Truer words one will most likely never hear. Girls like guys with skills. All types of skills. Since the Agents are reaching the age where the opposite sex is becoming interesting I decided to give them some skills, and bragging rights with an overnight backpacking trip.
So the Supreme Commander set up a trip in the Cascades in Washington. It was to be an overnight survival skills building trip. As I explained it, “Agents, after this trip you will make Bear Grylls look like a hand model.” Agent Hotkoffee used another word involving hand to describe the Bear, again this is a family blog.
Agent Hofkoffee thought it was a great idea and she volunteered to assist with the training. Since she is more than qualified I asked her along. Figured I needed it in case the agents went off the rails. Okay, more like when the agents go off the rails.
The trip was scheduled for one night in the woods off Boulder Creek Trail in the Darrington National Forest. The hike into the campsite is a moderate hike which means the Agents, whose main skill was reaching level 10 or higher on Super Mario, would crack in less than a mile on the trail like a recalled salmonella egg. The Supreme Commander could visualize it: two boys in gym shoes, jeans and t-shirts with their school backpack loaded with flannel and clean undies slowly decomposing as energetic young men into that whine factory that is a bonked pre-teen. This was going to be great.
The agents received a trip prep document outlining what to pack including: the tools they would need out of the secret agent kit, what clothes to bring (and what clothes not to), some essential first aid supplies, and a hat. We would meet for a trip prep the day before departure to go over the gear, the trail map and the skill building goals. We are set.
Pre-Trip Planning Session - Wednesday
“I want to wrestle a fish!” Agent Linoleum exclaimed. This was in direct response to what they wanted to do outside of skill building. Because the SC in all his wisdom had some blocks of empty time in the trip, he wanted to see what the agents wanted to do with their free time.
‘You can’t wrestle fish. That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.” Agent Mongoose said baiting the other agent.
“Yah-Hah!”
“Nuh-Ahn!”
“Guys!? Focus here. What else do we ant to do no matter how far fetched?”
Agent Mongoose:
“Ummm, I would like to see if there are any signs of, you know, rocks that may be from another planet. Like, we could find rocks and test them to see if they have certain chemicals that other planets have or glow, or are magnetic.”
Agent Linoleum:
“I.”
“Want.”
“To.”
“Wrestle.”
“Fish.”
We stopped there. Actually we didn’t we spent some time creating an inventory of the lab supplies we would need to test river rock for alien life and decided it would be cooler and easier to built a fort (a lean to).
For our inventory we wanted to make sure each agent had a working flashlight, a whistle, extra clothes, rain coat, extra socks, extra undies, a hat, toilet kit or equivalent, and some parachute cord for bear bagging. I almost forgot here are the skills I wanted to teach them:
How to pack a pack for hike
How to light an ultralite gas stove and boil water without burning themselves
How to pour boiling water into dehydrated food and wait 9 minutes ‘til it is edible
How to start a fire with waterproof matches
How to do a deuce in the woods
How to pitch a tent
Proper hydration using a water filtration pump
Knife skills and how to make a tent stake in case one breaks
How to put out a fire
Leave No Trace principles
No worries right? I was realistic if they got the deuce in the woods, hydration/water pump and how to put out a fire I would be elated. After going over the basics and making sure they had the stuff laid out for the trip, Agent Hotkoffee and I left to get our own act together. REi for $40 worth of dehydrated food, stove gas can and some resealable bags that cost 3X what they cost at Safeway.
And they’re off. On the day of the trip the agents arrived while my Dad and step Mom were leaving our little island cottage for Colorado. The agents burst through the front door like trash breaching a cheap plastic bag. All at once, stinky and leaving a trail of debris.
“Uncle, Uncle ! I got this cool extra flashilght...!”
“ he’s the Supreme Commander you...you...(looking at his Mom, red faced, in a pre-expletive apology) aaaaahhhhhh!”
He just popped. He was so mad that Agent Mongoose missed protocol and so conflicted on the punishment for calling him a fuqqer, that you could see his brain lock up due to lack of processing power. He stormed off to tell his Dad that Agent Mongoose was disrespecting the Supreme Commander.
“Guys! Settle! Front and center now!” Volume is one thing they understood and they stopped spaz-ing out and reported for debriefing. First order of business was to review what was in each pack as they SC knew there was going to be some items best left behind. The SC ordered both Agents to unpack their packs in front of him as he needed to make sure they had the right gear for the trip.
Both agents had plenty of clothes and some did not make the trip. One pair of jeans max, bring shorts, one extra undie only, lose the coats. This caused worry lines on the agents peach-fuzz faces.
And they flashlight they brought? Worthless as the batteries had leaked and the white crystalline fuzz had destroyed the contacts. I taught them all about ‘disarming the battery compartment’ when storing a flashlight.
Beginning with the clothes and gear they would need at night I had them repack the packs. Put the night time clothes in first, then extra socks, undie, and shirts. On the top of the inside of the pack I had them each carry a dehydrated meal, one carried the water purifier, one carried the titanium pots - which was a huge hit as they weigh literally almost nothing, and finally their hoodie at the very top in case it gets cold quick they can help each other get their hoodies out and get warm.
In the side pockets we had the toilet kit with the minimal first aid supplies (the SC carried a small hospital ward in his pack), with food, snacks and the flashlight on one side. On the other side was the water flask which took up all of the side pocket.
After repacking the SC had the agents put the packs on, showed them how to make adjustments to get it to fit and began the task of trying to figure where to attached the sleeping bags. The sleeping bags? Yeah, each was a 20 degree rated bag (which was awesome) and each weighed about eight pounds (less awesome). Car camping gear for sure and the research began to figure out how to attach them for the hike where they would not tear the pack or its straps and also be comfortable enough for the 2.5 hour hike in. The group settled on lashing the sleeping bag to the front straps of the pack thus creating an eight pound counter weight to the 15 to 20 pound pack. It was a can’t miss. We were ready.
After the repacking of the packs and sleeping bag attachment process the SC introduced the first extra piece of gear (courtesy of Agent Hotkoffee - BTW Agent Linoleum called Agent Hotkoffee Agent Coffee Cup the whole trip, for another post).
Neatly folded into 4x3 by next to nothing in height were two glorious $2.99 disposable ponchos in case of emergency. We bought them at the surplus store so they had the pseudo-soldier on the paper insert.
“Agents, this is a space age, flexible, poly-vinyl-chloride poncho for extreme wet weather. It weighs under 6 ounces, packs smaller than a handkerchief, and can save your life.”
I handed the packet with great care to the agents making sure they understood this was an invaluable addition to their gear.
“Now, do not open this (the ponchos) and make sure to pack it in the side pocket of your pack for quick access in the event of the downpour.
“Supreme Commander! Supreme Commander, these are like the ones on that show with he guy who is always falling in a lake or river - huh?!”
“Exactly like that!”
If we were a Marine troop we would have ‘hoo-yawhed.’
After packing the car and departing the Agents were in the back seat for a ride of just over an hour to the trail head. Prior to that we needed a serious lunch and all decided on burgers.
“Supreme Commander? The man in the truck behind us is looking at us kinda creepy.”
This was a good way to kill 15 to 20 minuted discussing the likelihood of a crazed trucker (in a city waste truck) disguising himself to thwart our agent training session. The SC took it upon himself to use evasive maneuvers. These maneuvers consisted of pulling into Arlington and weaving down a few streets and getting back on the highway with no truck in site. It was here the agents learned a new driving phrase.
In my sport wagon I can corner really fast. Every time I would hit a corner hard and accelerate I would say, “Coming in hot.” This phrase stuck and when I eventually hit the one lane dirt road to the trailhead I would have the agents say it prior to well executed four-wheel drift on the gravel road.
Lunch
Lunch was had at the Glacier Peak Cafe. if you are not familiar with Pacific NW portions we ordered a chili cheese burger and a double cheese burger and we split them. Unbelievable french fries. The Agents were reprimanded by the staff several times for being rambunctious dolts and after the full load of serious home cooked meat patties and fries it was off to the Darrington Ranger station so the Agents could get some questions answered.
Upon arrival at the Ranger Station the Agents were duly impressed. Lots of maps, the obligatory first growth tree stump with a chronological history of time dating back to before the earth’s skull was hard. The Agents sprinted from the car in two different directions, Agent Hotkoffee (or “coffee cup”) went after one and I tracked down the other. Once inside the Agents froze, and so did the SC but for different reasons.
All of the Rangers were under 30, women, and smiling. Now I am not going to make a sweeping generalization but most of the Ranger Stations I have visited sport a 40 something burned out, bearded, tall and grizzled veteran of parks and park spending cuts.
After a brief discourse with one of the Rangers the Agents stepped forward to ask their important questions for the training mission.
Agent Linoleum - “Do I need a fishing pole to wrestle fish?”
Now I was laughing and realized no one else was so I faded into that awkward laugh-sigh and cough to try not to look insane. Not a smile in the room. Silence.
Ranger - “No, you don’t need a pole. How do you plan on wrestling the fish?”
“With my hands. I am going to jump in the river and wrestle the fish with my hands.”
“”Like this?” The Ranger then assumed a straddling position and charade-d her way to a mock fish wrestling. I get it. The silence was part of the act, or conversely they get this question all the time.
“Yes, like that. I am going to jump in and wrestle the fish!”
“Then you do not need a pole. And with no pole you do not need a fishing license. You can wrestle all the fish you want.”
We are outta there.
The 6 mile dirt road to the trailhead was perfectly ominous. Sunshine was eliminated by the Pacific NW canopy of new growth trees. Huge ferns, skunk cabbage from the Jurassic period and the deeper we went the darker it got.
At the trail head there were two other cars and my guess, which turned out to be true, they were all day hikers. The campground, as the Rangers hypothesized, would be ours.
We hit the trail like a bad Adam Sandler movie (yes there are some good ones). Packs loaded to the hilt, sleeping bags straining the straps in the front and we made it all of 15 minutes before the whining overwhelmed the SC and Agent Coffee Cup as we now each carried a sleeping bag under each arm in addition to our packs.
Agent Linoleum looked perplexed as we hit the trail.
“Where’s the camping spot?”
“Down the trail a bit,” the SC replied.
“Hunh.”
“When we go camping with Mom and Dad (here it comes, I thought) the camping spot is really close to the car.”
Uh-oh. For the next 15 minutes as we walked I tried to explain to a concerned Agent that car camping and backpacking are different. We are communing with nature. Car campers blast classic rock all night and drink PBR. Then another five minutes on what PBR is and why is related to classic rock. Eventually I made it clear we had to earn our camp spot and no one would be there (thank gawd I was right on that one) and we could work on our skills in the privacy of our own forest.
Full credit to the little rug rats, they hiked and hiked. We kept them distracted from the painful set up of their school backpacks loaded with camping gear doing irreparable harm to their shoulders by having them pick out walking sticks I honed down with a my multi-tool. This was too much fun and I managed to create, and the managed to destroy about 3 million hiking sticks along the way.
In one instance the slip on Van’s sneakers that were the hiking footwear of one agent came off in a mud bog. Change the socks clean the shoes and sally forth.
Agent Linoleum wanted to try out his poncho as a light rain fell. So he unfurled it from its tiny package and put it on over him and the pack. I warned him it was hot but he pressed on: for about five minutes. I found him struggling to get it off like it was a stubborn second skin. I took it, folded it and put it away and he sped on, red face, and soaked with sweat.
This was not an easy trial and after a long two and half hour slog, just before we hit trail’s end. I gathered the agents for a final briefing.
“Guys, when we hit camp you need to pick a camp spot. Get the best one, put your packs down and I will set up camp.”
I believe they heard, “ Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.”
With unexplainable verve they were off like they were running from Jason Vorhees himself (look it up).
One Agent took off to the river side, the other disappeared into the woods. Agent Hot Coffee Cup burst out laughing. Packs were shed, shoes came off and Agents hit the silent majesty of the camp ground like two drunk fans vying for festival seating at a Huckin’ Fillbilly’s concert.
We let them run it off. Camp was set up stream side. Well, really a raging river of snowmelt. The agent wanted to go swimming so we found a safe eddy and when their tired feet hit the ice cold water they wanted to build afire.
Our first order of business with the fire was to reconstruct the fire ring. The Rangers said to make sure the fire ring was solid prior to fire starting. That took a good 20 minutes as rocks of all sizes showed up and the fire ring was reconstructed by what looked like ants that ate LSD.
SC sent the agents for dry fire wood. Not a simple task in the PNW rain forest and if there was dry wood around, they would find it. After SC re-reconstructed the fire ring he got out the waterproof matches, some dry moss, punky wood and twigs. A half hour later and with the use of 20 matches a fire was lit.
Dinner was uneventful as the freeze dried food not only amazed, it tasted good after a long slog.
Agent Mongoose had to deuce. Right after dinner and typical of their chronological development he had to deuce now.
The SC was in his element. Graceful, incisive, efficient and serious. A tool was brought out to dig the cat hole. Instructions were meticulously laid out, he even walked the agent to the area to use over 200 feet from the river in a clearing under some trees.
“Okay, Agent Mongoose, are you clear on how to deuce in the woods and Leave No Trace.”
“I got it,” and off he went holding the digging implement and toilet paper like it was a holy scepter and the dead sea scrolls.
Ten minutes later he was back and proud. I teared up.
Agent Hot Coffee suggested I ‘check his work.’ I protested that any man has his DNA programmed for deuce-ing in the woods and there was no need. I got the look.
“C’mon Agent show me where you did your business.”
The clearing looked like someone had tossed a COSTCO sized TP package through a tree shredder and then dumped a dozen bean burritos through the same shredder. There is no mammal capable of such wanton destruction as a 13 year old boy. I was horrified. I composed myself.
“Okay, I need you to go get your walking stick, then I will help you dig a big hole, about a foot deep and as wide as your foot. After that we scrape everything in there, pack it down and bury it.”
“Ahhhh, man!”
“C’mon, this is not up to agent standards of survival stealth.”
Which is beyond true. A Level 3 Haz Mat response team would be intimidated by this crime scene.
“I’ll be back in five. Get to work.”
Five minutes went by and I waited not wanting to go to camp and catch flak from Coffee Cup. Slowly I walked off the trail shuffling my feet and anticipating a medieval ground carving with human waste and TP outlining a pattern of an ancient symbol. But wait a minute - he could do it, couldn’t he?
As I re-approached the clearing I observed the was, and I am guessing as I did not actually get close enough to look carefully, about three inches deep and eight inches across. The clearing looked as if it was swept by a 13 year kid with a stick, which is exactly what happened. In the shallow hole was an homage to digested fast food and the gratuitous use of TP. I grabbed a stick swept a large piece of downed wood over it and buried it in dead leaves. No one would notice this, I thought, and I prayed for rain.
“Nice work, “ I said trying to swallow the bit of dinner that came up when I was briefly downwind of the carnage.
The tent set up went smoothly. The agents were winding down and the lower energy level was conducive to giving them instructions on how to match pole tips to tent and rainfly ends. After it was set up, we brought our gear in and changed for the night.
Agent Linoleum, unbeknownst to me had smuggled in what could only be described as a yellow unitard pajama with a penguin on the chest. When he burst from the tent I half expected to hear an organist play the “Let’s Go Sharks” music. He looked like a mascot. This was a serious breach in protocol both from an agent standpoint and a fashion standpoint.
As we sat in the tent I had no idea how to tell him his favorite PJs were, well, really lame for camping so I opted for a movie analogy.
“Look, “ I said, “When you turn 18 ask your Dad to rent Deliverance on DVD. Get the Blu-Ray version. Got it? Deliverance now say it.”
“Delivery.”
“Close enough. When the actor Ned Beatty gets into trouble with the locals in the woods it is because of his Penguin Pajamas. Got it?’
“Um.”
“Look all I am saying is if your wear those camping again someone is going to go Deliverance on your a**. That’s all.”
“Okay. But I can wear them tonight right? They’re really warm.”
“Of course tonight they are fine, but not again.”
Out of the tent and off into the woods he ran, looking like Rip Torn in a bad remake of Into the Wild. Kee-rist.
Like all camping events when it dark, it gets cool and we repaired to the tent. Four of us in a three man tent. It was tight and cold as hell. But we managed until breakfast where I unleashed my strategy for a quick hike out - blueberry Pop Tarts.
The Agents each had three Pop Tarts and a cup of hot chocolate made from that odd powder that supposedly is as creamy as milk but looks like watery brown mud. But it had sugar. In fact when I reviewed the ingredients there are 30.9 grams of sugar per pop tart (they had three each) and 18.6 grams of sugar in the hot chocolate. So they were riding a serious 111 gram sugar high. Stay with me here. One teaspoon of sugar weighs four grams. Using math that is 27 teaspoons of sugar per kid in less than 15 minutes. Each teaspoon of sugar has 16 calories, empty fast burning calories. So the agents were infused with 432 fast burning calories for the hike out. I needed those caloric bastards to last an hour and a half prior to touchdown. And it worked.
Agent Linoleum hiked like he had just stole something, I had to run-walk to catch him. Agent Mongoose crashed about 20 minutes prior to trail head parking lot. But he made it out and whined all the way to lunch.
I am please to report both agents increased their skills and after a lunch of ribs and pizza were bouncing around around the car like pin balls. Next up is fishing. What could possibly go wrong?
So the Supreme Commander set up a trip in the Cascades in Washington. It was to be an overnight survival skills building trip. As I explained it, “Agents, after this trip you will make Bear Grylls look like a hand model.” Agent Hotkoffee used another word involving hand to describe the Bear, again this is a family blog.
Agent Hofkoffee thought it was a great idea and she volunteered to assist with the training. Since she is more than qualified I asked her along. Figured I needed it in case the agents went off the rails. Okay, more like when the agents go off the rails.
The trip was scheduled for one night in the woods off Boulder Creek Trail in the Darrington National Forest. The hike into the campsite is a moderate hike which means the Agents, whose main skill was reaching level 10 or higher on Super Mario, would crack in less than a mile on the trail like a recalled salmonella egg. The Supreme Commander could visualize it: two boys in gym shoes, jeans and t-shirts with their school backpack loaded with flannel and clean undies slowly decomposing as energetic young men into that whine factory that is a bonked pre-teen. This was going to be great.
The agents received a trip prep document outlining what to pack including: the tools they would need out of the secret agent kit, what clothes to bring (and what clothes not to), some essential first aid supplies, and a hat. We would meet for a trip prep the day before departure to go over the gear, the trail map and the skill building goals. We are set.
Pre-Trip Planning Session - Wednesday
“I want to wrestle a fish!” Agent Linoleum exclaimed. This was in direct response to what they wanted to do outside of skill building. Because the SC in all his wisdom had some blocks of empty time in the trip, he wanted to see what the agents wanted to do with their free time.
‘You can’t wrestle fish. That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.” Agent Mongoose said baiting the other agent.
“Yah-Hah!”
“Nuh-Ahn!”
“Guys!? Focus here. What else do we ant to do no matter how far fetched?”
Agent Mongoose:
“Ummm, I would like to see if there are any signs of, you know, rocks that may be from another planet. Like, we could find rocks and test them to see if they have certain chemicals that other planets have or glow, or are magnetic.”
Agent Linoleum:
“I.”
“Want.”
“To.”
“Wrestle.”
“Fish.”
We stopped there. Actually we didn’t we spent some time creating an inventory of the lab supplies we would need to test river rock for alien life and decided it would be cooler and easier to built a fort (a lean to).
For our inventory we wanted to make sure each agent had a working flashlight, a whistle, extra clothes, rain coat, extra socks, extra undies, a hat, toilet kit or equivalent, and some parachute cord for bear bagging. I almost forgot here are the skills I wanted to teach them:
How to pack a pack for hike
How to light an ultralite gas stove and boil water without burning themselves
How to pour boiling water into dehydrated food and wait 9 minutes ‘til it is edible
How to start a fire with waterproof matches
How to do a deuce in the woods
How to pitch a tent
Proper hydration using a water filtration pump
Knife skills and how to make a tent stake in case one breaks
How to put out a fire
Leave No Trace principles
No worries right? I was realistic if they got the deuce in the woods, hydration/water pump and how to put out a fire I would be elated. After going over the basics and making sure they had the stuff laid out for the trip, Agent Hotkoffee and I left to get our own act together. REi for $40 worth of dehydrated food, stove gas can and some resealable bags that cost 3X what they cost at Safeway.
And they’re off. On the day of the trip the agents arrived while my Dad and step Mom were leaving our little island cottage for Colorado. The agents burst through the front door like trash breaching a cheap plastic bag. All at once, stinky and leaving a trail of debris.
“Uncle
He just popped. He was so mad that Agent Mongoose missed protocol and so conflicted on the punishment for calling him a fuqqer, that you could see his brain lock up due to lack of processing power. He stormed off to tell his Dad that Agent Mongoose was disrespecting the Supreme Commander.
“Guys! Settle! Front and center now!” Volume is one thing they understood and they stopped spaz-ing out and reported for debriefing. First order of business was to review what was in each pack as they SC knew there was going to be some items best left behind. The SC ordered both Agents to unpack their packs in front of him as he needed to make sure they had the right gear for the trip.
Both agents had plenty of clothes and some did not make the trip. One pair of jeans max, bring shorts, one extra undie only, lose the coats. This caused worry lines on the agents peach-fuzz faces.
And they flashlight they brought? Worthless as the batteries had leaked and the white crystalline fuzz had destroyed the contacts. I taught them all about ‘disarming the battery compartment’ when storing a flashlight.
Beginning with the clothes and gear they would need at night I had them repack the packs. Put the night time clothes in first, then extra socks, undie, and shirts. On the top of the inside of the pack I had them each carry a dehydrated meal, one carried the water purifier, one carried the titanium pots - which was a huge hit as they weigh literally almost nothing, and finally their hoodie at the very top in case it gets cold quick they can help each other get their hoodies out and get warm.
In the side pockets we had the toilet kit with the minimal first aid supplies (the SC carried a small hospital ward in his pack), with food, snacks and the flashlight on one side. On the other side was the water flask which took up all of the side pocket.
After repacking the SC had the agents put the packs on, showed them how to make adjustments to get it to fit and began the task of trying to figure where to attached the sleeping bags. The sleeping bags? Yeah, each was a 20 degree rated bag (which was awesome) and each weighed about eight pounds (less awesome). Car camping gear for sure and the research began to figure out how to attach them for the hike where they would not tear the pack or its straps and also be comfortable enough for the 2.5 hour hike in. The group settled on lashing the sleeping bag to the front straps of the pack thus creating an eight pound counter weight to the 15 to 20 pound pack. It was a can’t miss. We were ready.
After the repacking of the packs and sleeping bag attachment process the SC introduced the first extra piece of gear (courtesy of Agent Hotkoffee - BTW Agent Linoleum called Agent Hotkoffee Agent Coffee Cup the whole trip, for another post).
Neatly folded into 4x3 by next to nothing in height were two glorious $2.99 disposable ponchos in case of emergency. We bought them at the surplus store so they had the pseudo-soldier on the paper insert.
“Agents, this is a space age, flexible, poly-vinyl-chloride poncho for extreme wet weather. It weighs under 6 ounces, packs smaller than a handkerchief, and can save your life.”
I handed the packet with great care to the agents making sure they understood this was an invaluable addition to their gear.
“Now, do not open this (the ponchos) and make sure to pack it in the side pocket of your pack for quick access in the event of the downpour.
“Supreme Commander! Supreme Commander, these are like the ones on that show with he guy who is always falling in a lake or river - huh?!”
“Exactly like that!”
If we were a Marine troop we would have ‘hoo-yawhed.’
After packing the car and departing the Agents were in the back seat for a ride of just over an hour to the trail head. Prior to that we needed a serious lunch and all decided on burgers.
“Supreme Commander? The man in the truck behind us is looking at us kinda creepy.”
This was a good way to kill 15 to 20 minuted discussing the likelihood of a crazed trucker (in a city waste truck) disguising himself to thwart our agent training session. The SC took it upon himself to use evasive maneuvers. These maneuvers consisted of pulling into Arlington and weaving down a few streets and getting back on the highway with no truck in site. It was here the agents learned a new driving phrase.
In my sport wagon I can corner really fast. Every time I would hit a corner hard and accelerate I would say, “Coming in hot.” This phrase stuck and when I eventually hit the one lane dirt road to the trailhead I would have the agents say it prior to well executed four-wheel drift on the gravel road.
Lunch
Lunch was had at the Glacier Peak Cafe. if you are not familiar with Pacific NW portions we ordered a chili cheese burger and a double cheese burger and we split them. Unbelievable french fries. The Agents were reprimanded by the staff several times for being rambunctious dolts and after the full load of serious home cooked meat patties and fries it was off to the Darrington Ranger station so the Agents could get some questions answered.
Upon arrival at the Ranger Station the Agents were duly impressed. Lots of maps, the obligatory first growth tree stump with a chronological history of time dating back to before the earth’s skull was hard. The Agents sprinted from the car in two different directions, Agent Hotkoffee (or “coffee cup”) went after one and I tracked down the other. Once inside the Agents froze, and so did the SC but for different reasons.
All of the Rangers were under 30, women, and smiling. Now I am not going to make a sweeping generalization but most of the Ranger Stations I have visited sport a 40 something burned out, bearded, tall and grizzled veteran of parks and park spending cuts.
After a brief discourse with one of the Rangers the Agents stepped forward to ask their important questions for the training mission.
Agent Linoleum - “Do I need a fishing pole to wrestle fish?”
Now I was laughing and realized no one else was so I faded into that awkward laugh-sigh and cough to try not to look insane. Not a smile in the room. Silence.
Ranger - “No, you don’t need a pole. How do you plan on wrestling the fish?”
“With my hands. I am going to jump in the river and wrestle the fish with my hands.”
“”Like this?” The Ranger then assumed a straddling position and charade-d her way to a mock fish wrestling. I get it. The silence was part of the act, or conversely they get this question all the time.
“Yes, like that. I am going to jump in and wrestle the fish!”
“Then you do not need a pole. And with no pole you do not need a fishing license. You can wrestle all the fish you want.”
We are outta there.
The 6 mile dirt road to the trailhead was perfectly ominous. Sunshine was eliminated by the Pacific NW canopy of new growth trees. Huge ferns, skunk cabbage from the Jurassic period and the deeper we went the darker it got.
At the trail head there were two other cars and my guess, which turned out to be true, they were all day hikers. The campground, as the Rangers hypothesized, would be ours.
We hit the trail like a bad Adam Sandler movie (yes there are some good ones). Packs loaded to the hilt, sleeping bags straining the straps in the front and we made it all of 15 minutes before the whining overwhelmed the SC and Agent Coffee Cup as we now each carried a sleeping bag under each arm in addition to our packs.
Agent Linoleum looked perplexed as we hit the trail.
“Where’s the camping spot?”
“Down the trail a bit,” the SC replied.
“Hunh.”
“When we go camping with Mom and Dad (here it comes, I thought) the camping spot is really close to the car.”
Uh-oh. For the next 15 minutes as we walked I tried to explain to a concerned Agent that car camping and backpacking are different. We are communing with nature. Car campers blast classic rock all night and drink PBR. Then another five minutes on what PBR is and why is related to classic rock. Eventually I made it clear we had to earn our camp spot and no one would be there (thank gawd I was right on that one) and we could work on our skills in the privacy of our own forest.
Full credit to the little rug rats, they hiked and hiked. We kept them distracted from the painful set up of their school backpacks loaded with camping gear doing irreparable harm to their shoulders by having them pick out walking sticks I honed down with a my multi-tool. This was too much fun and I managed to create, and the managed to destroy about 3 million hiking sticks along the way.
In one instance the slip on Van’s sneakers that were the hiking footwear of one agent came off in a mud bog. Change the socks clean the shoes and sally forth.
Agent Linoleum wanted to try out his poncho as a light rain fell. So he unfurled it from its tiny package and put it on over him and the pack. I warned him it was hot but he pressed on: for about five minutes. I found him struggling to get it off like it was a stubborn second skin. I took it, folded it and put it away and he sped on, red face, and soaked with sweat.
This was not an easy trial and after a long two and half hour slog, just before we hit trail’s end. I gathered the agents for a final briefing.
“Guys, when we hit camp you need to pick a camp spot. Get the best one, put your packs down and I will set up camp.”
I believe they heard, “ Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.”
With unexplainable verve they were off like they were running from Jason Vorhees himself (look it up).
One Agent took off to the river side, the other disappeared into the woods. Agent Hot Coffee Cup burst out laughing. Packs were shed, shoes came off and Agents hit the silent majesty of the camp ground like two drunk fans vying for festival seating at a Huckin’ Fillbilly’s concert.
We let them run it off. Camp was set up stream side. Well, really a raging river of snowmelt. The agent wanted to go swimming so we found a safe eddy and when their tired feet hit the ice cold water they wanted to build afire.
Our first order of business with the fire was to reconstruct the fire ring. The Rangers said to make sure the fire ring was solid prior to fire starting. That took a good 20 minutes as rocks of all sizes showed up and the fire ring was reconstructed by what looked like ants that ate LSD.
SC sent the agents for dry fire wood. Not a simple task in the PNW rain forest and if there was dry wood around, they would find it. After SC re-reconstructed the fire ring he got out the waterproof matches, some dry moss, punky wood and twigs. A half hour later and with the use of 20 matches a fire was lit.
Dinner was uneventful as the freeze dried food not only amazed, it tasted good after a long slog.
Agent Mongoose had to deuce. Right after dinner and typical of their chronological development he had to deuce now.
The SC was in his element. Graceful, incisive, efficient and serious. A tool was brought out to dig the cat hole. Instructions were meticulously laid out, he even walked the agent to the area to use over 200 feet from the river in a clearing under some trees.
“Okay, Agent Mongoose, are you clear on how to deuce in the woods and Leave No Trace.”
“I got it,” and off he went holding the digging implement and toilet paper like it was a holy scepter and the dead sea scrolls.
Ten minutes later he was back and proud. I teared up.
Agent Hot Coffee suggested I ‘check his work.’ I protested that any man has his DNA programmed for deuce-ing in the woods and there was no need. I got the look.
“C’mon Agent show me where you did your business.”
The clearing looked like someone had tossed a COSTCO sized TP package through a tree shredder and then dumped a dozen bean burritos through the same shredder. There is no mammal capable of such wanton destruction as a 13 year old boy. I was horrified. I composed myself.
“Okay, I need you to go get your walking stick, then I will help you dig a big hole, about a foot deep and as wide as your foot. After that we scrape everything in there, pack it down and bury it.”
“Ahhhh, man!”
“C’mon, this is not up to agent standards of survival stealth.”
Which is beyond true. A Level 3 Haz Mat response team would be intimidated by this crime scene.
“I’ll be back in five. Get to work.”
Five minutes went by and I waited not wanting to go to camp and catch flak from Coffee Cup. Slowly I walked off the trail shuffling my feet and anticipating a medieval ground carving with human waste and TP outlining a pattern of an ancient symbol. But wait a minute - he could do it, couldn’t he?
As I re-approached the clearing I observed the was, and I am guessing as I did not actually get close enough to look carefully, about three inches deep and eight inches across. The clearing looked as if it was swept by a 13 year kid with a stick, which is exactly what happened. In the shallow hole was an homage to digested fast food and the gratuitous use of TP. I grabbed a stick swept a large piece of downed wood over it and buried it in dead leaves. No one would notice this, I thought, and I prayed for rain.
“Nice work, “ I said trying to swallow the bit of dinner that came up when I was briefly downwind of the carnage.
The tent set up went smoothly. The agents were winding down and the lower energy level was conducive to giving them instructions on how to match pole tips to tent and rainfly ends. After it was set up, we brought our gear in and changed for the night.
Agent Linoleum, unbeknownst to me had smuggled in what could only be described as a yellow unitard pajama with a penguin on the chest. When he burst from the tent I half expected to hear an organist play the “Let’s Go Sharks” music. He looked like a mascot. This was a serious breach in protocol both from an agent standpoint and a fashion standpoint.
As we sat in the tent I had no idea how to tell him his favorite PJs were, well, really lame for camping so I opted for a movie analogy.
“Look, “ I said, “When you turn 18 ask your Dad to rent Deliverance on DVD. Get the Blu-Ray version. Got it? Deliverance now say it.”
“Delivery.”
“Close enough. When the actor Ned Beatty gets into trouble with the locals in the woods it is because of his Penguin Pajamas. Got it?’
“Um.”
“Look all I am saying is if your wear those camping again someone is going to go Deliverance on your a**. That’s all.”
“Okay. But I can wear them tonight right? They’re really warm.”
“Of course tonight they are fine, but not again.”
Out of the tent and off into the woods he ran, looking like Rip Torn in a bad remake of Into the Wild. Kee-rist.
Like all camping events when it dark, it gets cool and we repaired to the tent. Four of us in a three man tent. It was tight and cold as hell. But we managed until breakfast where I unleashed my strategy for a quick hike out - blueberry Pop Tarts.
The Agents each had three Pop Tarts and a cup of hot chocolate made from that odd powder that supposedly is as creamy as milk but looks like watery brown mud. But it had sugar. In fact when I reviewed the ingredients there are 30.9 grams of sugar per pop tart (they had three each) and 18.6 grams of sugar in the hot chocolate. So they were riding a serious 111 gram sugar high. Stay with me here. One teaspoon of sugar weighs four grams. Using math that is 27 teaspoons of sugar per kid in less than 15 minutes. Each teaspoon of sugar has 16 calories, empty fast burning calories. So the agents were infused with 432 fast burning calories for the hike out. I needed those caloric bastards to last an hour and a half prior to touchdown. And it worked.
Agent Linoleum hiked like he had just stole something, I had to run-walk to catch him. Agent Mongoose crashed about 20 minutes prior to trail head parking lot. But he made it out and whined all the way to lunch.
I am please to report both agents increased their skills and after a lunch of ribs and pizza were bouncing around around the car like pin balls. Next up is fishing. What could possibly go wrong?
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