Santa Cruz Island Adventure

Our second annual Island Adventure was sweet and satisfying. After a boat ride to the Island/National Park, on which we got to see some dolphins up close and personal, we were reminded why Troop 104 wins the Spirit Stick every year when we pitched in to help with the unloading of our lovely boat while the other Boy Scout Troop that shared the boat with us on the ride over merely waited around for their gear and then left, without pitching in to help at all. feeling a swell of pride because we knew we had done the right and awesome thing, we headed to camp after a brief orientation with one of the resident rangers. After setting up camp, we headed back down to the beach to relax in the surf, skip rocks, and visit the small population of crabs that lived on the rocks by the ocean. When we felt that we had gotten our fill of the sea, we returned to camp, were we prepared for a small hike to potato harbor, where we got to see some breathtaking views from sea cliffs.



The next day, we awoke to a campsite filled to with morning fog. As we began our training hike for the 50 mile backpacking trip this summer, we hiked up out of the morning fog and into a cloud, in which we stayed for the rest of the hike. Seven miles later, we found ourselves at Smuggler's Cove (because every Island has a Smuggler's Cove), were we took a break and threw rocks and had a caber tossing competition. As we began our hike back, the clouds broke and the sun took particular joy in reminding us that it is hot. Once we returned to Scorpion Bay, where the boat had left us the day before, those who needed to return to camp to pack up did so, and together we hauled our gear down to the pier and onto the boat that arrived shortly after. During the boat ride back, we spent a considerable amount of time on the bow, despite the fact that with wind-chill, it was about 40 degrees there. Boys Scouts care not for such trivial things.



--Jonathan R, Troop 104 Historian

Troop 104 Chumash Trail 10-Mile Hike

On the 10 mile hike today, much fun was had. We started our ascent before 8:00 AM, and even though the sun was not up, we could already feel the day heating up. On the ridge, there was no shade, but a nice breeze that kept us cool as we hiked. There were many rocks lining the road with fossilized seashells in them from when the ocean was higher and the mountains were lower, and many boys went home with fossils. After an early lunch break in the trees, we descended down the second half of the trail (it was a loop) and past some abandoned oil derriks before ending up in sunny, happy suburbia, from where we hiked another mile before returning to the bliss of air conditioned cars. It was a hot hike. It was a good hike. Even the young ones form whom this was their first every hike with the troop, it was an enjoyable experience.

Camp Emerald Bay 2009 - Day 4

At 5:30, we crawled out of our sleeping bags and began to pack up. Pots from dinner were put back on backpacks and our gear was retaped to our bikes. When our guides were ready to go, we rode out of camp and up the Hill of Death one last time. As we rode we ascended through the morning fog, and i almost missed as the rest of our group was cut off by a small family of Buffalo crossing the road.



When we reached the top, we were very much in a cloud, and the group soon became seperated by into two groups; the first was made up of good/fast bikers and people without brakes and the second was all of the cautious riders, people with bad bikes, and people who don't bike very often. When the forward group reached the gate, we stopped for our friends we had left behind. Nothing is quite as cool as watching scouts suddenly appear out of a cloud doing 20 miles an hour. After we regrouped at the gate, it was deided that we would only meet again at the bottom of the Hill of Death. It was at this point when we realized why it is called the "Hill of Death". It did not recieve the name for the arduous ride up the hill, but thr speedy ride downhill. The road is either washboard, or sand, and therefore not a very reliable surface to bike on at 28 miles an hour. At one curve, i was behind Scott A., Matt G. and Keith K., when all of a sudden I hear the squeek of breaks and see a cloud of dust which blocks everything from view (Matt G. slammed his breaks and the last i saw of him, he was sliding into the dust sideways). I slammed my breaks and as the dust settled i saw Keith K. Perched on the edge of the road, and the nearly sheer drop on the other side. We then proceeded down the hill with more caution. As we neared Two Harbors, we saw what appeared to be pavement, and we let our brakes go and sped down the last 300 feet for what was undoubtably safe, dependable, solid ground. I was very thankful for the neckercheif and sunglasses i wore protecting my face, because what we had assumed was concrete turned out to be a wet substance which had been put on the dirt roads of Two Harbors. We were sprayed with tiny specks of mud, and when we reached the bottom, we assessed the damages...



It turned out that Two Harbors is not allowed to have real asphalt, so they instead spray a special biodegradable asphalt on their dirt roads every week, and they had sprayed it that morning. We had to get the mysterious mud off of everything that wasn't clothes or skin before it dried or it would never come off. When that episode was over, we headed into the local resturaunt for a heavenly real breakfast. Some ordered the country fried steak, others ordered pancakes or biscuits and gravy, but i purchased a very delicious breakfast burrito. Real food was much appreciated. Too soon, we were back on the road, headed for Emerald Bay. The ride was pretty uneventful, except for the last 3 miles. Just two valleys away from Emerald Bay, the forward group was cruising just fine, when all of a sudden I heard a snapping sound followed by the sound of something scraping on the ground. I turned around and quickly hit my brakes, because all i saw was a dust cloud with Matt G.'s seatless bike and Matt's left leg sticking out of it.

The rest of the group screeched to a halt as we helped Matt up, and together we cleaned out the lovely collection of gashes on his right knee and bandaged it up. First with gauze, then an band-aid, then pre-wrap, then duct tape to hold it all together.



What happened next is something i will tell my grandkids about. As Kelsey began to tell the group that we would have to wait until the people from camp with a new bike or just walk in as a group, i walked my intact bike over to Matt (which was, Ironicaly, the perfect size for him), picked up tiny, Matt's seatless bike, and told Kelsey that that her solution wouldn't be neessary. The crew leader gave the customary shout "is anybody not ready?" and when nobody reponded, we began to roll. The four people who lead the way back to camp were Scott A. (the boy who bikes so much he needs physical therapy for his back), Keith K. (who was training for a triathalon taking place the day after he got back from camp), Matt G. (who was missing skin), and myself (on a broken bike). I hate to boast, but it set my record for the most awesome I have seen a person do for the whole summer (Matt even fell twice on the way back to camp).

After we dropped off our bikes (the head of the bike repair shop gave me a nsaty look when i rolled in without a seat), some people went to the showers while other people decided to wait after the snorkeling trip that would come later that day.

Lunch was peanut butter and jely sandwiches, and when we left for the snorkeling trip, Matt and another scout stayed behind to wait for the doctor so Matt could get some proper medical attention. For our snorkeling trip, we loaded our gear into 1 person kyaks and headed out for Indian Rock, an awesome looking, jagged rock where the birds like to go to use the bathroom. When we got to indian rock, we reached down into the water and pullout pieces of seaweed, which we tied our kyaks to so that they wouldn't float away (this also scored amazingly high on the awesome meter). There wasn't much to see in terms of snorkeling, just a few Ghirabaldis and lots of kelp.

Afterwards, we paddled to a nearby beach, where some people took naps while others built sand castles or flipped each other's kayaks out on the water. After an hour, went back to camp and got cracking on dinner, chilli and mac and chese. I spent that night on the floor instead of in the bed that came with the tent, and it was much more comfy.

Camp Emerald Bay 2009 - Day 3

I'm not sure if i covered this in the last entry, but before we went to sleep, we had to decide on a time to wake up. We had to be back by 8:30 AM because we had taken lots of canoes (there were alot of Rugged E Scouts). The trip had been somewhere between two and a half and three hours long (including stops to find out where we are going and a little trip through a cave). Therefore, we decided that a lack of sleep would be better than dealing with an angry camp cordinator, and awoke at 4:30 in the morning and began packing.

The beach was pitch black, the only light came from the mainland. The one scout we had trusted (he was the only one with an alarm on his watch) began to wake everyone else up, and the people he awoke began to wake up others. Soon, the beach was alive with grumbling scouts and the sound of sleeping bags being packed into their stuffsacks. While other scouts searched for their flashlights, I couldn't seem to find mine in the backpack i had packed it in the day before. I gave the area around me a good search, and when i didn't find it, i decided i had left it in camp and headed to breakfast.

We had left our food on a different part of the beach than where we were. It was on the other side of a collection of considerably sized rocks and boulders that didn't seem to frightening by day, but where certainly a problem in the dark when the only light i had was that from the screen of my camera, and the occasional bit of light from scouts trying to "help" me with their flashlights (my poor nightvision). Breakfast was a Chewy Granola Bar Bar (TM) and some yogurt with granola mixed in. The sky began to light up just as we finished bringing the leftover food over the frightening collection of rocks and boulders, and after we loaded up all of the food and personal gear into the canoes, we carried them out into the water and jumped in.

Today, I had decided to switch places with Mick, so i got to paddle and contribute to the speed of the canoe instead of steering. And we paddled. And we paddled fast. And as we paddled, we sang. We sang a rousing "Hotel California", so good that on of our guides, Daniel, began to paddle along beside us and sing along. The water wasn' t as choppy as the day before, and we flew back to camp.



At camp, we paddled the boats up close to the shore, jumped out, and while one person held each boat (for us, Matt G.), the rest of us ran up to the shore and put out all of our life jackets in a line to protect the boats from rocks (called a PFD line). After lifting the canoes from the water and brining them up onto the PFD lines, we unloaded all of our gear and worked together to picked up each boat , flipped it, and put it on the rack. shortly thereafter, we were dismissed and the scouts of Rugged E carried their belongings back to camp.

In camp, everybody agreed on what to do next, shower, cards, and naptime. After all of these important tasks, we picked up our lunch, dininer, and breakfast from the back of the mess hall and headed back to camp, where our guides Kelsey and Nick (Daniel had other work to do) were watining for us to take us down to the bike shop to get the gear we needed for our next excursion. At the bike shop, we lined up shortest to tallest, and we were all given bikes and helmets that were too small for us. On our ride back to our campsite, we found that the gears were also amazingly picky, and tended to get stuck often if you set the bike on a speed you wanted.

After lunch, we began to pack our gear. For dinner, we were going to have some corn bread with pasta and italian sausage, to the cornbread was taped to the only bike with a rack on it, and Justin A. packed the sausage and some ice. Other people took chips, the pasta, our breakfast for the next morning (more granola bars) and the coals for dinner were divided up amopngst the bikers. I personaly carried my sleeping bag in my backpack, along with breakfast goodies and capri suns, with my hat, mess kit, and a large pot for the pasta dangling from the oustide of my pack. Me sleeping pad was attatched to the handlebars of my bike along with my share of the coals, and other people had similar setups.

After we finished setting up, we began our ride out of camp and onto a road with no name. For those familiar with Catalina, it is the one that starts in Two Harbors and goes along the etnire North Easter part of the island, overlooking all of the camps along the way. For those unfamiliar iwth catalina, it is a mountain dirt road like any other, with its fair share of ups and downs. After no more than a half hour's biking, we stopped overlooking two harbors, the same distance it took us an hour to travel by canoe. As we rode into Two Harbors, Nick G.'s right bicycle pedal fell off, and we took a forty five minute break in Two Harbors while we waited for the truck from camp to bring us another. During this time, Matt G., Cassandra G., and I bought a half galon of Neopolitan Ice Cream, which tasted very good.



With ice cream in our bellies and bikes returned to being only one piece, we set out again, although this part of our journey would be much harder. We were never told what the real name was for the mountain we had to bike up next, but everybody referred to it as the Hill of Death, and although none of the scouts of Rugged E gave up, many did walk their bikes (given the condition of their aluminum steeds, i don't blame them). I didn't walk. I could not shift all the way down on my bike, because the chain would get stuck and i would do a wheelie, but i shifted down as low as possible and put my bodyweight into it. After some amazing scenic views and many switchbacks, we found ourselves at a gate, and we didn't know what it was for, but we all passed through it without a secopnd thought and didn't begin to go down the other side of the Hill of Death like we had expected, but then climbed the next few miles, much to our grumbling discontent. we were told that at the top, we were supposed to stop to go over some safety things for going downhill. The fact that we needed a safety talk for going downhill was my only motivation for getting to the top. Soon, we reached a considerably high part on the mountain (the clouds were about 40 feet above us) and we stopped thinking it was the top. When the guides caught up with us, they said we weren't at the top yet, and told us to keep going. After what we thought was our great, relieveing, downhill run, we found some more hills that we had to climb. And we climbed for the clouds.

We could tell when we were at the top, because we could see the ocean in three directions, and we were in the bottom of a cloud. When Kelsey and Nick caught up with us, they told us the rules for going down the Hill of Death; stay at least two bike lengths away from each other, keep both hands on the handlebars at all times, and no passing. Everybody broke at least one of these rules. We decided that Matt G., who has the most momentum of any of us, should go first. The ride downhill was amazing. David B. was hit in the throat in the rock, and if i hadn't had my neckercheif, i probably would have been hit alot, too. After we found our campsite, we got our coals ready for our dinner, and relaxed, playing cards and talking. As the sun went down, we played a few teamwork games involving trying to figure out how we were going to fit 22 people on a 6 foot long log with one foot on the log and one foot off (Cassandra G. turned out to be the brains of the whole operation).




That night, we spread out our sleeping bags close enough to the nearby big, wide palmtree so that if it began to rain, we could get to cover fast, and fell asleep. The next day, we would awake at 5:30 so that we could stop for breakfast in Two Harbors.

National Youth Leadership Training 2009

National Youth Leadership Training (NYLT) 2009 – Camp Josepho

The following are my thoughts on National Youth Leadership Training (NYLT.) From the beginning of camp we were assigned to patrols based on our age. I thought this was a good idea because it gave every boy an opportunity to lead within his peer group. However one area in which I saw a need for improvement was in having the boys lead. They were given the role but not the opportunity to lead.

There was one thing that I think would be very useful at the troop and patrol level, and that is Stop, Start, and Continue. We can do this every meeting and have a mini PLC, the patrol leaders can tell us at the weekly meetings what we need to stop doing, start doing, and continue doing. This can also be done in Patrol corners.

Something I found valuable in knowing where patrols are in terms of their development was the four stages of team development. These stages are Forming, Storming, Norming, and Performing. There are different symptoms for these, Forming is when the kids have high enthusiasm but low skill. Storming, the kids have low skill and low enthusiasm. Norming, the kids have rising skills and rising enthusiasm. Performing, the kids are high skills and high enthusiasm. The way to lead these different stages of development is when a group is Forming you should explain, Storming you demonstrate, Norming you guide, and Performing you enable.

There were some pretty intense discipline problems, starting on the first night. One boy was very disruptive, for example yelling out comments during films. He was asked to leave on day 3. Two others, one in my patrol, threw human feces at boys in the younger patrols and at their tents. The truth of who had had done this only came out towards the middle of the training and on day 5 the guilty boys were asked to leave. According to the the Scoutmaster Mr. Harlan Hogue, this has never happened before that so many boys were asked to leave.

I thought the adult leaders handled both these circumstances well and used them as an opportunity to show what leadership is not about.

Overall I thought the training was well done and I thank you and the rest of the committee for giving me the opportunity to do the program.

I would highly recommend that the troop send some boys to NYLT next summer. It’s a great way to grow the troop and for the individual boy’s personal growth.

--Keith Krueger, Assistant Senior Patrol Leader, Troop 104

Emerald Bay 2009 - Rugged E - Days 1-2

Yeargh, here be the first installment of the misadventures of Troop 104 (at least from the Rugged E point of view)


Day 1

It was Sunday morning, and I arose from my slumber at 8:45, only half aware that I was still in my bedroom. In my half slumber, I pulled on by class "A" uniform over my "B" T-shirt and headed to the kitchen. After a hearty breakfast and what was sure to be the last thorough tooth brushing for a week, I threw my camera case and day pack onto my shoulder, picked up my duffel bag, and headed out the door.

In the church parking lot, the everything was as expected. Mr. Part was surrounded my adults asking questions and taking care of last minute paperwork problems. The young scouts stood in various little groups or ran in circles, chasing each other, and the older scouts (coincidentally the ones who would be joining me on a particularly memorable adventure in the Rugged E program) stood in a small circle away from them. I joined them and their discussion of things I shall not write about, but there was much laughter involved. After grabbing the troop and American flag from the shed, and doing a headcount to make sure that everybody was accounted for, we jumped into our vehicles and the real adventure began.

With the exception of the final 8 minutes, the drive to San Pedro was relatively uneventful. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the actual port, everybody in the Barragan's vehicle, the Neff Mobile, and our very own car seemed to not notice the sign directly across the street from us that said "Catalina Island Terminal". After a few minutes of sitting in a parking lot and retracing our steps, we realized where we went wrong and soon found ourselves at what was obviously the right terminal, because the parking lot was flooded with Boy Scouts of all different shapes, sizes, ages, and degrees of classiness. We unloaded our gear and joined the fray. The passengers from the car I rode in met the rest of good old Troop 104 outside the terminal because the line had become too long to remain in doors. Once we had dropped all of our gear and made sure it was clearly marked with our names and Troop numbers, we left the line for a piece of shade, where we did a quick headcount to make sure nobody had been accidentally packed in their bags while no one was looking.


Now, as most of you know, Cassandra G. had come along on the trip to do the Rugged E program as a Venturer along with her brother and six other boys from the Troop (most of whom happen to be Venturers). Everybody expected other girl Venturers to be going as well, since Emerald Bay is knows for its High Adventure program. WRONG! As we stood in the lot next to the terminal, scanning the crowd, we discovered that Cassandra was going to be the only girl who wasn't a staff member in Emerald Bay (that's what she gets for being the only one tough enough, right?).

Very suddenly, the line began to move, and we grabbed our bags and hauled them inside, where we were allowed to take a seat in the shade and air conditioning. Matthew and I found an unused table, which we quickly commandeered for a game of Magic: The Gathering (which I won!) to pass the time. Shortly after my glorious victory, we were asked to grab our bags again, and this time we headed out the door and down onto the docks and onto the Catalina Express where we added our baggage to a rapidly growing pile of backpacks and duffel bags, and then headed up the stairs to the top deck. Soon, the boat began to move and the Scouts were allowed into the parts of the boat that had tables, and Matt, Cassandra, Nick, and I journeyed downstairs to share a table with Mr. Martine for lunch and cards. Before we knew it, we had arrived at Catalina Island.

Since Emerald Bay is too shallow for the Catalina Express the Camp's special luggage barge pulled up next to our boat. As leaders and staff loaded up the luggage barge with luggage (duh!), scouts were asked to cross over the barge and into the tiny ferry boats that would actually take us to camp. The first scouts to be offloaded were Rugged E (that's us!), so Matt, Cassandra, Nick, Justin, Spencer, Keith, and myself waved goodbye to the rest of Troop 104 and headed off to camp.

As our boat pulled up, we were serenaded with a welcoming song my the staff, and as we walked off of the dock and onto dry land, all we were told was to meet with the rest of the Rugged E people, but we had no idea where that was. After wandering around the parade ground, we were finally directed to the hidden, shady side of the Mess Hall, where we met with who were soon to be our new friends. Well, not really. The people of Rugged E separated into the Troops the came from, and didn't really talk to people outside the circle. After a roster was collected and a we were given a quick overview of what we were going to be doing (Canoe Trip, Bike Trip, Hike, and Snorkel totaling at over 50 miles), Cassandra was appointed Crew Leader on the grounds that she was the youngest, and we were shown around the camp.

It turned out that we were not going to have much to do with the rest of camp. We were to pick up our food every day at the back door to the Mess Hall (we would make it our selves), we could help ourself to the camp's supply of coals and cooking equipment, and we did exactly that before heading to camp. The campsites of Emerald Bay are all placed along the central road that leads all the way down to the parade ground, but the Rugged Adventures campsite was off a road away from the other campgrounds, right next to the shooting ranges. We dropped our bags and grabbed our towels, then headed down to the waterfront for our swim test.

At Emerald Bay, like most summer camps after you complete the required 4 lengths of the swim area, you must float on your back. Most people had no problem with this, since most Boy Scouts are good Americans and are not made of just toothpicks and Duct Tape. I discovered that only the parts of me that breath float, a problem when it comes to the swim test because your feet must be touching the surface of the water to pass. After 5 minutes of failed attempts, my week of fun (and ego) was saved in the most peculiar way. Thank heavens for eating beans and having gas, because on my last attempt, my lower intestine provided the buoyancy required to get the lower half of my body to the surface of the water so I can pass. When the lifeguard said I had passed and could go, I lifted my tired body out of the water and onto the dock where I rolled over onto my back. As I slowly stood up, I lied to no one in particular in a fairly audible voice "I'm not dizzy". The lifeguard laughed and joked with me, saying that I'm going to fall in the water right now because I said that. I almost did. I found out afterwards than Nick P. did not make the swim test. Apparently recovering from the flu and jumping in freezing cold water do not go together very well.

Back in camp, we had a delicious burrito of beans, steak, salsa, and cheese (we didn't find the lettuce and tomato in the cooler until the next morning), and some ruffles and apples on the side, and spent the rest of the day relaxing. Matt and I found ourselves in a four-way game of Magic: The Gathering with two other boys who would soon become our friends, Nick and Mick. That night, we slept on two and a half inch thick foam mattresses on top of a bed that was nothing more than a metal frame with springs to provide "cushioning". The springs were sol old and worn out that my tent mate, Matt nearly touched the floor through his bed. It was like a Temperpedic Mattress from 1910. They were not comfy.





Day 2

On Saturday, we awoke and searched the food crates and coolers provided by the staff in the camp kitchen the night before. For breakfast, we had the option of cereal bars, chewey granola bars, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I had one of each. Then, we put on our swim wear and headed down to the waterfront for our training in the art of war canoeing. I decided to leave my camera in camp, and it was a good idea.

I was appointed Cockswain (the person who steers) in our canoe, and we were soon leading the other two canoes around the bay. After spending some time practicing navigating, we got to the fun stuff. We had to practice flipping our canoes without getting a bunch of water in them. This is known as the cross-canoe flip. "Why?' you may ask? Because the people in the flipped canoe and the people in the rescuing canoe have to work together to pull the capsized canoe over the one that is still upright so that it can be flip out of the water. Our canoe was the first to flip. As we tried to haul our capsized canoe onto the other, my mind was allowed to wander from topic to topic, and i contemplated the presence of marine life below us, how clear the water was, how the life jacket I was wearing was designed to conveniently choke you while it kept you afloat. We flipped our canoe right side up and got to return to the safety of its fiberglass hull, and let ourselves drift away as the other canoes attempted to rescue each other. After our canoe, which by then had been dubbed the "Party Boat", got a chance to rescue someone else, we headed back to the shore for lunch and to pack, because at 1 o'clock we would be leaving on a seven mile canoe trip to Ripper's Cove. We packed and waterproofed our sleeping bags, and some people brought a change of clothes, while others brought tarps or sleeping pads. After a delicious lunch of peanut butter and jelly or turkey sandwiches (we had a choice!), some Capri suns, and ruffles, we headed down to the water front for our grand adventure.

We loaded up all of our food and camping supplies into the canoes, and then set off on our long journey. We paddled past Cherry Valley and soon reached Two Harbors, where we took a break and waited to regroup. The sky was still overcast from that morning, and the water was choppy. We had a long day ahead of us. I can't say that there is much to tell you about when it comes to paddling. We paddled. For seven miles, and for the most part it was uneventful. We sang, chanted, and yelled for hours on end. At one point, however, we came across a sea cave that we got to paddle through. The cave reminded me of the Santa Cruz Kayaking Trip, complete with almost hitting my head on a rock as we passed by. Once outside of the cave, we continued on our long, arduous trek to Ripper's Cove.

When we finally reached Ripper's Cove, we put our life vests out on the beach in a line so that the boats wouldn't have to sit on the rock and sand, and then we carried the boats in and set them down. We carried our food over some particularly scary looking rocks to a place on the beach where there were picnic tables and a grill, and we immediately began preparing for dinner. While the coals heated, on of our Guides, Daniel, took a few of us up a nearby hill to an amazing lookout spot, where we could see Emerald bay in the distance, hidden behind clouds and fog. After snapping some pictures, we returned to the site of the Bar-B-Que and claimed our burgers. Before we went to bed that night, we held a quick group discussion about what we could have done better and what we enjoyed about the day, along with a few leadership lessons. We then returned to the section of the beach we had left our canoes, set up our sleeping bags and went to sleep.




Just to make things clear, we slept on the beach, about thirty feet away from the surf, some people on sleeping pads, others like me using a tarp, with the warm sand for cushioning. On the horizon, the mainland glowed red and blue.

For all of the pictures from the first two days, go to Day 1 or Day 2

More to come soon!

TROOP 104 ASCENDS MOUNT WHITNEY

It was Friday morning on the 22nd of May. Across the street, kids walked through the gates of Porter Middle School. We weren't going to school today. We had bigger, better things planned. As the scouts of Troop 104 gathered in the parking lot of St. Stephen's Church, we loaded up our packs in Mr. Lopez's truck, and then hopped in the cars to head over to the Lopez's house to pick up Julian, Nicholas, and their Uncle Steve before we can head out. After a few minor setbacks thanks to some misplaced gaiters, Narayan, Matt, Mr. Liebeskind, Mr. Yaffee (a friend of Mr. Liebeskind) and Mr. Krueger hopped into the KruegerVanMobile and the rest of us piled into the Lopez's beast of a truck, and then we headed out.

About three and a half hours later, we arrived at the Mt. Whitney Visitor's center, which was actually nowhere near the mountain, but actually in the middle of the desert basin that below it. Here, we picked up our poop bags and got some important information before we headed up to the portal camp.

As we drove up to the portal with the windows down and the wind in our hair, we felt the temperature drop quite a few degrees from when we were down at the visitor center. At the portal, we set up camp and began to explore the area. In the portal store, we found inflated bags of candy from the altitude and a wide array of everything you might have forgotten in preparing for trekking up Mt. Whitney. Near our campsite was a stream which seemed to run all the way off the mountain, and on the other side of it was a trail which we followed for maybe a mile or two, burning off some energy and getting acclimated. Back in camp, we climbed some rocks and ate a hearty meal of delicious pasta and meat sauce for lunch and dinner. We built a campfire, which became the gathering point for the whole camp, as neighboring campers came and joined us by the fire. That night, I found that I had to make sure I didn't rush or push my body too fast when I threw up for laying down too fast to go to sleep. In the morning, we awoke as the sun began to rose through the trees. We ate breakfast packed up, and then set out on the trail.

We followed the trail higher and higher up the side of the valley we had stayed in the night before. The first thing that surprised me was the amount of other hikers on the trail with us. When they say that Mt. Whitney is a popular place, they aren't kidding. People going on day trips, people planning on staying the night like us, people with kids, and people with dogs, passed us by, heading both ways. As we hiked, we crossed little streams and water falls that trickled by, and to our left we could see the forest of the Mt.Whitney portal and the desert that stretched out beyond that. On the other side, the mountains that surround Death Valley rose from the flat Earth to meet the clouds. Soon, we came to the first patch of snow that we could touch, and a small snowball fight followed. We breaked often because of the thin air, and often found ourselves next to beautiful waterfalls and scenic views.

We intended to stop at 10,000 feet to take a picture, but we found a spot at 10,070 feet that looked nicer, so we took a picture there instead.

We continued on our way up, stopping at a spot with a plethora of snow to readjust our packs and climb the snow drifts and then slide back down, we continued from there to our lunch stop, singing camp songs (and a little bit of "Hotel California) along the way. We stopped for lunch at what is called "Outpost Camp", and as we feasted, we admired the beauty of the area, particularly the nearby waterfall that had carved it's way through the snow, which we filled our water bottles from before we set out again.

Within an hour, we had left the tree line behind, and we hiked on giant granite slabs that jutted out of the snow. We stopped to admire the view and the marmots who had made their home up there. Within a few minutes, it began to snow. Undaunted, we put on our jackets and kept hiking. We crossed a few snow drifts and headed over one more crest and we reached Trail Camp.

Trail camp sits in a basin at the foot of the peak of Mt. Whitney, at about 11,000 feet. It is made up of granite slabs that stick up out of the mountain, and people pitch their tents wherever there is flat space. Little rock walls protected the tents from the wind, and the area around the granite is covered in snow. Nearby was a small pond and lake which had partially frozen over. Little black specks, which turned out to be people, climbed the snow in the distance to reach the summit because the switchbacks were frozen and snowed over. Dinner was warm that night, and the sleeping bags were warmer.

The next morning, I got up to go to the bathroom in a T-shirt and some plain old scout pants. Other campers in the area were all wrapped up in down jackets and thermals, holding hot cups of coffee as they stared at me when I walked by. I didn't understand why they were looking at me so funny, since the breeze wasn't even that cold. On my way, I stepped in a puddle, which then cracked and shattered. It was frozen. I guess it was colder than it felt. After breakfast, we headed over to the nearby lake, which was well frozen. Nick, Julian, and Matt went out on stood on the ice, and I stood on a rock next to it. I don't like cold water in my boots. After, we climbed up a smaller snow chute than the one we had seen the specks on the day before and reached about 12,000 feet before we let ourselves slide back down and then walked back to camp.

The hike down was far less strenuous that the hike up the day before, with the acceptation of the slippery snow drifts we had to cross. On the way down, we saw hang gliders drifting amongst the clouds. Compared with the air at 11,000 feet, the amount of oxygen at our disposal on the way down was much appreciated. We stopped for lunch at outpost camp again before we headed the rest of the way down. Back at the portal, ,we loaded up the cars and went home.

Right now, you are probably wondering, "hey, what about going to the summit?" The way to the summit of Whitney was all snow and ice, with pointy rocks to break your fall. We didn't have the proper gear to make it to the top safely, so we'll just have to do it next time.

On the way back, Mr. Krueger's van began to overheat thanks to a gash in the radiator hose. We duct taped the hose up and refilled the radiator with the pure mountain water in our nalgenes, and it lasted long enough to get off of the freeway. Unfortunately, gas stations don't sell car parts any more, only food, so we couldn't fix the problem. We called AAA and took Matt home in the truck, leaving the Narayan, Mr. Krueger, Mr. Yaffee, and Mr. Liebeskind to get home at a later time.

All in all, it was a good trip. The area was beautiful and the hikers were polite. We all agree that we are going to go again, and next time, we will make it to the top. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy a lunch that wasn't freeze-dried and cooked in a pouch.

--Jonathan

CAMPOREE 2009 AT TEJON RANCH

The sun began to set as Troop 104 rolled up to what was supposed to be their campsite. Although the view was lovely, for we had been given a spot atop a hill overlooking the lake on one side and the rest of the Camporee on the other, there was also a nasty slant and cow pies every where, courtesy of the cows grazing on the same parcel of land that we were to play on the next day. Troop 104 didn't like that, so we found a new campsite down in the valley, with the normal people, and set up as the darkness fell around us. While some scouts grabbed tents and patrol boxes, others grabbed propane tanks and lanterns, and soon our site was bathed in light. We set up the tents in our signature horseshoe formation, with the SPL's at the head, while the adults camped off to the side. Next, the patrol boxes went up, and as our SPl, Julian L., left to go to the cracker barrel, a few particulary determined scouts went to work on setting up the troop sign in sub-freezing temperatures in front of the campsite for the Judges the next morning.




The next morning, the scouts competed for space in the sun while they waited to go down to the main camp for uniform inspections and breakfast.




The entire camp was called together for the opening flag ceremony. I am pretty sure that the crowd of people could have been seen from space, because there were allot of scouts. Webelos, Venturers, and just plain old Boy Scouts massed together for the last time until campfire that night. After the colors were raised, one of the head of the Camporee climbed to the top of a tower that was lashed together ahead of time, and he shouted at the mass of frozen, sleepy-eyed teenagers, "Which troop here is the best?"

Before he could finish his sentence, Troop 104 exploded into a cacophony of voices, each trying to be louder than the last. The other troops attempted to assert themselves as well, but they were drowned out by the battle cries of 104. Our uniforms in pristine condition compared to the competition, shooting medals glistening on our manly, muscular, bulging chests, we roared and cheered, I stood in the front, and lifted the Spirit Stick high into the air so all could see. An hour earlier, we were certain that we would not keep the Spirit Stick after this Camporee, due to the fact that all of our old, experienced Boys had Eagled out, and most of the Boys in the Troop were young and unexperienced (we blame no one, it is just how the cycle of greatness works). Now, our doubts were almost nearly removed, as the other Troops stared in horror at our enthusiasm. With a wave from the hand of the man in the lashing tower, the crowd was silenced, but the Spirit Stick remained just high enough to be seen by everyone.



As the day went on, the Boys of Troop 104 dove headfirst into every challenge that they were presented, and that was not a metaphor. The Rubber Duckies set the first notable record of the day at the Five Man Snowshoe competition, which was 3:01, beating the previous best of 6:35. It was shortly beaten by the Bottle Rockets (who came in first at the end of the day) with 54 seconds. They sang as they set the record, thanks to Matt G. and the bottomless pit of Marine Corps Cadence in his head. Meanwhile, the Grease Monkeys, Small Macs, and Rubber Duckies took on other competitions with notable awesomeness, but not as much as the Bottle-Rocket-singing-victory. Toward the end of the day, Keith K., despite his illness, beat the shooting record that was held the whole day (88/100, held by the Grease Monkeys and a patrol from another Troop) with a score of 92, ensuring that the top spot on the shooting competition stayed 104-exclusive.




The campfire that night featured Mr. Nuckolls' famous "Cowboy Shoot Out" skit, a quick flag retirement ceremony, and ended in the call-out for the candidates for the order of the arrow. The next morning, we gathered for a Scouts Own by an actual minister, and then the handing out of awards. At least one patrol from Troop 104 in every competition, except for the "Poison River" event, which we protested because we did not want to participate in an event where the instructions appear to be translated from Japanese by a very bad translating program. For the most part, it was Bottle Rockets first, Rubber Duckies second. Finally, it came down to the end, and it was time to announce the winners of the Spirit Stick. As the same man who had asked the crowd who was the best Troop the morning before prepared to announce the winners of the Spirit Stick, Julian humbly made his way through the crowd to present it to the winning Troop. The man unfolded the paper and declared "The winner is..."

In case you didn't hear the screams all the way in the Valley, TROOP 104 won the Spirit Stick. Julian withdrew back from the open, and into the crowd of 104 Scouts. Above our cries, he shouted,

"TROOP 104, WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?!"


We responded with a hearty,"AH-OO, AH-OO, AH-OO!!"


in perfect unison, our voices ecoing throughout the valley. We walked back to our campsite with broad smiles on our faces, and we posed like we were raising the Flag on Iwo-Jima with the Spirit Stick. All in all, it was a good weekend, and possibly one of the best Camporees I have ever gone too.





--Jonathan Reader

Troop 104 White Water Rafting 2009

Late last Friday afternoon, 17 Scouts (including myself) and Adults from Troop 104 gathered in the parking lot of Saint Stephen's Church, gearing up for their next big adventure. We loaded up the backpacks, the food, the water coolers, patrol boxes, and ever so important tents into the truck Mr. Martine had borrowed and left dreaming of the next day, when we would go white water rafting. On the way we passed through Antelope Valley and watched the sun set as we drove on. It turns out that the Tejon Ranch actually owns all of the land between where we go for summer camp and where the Antelope Valley begins, and a considerable amount of land in the Valley itself (in short, it's freaking HUGE). At one point, I glanced at the odometer and noticed that it read "104.0 miles", and thought it would make a good picture, but it came out blurry. Fast forward to an hour later, and we arrived at the camp site and began to set up in the dark. Once the lanterns were up, we set up the tents (the newer Scouts and Parents had some help from the old ones) and we crashed.

I awoke the next morning to the beautiful sight of Nick P., my tent buddy, sleeping on his face.




Outside, other campers were waiting for Matthew P. to make a fire for his advancement requirements. Once he got that going, the campers turned to a breakfast of nearly unlimited hot chocolate courtesy of all the good scouts who left their extra hot chocolate in the bin and either oatmeal or omelets in a bag. After cleanup, the older boys began to teach the new ones all they needed to know for the totin' chip and some knots for a Tenderfoot Rank requirement. The knot class culminated in a test involving a hammock held up by the knots the younger scouts had tied, which they then had to lie in to see if they had tied them right. Meanwhile, some other scouts headed across the river to check out the cars that some millionaires had driven into town for breakfast. There was one Porsche, one Lotus, and more Ferraris than you could shake a stick at.

After lunch, we headed over to the place where the company we were going rafting with was going to get us suited up. We got the full wet suits this time, with those awesome jackets that keep you dry and special little booties for everybody, except for Spencer Jensen (they didn't have a big enough size for him), then they gave us paddles and life jackets (no helmets, though) and loaded us up on a bus and took us up stream.

After a short training class, we splashed through the freezing water and into our boats, and began to paddle down stream. I ended up with all of the older scouts and our guide took us down the Kern River in every direction but forwards. Water splashed everywhere as we took on the small but entertaining rapids we broad smiles on our faces, pretending that we didn't have as much water in places there wasn't supposed to be water as there was. We reached the bottom and loaded up the rafts, then headed up river to go again.

The second time, a prolonged water fight broke out, ending in Grady going Navy Seal and silently diving into the freezing water, only to pull other scouts from other boats in to the water with him. I was almost launched from the raft as we hit a jackpot (a spot where the water flows over a rock and creates a place where the water is lower than everywhere else, also known as a BUMP). Spencer J. was on the side that went over the jackpot first, and his weight acted like a fulcrum as the part of the raft I was on went vertical. Towards the bottom, another splash battle resulted in several shivering scouts and me losing the feeling in the left side of my face.

After we dried off and changed into some dry clothes, we went across the bridge and into town, where we got some ice cream and held a 'how-far-can-you-jump-off-the-swing contest' in the park, which ended with Keith K. being Number 1 for farthest flying (of course) and Grady breaking and dislocating his arm not on the landing, but ON THE TAKEOFF!! Thereby keeping up the tradition of 104 Scouts getting more injured in public parks designed for safety than when they go white water rafting or careening down a steep and narrow mountain trail filled with rocks on their mountain bikes. Grady received immediate medical attention from the local Fire Department, and then was driven to the hospital. Our best wishes are with him.

Meanwhile, the physically intact scouts went back to camp, where we started a fire, broke down the incident in the park so we could know exactly what happened and put our minds at rest, played some cards, and got started on dinner. Keith L. , under the "wise" guidance of a certain older scout whose name will go unmentioned, cooked all of the pasta we had brought, which filled the whole pot. Meanwhile, Nick P. cooked up some delicious stir-fry.




There was plenty of food to go around, and everybody feasted on both dinner entrées and some s'mores around the camp fire later. In the morning, we packed up camp in a little bit over an hour, had a short Scout's Own on the river bank, then jumped in the cars and headed home. On the way, we stopped for some Sonic Burger for lunch (a first for many of us) and then came home.

All in all, it was a great trip with the exception of Grady's unfortunate injury, and I've already got the perfect cover story for him, Alligator Wrestling!


Jonathan R.
Troop 104 Historian

Troop 104 Historical Blog

Troop 104 in Mission Hills is now online with its own Historical Blog to document its events and outings. The Troop Historian will be contributing most of the writing to this blog and we will try to create links to our photos as well.

--- Michael Part
Scoutmaster