Day Ten

[From the Philmanac - Baldy Town was a small mining community that existed on and off from 1868 to 1940. It was the center of a prosperous mining district, with the largest of the mines being the mighty Aztec (which had seven different levels to it.) Mine tours are now given on Level 2 of the French Henry side of the Aztec Ridge. At one time, there were over 20 structures that comprised Baldy Town; you can see pictures of the town in its heyday in the Baldy Town Museum. All that remains today are the foundations of some of the buildings, and the rubble that was once the Aztec Mill (which was destroyed by fire in 1923.) There are signs of mining activity all around the Baldy area, including dumps from other mines such as the Rebel Chief and the Montezuma. Baldy Camp was purchased as part of the 10,098 acres donated by Mr. Norton Clapp in 1963, and is now used as the site of a Commissary and Trading Post. The Commissary is on the site of the old Baldy Town School, and was renovated in the fall of 1995. The current Trading Post was built in 1982. The foundation of the old Baldy Town Hotel is located just north of the current Baldy Town Museum. Baldy Camp also has propane showers. It is the last source of purified water before the trek over Baldy Mountain (elevation: 12,441 feet.) Baldy is the highest point in Philmont, and offers tremendous views of Wheeler Peak (the highest point in New Mexico at 13,160 feet), the Moreno Valley and Eagle Nest Lake to the south, and the southern portion of Philmont (including the Tooth of Time.) Crews climbing the summit should depart Baldy Town by no later than 8:00 am, and should carry rain gear, water and food. Both sides of Baldy Mountain are difficult climbs; however, the Copper Park side is more steep.]

[From the Philmanac - French Henry is named for Henri Buruel, who obtained mining rights from Lucien Maxwell in the 1860's and operated the French Henry Mine on the ridge above Copper Park. The remains of his cabin are still in the location. The French Henry Mine is a 60 foot vertical shaft. Buruel encountered trouble because there was no mill to work his ore. Maxwell was too busy at Baldy Town, and the closest other mills were at Denver and El Paso. This area was purchased for Philmont as part of the Baldy Tract in late 1962. The first staff member was stationed here in 1964, and the staff camp was opened in 1966. Mine Tours are given in the second level of the Aztec Mine; there is also gold panning in South Ponil Creek, and Blacksmithing was added in the late 70's. An environmental program was also run here from 1990 to 1992. The camp had no radio until 1989, and French Henry is still considered to be one of the more primitive staff camps at Philmont. There is no purified water source; the only water is from South Ponil Creek. The current Museum Cabin was built in 1895 by the Claude Mining and Milling Company (who also built the original mill on the site.) The mill featured a 2,700 foot bucket tramway to transport ore from the mines on the ridge north of the camp. The two upper cabins at the camp were built around 1938 by Clinton H. Anderson, who made one last effort at making a profit out of the French Henry Mine - only to find that he'd been duped by the previous owners with "spiked" ore, and the truth was that all the easily mined gold had already been removed from the region. The blacksmith forge in the upper cabin was completed in 1982. The trail from French Henry to Copper Park is one of the most challenging on the entire Ranch, and is known as "The Wall." There are mining relics and dumps throughout the entire region.]

Friday, 7/10 - Up at 3:45 am, 54 degrees!!! - but everything wet from intermittent wind-blown rain all night long. Broken clouds, a brilliant moon and various stars here and there; quite beautiful, even under the trees. Crew B had gotten up at 3:30, and were struggling here and there in the darkness, flashlight beams adding a Star Wars touch. Got quickly dressed and headed out to the meadow to do wakeup duties, as Rusty had slept through his alarm again. The moon had the entire meadow brightly illuminated, which helped the guys in the meadow get up - you hardly needed a flashlight at all in the open. We're probably about 10 minutes late right now, but not a problem. Dan, Rusty, Nathan, Matt S. and I went down for the bear bags - very tough!; somehow, they had gotten all twisted up swinging around in the wind overnight. Got them down, but getting them back up was a real chore, and cost us another 10 minutes. Finally got them about 15 feet off the ground (more than enough), and decided to leave it for when we got back. A real mess and a half, there. Reassembled everyone in the main field, did a quick final checkoff of people and gear, and hit the road at 4:30 on the nose. For Crew A, Tim and Ryan were carrying backpacks; everyone else had daypacks and 2 liters of water each (plenty more at BaldyTown.) Chris W. asked me to lead off again, until daylight. I'm still using John and Mike's half-dead flashlight, but it's enough (albeit just barely.) Took the service road around to the trailhead to Ute Meadows, and away we went. Like most trails to Baldy, this one's also a 4-lane highway, and easy to follow even in the dark. Stopped after a few minutes to strip off clothes (it's hot!); following my protocol developed last year, I stripped to the waist and hiked with just shorts on. Looks weird but works for me. Got up to Ute Meadows in short order, but then got misoriented because a crew had set up their tarp and some of their tents right on the main trail (morons!) I wasn't positive at the time (I confirmed it later, when we returned), so figured I must be wrong and instead took a campsite loop trail that wound its way through half the sites in the camp. Well, this is always one of the dangers when you hike at night, but as long as you don't go brain-dead you can figure things out. Took us about 10 extra minutes to get things straight, and we finally escaped out the far end of the camp, and headed up the monster switchbacks to Baldy Camp. Beautiful trail, you can just eat up the mileage and elevation. Light enough to see without flashlights now, even under the trees, and Chris took over for me. Got to BaldyTown right at dawn, and stopped for breakfast on the big concrete slabs just below the Trading Post. Beautiful view down the valley behind us, but still plenty of clouds - which is not a good sign this early in the day. Pretty windy, too, and everyone put their longs back on again, including me. We stashed both crews' backpacks under the Commissary, filled everyone up with as much water as they could swallow, and (after an overly long latrine break) hit the trail for the peak. Fortunately, no staff members came out in time to catch us for the boring 20 minute orientation lecture (that we needed like a hole in the head, anyway); I guess they (correctly) figured that anyone smart enough to be up here this early probably already knows what they're doing. Plus they probably enjoy their sleep, too. Up and up and up now, with just a quick break for stripping clothes to start, then hiking steadily with very few caterpillars - everyone in full hiking shape, now, and most carrying less than 10 pounds each. Cinnamon gum all around, then I bored the guys with a 10-minute solo version of "Patsy-Ory-Ory-I" as we climbed. The weather looked troublesome - one minute it was clear and bright overhead, the next socked in with deep gray clouds; this could be a messy day. Approaching the treeline (about 11,000 feet or so), we took a few brief rest-stops on the really steep sections; everyone starting to gasp for breath in the noticeably thinner air. The clouds (or maybe it's heavy fog?) are really closing in now, and the wind is picking up dramatically. Finally broke out of the trees, only to be greeted by a sea of gray and a brutal wind edging over the Alpine meadow and northwest slope. Fortunately, the angle of the wind still gave us some protection from the mountain, but this is gonna be something on top! Shades of `95 here, at least with respect to the temperature and the wind - let's hope it clears up at least. We crossed the meadow and started up the final incline, all scree. The wind seemed to be picking up with every step, and it was actually hard to keep your balance standing upright. Most of the guys are now dressed in most of their long gear now, and lying down on the caterpillar breaks, but Rusty is in just a T-Shirt and hiking shorts, and I'm still stripped to the waist, both of us still sweating freely. Oddly enough, water is condensing out on all our gear as we climb - my glasses are a mess, and I have to keep wiping them off just to see. I keep reminding everyone to drink water on the breaks. I also keep casting hopeful glances at the sky as we approach the top, but other than a few glimpses of a watery sun - nothing. There's still a chance we'll break out at the top, however, like I did back in the early 70's. We took one last break 150 feet below the crest, and I screamed out to everyone to make sure to continue caterpillaring all the way to the top - we do this 100% as a crew, no breaking away now. I also yelled to go to the top and then come right back off onto the leeward side to get a break from the wind - we may not even be able to stand up on the crest. And hang onto your hats, too! Everyone nodded their understanding and we pushed up the last stretch, with the saddle slowly materializing from the mist. I have no idea who made it to the top first (Dan?), but we all made it together, at 8:35 am. Absolutely no view, and the wind was a palpable animal, screaming over the northwestern rise at between 60 and 80 miles an hour. Even somewhat knowing what to expect, just ferocious - like being in a hurricane on top of a mountain. No-one else in sight, but it was impossible to see more than 50 yards, so there could have been 10 other crews on top. About a third of the crew spread out over the peak, yelling and laughing, while the rest of us ducked down and just to the right of the trail we came up on to find a good sheltered spot. My thermometer read 35 degrees, which meant a wind chill factor well below zero (of course, it was soaking wet with condensation like everything else, so who knows what the real temperature was.) Rusty and I both got dressed again - I put on everything I brought, grabbed the camera, and headed back up on top, walking right into another crew coming up from the Copper Park side. Some of them were wearing nothing but hiking shorts and T-shirts, and other than fanny packs, had nothing else with them; unbelievable. They had been fully exposed to the wind for the last 500 feet of their climb, and had a just stunned look in their eyes. I yelled at their (solo) leader to go to the other side and get out of the wind, but he just shook his head no and they all turned around and started heading back down the way they had come up. Well, they made it to the top - for about a minute and a half - and disappeared back into the mist within another minute. Just surreal, man - I'd like to read their diary someday. I watched them disappear, shook my head with a jumble of emotions that can't be properly described, and turned back to find the rest of my own. Easy enough - they had all found the rock cairns on the northwestern rise and were sensibly lying "behind" them, sheltered from the wind. Took a couple of photos of each group, encouraged them to go ahead and add a few rocks to each cairn, and headed on down to the northwest crest. Not the brightest move of the day, but I wanted to see if the clouds were breaking up, and also experience the worst of what Mother Nature was dishing out that day. Well, it was good enough to just about knock me on my butt, even bent over and hanging onto the ground - extremism at its finest. No idea what the actual wind speed coming over the northwest edge was - I have no valid reference point from which to judge. Still nothing to see but milky gray, no breaks at all, even here. I spent an extra minute for a few thoughts for Frank Cook, Ron Laubenstine and John Polivka (my Advisors in the 70's), and headed back; for the first 50 feet, walking back was actually harder than walking into the wind. A quick check down the opposite end confirmed that we had the whole mountain to ourselves, and I returned to our "home base" for a quick "brunch." Crew B had forgotten some of their lunch - still in one of the packs under the BaldyTown Commissary - but we still had more than enough to share around. Rick reminded me to pick up another Baldy rock, which I did (my eighth so far.) By this point, everyone had just about had enough, and it was clear that there was no real hope of any immediate clearing, so a collective decision to get outta Dodge was made. I insisted on a few group shots, despite the conditions - who knows, they might turn out pretty well - even though "freeze-frame" photos never do justice to show wind-speed. First up were Brendan, Matt S. and Chris W. holding the two crew flags, tied to a couple of hiking sticks and already starting to tear themselves to rags. After that, we got everyone to sit on the near crest for a few group shots, which I took from below. I took a moment to collect my stuff, and turned around to find everyone already gone over the north side. A bit disconcerting, and I hustled up over the saddle to find just a few figures dimly visible in the mist, 100 feet down. Plus the wind was definitely stronger on the reverse slope than on the way up, at least for the first couple of hundred feet. Not good - we have to stay together in these conditions, and everyone is doubtless stiff as a board after sitting around for the past forty-five minutes. A mistake waiting to mutate into an accident. Well. Anyway, I hustled down and caught up with the tail end charlies easily enough, and stopped briefly to talk to a solo female Ranger coming up the back side - only to hear from her that half a dozen of our Scouts had gone flying down the hill a la Rick's kamikaze run last year. Great, just great - now I know why they took off without waiting for me. We headed down at a more sane pace, and soon ran into another crew struggling up through the steep scree on the Copper Park side, all strung out over 500 feet of slope, and (again) with most of them wearing only hiking shorts and T-Shirts. I stopped to chat (yell) with their leader about the conditions on top; he thanked me for the info, however, he was not a happy camper, and complained that they had had to dodge a bunch of rocks that had come flying down with our suicide squad. I apologized as best I could, and said I would discuss the matter with them - as soon as I caught them, that is. A little lower down, the mist cleared to the point where I could finally make out most of the northside Alpine meadow and the Aztec Ridge. Most of our guys were in a group several hundred feet below me, the group whose leader I had just talked to was spread out even more than I had originally thought - almost all the way down to the treeline - and one (or maybe two) other crews had made the unfortunate decision to work their way up the draw to the northside Alpine meadow (which would fully expose them to the force of the wind as soon as they started climbing up the northwestern slope.) Maybe I was too harsh in my criticism of the staff at BaldyTown - it certainly looked like most of these guys could have used some pointers. Of course, there's no staff at Copper Park, so any instruction would have to be through Philmont's paperwork (another suggestion for the evaluation.) Finally made it down to our group, and found that Mike had injured himself running down the hill - apparently, he had bruised the arch of his foot landing on the point of a larger rock. Under the circumstances, it was pretty hard to be sympathetic, but I did at least mute the angry blast I had ready to deliver - especially since the main point had already been so well illustrated. Rusty and Al worked with Mike, and we moved on as soon as it became apparent that his injury really was nothing more than a deep bruise - painful, but not an injury that would be particularly exacerbated by walking on it. Lucky, damn lucky! We finally made it back to the main trail coming up the draw from Copper Park, which made life a lot easier on Mike. Chris W. and a few other Scouts half skated down the residual snow bank in the draw - a lot smaller this year than last, so no "skiing" possible. A couple of snowballs flew, but it was hard to work up any enthusiasm for a snowball fight with such dirty ice-snow. Surprisingly enough, we got caught from behind by another small crew - I have no idea where these guys came from - whether they had turned back after trying from this side, or had followed us from BaldyTown and had just spent a few minutes on top. They certainly seemed more energetic than we were at this point, and that's a fact. We continued on down the trail, and soon left them behind as we headed into Copper Park. I was thoroughly bummed to see that the peak was starting to clear now - the first time I've ever been here where going late looked like it was going to be better than going early. By mutual consent, we stopped at a small campsite at the upper reaches of Copper Park to snag some lunch and massage some of the soreness out of our feet, and visit one of the local latrines. Half an hour and we were on our way again - still a very full day of program ahead. Passing Copper Park proper, I was struck by how many more campsites there seemed to be since I had last camped here in `95 - and what appeared to be more crews than usual, too. I guess Philmont is going to make this a major staging camp, after years of playing second fiddle to the camps on the BaldyTown side. Heading into the meadow at the head of the camp, I had all the Scouts turn around and look back up at Baldy - quite an impressive neck crane, there.... We pushed on down the trail to French Henry Mine - an extremely steep downhill through a narrow draw. I've done this one the other way a few times, and it's a real joy. A solid hour later, we cut right on the access trail to the Aztec Mine. They were open this year, and had one crew already inside and another co-ed Explorer Crew outside waiting. For some reason, they had renamed this shaft as "Aztec/Ponil 2," which was news to me. This isn't really part of the actual gold mine, but rather a so-called "blowout" shaft from one of the primary tunnels, which saved the miners from having to cart tons of rubble all the way back to the main entrance. Since there were 35 miles of tunnels honeycombing this ridge, not a trivial issue for them. I spent the next 30 minutes or so using up the last of my shots in the camera, then switched to 1000 speed film. The "inside" crew finally emerged, blinking like owls, and Crew A joined up with the coed group for the next tour. The staff guy - who really looked the part - did a nice job explaining the history of the area and this mine to everyone, and we donned hard-hats, grabbed our flashlights, and headed on in. The guide stopped here and there to point out certain features like bore holes, side shafts and flecks of gold in the quartz rocks, and we pushed to the main tunnel at the far end, which was blocked by some heavy-duty boards and a sign stating: "Absolutely No-One Beyond Barriers!!" (doubtless as a reminder to the staff, not the Scouts or Advisors - you'd have to be crazy to wander around a crumbling, hundred year old mine!) The guide then pulled the old trick of having everyone turn their flashlights off, and imagining having to work in that kind of an environment, with just a dim candle every couple of hundred feet, and the rats, and the wet, and the ever-present danger of a violent explosion, cave-in, or otherwise horrible death or injury. This was punctuated in the usual manner (details intentionally omitted for our website readers!), which got quite a rise out of everyone, especially the young ladies. To my surprise, he had us depart using our flashlights (usually you do it by touch and feel in the dark); obviously, standard Philmont policy when females are part of the group. Outside, additional groups had arrived, and we left it to Crew B and headed down to French Henry. Brilliant clear skies now, of course! At French Henry, there were already four or five crews present - doubtless all groups heading to Copper Park that afternoon - but we managed to get immediately scheduled for the Blacksmithing Program, and shortly headed back up to the forge hut. I was a bit annoyed with myself, because all I had left were three shots on the 1000 speed roll, and no other fresh film (Rick or Brad had the other camera, and they were still at the mine.) Oh well.... Our blacksmith haled from England, and did a great job with the guys, explaining everything and getting each Scout well involved. We made a small decorative hook out of wrought iron, which I kept for the duration. A decent program. Crew B finally arrived just as we were finishing up, checked in and headed right on up to take our place as we came back down for the Gold Panning Program. Of interest, they had very cleverly renovated the "Mining Office" at the opposite end of the camp, leaving the walls intact but completely tearing out the flooring and replacing it with a new hardwood "platform" floor which was not connected to and didn't touch the walls. Interesting way of doing things, very solid without damaging or altering the original shell. The "Office" was now serving as both the museum and the storage shed for the pans. After a mercifully brief orientation lecture (with the usual tall tale about some Advisor finding a huge, $4,000 nugget three weeks before), just about everyone in the crew gave it a shot. As I always tell people, not the most exciting program, but well worth the effort just to see what a chore it was to try and "pan" for a living. Crew B joined us within 20 minutes, and gave it their best shot too, but I think I was the only one to come up with any noticeable rime of dust - of course, I spent 30 minutes working over one large pan's worth of muck, while everyone else did three or four pans of mostly gravel. Definitely won't be quitting my day job for this, though.... With that, we saddled up and headed back to BaldyTown under partly cloudy but brilliantly blue skies, me gritting my teeth every time I looked up at that beautiful mountain with nary a hint of a lurking thunderstorm. Growl! At BaldyTown, things were a zoo, with at least half a dozen crews wandering around. As always, we encouraged our guys to hit the showers first, especially since they were (amazingly) nearly deserted for the moment, despite the crowd. Rusty and I also hit the Commissary, and I did a major cleanup and reorganization job of their various swap boxes inside while Rusty field-stripped our meals outside. Chris W., Brendan, Brad and Matt C. soon joined us, and we all took full advantage of the now well-organized selection. The staff guys were pretty happy with our efforts, and rewarded us with some extra "goodies," the best being a large tray of sticky buns ("Cherry") and a package of cookies (most excellent, dude!) Per our request, they also let us have the last two meals for our trek, which would have otherwise necessitated a nasty side hike to Ute Gulch Commissary on our next to last day. Means heavier packs for now, but a real savings in time and bother later, when we're trying to get to Window Rock and Clark's Fork. Finally done and out of their hair, but we had to wait for the last of our guys to make it through the showers (not sure how they had failed to get in earlier, but we're still OK on time.) Rick went ahead and bought some more film, and virtually every member of both crews stocked up on candy bars and other munchies at the Trading Post. Had a little trouble stuffing the backpacks - even using the day-packs as "ancillary storage," the extra food was just about too much for us. Looks like yet another adjustment to Dr. Bob's Baldy List comin' up! Finally gone and off to Miranda, pushing hard but easily downhill. Ryan and I ended up falling back when I stopped to chat with a crew coming up the monster switchbacks from Ute Meadows, on their way to Baldy Camp for the night, plus we lost another couple of minutes while I gently (for me, anyway) "educated" the crew at Ute Meadows who still (!!!) had their tarp set up in the middle of the main trail through camp (although they had at least moved their tents.) At last back at Miranda, and we all started in on dinner and sorting out all the food. Crew B came up and indicated that they had been easily able to fix the bear-bag mess of that morning, which was good news - I had feared the worst on that score. After dinner (and shared commissary cookies), the guys let me cruise up for the Advisor's Coffee again - I brought the extra copy of my Baldy List again, which they accepted but didn't post (as Spencer had last year as soon as I gave it to him.) They also didn't have a guitar, so it was just conversation tonight, listening to the Baldy veterans tell their stories and semi-educating the new arrivals. For a change, not too much bitching and complaining (the reason why I only rarely attend these things.) A pleasant way to end the day, looking out across the meadow to the scree slope. Back at camp, most of the guys in both crews were already in their tents - well tired out. As dusk approached, I was startled to hear a huge chorus of coyotes just down the hill, yipping and howling for all they were worth for about 10 seconds. Another first for me, and extremely strange - I've heard them many times at BaseCamp, but had no idea they were out here in the high country, too. I jumped up to look but didn't see a thing. Five seconds later there was a single answering howl from the distant foothills below Touch Me Not, and that was that. My guess is they were running down a kill, but I'm not sure coyotes work that way - very eerie. Good thing they don't eat Scouts (or Advisors!) Soon afterwards, I crashed for the night - like a brick. Mostly clear, light breeze and warmer than yesterday evening. Even with the uniquely "different" Baldy experience (one that will doubtless grow into legend through the years), a great day.