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Mouse On Ice Troop 51 marched up the old trail that skirts the campsites at Camp Mountain Run, and soon passed the spring that serves as the camp's water supply. It was nine o'clock on a mid-winter Saturday morning. The sky was sometimes blue and sometimes filled with snowy looking clouds pushed along by a high wind from the west. Down in the woods, there was no wind at all but it was cold. The temperature had fallen 40 degrees overnight and winter was back after a day of warmth and melting. The snow was crusty and the crunch of many feet, and the voices of twenty Scouts carried easily in the cold mountain air. "Where does this trail go?" worried Mouse, a small and slightly homesick Tenderfoot on his first winter hike. "I guess it's supposed to curve around to the east and then cut down toward Penfield," replied Chunk, a roly-poly carefree kid with disheveled sandy hair. "It doesn't seem like it is turning the right way to me. What if we're lost?" "Oh, we can't be that lost. Nolan Road has to be somewhere to our left, and hear that creek down there in the trees? That has to be Wilson Run." "So you are saying we are lost?" groaned Mouse. "We aren't on the right trail?" "Who knows, but we have a map and a compass and we'll figure something out if we are lost. That's part of the fun!" "Fun like breakfast?" said Mouse with a small smile. "Hey, come on. It's like I keep telling everybody. It's not my fault. They told me there were still some eggs in the Scout Room from the campout a few months ago, so I only got 18 more. How could I know the old ones would be bad." "Yeah, they were though. One egg each for breakfast was not enough." "Don't complain, Mouse. A Scout is Cheerful, you know." "Yeah, but what about Be Prepared. You sure weren't prepared to make bacon and eggs." "Hey, I was being thrifty. A Scout is Thrifty, you know. Anyway, I bought too much bacon, so things worked out OK." "I was expecting bacon and eggs, not bacon and egg. I never ate so much bacon in my life." "Things don't always turn out like you plan, especially on a camping trip. Just take things easy, Mouse. This isn’t like home you know. This is camping out." "Well, I suppose lunch will be better," said Mouse, brightening somewhat. "What is for lunch?" "Ramen noodles," said Chunk. "Umm . . . But, there might be a little problem with that." "What do you mean, a little problem?" "Yeah, well, you see, they, uh . . . they told me there were some noodles left from last time, and, I guess, uh . . . I guess they were wrong, so I only got five packages of Ramen. Now I'm wondering if that will be enough to feed all twenty of us." "What will you do if it's not? "Cookies, snack cakes, crackers, candy and Coke, I guess," said Chunk somewhat doubtfully. "That sounds fine. I don't need any noodles. You can give mine to someone else." "Thanks, Mouse. That's the right Scout Spirit! Hey look, the trail is ending." "That's not right, it should keep going shouldn't it?" said Mouse. "See, we're lost." "Naw, look there. That has got to be Nolan Road." "Yeah, well, what do we do now, go back?" "What a terrible thing to say. We always go forward in this outfit." "Forward into the unknown, forward into possible danger, forward into the uncharted wilderness?"
Where the trial hit the road there happened to be a sign that read "No Winter Maintenance." Such roads are cared for by the townships of Pennsylvania nine months a year, but are more or less abandoned during the winter. The day before, the four inches of snow that had covered Nolan Road had melted down to two inches of slush. Then the overnight freeze had worked its magic to create a ribbon of ice wending though the snowy February landscape. Yoyo was the first to fall. "Wow, this is one slippery road," said the dark, wiry Scout as he hoisted himself to his feet, only to fall again. "Yeah," replied Ox, intent on map and compass. "We go that way up the road for a mile or so, then we should see the trail again." "How are we going to go a mile on this stuff?" exclaimed Yoyo as he fell for the third time. "Well, if you would quit trying to walk on it, it might help. Walk down the edge, its not so icy there." "That's no fun. It's like a skating rink that goes up and down hill. I like to skate." "Too bad you forgot your skates then. Try skating anyway; it might work." Cautiously, Yoyo set about trying to skating up the middle of the road, and it did sort of work for twenty feet or so. Then he hit a ridge of ice and tumbled to the hard surface once again. "That was great," he giggled as he hoisted himself back to his feet. Ox just raised an eyebrow and said, "I think I'll walk the edges. It'll be easier on my bones." Most of the old hands joined Ox in trudging through the rough snow and ice at the edge of the road. They wore hiking boots with high tops and lugged soles that protected their feet from all but the deepest snow and gave some traction on the lumpy berm. The younger Scouts found the edge to be too rough for the tennis shoes they were wearing and so took to the ice. They fell a lot, but also had the most fun. "Hey, Yoyo, how many times is that now?" "I'm up to ten, but I think I am getting the hang of it --- akkk!" "That's eleven." "You ruined my concentration!" Mouse and Chunk fell back from the leaders and were now nearly at the rear of the troop, where Scoutmaster Burton and the other adults walked together, talking endlessly. Slowly, Mouse evolved a mixed approach to navigating the road --- one foot on the ice and one on the berm. Chunk was more adventurous, constantly trying new ways of making progress on the ice. After much experimentation, he evolved a way of running along the side of the road and then launching himself onto the ice to skid forward ten feet or so. Most times he didn't even fall down. "You're gonna' hurt yourself," counseled Mouse after Chunk did take a particularly nasty spill. "Naw, its pretty soft ice if you ask me," said Chunk "Why don't we turn back? This is not a very good hike." "Why not?" "Well, we aren't going very fast and it seems dangerous. Why don't the adults make us go back?" "Mouse, this is an adventure. What could happen?" "You could break your leg. You could crack your head. You could twist an ankle." "More likely I'll bruise a hip. I didn't come on this campout just to sit in a cabin all weekend." "Yeah, well, what if something happens?" "Ok, suppose something does happen. Suppose that Yoyo up there falls, and breaks his leg. What would you do?" "Um, I guess I would splint the leg and figure some way to get him back to camp." "Right. How would you get him back to camp?" "Maybe use a Fireman Carry, like in the Handbook." "I'd like to see you with Yoyo over your shoulder trying to walk on this ice," Chunk laughed. "No, I don't think that would work." "Well, well … I don't know … oh, I know! I'd get a big branch off of a pine tree and lay him on that. Then I would drag him back to camp on the ice." "How would you find camp?" "Oh, that part is easy. Camp is on Nolan Road. I would just drag him back the way we came, then keep going instead of taking the trail." "That sounds like it might work." "It even sounds fun. Do you think anyone will break their leg?" asked Mouse hopefully. "Probably not," said Chunk with regret. The two crested the long hill they had been climbing and saw that the road now swooped steeply into a hollow. Bodies were scattered everywhere along it course. Far ahead they heard a chorused shout, "Thirty-seven!," as Yoyo once again lost his footing and hit the deck. "Wow, this looks like fun", said Chunk.
"Well, you don't, so sit down in the middle of the road and I'll give you a push." "Ok, but not too hard. What will the adults do?" "They'll manage. Here goes." Mouse skidded down the hill on the nearly frictionless surface. It was steeper than he had thought, but more thrilling than scary. He had expected that the road would to be very cold to sit on, but was surprised to find that his behind was actually warmer than the rest of him. The wind in his face was very cold indeed and made his eyes water. He could feel each bump and ridge in the ice with his rump as he sped faster and faster down the slope. He tried to steer and slow down using his feet stretched out before him, but this only sent him into a slow spin as he continued speeding down the icy surface. Slowly, slowly the now rotating Mouse veered from the center toward the clumped up snow at the side of the road. He saw that he was going to crash and so rolled onto his side to soften the blow. Then he lay there laughing and rubbing the leg that had taken the brunt of the crash. Suddenly, a heavy body hit him from the rear, and he went spinning away again. "Sorry, Mouse, sorry!" said his Scoutmaster. "I couldn't steer to miss you." "That's OK," said Mouse as they coasted to a stop at the bottom of the slope. "Can we do that again?" "Naw. Once is enough for me. Think of how hard it would be to get back to the top again. Anyway, there's our trail." Sure enough, a sign proclaiming the Bennett Trail was right there, and Mouse could see a stripe of leaves leading northward up the snowy hillside and over a shoulder of the mountain. The troop automatically sorted itself into hiking order based on fitness. Ox, the oldest of the Scouts, and a veteran of Philmont, led the way. The other old guys stayed close, talking about camping gear and old adventures as they huffed up through the Mountain Laurel "hells" that covered most of the lower part of the mountain. The trail was one of those devious ones that sap the spirit. The younger guys in the middle of the pack could see Ox and company disappear over the top of the hill, and so went chugging toward it breathlessly, fully expecting a nice level or downhill stretch. On reaching the top, they invariably found the older guys sitting and waiting for the rest of the troop to catch up. They were also greeted by a view of another 100 yards of uphill climb. With a groan, they would throw themselves down to catch their breath and await the arrival of the laggards and the adults. This happened again and again as the troop slowly made its way up the nine hundred foot rise to the top of Boone Mountain. Mouse kept losing ground. His spirits sagged further and further as each new stretch of hill came into view. Chunk was way up toward the front, and Mouse was feeling weak and alone as Scout after panting Scout slowly passed him. At the end of half an hour, nearly everyone had passed him, usually without a single word of encouragement as they conserved their wind for the climb. Then Mouse was surprised to find Crane walking beside him. What was he doing back here? Crane was a gangling 6-foot tall 15-year old --- Mouse's secret hero. Crane had been to Philmont. Crane was a Life Scout. Crane was the troop's Senior Patrol Leader. Mouse wished he was that tall, wished he was that experienced. "How are you doin', Mouse?" "I'm pretty tired, my leg is a little sore from when I crashed coming down the hill, and my feet are cold." "Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a blister on my middle toe. I can feel it with every step I take. Guess I should have worn different socks. Still, it's great out here isn't it?" "So that's why you're back here near the end of the line." "Well, partly. But mostly I was talking to Mr. Burton and he goes real slow up hills." "Do you think we will get to the top soon? I am getting very, very tired," said Mouse in a timid voice. "Oh, you'll make it, don't worry. Just look off to the side. See the sky through the trunks of the trees up there? That means we are getting close to the top." "I don't think I can make it that far." "Yeah, I know just how you feel. Back when we started training for Philmont we got on a hill like this that never seemed to end, and I thought about every step and worried over every insect that buzzed near me. I was miserable and told Mr. Burton I couldn't make it. He walked with me and told me a few tricks that got me to the top. First off, don't concentrate on the top. Pick a tree about 100 yards ahead, then just say to yourself, "I can make it to that tree. I can make it to that tree." Then, when you get there, take a little rest and pick another tree and do it again. Before you know it, you'll be at the top. His second trick was to find someone to talk to, someone to distract you from the work of the climb. You can talk about the scenery or how good dinner will taste or about anything but your aches and pains. That way the time passes faster. He walked with me that day, and I did make it to the top with everyone else. Then I spent five great days hiking this trail that runs along the rim of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania." "I don't think I could ever do that," said Mouse. "My feet would get too sore." "Yeah, it does help to have the right boots. Those tennis shoes you're wearing are good for walking on ice or smooth ground, but they are not real warm and don't provide a lot of protection in rough terrain. Still, footwear isn't as important as attitude. Stay cheerful, look around at the passing scenery, talk to your friends, and ignore the minor aches and pains. That's the way to enjoy a hike." "Ok, I'll try. Why don't you stop and work on your foot. Maybe I could put a bandage on your blister for you." "Thanks for the offer, but it's not that bad. We'll be back at the cabin in a couple of hours. I'll look at it then." "You'll limp for a week if it gets too bad." "Yeah, it will be sort of a souvenir of our little winter hike. Leave nothing but footprints; take away nothin' but blisters --- that's my motto. Some day next week I'll be sitting in class and get a twinge from that toe, and that will make me think back to today and the fun we are having. You are having fun aren't you?" "Well, I liked sleeping in the cabin pretty much, but I sort of worried about my Mom a little last night." "She'll be OK. You are getting bigger now and she knows you have to go off and do guy stuff sometimes. Did you like the ice slide?" "Yeah, that was great. Did you see when Mr. Burton crashed into me?"
Mouse was not ready to move in, but was pleased at the prospect, pleased with the friendship that had developed between him and Crane, and was very pleased that he had made it to the top. Bennet Trail was hidden beneath the snow until the coming of the Spring melt, so the troop wallowed along one edge of the meadow, looking for the right way to go. Maybe there was a road on the other side of the cabin. Ox and Klepto chugged on ahead at speed to investigate while everyone else proceeded more slowly, doing their best to step high and keep the snow out of their boots and shoes. Five minutes later they stopped and watched the return of the two forward scouts through the knee-high snow. "So, what's over the hill?" asked Crane. "More snow," said Ox. "Any sign of a road or a trail?" "Nope, nothin'." "Ok, time to go home then I think," said Crane. "Let's just bushwack it. Do you want to lead or shall I?" "Why don't you do it for a while, I am a little worn out at the moment. You're not going to get us lost are you?" "Have I ever done that to you?" replied Crane with an injured air. Ox just laughed. Mouse watched as Crane took out a map and compass, used the compass to orient the map and pointed to where he thought they were and then in the direction they needed to go to get back to camp. Then, with a "Come on" to Mouse, he set off through the snow, back into the wood at right angles to the way they had just come. "Crane, are you going the right way? That's not the way we came. There is no trail." "It's OK Mouse, camp is probably down this way. Don't forget that we have been walking in a big loop, so the shortest way home is not back the way we came." "What do you mean by probably?" asked Mouse suspiciously. "Well, I have misread a map more than once. Its not that easy you know, especially in broken terrain like this. Still, I bet I'm right this time. Of course I always say that just before I get lost." They walked for five minutes, and Mouse became concerned again. "Why are you zigzagging back and forth? Why don't you just head straight down the mountain?" "I'm just looking for the best way. Have you noticed the deer tracks? I'm following the deer tracks that lead down. The deer that live around here will know the best way down." "Hey what's the big mound of dirt over to the left? Oh, that's where the tracks lead too." "Hmm, looks like a dozer made that pile. Maybe there is a road over that way." When they reached the mound, they saw the road. It was just a scrape made by heavy equipment, but it was on the south-facing slope of the mountain, clear of snow and had a nicely burbling melt stream running down its center. "Another tip for you, Mouse." "Yeah?" "If you don't want wet feet, don't step in the water." "Well, of course!" They headed down the track, and in fifteen minutes it brought them back to Nolan Road, very near to where the trail up through camp ended. Mouse was very impressed. "How did you do that?" "Just lucky," said Crane with a pleased grin. "We are so close to home though," rejoiced the bedraggled Mouse. "We should be back in camp in another twenty minutes. Then I can get out of these wet shoes. Hey, I notice you guys always play Euchre on these campouts. Do you think you could teach me?" "Yeah, sure," replied Crane. "It's not that hard. First though I could do with some lunch. D'ya know what we are having? Chunk is Cook right?" "Yeah. Ramen noodles is what it's supposed to be, I think." "Great. I really like ramen. I hope he brought lots."
Mouse smiled, almost laughed. "You can have mine." |
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"Yeah,
that's right. Come on, let's catch up with the front guys and get a
look at the map. Ox will know the right way to go."
"Wish
I had a sled."
And
so the 11-year old and the 15-year old compared notes as their feet
took them ever upward. Time slipped away as they scrambled up the
mountain, intent on their conversation and the passing scene. Then,
the trees ended, the ground leveled out and the boys stared in
amazement at the wondrous winter landscape that gripped the top of
Boone Mountain. The top was a vast meadow, rimmed by dark bare
trees. The sky above was bluer than seemed possible and two feet of
untrodden snow covered the whole vast area. At the very top stood a
nice looking green cottage, and many a Scout murmured, "This is
where I want to live!"