Summary of our Fall Camp 2008 by Peter Buchanan:
As the last 2 years have drifted by, Den and Pack events have changed much in my mind. Sometimes they have been eagerly anticipated, others not so much. The fall campout this year was one I was not eagerly anticipating. Rather I was worried about the improbability of safely supervising 20 or so boys in the great outdoors.
But Friday afternoon, when a young Bear Scout swept into the house in cloud of books, backpacks and excitement about the coming weekend, I shook off the lingering worries and pointed myself at the job of loading up the car with a trunk full of gear we would need.
He was eager to help and the job was done before we knew it. The road trip was short and minutes later the trunk was open and spilling forth a rainbow of tent parts, sleeping bags, pillows, packs, fishing rods, papers and various toys. Trunks and tailgates we exploding with the same results all around us. Like a little ant colony cleaning up a forgotten morsel, the campers eventually moved the gear to our new home
Somehow our little tribe managed to move in, build tents, and gather firewood in time for dinner. A course of pasta and salad quietly and magically appeared just before the light started fading. All the hustle and bustle changed course towards it. In short order the feast was reduced to leftovers. The resulting mess somehow all found it’s way to the trash bags. Camp fires were brought to life as the sun set and still the boys happy feet careened around the camp unfettered by the rules of home.
I worried. Someone was bound to get hurt. They should be corralled for something constructive. There was so much left to do. Each boy needed to be accounted for. Fortunately, no one was crying. No one was hurt. But this is what it was all for, so that they could build memories together. They were the ones who knew best how to do that. My pool of stress started to drain away, but ever so slowly. A night hike was just the thing to wear them down a little bit. And sure enough, they seemed slightly more ready for a reasonable bed time than in years past when it was done.
Saturday emerged from under heavy eyelids to soon. Young voices shouting across the campsite made sure that sleep was long gone. But bleary eyes were soon cleared by hot coffee and the warmth of revived campfires. And it only got better. Sausage and eggs were soon sizzling on nearby griddles and one monstrous frying pan. The aroma teased us as we lined up and the taste, met all my expectations.
Good food has a way of calming restless spirits. Sure enough, the restless and hungry Bears were calmed and content enough to focus on the tasks of the day. Co-operation seemed to be a common agreement with them. Quickly a new line up was established. The following inspection went well. The boys themselves picked the one with the sharpest uniform. Oaths and allegiance were vowed in almost-solemn unison. Again enthusiastic spirits reigned as the boys picked out and practiced their evening skits. The energy with which they practiced over and over again was inspiring. It's hard not to feel pride when that many boys work so well and so hard together. But I was just a director. The quality of behavior instilled in these boys was not my handiwork. Great kids are the loving work of great parents. I am honored to be entrusted with their care for these brief times.
It soon became evident where all the enthusiasm was coming from. These Scouts were bubbling with anticipation of testing their skills at marksmanship. The archery range was first on our morning march. I am frequently surprised by these boys and though a couple had to be sent from the range temporarily, absolute quiet fell among them when the current group was firing. I noted the day in my calendar accordingly. Though the target backboards looked like pin cushions for the blind and as many arrows missed as hit the boards, a couple still managed to find their way inside the target circles. It was enough to allow the boys to march away victorious.
The rifle range was just as intense. It is surprising how much focus and discipline they can have when they realize the gravity of what they have in their hands. It is also sometimes surprising that their fun can sometimes come as quietly as possible. Again the guidance of great parents was crucial in pruning out the danger and still letting the boys enjoy themselves.
When the day turned wet and gray, the boy’s hopes remained undiminished. The fish were not biting much in Lake Leitchfield but most sons and dads never-the-less enjoyed the time together. Even the slightest line tugs eventually disappeared even as the rain relented. But we were really okay with leaving the fish unbothered in the lake. It felt to me like a good way to quietly offer our thanks to God and the land for providing us such a time and place to spend together.
Disappointment greeted some of the campers on their return. The drizzle that dampened hopes as well as scout shirts all afternoon had penetrated some of the tents and washed out the remainder of the weekend for some. Even so, most of these families hung around long enough for dinner and evening activities. And a memorable dinner it was. Small mountains of vegetables and plentiful burgers fed everyone willing to try their hand at cooking foil dinners. We all learned a few lessons in the process and most had a fine meal. The more discriminating eaters finished off the pasta from the previous night. All in all, almost everyone ended up happy and full with only a few cuts and burnt fingers.
One of the best times in any scout camp-out is the evening entertainment. The evening was started off by the opportunity for four enterprising young scouts to do what every scout dreams of... put a pie in their leaders face. Again, kudos to the creative parents and leaders for coming up with an entertaining way to encourage the boys to participate in the popcorn sales that assure our scouting future.
What followed was the venerable scouting tradition of skits. And though the skits were old to most, they were new to many and fun for all. Everyone enjoyed seeing the leaders making fools of themselves wondering what it would be like not to be a scout. And the Bears were only to happy to display their well practiced theatrical skills. It was all capped off by a camp-wide song that had most staggering around like drunken chickens gargling 'Singing in the rain...'
There was more, including s’mores, scary stories, and simply sitting and staring into the fire in the company of friends. Tired boys sat on the laps of tired dads or huddled together reviewing the day. Then a few at a time, they all retreated to the comfort of their tents and sleeping bags.
I was among the first up the next morning. I rekindled a fire and enjoyed a few minutes of silence and solitude. I offered my prayers and thanks to the Lord for blessing us with such a weekend and such fine company. Gradually the camp roused and the bustle began again. Wistful feelings for the end of the campout and the return to normal life were buried by the work and necessity of packing. Gathering, cleaning, rolling, stuffing, and a dozen trips to the car are the inevitable end these retreats. But near the end of my work, the zone of my working rhythm was gently broken by the sound of boys singing around the dying fire. 'If I were not a boy scout I know what I would be...'
They remembered every line in order from our leader skit the night before. Somehow that made my day. We've helped to give them a time they'll remember. We've done something good and perhaps this is one of the things for which, at the end of our time, our Lord will say 'Well done'. Thank you my friends for all you did to make it happen. I am humbled by how much work it took and how dedicated everyone was to it. It is a privilege knowing your children and yourselves.
Peter
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