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