Day Seven

[From the Philmanac - Ponil was the original base camp for the Philturn Rocky Mountain Scout Camp (the forerunner to Philmont), and was run as such during the summers from 1939 to 1941. Ponil was named after the "Apache Plume," a knee-high bushy plant which has 5 points - just as five canyons converge at this point (South Ponil, Horse, Cedar, and both ends of Middle Ponil.) Not surprisingly, this site was initially referred to as "Five Points." The traditional program at Ponil has been Horseback Riding and Western Lore. The camp was also the site of Philmont's original Rock Climbing Program, from 1967 to 1971, and is currently the host to a Commissary, a Trading Post and a Cantina, the latter of which was started in 1977. A Chuckwagon Dinner was also started at Ponil in 1990, and a Flyfishing program added in 1996. Campfire programs or Cantina shows have been featured some years. Ponil has more cabins than any other camp at Philmont, about a dozen in all - some of which date back to the Philturn period. Numerous historical artifacts and pictures of the early days of Ponil and nearby camps are located in the Trading Post, which doubles as a museum.]

Tuesday, 7/7 - Up at 5:00 am, chilly!, everything still wet from yesterday's rain and an apparent dew-fall overnight. Despite Philmont's legendary low humidity, nothing ever seems to dry out here at night; I guess the temperatures must always fall to the dew point or below. Mostly cloudy skies, with almost no breeze. Middle Ponil Creek still noisily rushing away, but a quick check confirmed it was a good 8 - 12 inches lower than last night when we went to bed - good news, since we have to cross it (at least once) on the way to Ponil, if my memory is correct. Oddly enough, it was much noisier because the lower level had exposed many rocks which had been submerged the previous day. Guys moving a bit quicker this morning (showing some benefits from Rusty's pep-talk yesterday afternoon), but still not all that fast compared to some of my previous crews, and the wet gear is naturally complicating things, too. Even with that, however, it's clear that we do not have a lot of "morning people" in either crew. Crew A is better than Crew B, and we're both doubtless a lot better than most crews on the Ranch, but this slow-motion reveille is perplexing and irritating to the Philmont veterans in both crews - I mean, come on, get up! How hard can it be? Well anyway, it took a good 50 minutes before we were circled up to start our stretching exercises and camelling up, and we hit the road just before 6 am. Not a long hike, but we do need to get to the Ponil corrals before 7:45 or so if we're to have any shot at the am horseback ride. Skies beginning to clear as we left camp, with the other 2 or 3 crews in residence (not sure how many crews were actually there) still asleep; I think I saw one other live Scout from one of the other crews before we left, that was it. The trail/road was still in pretty good shape, despite the heavy downpour - minimal mud or puddles, and the hard-packed sand was easy to walk on. We eventually reached the creek crossing, and were pleased to see it was easily fordable without having to stop and take our boots off (which is somewhat of a pain, albeit a great wake-up protocol.) Passed Sioux (a starter camp on the upper ridge to our right), which had no crews in the lower meadow this morning, then the upper reaches of Ponil. We're making good time, and will have no problem getting down to the corrals in time. In Ponil proper, lots of crews in residence, with most of them stirring (but no-one saddled up to leave yet.) Of course, the Chuck Wagon Breakfast house was well occupied by Scouts and Leaders preparing breakfast, so it was clear what everyone was sticking around for (flaming waste of time, in my not-so-humble been-there/done-that opinion.) Pulled into the large rock formation opposite the Staff Cabin about 7:40 or so, and everyone stacked their packs on the large trees by the Staff Cabin while Rusty and I headed down to the corrals to see what the story was on the horseback ride. Ran into some of the wranglers, and talked the situation over with the head honcho - he said "no problem, if we've got the horses." No sign of the Philmont Training Center contingent yet, so still some hope - it's possible they bagged out with the heavy weather of the previous day (which probably lingered a lot longer down at BaseCamp versus for us at Bent.) Returned to the crew, where everyone was just relaxing, drinking water and getting their long gear together in case we had to move quickly. Cruised back down to the corrals with some of the guys and was disappointed to find that the buses had just arrived - apparently a bunch of LDS (Mormon) kids (both male and female) whose parents were at the training center. About 50 of them, so every horse was taken. Aggravating, but dems da breaks. I'll register a lightly worded complaint on this in my evaluation - I don't begrudge these kids their horseback ride, but it would certainly be more appropriate for them to schedule afternoon rides for PTC contingents like these (since they can reschedule for bad weather as needed, whereas we the trekkers (the Scouts!) only get one shot at it.) Crew B pulled in, and I gave them the bad news, but no-one seemed all that disappointed about it, since we did have the 1 pm ride reserved - let's hope the weather holds today! We took a few minutes to get some final group shots with Rangers John and Bob, and they bolted off for the Ponil Turnaround to try and catch the 8:30 bus. We were sorry to see them go; they were a very competent (and complementary) pair. With that, we broke out breakfast and ate on the rock formation. Interestingly, there is an Anasazi Power Symbol (concentric circles in a star-burst pattern) on the upper surface of this rock formation, very heavily weathered. This is unusual, in that (it is my understanding that) the Anasazi's only chipped their Petroglyphs under rock overhangs to avoid such weathering. Matt S. opined that perhaps this was another "Scout glyph," but no way - it was clearly many centuries old, and had been intentionally deeply chipped in to withstand the effects of weathering. That must have been a job and a half, there. Maybe it pointed to an important site or dwelling up on the western ridgeline; for sure I've never heard about any kivas at the Ponil site, and the glyph clearly pointed up into the air, not down at the floor of the canyon. Interesting. Breakfast took us past 8:30, and we headed on over to the Staff Cabin to check in. The camp dog - a medium sized all black mutt - came over to very warily check us out. I had to warn everyone to be careful with him - he definitely looked both skittish and cowed (as I suppose I would look, too, if I had to dodge burros, horses and Scouts all day long, plus guard the camp against bears all night long.) We got the usual spiel on what was available at Ponil (showers, commissary, Cantina!!!, fly-fishing, horseshoes, boot branding, Chuck Wagon Dinner, etc.) plus another lecture on bear security (apparently they had already had some serious problems that summer, and also felt that the Indian Writings Bear might hop over the ridge to pay a visit to Ponil, since he allegedly hadn't been caught or seen the previous day - surprise, surprise!) The showers were also temporarily out of order due to some plumbing problem, plus were alternating hours for male versus female campers. After this we saddled up and headed on over to two adjacent sites right next to the Chapel. Open ground, but again showing signs of distress from the drought; very sparse grass, except right next to the creek itself. Both crews set up their tarps and laid all their wet gear out to dry out in the sun. Everyone then wanted to go hit the Cantina, but I warned them to hit the showers as soon as they were available - the Cantina will be there all day, but the shower house availability (and hot water) were both sharply limited. The humidity was still high, too, so I also felt we might be in for another thunderstorm that afternoon (although it could have just been moisture cooking off the ground from yesterday's rain.) Just about everyone cruised on over to the Cantina. I briefly joined them (for one cup of flat root beer), but was more interested in buying extra film at the trading post next door (we were already racing through my supply, and Baldytown (our next Commissary stop) is seemingly always short on film.) I also stopped by the Staff Cabin to inquire about playing someone's guitar, and got an offer to come on over to the boot branding pit after lunch (cool!) After everyone had overdosed on flat root beer and munchies, they drifted back to the sites and headed on over to the shower house; in all, we spent a good hour and a half getting cleaned up and our clothes washed out. Only a few Scouts and Advisors from other crews showed up, which certainly made life easier for us, although you had to wonder what everyone else was doing (I doubted if the whole camp was going "grunge" on their treks.) As everyone finished, they headed back to camp to set up clotheslines, then reassembled for lunch back at the site - a kind of hit or miss affair, there - and immediately dispersed again to take advantage of horseshoes, fake cattle roping, and the cantina and trading post. I'm pretty sure some of the guys tried fly-fishing, too, since Rusty and Nathan were able to confirm my story that Brendan L. and John T. had caught a mess of trout out of that very creek two years before (so they had to give it a shot, too.) Rusty and I went over to grab our fuel and food at the commissary (from a young lady playing and singing along with a Garth Brooks CD.) As always, we did a complete triage of the commissary swap boxes, reorganizing everything and tossing the crap, and then immediately "field-stripped" our meals and swapped items in and out to generate some killer eats. This all under the rather bemused vantage of the commissary staff-lady, who added some free apples to our piles. As usual, she confirmed that: "No, no-one else does this." Big surprise there.... Chris and Brendan showed up just as we were finishing up, and we went ahead and helped them with their meal packets, too. Good job, and we staggered back to the site with quite a pile of food. After spending a few minutes turning all my clothes over (and also some of the Scouts' gear, too), I took some "Bob-Time," and headed on over to the Staff Cabin to see if I could get some guitar time in with one of the staff members (I want to say his name was Ryan or Kevin, but I don't think that's correct.) Most of Crew B returned to play horseshoes again, while all of Crew A and Matt S. headed down to the corral to grab the afternoon horseback ride. "Ryan or Kevin" and I headed over to the boot branding pit (actually a gas fired grill, since the total fire ban was still in effect.) He had a very nice guitar, and we swapped it back and forth while I plowed through my repertoire of personal favorites and some Philmont classics. Thoroughly enjoyable. I took a couple of breaks to snag some photos of the horseback riders as they left the camp, plus additional shots of the rest of Crew A playing horseshoes. Eventually, Ryan/Kevin had to work a couple of crews, branding their boots and other assorted and sundry items. I gave him a set of strings and a pick as a thank-you, put his guitar away in its case, and carried it back to the Staff Cabin for safekeeping while he finished up for the day. Spent another half an hour chatting with some of the staff guys, and was flattered to have them invite me to sing at the Cantina show that evening. As anticipated (but as unexpected as always), the weather started closing in again, with distant thunder announcing yet another gully washer to come; the horseshoes players headed back to camp to get everything under cover. The horseback riders arrived soon after, at a rapid half-trot. Al called to me to please bring a canteen of water down to the corral, as he was half dead from thirst. I filled my canteen and walked it on down for him (had to leave it on one of the fence posts while he handled his horse), then returned to the Trading Post, arriving just as the first drops started falling. Some of the guys came tearing back up the road to the Trading Post/Cantina, while the rest headed back to camp at a sprint (two or three guys from each crew had to head over to the cooking hut for the Chuck Wagon Dinner, too.) I spent a few minutes showing the guys who came to the Trading Post some of the photos and memorabilia, then chatted with another NCAC crew from Maryland, giving their Advisors a few pointers while we waited out the rain. Fortunately, the main part of this storm was pretty much over in just over half an hour, and we all headed back over to the site under light rain and slowly clearing skies - a more typical Philmont afternoon thundershower versus yesterday's WWII artillery barrage. Much to my irritation, however, the camp was a complete mess - half the items were never put under cover, and everything else was just tossed in a hodge-podge pile under the tarp with all the food and crew gear, and the tarp (intentionally) collapsed on top of everything. I was not a happy camper - how had we managed to get caught unprepared again, when we had been taught such a sharp lesson just the previous day? Could I never take any personal time without it coming back to bite me in the ass? Crew B was little better, ridiculous.... I went ahead and started sorting out the mess, my temper barely in control, with the remaining half of Crew A trying to help out, but walking around me very carefully. They knew danger when they saw it; I probably looked like the old L'il Abner cartoon character with the thunderstorm over his head. I know the Woodbadge boys would tell me to walk away and let the crew sort it out on their own, but I'm not built that way (and I'm smart enough to know it.) Tim tried to coax me off to dinner, but there was no way I was going to be able to eat with my stomach in such knots, and I curtly refused. I didn't need food, I needed time alone to cool the hell off and regain my composure. This too shall pass. So I spent the next hour and a half doing a nice therapeutic cleanup, and had things about halfway shipshape by the time the crews returned from dinner. They brought me a bowl of stew, which I eventually ate about a half-hour later while they did their cleanup. Surprisingly enough, it helped, and my mood brightened considerably - even as the weather began to deteriorate again. After some debate, we decided against setting up the tents just yet, in the hopes that any rain would cease before the end of the Cantina show (there's nothing worse in "routine" camping than coming back to a soaking wet tentsite when you're already wet and tired.) Crew B asked if we could stay in the Chapel (basically a large, open-faced Adirondack type shelter), but I said they would have to ask the staff for permission, and opined that I strongly doubted whether it would be granted (but that they were welcome to try.) The rain - actually just a moderate drizzle - started in again, and everyone wrapped themselves up in their rain gear, grabbed their flashlights, and headed off to the Cantina show. I yanked out my sheet music and pick, and headed up myself a few minutes later, after doing a final "rain check" around our perimeter and mentally figuring the better spots to set up tents in the dark. Up at the Cantina, the body-heat smacked me in the face as I entered the door - proof of just how chilly it had gotten as the rain moved in. Quite surprisingly, only three full crews (including our two) and a few stragglers from other crews were present; normally, this show is jam-packed every night. The staff was really surprised, since they had a so-far-that-summer record 15 crews in residence that night. Well, the rest of them (surely) don't know what they're missing; this is usually a great program. Guess the rain kept them sulking in their tents. Only bummer was they were out of even flat root beer, so it was water all around. Our guys were busy playing cards and snarfing down munchies from the "bar" - Doritoes, cookies and candy-bars, mainly. I briefly chatted with the staff, picked out two songs, ID'd the guitar they were going to loan to me, and reviewed the program to see when they wanted to put me in. Apparently they really like to have Scouts and Advisors join in like this - no-one on staff wants the same program the whole summer long. We started off with a couple of songs and a talking skit, and then they solicited for each crew to come up with a story. I quickly racked my brain and decided to do a talking version of "Big John" (the Bobby Darin tune from the 50's.) Since Philmont has so many old mines, it seemed an appropriate choice. Unbelievably enough, the guys seemed to know the song, and gave a long drawn out "Big John" after I completed each verse. Not quite right - it's actually "Big John, Big John - Big Bad John" - but not bad. Yes, this was a number one hit on the charts, but that was before even I was born (I think), never mind these guys! The other Crew Advisor (from Texas, I think) gave a rather long-winded joke about "fire-arms" which no one seemed to "get" (but me); oh well, he tried. Next up was a rousing version of "Ghost Riders in the Sky," with one of the staff guys breaking in with supercharged, rapid fire verses from famous TV shows like the theme to Gilligan's Island and the Beverly Hillbillies. Sounds stupid, but it worked and was hilariously funny. Our guys substituted "Dirt Daubers in the Sky" for the chorus, which had the staff absolutely mystified `til one of the girls figured it out and they all cracked up laughing. After this, I did my first song "Fire on the Mountain" (Marshall Tucker Band, and a traditional Philmont favorite), and later finished up the evening with "Georgetown" (a modern Philmont classic), which most of the staff members joined in on. Great time. As we were breaking up, they asked if I would stay afterwards and teach them how to play a few other songs that I had done with "Ryan/Kevin" earlier that afternoon (who could resist? - of course I said yes.) The three crews all headed back to their sites; I hung out outside for about 15 minutes, waiting out a staff meeting with the camp director. Still raining outside, and distinctly chilly. She gave me a nice "Thank you" as the meeting broke up, and I went back inside. First up was "Night Rider's Lament," a Garth Brooks song which I had just learned about a month earlier. This was one of the songs on the Garth Brooks CD that the Commissary staff-lady had, and she really wanted the guys to learn how to play it. Next was "Blowin' in the Wind," which for some reason is written in the wrong key in the Philmont song book. Took me a few minutes to figure out why it sounded wrong, but once I stopped looking at the book and just started playing from memory, I was able to transpose the chords for them. We played for about 45 minutes, and I finally took my leave, working my way back to the campsite in the rain, by flashlight. Crossing the bridge over the creek (a rather hairy experience because the bridge is tilted down to the right by about 25-30 degrees, and was also soaking wet), I was surprised by the real increase in the streamflow - although we hadn't had all that much rain compared to yesterday, it was really moving! I think we're gonna be wading tomorrow. Back at the site (and much to my surprise), the guys had gotten permission to stay in the Chapel, and both crews were neatly stacked up like cordwood inside, with the gear all arranged around the Altar and podium. They offered to clear me a spot as well, but I opted for my tent (which someone - Tim? - had set up for me), which offered a better shot at some rest for Bob the ultralight sleeper. Finally bedded down for the night around 11:30 or so, very late for Philmont (at least by my standards.) It rained, moderately,`til about 2:00, and fitfully `til about 3:30 or so. 47 degrees, but feels distinctly colder to me, probably due to the dampness - lucky there's no wind, or we'd really be feeling it. A very full day, with some real emotional ups and downs for me - but a good one overall. A tough hike tomorrow.