THE REAL LIVEJOURNAL IDOL -- SEASON 10, WEEK 10
WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD
I’ve kept silent for nearly 40 years about the ill-fated hike to Chappegat, but I believe it is now safe for the story to be told. In retrospect, my Scoutmaster's concerns over lawsuits and potential criminal charges were grossly exaggerated, though he did have a legitimate concern regarding the possibility that news of the incident might scare away new recruits. However, my Boy Scout troop disbanded about a decade ago, not long after our Scoutmaster passed away, so it's not like we have to worry about recruitment anymore. Besides, when all is said and done my first loyalty has always been to The Truth, and I realize now that remaining silent on the matter is a form of lying. So without further ado, I will relate my recollections of the events which occurred on the afternoon and evening of Wednesday June 28, 1978.
"All right, Scouts! You'll be fulfilling the field requirement for the merit badge tonight! Please inform your respective Scoutmasters of this fact!" McMurtry grinned at the twelve of us who were in his Wilderness Survival class. It was a blazingly hot and humid day at Ten Mile River Summer Camp, so the counselor had to wipe the sweat from his eyes before continuing. "Bring your day packs and canteens with you to supper this evening, and we'll assemble at the front of the Mess Hall at 7:00 PM. We will then hike together to a remote section of the camp; once there you will construct simple shelters using the natural materials available and sleep in them overnight. Are there any questions?"
Being a naturally curious sixteen-year-old, I raised my hand and asked: "May I know where we'll be hiking to?"
McMurtry nodded. "Certainly! We're hiking to Chappegat."
My mouth opened slightly in surprise; I knew that this was McMurtry's first year at our camp, but even so... "Sir, haven't you heard about--"
McMurtry cut me off impatiently. "Yes, yes! I've heard all about Chappegat! You don't actually believe those spook stories, do you?"
I was momentarily left speechless, as I would have hardly described my Scoutmaster's warnings regarding Chappegat as 'spook stories' -- Mr. Hodash had told all the Scouts in our unit in no uncertain terms that if any of us were ever caught poking our noses in that abandoned campsite, we would not merely be sent home but expelled from the troop... and Mr. Hodash was not prone to hyperbole. But before I could explain this to McMurtry, he bulldozed onward. "It's now lunch time, so I'll let you all go eat with your units. I'll see you again after supper. Dismissed!"
I hustled down to the camp Mess Hall in something of a daze, trying to figure out how I was going to explain all this to my Scoutmaster... before I realized that all I had to do was tell the truth. So when I reached the dining area I walked up to my Scoutmaster and said: "Mr. Hodash, I've got a serious dilemma."
My Scoutmaster snorted at my comment. "I just love the way you sling those five-dollar-words around, 'Poindexter'!" (As much as I hated the nickname, I knew Mr. Hodash had given it to me out of respect to my obvious intelligence, so I never objected to his using it.) "So what's your 'dilemma', young man?"
I took a deep breath and explained in a rush: "Sir, Counselor McMurtry is having us fulfill the field requirement for the Wilderness Survival merit badge at Chappegat tonight."
Mr. Hodash froze for an instant... then he fixed me with a cold, humorless stare. "Please tell me you're joking."
I shook my head. "I would never joke with you about Chappegat, sir... and McMurtry isn't joking, either."
My Scoutmaster's eyes bulged from their sockets. "But... hasn't anyone told him--?"
"He's been told, sir... but he refuses to believe it's true. He called it a 'spook story'... but I believe you, sir."
The color quickly drained from Mr. Hodash's face... then he glanced around the Mess Hall until he spotted my merit badge counselor. "McMurtry! I need to have a word with you!" My Scoutmaster stomped over to where my counselor was eating his lunch and started reading him the Riot Act. "Are you out of your mind?! What are you thinking, having a group of boys stay overnight at Chappegat?!"
McMurtry answered with his mouth full, without even bothering to look up at my Scoutmaster. "I think it's an ideal way to simulate the experience of being lost in the wilderness: Being abandonded, the old Chappegat campsite will have plenty of overgrowth for the Scouts to use to build their shelters... but the old trail to the site will make it easy to get to, as opposed to hiking to a truly remote section of the woods."
My Scoutmaster spluttered: "But you've heard the stories about Chappegat! YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP THERE!"
McMurtry continued chewing his food. "I've heard the stories... but I've also heard that nobody has been to Chappegat for over a decade. If that's true, then nobody really knows anything about the place. I see no reason to avoid that old campground over what are essentially fairy tales."
Mr. Hodash bent down and got right in McMurtry's face. "If anything happens to any of the Scouts while you're there--"
McMurtry didn't flinch, and he returned my Scoutmaster's angry glare. "If you're really so worried about it, then you can deny young Mr. Riter here the necessary permission to go with me tonight... but he won't get the Wilderness Survival badge unless he fulfills the field requirement... and I'm the only counselor teaching that badge this summer. So if he doesn't come tonight..."
Mr. Hodash grimaced, then turned on his heel and stalked away, with me following close behind. Once we were out of McMurtry's hearing range, my Scoutmaster turned to speak to me with a conflicted look on his face. "Paul, I know you really need this merit badge, so I won't forbid you from going on the hike. That being said... I think that it's a really bad idea. But I leave it up to you: Do you want to go on this hike?"
I mulled it over for a few seconds before giving Mr. Hodash my reply: "I don't want to go on this hike... but despite that, I think I *SHOULD* go on this hike." When my Scoutmaster looked at me quizzically, I explained my reasoning: "All the other boys in my Wilderness Survival class are first year Scouts, and each of them are only 11 years old, so they don't know what they're getting themselves into... but I do. In good conscience, I don't think those boys should be up there with just McMurtry supervising them; someone experienced, like me, should be up there as well... in case something goes wrong."
Mr. Hodash blinked at me, looking slightly surprised... then he chuckled. "Did I ever tell you that you're one of the best Scouts I've ever trained? I brag to my fellow Scoutmasters about you, because you regularly say things like that." I barely had time to start blushing from the compliment before my Scoutmaster turned all serious again. "While you're up there, you don't walk anywhere without your boots on, not even to take a leak... and be damned careful where you stick your hands. Understood?"
I nodded soberly. "Understood, sir."
Mr. Hodash half-smiled at me. "All right. Go prepare your gear... and watch your step. Dismissed."
"So, I guess your Scoutmaster wasn't so worried after all!" McMurtry was grinning insufferably when I joined the other Scouts in my Wilderness Survival class outside the Dining Hall at 7:00 that evening. I saw no point in trying to explain my reasons for being there to the counselor. "Well, let's get going; we need to get to the campsite before full dark." With that, we Scouts all fell in line single-file and started walking up the trail to Chappegat.
When the Ten Mile River Scout camps were constructed in the late 1920s, over a dozen campsites were initially built for the thousands of visitors which were expected in the years to come. However, over the decades the number of Boy Scouts in the Greater New York area rapidly dwindled, and there was no point in maintaining all the campsites as there simply were not enough Scouts to use them all... and one of the first campgrounds to be abandoned was the one named Chappegat. Though it was less than two miles from the main camp area it was situated at the top of a rather steep hill, so it was not an easy site to reach, plus there was no fresh drinking water nearby... so when the budget cuts came in the 1960s the local Scouting Administration decided not to bother renting or maintaining the Chappegat campsite any longer. Though the trail to the old site was kept clear, no one had stayed there for at least ten years for the aforementioned reasons... and for one additional reason as well. It was this final reason that had my heart thumping in my chest as we started hiking up the hill toward Chappegat. That, and the fact that the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius) since the afternoon, and I couldn't help but notice the gusty, variable winds that were rising in intensity, indicating an imminent change in the weather. Earlier that afternoon I thought I knew what I was getting myself into by agreeing to go on this hike, but now I wasn't so certain...
We arrived at the Chappegat campsite at about 7:45 PM; being mid-summer the sun hadn't fully set yet, though the sky was darkening quickly. In the fading light I could see about a dozen leantos in various states of disrepair; at least two of them had completely collapsed. But I barely had time to take this in before McMurtry started shouting orders. "All right, we're here! Drop your gear and start building shelters for yourselves. I want you to be finished within 30 minutes, so get to work!" I did as I had been instructed, and found some fallen tree branches which I used to construct a simple shelter, which I quickly covered with leaves to act as a primitive rain guard. I have to admit my heart leapt to my throat every time I reached down to the ground to pick up another log or more leaves, and I secretly wished that I had been wearing a pair of thick work gloves... but as time wore on I slowly grew more confident, as nothing unpleasant happened, and I began to wonder if McMurtry had been right to dismiss the stories about Chappegat after all. Still, after the counselor inspected my shelter and gave me a passing grade, I was rather reluctant to lie down under it, much less take my boots off.
"All right, Scouts! Get some shut-eye!" McMurtry quickly shimmied under his own shelter. "We're going to have to get up extra-early tomorrow morning to hike down the hill for breakfast, so no late-night carousing! Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning!" With that, McMurtry rolled over to get comfortable... apparently oblivious to the distant rumble of thunder that I heard coming from the West.
I remained wide-eyed awake for the next 30 minutes, listening to the thunder slowly growing in frequency and intensity as the storm came closer. I've always been proud of my ability to gauge impending weather changes, and all the signs indicated that the oncoming squall was going to be a mean one... but I had no idea how bad things were going to get.
A few of the younger boys started whimpering when the thunder became as loud as cannon fire, and I couldn't really blame them for that; one or two of the sonic blasts were truly deafening, and I had difficulty hearing anything for some time afterwards. However, when my ears cleared I heard a second sound being emitted in response to the thunder: a recurring clattering noise which seemed to come from multiple locations all around the campsite. Though far softer in volume than the thunder, this new sound made the blood freeze in my veins, because it proved that McMurtry was dead wrong about the warnings regarding Chappegat... and we were now all in genuine danger.
The Timber Rattlesnake (Crotalus Horridus) tends to live in heavily wooded areas, hence its name. It is considered to be one of the deadliest snakes in North America due to its large size, as they can grow up to 6 feet (1.8 m) long, plus they possess rather long fangs and can inject a substantial amount of venom in a single bite. Fortunately, the species normally tries to avoid human beings, so they tend to shy away from regularly inhabited areas... but Chappegat had not been inhabited for a very long time. And Timber Rattlesnakes prefer to build their nests in small nooks and crevices, like the spaces which form when old leantos start falling apart after years of disuse... which is apparently why so many of these animals nested in and around Chappegat. And while Timber Rattlers have a reputation for being among the most placid of the venomous reptiles, like all snakes they become extremely restive in response to loud noises and vibrations... like what gets produced during particularly nasty thunderstorms.
I, and a dozen other Scouts, were in the heart of a rattlesnake nesting ground... and due to the storm, the snakes were angry.
Panic gripped the camp, as the rattling sounds were coming from all around us; the snakes seemed to be behind every bush and under every rock. I heard a few of the younger boys sobbing openly, crying for their mothers... and I won't deny that I was tempted to do the same. Despite that, I somehow found the nerve to crawl out of my shelter; I quickly pulled my boots back on before I scrambled over to McMurtry... and found the counselor cowering in his shelter with a crazed expression on his face. The man was paralyzed by terror, his mind apparently overwhelmed by the discovery that he had been so very, very wrong. I screamed at McMurtry above the roar of the storm: "Sir, we have to get out of here!"
The man was as pale as a sheet, and he seemed unable to focus his eyes on me. He gave his reply through chattering teeth: "I'm not going out there! It's dangerous!"
I'm not proud of what I said next, but as I was only 16 years old and under enormous stress I think my reaction was understandable: "Fine, you can *STAY* here! But the rest of us are *LEAVING*!" With that, I shouted to the other Scouts: "Grab your bags, we're hiking back to camp right now!" About half of the boys responded immediately, and I quickly went to the other ones and said and did what I had to in order to get them moving. In a matter of minutes we Scouts were all lined up with our equipment, and I led the way back down the mountain as the storm raged around us... leaving McMurtry behind in Chappegat.
I set a slow, cautious pace, partially because I didn't want any of the younger Scouts to fall behind, partially because it was so hard to see the trail in the dark... and partially because even after we left Chappegat I occasionally heard rattling sounds coming from the bushes on either side of the trail. We had only been walking for a few minutes when I heard a commotion in back of me: McMurtry had finally broken free of his paralysis and was running after us, shouting "WAIT! DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND!" I heard him coming closer, apparently shoving the younger boys out of his way in his panicked state... but I didn't stop the line at that instant for his benefit, but rather for my own. With the worst possible timing, McMurtry tried to sprint past me to get off the mountain, and I had to physically tackle him to prevent him from moving forward any further... even though at that instant part of me felt that McMurtry would have deserved what he would have gotten by barrelling past me.
McMurtry started screaming at me hysterically. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? WHY DID YOU STOP ME?!?" It was only then that he noticed that I was pointing with my right hand... pointing at the banded reptile that was sitting coiled up in the center of the trail no more than 10 feet in front of us... with its fangs bared.
I grabbed McMurtry by the shoulder, and made him and all the other Scouts take three steps back up the trail; I heard one of the younger boys shriek in abject terror when he saw the snake up ahead of us. After a tense 30 seconds, the creature finally uncoiled itself and quickly slithered off into the bushes on the left side of the trail. I waited another 30 seconds before I allowed anyone to move forward again, just to be safe... and we reached the main camp grounds without further incident. When we arrived back at camp, I couldn't help but notice the smell of urine behind me, and I initially assumed that one of the younger Scouts had lost control of his bladder on the frenzied hike down the moutain... until I saw the large wet stain at the crotch of McMurtry's trousers.
At the official inquest into the incident, McMurtry claimed that I had been the one who panicked and that he only hiked the Scouts off the mountain after I had become utterly unmanageable... but all the other Scouts backed up my version of events. Plus, among the camp staff only McMurtry had refused to believe the tale that Chappegat was literally a vipers' den, and so the Camp Master concluded that McMurtry had been reckless and foolhardy to hike us up there in the first place, and fired the counselor on the spot. McMurtry made some noises about possibly suing me personally and the Boy Scouts as a whole, but the Camp Master told McMurtry in no uncertain terms that if he tried suing anyone he would be brought up on child endangerment charges.
I have no idea where "McMurtry" is these days, so to play it safe I used a false name for him. Other than that, however...
While it has been nearly a decade since the last time I visited Ten Mile River Summer Camp, I have been told by my fellow Scout leaders that Chappegat is still abandoned and off-limits... which is as it should be. As my old Scoutmaster, Mr. Hodash, was fond of saying: "If you go looking for trouble, it will likely end up finding you." Hopefully, no other Scout will ever have to find out how true that statement is in the fashion that McMurtry and my fellow Scouts did...
This post is an entry in The Real LiveJournal Idol (therealljidol) for Season 10, Week 10. It is based on the prompt "Take a Hike!".