Sunday, August 16, 2009

Grandpa Doesn’t Want To Grow Up - Chapter 6


The joke wasn’t that funny, but the milk sprayed from my nose and mouth as I laughed. I had just taken a drink of cold milk from my canteen when the punch line was reached. We were standing in a large cave in the pink coral cliffs, the destination of the day’s hike. There was always someone making some kind of joke and I was quick to laugh. The joke caught me in mid gulp and the troop busted out in laughter.

The day before we Boy Scouts had camped near a small stream in a grassy meadow surrounded by the aspens in the high mountains above town. The hike to the camping spot had been over eight miles and it was difficult as we climbed over a thousand feet to the tops of the tree covered pink coral cliffs.

That evening the troop had practiced our cooking skills by making a big pot of stew over the fire with carrots, potatoes, hamburger and spices that we had brought with us. Our hungry mouths had devoured every morsel of the stew and along with the biscuits made in the Dutch oven by our scoutmaster.

Well feed and feeling proud of our accomplishments of the day we explored the area around the stream and cooled our feet in the cold water until they turned blue. Later around the camp fire, we heard stories of mountain men and adventures that filled our young minds with imaginations of past peoples that had occupied this very land. After dark curling up in our sleeping bags in the grass was delightful as we lay there looking up into a sky filled with millions of stars and amazed at the majesty of the world and God’s creations.

From the cave we hiked over the top of the cliffs and back around the top of the mountain back to camp practicing our compass and tracking skills. At one point we came upon a porcupine scurrying along the path and as we approached, it quickly climbed a tree with its long sharp claws and threatened us with its quills. We knew enough to stay clear as we passed by. We also saw an occasional deer in the distance grazing in a meadow or gracefully running through the trees with their long jumps and bounds. It was said that one could jump up to fifteen feet high with little effort.

The following day the scout master loaded the troop into vehicles and we returned home riding along the high mountain roads to the north which took up just south of the beautiful Bryce Canyon National Park. The high mountain air was cool and the warm sun made for a perfect day to be alive.


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