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