Our tale begins at the usual rendezvous point at oh-six-hundred
(which sure seems to have more sunlight than I remember) with all of the scouts
in their class A uniforms. Ok, I think
they all had them on, some had them buttoned and some even had them tucked
in. Our Troop this year consists of a
number of rookies as well as some seasoned vets. Our leader is Bro Haseldon - a man who
reminds us that the United States and Great Brittan are two countries from a
common heritage that are separated by a single language. Brother Baker is his #1. Brother Baker is back joining us at camp
after a hiatus of sorts but brings a lot of Goshen experience back with
him. Bro Wilhelm is again back from last
year and wraps up the crew with his group of 4 scouts who are embedded into our
Troop for the duration of camp.
Our trip begins as always with group supplication to the
Almighty for a safe journey and individual supplication from the leaders that
we manage to bring back as many scouts as we take, from mothers that their boys
actually change during the week into some of the clothes they packed
(especially underwear), and from the scouts that they get into the “cool” car
(which definition varies depending on the age, friends, and Rubik’s cube
knowledge of the asker) for the trip. I
think most of the scout’s prayers are answered.
Final resolution of the leaders and parents remain unknown at this
juncture.
Transportation is provided by the aforementioned leaders,
myself, and Bishop Holtom who is humbly driving a mini-van this year rather
than his nicer set of wheels. Close to
the appointed time the wagons head out.
As I’m preparing to put us into line I note in my rear view mirror that
of the 7 scouts in my car (my son Nathan in co-pilot position, Miles, Scott and
Alex in the middle row, and Michael, Will and Blake in the rear), I see a
number who have not buckled up. I inform
them that the vehicle will remain in a locked and standing position until such
time as they are all buckled up. Due to
this delay, we end up as the last of the 5 vehicles.
Bro Baker had ditched us before we can get out of the
parking lot. At the top of the hill
turning south onto Belmont Ridge the rest of the train leaves us behind by
darting through what I refer to as a “deep shade of pink” turn signal. Little did we know that was the very last of
them we would see on the trip. Someone
in our vehicle clearly isn’t living right as we have mostly poor luck with all
traffic signals. We are also very
fortunate to have a police escort for a long stretch of 81 to help us progress
along at proper speeds. Prior to leaving
the drivers had a brief conversation about routes. The Bishop was considering using 7 all the
way out to 81. I did that coming home
one year and indicated that I didn’t care for that route. Bro. Baker determined that he would take 81
all the way down and then come across to Goshen rather than going in the back
way in an attempt to reduce the windy roads and reduce the odds of cookie
tossing in his brand spankin new truck with it’s nice leather interior. As for me and my ride, I planned to use the
back way including the Wayne Janzen Memorial Highway (don’t worry, he isn’t
dead, he just doesn’t join us at camp any more so we can technically have a
memorial highway) also known on less informed mapping services as “The Hob.” For those of you unfamiliar with this route,
suffice it to say that it was a “miracle”route discovered by Wayne using a GPS
prior to actually inspecting the route and it is actually a one lane gravel
road that goes up and over the hill between the main road and the scout
camp. I continue to give him a hard time
about it, but I still use the route to this day.
We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the other vehicles as we
turned onto the Hob. Unfortunately, the
hob was “under construction” – a road grader was, well, I’m not sure what it
was doing, but it was messing up the Hob. There were piles of dirt and rock on
the road including some very large rocks in places that it wasn’t possible to
avoid even with my mad driving skillz. As
far as I know we managed to make it without puncturing my oil pan.
We pulled into Beautiful Camp Marriott at about the 3 hour
mark of the journey – par for the course.
We were the first ones from our group to arrive. The Hob wins again! We had barely gotten out of the vehicle and
most of the boys “hustled” off to the latrine when the other’s showed up.
Last year there were a record number of boys there. This year there are a lot of boys here, but
it doesn’t seem as crowded yet. We will
see when the official numbers are announced but that is my impression. We check in and are assigned an 8 year old as
our site guide. Ok, he probably wasn’t
actually 8, but he did look closer to 8 than 16.
We are assigned to camp 6. The scouts walk and we haul the
gear by car to camp. We leave the camp,
drive out of camp and along the main road, keep driving, drive past the first
turn in, keep driving, and then drive a little more and then finally there is
the turn in for our camp. Last year, we
were assigned a camp that if you are looking at the Lake, was to the far
right. This year we are assigned to a
camp, which if you have your back to the lake, is to the far right. However, having walked both routes, I think
this camp might actually be closer despite the driving distance. However, that may also be because I hadn’t
walked it many times yet.
This year there were plenty of tents for everyone. It appeared that they hadn’t been used for a
while as most of them had leaves on the floor.
One tent even had a field mouse occupant who was unhappy to be rousted
from its warm dry location, but realized it was most likely easier to find a
new home than to attempt to live with two loud, rowdy, and sometimes smelly
scouts. With gear unloaded and tent
mates having chosen their living quarters for the week, everyone changed to
head down for med check and swim check.
We either had bad timing or the camp is crowded this week. The line for med check was quite long. We managed, by occupying 4 check in tables to
move this along quickly. The adults
received our coveted yellow arm bands and we all headed down to the water. The queuing theory being used was something from
either military/government use or a form of medieval torture. They had us stip down to nothing but our
skivvies (ok, we were all wearing our swim suits, but skivvies sounded more
torturous), paraded us out onto the dock and then despite having all the
lifeguards in position, had us remain there on the tottering dock in the
sweltering sun without water or food for what by my reckoning was 2 or 3 hours
(but by my watch was actually closer to 15-20 minutes) while administering no
swim tests. No one had thought we would
be out there for over 30 minutes so there was little or no sunscreen which had
been applied. It one point they did a
check and there were over 103 people standing in line. Finally, after no discernible change in
circumstances, they apologized for the delay and began… There were 3 of our scouts who didn’t attempt
and one who did but didn’t quite make it.
I think all the rest qualified as swimmers including our leaders. The water was nice and refreshing. Marriott has a nice waterfront area. 
Right after that we were told to get in line in front of the
flags for “staff introduction.” Some of
the scouts from the troop, um, opted out of this event. Those that remained were treated to the kind
of fun one can only have at scout camp as the staff would call out the names of
the people in charge of the various areas and their assistants and they would
run out in front of the group doing some unique step or action or
something. Moses is still here (much longer and we may change her name from Moses to Methusala). Enrique is back at water front. Given our prior time spent
standing in the sun, we decided that at least during that experience we had
cool water to look forward to at the end making this sun baking exercise less
rewarding. After the introductions
ended, we were allowed to walk up the commissary and pick up our zip lock bag
lunch including a roast beast sandwich, fruit, chips, carrot sticks and
juice. Given the number of half or less
consumed sandwiches I noted laying around camp, I would say the boys were less
than enthusiastic about the new Marriott food service. 
One thing that camp does get right is siesta. Lunch is two full hours giving everyone a
chance for a nap. However, the scouts
never want to take naps, which can be somewhat disheartening to the leaders. However, on Monday that is also when the site
guides want to come and teach you about what to do if there are camp wide
events such as fire or missing swimmers.
The scouts listen intently about what to do if they hear a air horn
blast or a bell ringing. Ok, they didn’t
really, but trust me, if something were to happen, we feel comfortable that
there will be enough going on that even most 12-14 year old boys will realize
something is a foot.
At two o’clock merit badge classes begin. I make my usual round to see if all the kids
get into the classes they want. It
appears not to be an issue. I wonder if
they have scheduled more classes or if there are less folks here. Looking at the lifesaving class I have to
think there are less scouts around this year.
I took a number of pictures of the scouts in class, and they look pretty
bored. Trust me, scout camp isn’t like
that at all. Ok, well, maybe it is
sometimes in some of the classes, but the first day is typically the
worst. They have to be taught how not to
shoot themselves, cut off any digits, drown, etc. before they can shoot, carve,
boat, etc. I circle around the Handicrap
building numerous times and think I must see at least half our troop in there
at one time or another. Including watching
the excoriating of some troop members who wander in and ask the woman in charge
“what is the easiest merit badge we can get here?” to which she replies that a
person in her position might (who are we kidding here, it is obviously true in
her mind) take offense at that question.
I hate to admit it, but I enjoy the entire scene. While I think the woman is delusional if she
thinks that most scouts in there are not there for a quick, painless and maybe sometimes
fun merit badge, I also think it a good lesson for the young men to learn about
both tact and tactics. And after all,
isn’t learning what scout camp is about?
Once classes end the scouts slowly drift back into
camp. I would be surprised if there are
more than 10% of the scouts in the troop that haven’t made purchases from the
trading post (including one scout wandering into camp just before dinner eating
an ice cream cookie sandwich almost as big as his head). Five o’clock is dinner time. We send down a patrol to retrieve the
grub. This is going to be the first full
test of the new food service for us. We
have some concern about the “slight” nature of the crew we sent down to haul
back food for 24 folks. However, we note
that they have new carts to haul the food this year! I apologize for not photographing them. They are black and have more of a wheelbarrow
shape to the top and resemble a monster truck on the bottom with oversized
black wheels. From our viewpoint from
out camp chairs outside the Scoutmaster’s tent we watch a few troops going past
with them. While initially having some
hope that they were going to last for years to come, I see more than one group
plowing them straight into sizable rocks and hear the cart shudder, and revise
my useful life depreciable life estimate back down to hopefully a single full
season. 
Dinner arrived and while the menu indicated “ham stake” we
instead had baked chicken. It was - wait
for it - delicious! It may have been the
best food I have ever had at camp – it was certainly the best meat. The mac and cheese and mixed vegies are
standard camp quality food.
Unfortunately there is a severe snack pack pudding shortage and a few of
us unfortunate souls don’t get desert.
There are a few items to be washed after dinner and we had
water heating for the occasion during dinner.
I help Miles and his crew prep the cleaning and rinsing area and pour in
the water. It was hot enough that their
fingers didn’t appreciate the heat and so they had to run up and fetch more
water. Blake attempted to use the dish
soap as a flame thrower. If you ever
need something burned with a flame thrower, I recommend you don’t ask Blake
unless you have a very large object that won’t be easy to miss. The three man crew washed the dishes and then
asked where to dump the water. As they
were walking to dump the one carrying the washing pan said “I think there is
something still in there.” So they
carefully walked them back over to the table and double checked and I believe
pulled out a spork. They then proceeded
to walk back over and dump out the water and the two utensils that were still
in there onto the dirt. Of course at
this point there was no more water to wash and rinse them with. I’m not sure
what became of the utensils, I’m just glad happily assured they were not mine.
It was then time to head down to the opening night fireside,
aka FHE. Unfortunately, my stay this
year at Goshen is my shortest yet and won’t even include a night (which is
shaping up to be a very comfortable temperature). Sadly, further tales from the Scout side will
have to await their telling from the mouths of your own scouts.
Till next year…
