Scout Camp Part 5

Back at camp, the day of the hike, a storm descended on the camp. It reminded me of one time many years ago when I was hiking through an alpine valley in the Pacific Northwest when the sky opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour. Thunder struck so close that you could hear its deafening crack before the rolling boom of the thunder. Having enclosed everything in plastic bags inside my backpack before leaving for the camping trip and pulled everything away from the sides of the tent, which was covered by a rain fly and a tarp, I was in pretty good shape, hunkered down and reading, when I learned from another camper that the scouts' tents were collapsing.

It wasn't long before I was helping to fold up tents and haul sopping sleeping bags and clothing to the still-covered general area so they could be staged for an emergency exit. We ate a hasty meal while still working and near dusk, the bus that had brought the scouts arrived and they marched in single file back onto it and took them down the road. The rain slowed to a drizzle as we loaded the Pablo's pickup with what remained of the kitchen before loading on all the scout's gear. By the time we got on the road in the back of Pablo pickup, it was after dark. With the rush of cold air cutting through my clothing and the glare of headlights aching in my brain, the ride back quickly turned miserable.

Back at the clubhouse there was still worked to do before we could go home. With the Daihatsu pulled up in the rain on the far side of the basketball court, we formed a chain, handing off unloaded items, from one person to the next up to the covered area. While we sorted things out and scouts rummaged around to find their bags, parents trickled in to hear their harrowing tails and take them home. Finally, when all had been unloaded and I was satisfied I had helped enough, I went home, happy to once again sleep in my bed.

Scout Camp Part 4

On day three, I rose to a perturbed Katia. It turns out I was supposed to join the caminantes for morning exercise. I was to go run a lap of the pasture by myself at once. I returned to find the caminantes involved in a lesson they were recieving from Pablo on compasses and maps. They were preparing for a hike! This was exactly the kind of thing I had daydreamed about for days since I first gazed out over the hills and valleys on to Miches from El Seibo. After a filling a discarded coke bottle with water changing into long pants, I rode with the rest of the hikers to the place Pablo had planned the beginning of out hike. Armed with a map, compass, and GPS, we set out across the pasture.

The hike was like something out of a dream. While there was no persistent trail, we picked up and lost little tracks through the grass the whole way through. We forded the river at a place where it was about knee deep and came over a heavily forested rise into rivine carved by a smaller, secondary waterway. From there it was about a hundred yards straight uphill after which we were treated to a breathtaking panoramic view that included the pasture from which we had come. For another couple of hours we hiked over rolling hills, shimmying under the occasional barbed wire fence. Finally we came upon a road that would lead us back to Jamao and began to follow it. About halfway there, Pablo arrived in his pickup and took us back to camp. When I think of it now, it's amusing how quickly the notion of riding with 10-plus kids in the back of a pickup truck has become normal.

Scout Camp Part 3

The next morning was devoted to the cultural appreciation portion of the camping trip. The theme this year was South Africa and every troop had prepared a traditional South African dish and put on South African costumes. One by one, I went around with Pablo and Katia and some of the other caminantes and watched as each troop recited facts they'd memorized about South Africa and told about the food they had prepared. Meanwhile the caminantes did an activity where they had to build a fire and cook eggs, potatoes, and plantains without using and pots, pans, or utensils.

Next it was time for lunch, after which we all went down to the river, where Flavia gave everyone a lesson in lifeguarding and water safety. That evening, we had "Patrulla con Ritmo" (Troop with Rhythm) where each troop got up and gave musical performances they had planned and practiced. Right as it was beginning, I took a call from Sabine that wound up lasting about an hour and a half. Luckily, there was a four-way tie and I arrived just in time to watch all four finalists give encore performances so the judges could pick a winner.

Upon my arrival, it was announced that I had to dance in front of everyone. They even had a saying along the lines of "If you want to join us you have to dance." Luckily this is not a problem for me. Alvaro and Flavia laid down a rhythm and I proceeded to get down with my bad self to the delight cheers and laughter of all. Near the end of the evening, the scouts worked themselves into a frenzy again. They now insisted that I sing for them. This time I was at a bit of a loss. After a few minutes deliberation, I settle on "Summertime", an old standard I had learned years ago in high school choir. I decided to put on a show, playing up the jazz singer schtick and throwing in hand gestures and even a bit of soft-shoe. It was a hit. Everybody went nuts. Some of the kids began calling me "el cantante" (the singer) and peppering me with questions about my favorite music.

Scout Camp Part 2

The next morning as I returned from the gym, I was surprised to learn from Pablo that the trip was back on. At about 12:30 in the afternoon, packing reached full swing, with tents, and stoves and other equipment being hauled out of storage and put into the bed of a Daihatsu Dyna truck. As scouts arrived, their bags were staged in the covered area. The bags were piled high atop the gear in the Daihatsu and covered in a hurry with tarps against momentary, heavy rain. The scouts themselves all piled into a 50-seater bus while I got in the back of Pablo's pickup with the food and a few of the caminantes (older scouts who participate in different activities).

The road to Jamao goes through San Victor and a up a montain to La Cumbre, a high village with some enticing little hotels and restaurants, from there, you follow a ridge for a couple of hours through a number of tiny communities clinging to steep slopes on either side that give way to spactacular mountainscape and awe-inspiring views. Just after we passed through a little settlement called Palo Roto, we descended a slope and doubled back 150 degrees onto a dirt road into an open valley. For a stretch, we followed a river and then, left the road and went through a hole in a barbed-wire fence into a broad pasture flanked by a strip of forest that enclosed the river. This was to be our campground.

Everyone marched in single file and broke into their various troops, proceeding to set up their tents and drape over them tarps to protect against rain. Late in the afternoon, they held opening ceremonies including a prayer and the raising of the Scout Group 8 flag and the Dominican Flag. At dusk everyone hopped into a shallow part of the river to bathe in the rain and then it was time for dinner. Strangely, at this point, I could barely keep my eyes open and so, retired to my tent before I had a chance to partake of the evening activity.