cow camp map. We have the pick of the campsites since we’re the only crew here today.

Crews are supposed to set up their tents in a C or W formation — one in which a wild animal won’t enter and get trapped (as they would in a closed formation, like an O).

Kendall, Kevin, Travis and Christian cook dinner under the dining fly, waiting out a short shower.

Gross but necessary: I check my feet for blisters after a long day of hiking.

Kevin’s Thorn for the day: “45 million miles uphill with only one switchback.”

As Kevin’s Thorn indicates, it’s been a long, hard day, like so many days at Philmont. So why is Blake out here for a second Philmont trek? “This is a really majestic place,” he says. “It’s nice to be away from everything for so long. It keeps the phone off for two weeks and gets you in incredible shape. Plus, this crew likes to have a lot of fun.” He does have a very good point—or two or three.

Right when we get in our tents for the night, a mysterious barking and yipping starts up close by. Questions start darting around the crew: “Is it somebody’s dog at a nearby staffed camp?”

“Is it a fox?”

“A coyote?”

“Is it calling to a mate?”

“Is it defending its den?”

“From a BEAR?”

My mouth goes dry.

The ruckus—from both the mystery beast and the crew—goes on for at least an hour. We finally decide that it’s probably a coyote. As Blake points out: “It is almost a full moon, and coyotes are greatly offended by lunar cycles.”

To earn the coveted Philmont patch, the crew has to hike at least 50 miles and perform a three-hour conservation project during their trek. On this trek, 50 miles ain’t no problem. Today we will complete our conservation requirement. I’m excited, because I reallllllly want that patch to show for my 11 days in the wilderness.

We head to the Cito conservation area and are put to work hauling off tree branches and throwing them on a big fire. Our work will help clear a mountain meadow of excess growth, which is good for the habitat.

Trevor and Christian head to the fire.

Trevor tosses one on.

Kevin hauls off a ponderosa pine branch.

Christian, Trevor and Charlie get my award for Most Enthusiastic Lumberjack-like Participation. They practically have to be restrained from carrying off entire trees by themselves.

Christian bites off almost more than he can chew.

An interesting creepy crawly greets me on my backpack after the conservation project.

Three hours of hard work has us itching to hit the trail, and when we do we’re in for a treat. The hike through Grouse Canyon is spectacular.

Charlie checks out Grouse Canyon rock formations.

Christian watches a wild turkey cross the trail near Ute Gulch.

We stop for lunch at the Ute Gulch Commissary, where we also pick up a few days’ worth of food. For lunch today, we enjoy the famous and wildly popular Philmont jalapeno squeeze cheese on crackers.

Before leaving our lunch site, the crew ponders our next move.

Most of the afternoon’s hike is uphill, but it’s well worth the effort. We stop for a long rest in a spot that gives us a breath-taking view of Baldy Mountain in the distance.

This is proof that Philmont is enjoyed in moments. One moment you’re struggling—you feel that your feet can’t possibly hurt more, that you can’t take another drop of rain—but then the next moment you’re laughing and swept up in the gorgeous scenery, crew togetherness and your sense of accomplishment.

Everybody’s happy with the view.

Kevin and Travis use their backpacks as recliners as they take in the view.

Baldy looms.

Trevor ponders his dry toes while everything else dries out in the glorious sun.

We take off on what proves to be a scenic hike.

Ah, there’s nothing like a Philmont morning: a cool breeze whispering through the Ponderosa pines, the fluttering aspens, the scent of your hiking mates wafting toward you…. It’s day four since anybody was able to take a shower, and it’s starting to show (and smell).

Schaefers Pass was a dry campsite, one without a water source, so we’re running low. Along the trail, we fill up from a clear-running stream.

We break out our lunch at Clark’s Fork, a staffed camp with a blacksmith shop where we can have our hats and boots branded (no shirts, Nalgene bottles or human flesh allowed).

Trevor looks on as his cap gets the famous Bar P Crazy S brand.

Philmont’s two brands are the Bar P Crazy S and Slash Crazy S. You can also get a Scouting fleur de lis brand.

Today’s a miracle day because it doesn’t rain. At all. No kidding.

When we first arrive at our campsite at Hunting Lodge, the staff tells us about their regular visitor, Steve. A regular visitor? Big deal. Except that Steve is a BEAR.

“He’s here almost every night, so be sure you tighten up your bear procedures,” they tell us.

“I want to see a bear,” Christian declares.

“You need to be a little more specific,” Blake tells him. “You want to see a bear in daylight, at least 100 yards away from us. Not in our campsite tonight.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

We’re at Hunting Lodge early enough for some leisure time. I’d forgotten what that was, exactly. I’m excited because I have some time to wash clothes, something I’d never be excited about at home. Hey, gotta cut down on the stink when you can.

The Hunting Lodge once belonged to Waite Phillips, who donated most of the land that is now Philmont Scout Ranch.

Serious Scout: Blake orients his map during leisure time.

Travis and Christian treat aching feet with ice from the Hunting Lodge.

After a dinner of vegetarian chili, we head to the Hunting Lodge for staff-made cobbler. But there’s a hitch: Before getting a bowl of the mouth-watering dessert, each crew member has to tell a joke the staff has never heard before or then it’s three different jokes you have to tell. And there aren’t too many jokes the staff hasn’t heard before. After all, we’re one of the last treks of the summer. It’s well after dark before all of us get our cobbler.

Sad, pitiful faces don’t bring the cobbler any faster.

Back at our tents, I think, What is the Philmont staff thinking, putting chili in the trail dinners? The sound effects from everybody are pretty astounding. If the gaseous explosions don’t keep Steve away tonight, I don’t know what will.

Not that Dylan would have directed us otherwise. He would’ve cheerfully followed us down the completely wrong trail. The rangers have this funny habit of letting you make your own decisions. They will warn you if you’re about to charge off a cliff, but otherwise they want the crew to do it on their own, which is pretty cool.

After a false start, some wandering around in the woods and some (slightly annoyed) discussion, the crew figures out the trail we should be taking outta there.

Figuring it out.

While we’re standing around scratching our heads, we have our first sighting of Philmont “minibears,” critters notorious for running off with your trail food when you’re not looking.

Awwww — The infamous Philmont minibear.

Lesson learned: Charlie is sure to keep hydrated on the trail.

Blake waits patiently in the background while Kevin, Travis and Charlie admire their surroundings.

Blake and Christian chow down on their trail lunch: crackers and canned ham — yum.

Some choice Philmont scenery.

After a warm and sunny morning with lots of pretty scenery, it starts raining again. No surprise there. Travis pretty much sums it up: “Philmont. The longest shower of my life.”

Here I am attempting a water crossing. I think photographer Ken Forkner was hoping to get an action shot of me falling in. (Fortunately, he didn’t.)

Finally, after many, many uphill switchbacks, we make it to our campsite at Schaefers Pass.

We shiver under our dining fly waiting for the cold, driving rain to pass. It finally does, and we fall asleep to the sounds from five different campsites echoing in the pass, under a stunning night sky. I never knew there were so many stars.

The guys try, try again to get our bear bags up. (Another crew already has theirs up on the cable.)

Trevor the Cook takes it easy.

Another sock-drying technique: tie to backpack during hike.

One of the many white-tailed and mule deer we encounter on the trek.

The Tooth of Time looks over us.

Kendall and Trevor check out the Abreu campsite map, hunting for the staff headquarters, a.k.a. Goat HQ.

Abreu includes an old-timey homestead, complete with staff dressed in historic clothing and barnyard animals. We are practically attacked by the resident goats, nudging us for something good to eat.

Trevor, Charlie and Kendall get friendly with the Abreu residents.

Abreu homesteaders.

Besides the pushy goats, Abreu has two other surprises for us: altitude sickness and hail. At this high altitude, it’s more important than ever to keep hydrated. Trick is, the cool temps and wet weather in the mountains can make you forget about drinking.

During lunch, Blake starts to feel nauseated and admits that he “hasn’t been drinking enough today.” It’s altitude sickness.

While he sits on the porch where we’ve been eating our lunch, the goats all gather around him. I don’t know if it’s because they sense he’s feeling bad or that he’s an easier victim to steal food from. With the goats preoccupied, the rest of us are left to finish our lunch in peace. That is, peace until the hail starts.

Storm clouds have snuck up on us and suddenly the porch roof is pinging with pea-size hail. Anybody who wasn’t already on the porch makes a beeline for it yelling, “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

We’re able to wait out the hail on the porch. We’d like to stay put until it stops raining completely, but the Abreu staff tells us we better get a move on if we want to get to Crater Lake — our next campsite — before dark.

So we head out and do a little “whitewater hiking,” as I like to call it. You know, it’s when it’s raining so hard, trails turn into little rushing rivers.

The good news about hiking in the storm today is that it’s perfect for more ranger training. With lightning striking all around us, we get prime opportunities to practice safety procedures. Dylan teaches us how to throw down our backpacks and trekking poles, spread 30 feet apart from each other and crouch on the balls of our feet (man, that burns the calves after a while!).

Travis burns his calves in the lightning safety position.

Of course, not everything the ranger teaches you on the trail is a matter of life and death. Dylan also points out cool things, like how Ponderosa pines, sniffed up close, often smell either like butterscotch or vanilla. Weird.

It’s getting dark and still raining a little when we get to Crater Lake. In a word (or two): Crater Lake is a mud hole.

Our abysmal campsite. Note the small rivers running through it.

Our dining fly and camp stove are set up on a mud slick. Our tents are pitched on a sloping mud slick.

Before bedtime, we stand on a mud slick to do our “Thorns, Roses and Buds.” This is a nightly talk in which each crew member tells about the worst thing (Thorn) and best thing (Rose) from their day, and their personal goal for the rest of the trek (Bud).

Most everybody’s Thorns have to do with the weather, such as Trevor’s: “Ripping a hole in my rain pants.” But then there’s Blake’s Rose: “The goats comforting me through my bout of altitude sickness.”

Kendall slips while getting ready to go in her tent and is now covered with mud all down one leg. That definitely would’ve been my thorn for the day.

A brighter scene: Crater Lake the next morning. The lake itself is actually pretty nice.

Kevin, Blake and Travis are in charge of the crew gear shakedown.

We haul our cots out of our tents and put all our stuff on them.

Luckily, the shakedowns we performed on our prep hikes at home have paid off. Dylan is impressed with our gear and nothing has to stay behind. We’re proud that nobody tries to take anything ridiculous—you know, like a hatchet, hair dryer or French-English dictionary.

Shakin’ it up at the individual gear shakedown. No hair dryers here.

We then have our official Philmont crew photo taken. Note the ominously approaching cloud where the Tooth of Time is supposed to be. A sign of things to come.

Our official Philmont crew photo.

The day drags by as we hurry up and wait for the bus that will take us to the trailhead.

The crew’s packline ready to go.

Finally, we board the bus at 2:30 p.m. and take off for the Rayado Turnaround trailhead, where we unload. At last! We’re on the trail!

It immediately starts to rain.

Another thing that starts immediately is our ranger training. Near the trailhead, we encounter what’s called a Philmont “Red Roof Inn.” That is, an outhouse with—you guessed it—a red roof. You wouldn’t think that anybody would need to be taught how to use one, but Dylan gives us some helpful tips. (One of them: First scrape around the seat opening with a stick to knock off any creepy crawlies.)

One of Philmont’s finest. Red Roof Inns are the the luxury models. Philmont campsites can also feature what’s called “pilot to bombardiers,” a more primitive option.

Not far down the trail, we come to our first water crossing. What is normally a small creek has become swollen and swift running from recent (and current) rains. For safety reasons, we can’t cross if the water is above the smallest crew member’s knees, so we reroute and find another crossing. There’s no bridge, and any stepping rocks are now underwater. We have to cross in mid-calf-high water.

Our boots now are completely soaked within only the first two hours of our trek.

One crossing has a footbridge that Kevin carefully negotiates with the help of his trekking pole.

“Welcome to Philmont,” Blake says as we squish along. “Rain is part of the experience.”

Blake knows what he’s talking about. The Eagle Scout went on a Philmont trek three years ago.

“Well, August is monsoon season at Philmont,” Ranger Dylan says, a little too cheerfully. “You can expect rain between noon and two almost every day. Plus, we’re getting remnants of Hurricane Eduard.” Great.

We don’t have to squish very far before arriving at our first campsite, Olympia. Now ranger training goes into high gear.

Dylan kicks ranger training into high gear.

“The most important thing,” Dylan explains, “is establishing what is called the ‘Bearmuda Triangle.’ ” Bear? My ears perk up.

At each campsite, the dining fly is set up and backpacks stored at one point of this triangle. At the second point of the triangle is the sump, a pipe sticking out of the ground where dishes, pots and pans are washed, kept and food waste collected. At the third point of the triangle, bear bags with all the crew’s “smellables” (food, anything with a scent such as soap, Nalgene bottles containing Gatorade, even duct tape) are hauled up by ropes out of the reach of bears.

Trevor and Christian make sure the “smellables” are out of bear reach.

The idea is that if bears enter your campsite, they will stay within this triangle hunting for anything good to eat. Luckily, black bears—the kind at Philmont—don’t usually consider people good to eat. Most times people are attacked, they have food or other smellables in their tent or clothes. And if you do a good job setting up your Bearmuda Triangle, bears won’t mess with any of your stuff.

We then are sure to follow procedures and set up our tents at least 50 feet away from the Bearmuda Triangle.

Travis and Christian perfect the art of drying hiking boots and socks.

Kendall and Tonie use tortillas to help clean out the cooking pot.

Charlie, Trevor and Christian filter water from nearby Rayado Creek, while everybody else sets up camp.

Soon we find out firsthand why it’s called Philmont Scout “Ranch.” Philmont includes thousands of acres of working ranch with horses, cattle, burros and buffalo. We had encountered horses right along the trail on our hike to Olympia. After we set up our tents tonight, a herd of cattle lumbers smack dab through the middle of our tent site.

Horses along the trail.

As I watch the cows traipse through our campsite, I think back to when I pitched my tent. I’m pretty sure I’ve staked one corner of my tent right through a cow pie. At the time I thought it was just a very round—and mushy—mud pie. I’ll keep telling myself that that’s what it is.

A herd of cattle traipses through our campsite.

Tonight I start what will become a trek habit, going to sleep in fits and starts. It goes like this: As I finally begin to drift off, I think, What was it that I was worrying about? Oh, yeah—BEARS. And I’m wide awake again.

Christian and Charlie get comfortable.

A day in Base Camp is a whirlwind of tasks and activities.

We check in at the Welcome Center first thing this morning, and we’re immediately informed that there was a bear incident on the trail this week. A Scout had Gatorade in his tent, which attracted a bear that bit his leg. I manage an uncomfortable gulp as I’m listening.

“But, of course,” the smiling staff member says, “if you’re sure to follow bear procedures, there should be no problems on your trek.”

I gotta hear about these bear procedures.

We then set up in Tent City and meet our ranger, Dylan Peerenboom, who will serve as our guide at Base Camp and accompany us the first two days on the trail.

Meet the Ranger: The unfailingly cheerful Dylan Peerenboom.

Our crew leader, Kevin, takes care of a lot of paperwork at different stations throughout Base Camp while Dylan talks to the crew. Dylan discusses our itinerary and what to expect, explains map reading and emergency procedures, takes us to our health check and crew gear and food pickup.

Dylan explains the finer points of staying safe—and alive.

And we can’t skip a trip to the Tooth of Time Trading Post, where we shop til we drop for last-minute equipment and souvenirs. Gotta have that Philmont toothpick holder.

Kevin maps out our trek in detail.

Meanwhile, Kevin meets with staff member Clyde Clark at Logistics, where they map out our trek and Kevin is given his “Life.” This is the form that crew leaders are in charge of. It lists the crew itinerary with each campsite, program activity and conservation project. The crew leader must carry it with him everywhere: To check in at each staffed camp, to get signed off after the conservation project, to pick up food on the trail. The form is called the crew leader’s “Life” because “it’s something you’d REALLY hate to lose, right?” a grinning Mr. Clark says to Kevin.

Mr. Clark explains Philmont’s Big Board, where staff carefully keep track of each and every crew on the trail.

After dinner, the crew attends the chapel service of their choice and the Welcome Campfire, in which the history of the Philmont area is acted out with a little song and dance.

The Protestant service has a spectacular backdrop, complete with grazing deer.

It’s been a whirlwind of a day. I’m already worn out, and we haven’t even hit the trail yet.