The Burning Waterfall: An exciting true tale of Scouts In Action!
When I was a kid, my Scout Troop would go to a week-long Summer Camp near Newark, Ohio at Camp Falling Rock. So named because of dramatic cliff formations, and the large boulders down below which had obviously cracked off from above. We used to explore the cliffs and nooks and crannies and caves. There were copperhead snakes.
One area of the camp was a beautiful natural amphitheater, surrounded by a curving cliff. On Thursday nights, parents' night, we'd put on a show down by the lake, skits and sing-alongs and whatnot, and then, when darkness fell, the entire audience would relocate uphill to this natural amphitheater, where the Order of the Arrow would put on an Indian pageant. Something about Evil Spirits whisking away members of a tribe to their cave, until a brave warrior comes and shows them What For. One dramatic highlight of the show was a flaming arrow which would be fired down from the cliff to light the fire. In the dark, you couldn't see that it was fired along a wire, so there was no chance of the flaming arrow flying off into the audience.
Then, at the end of the show, when the Evil Spirits were defeated, they'd dammed up the waterfall, and dumped a barrel of kerosene into it. At the climax of the show, they'd undam the waterfall and light the kerosene on fire. Which would result in a giant flaming waterfall. In the audience, it'd become as bright as daylight, and you'd feel the heat from the burning waterfall like a sunburn on your face. I'm pretty sure they've stopped lighting the waterfall on fire since then. Environment, don't you know. But it sure was cool.
On this particular Thursday (maybe 1979), earlier in the day, I'd been at the top of that cliff, doing a requirement for my Environmental Science merit badge. Our campsite was further up the hill and through the woods. My friend Rod came ambling down the trail from our campsite, Eagle's Nest, and then began walking along the clifftop where I was sitting. "Hey Tom, whatcha doing?" I explained that, for this merit badge, I had to sit in the woods for a few hours and record all the wildlife I saw. Mostly squirrels and chipmunks, I'm sure.
He came up to my position, not too far from the waterfall atop the cliff. Unfortunately, the campfire for this evening's festivities had already been assembled down below (unlit), with the metal wire for the flaming arrow attached to a fire log and leading diagonally up to the top of the cliff where it was wrapped around a small tree. Rod tripped over the wire and fell hard, about 6 inches from what would have doubtlessly been a fatal 60-foot drop onto rocks. Also, there was a twang as the wire detached from the fire-log below and shot up the cliff like a Slinky. "Oh shit! Are you OK?" I shouted. He was, though he had the wind knocked out of him. Then we noticed the loose wire.
Fearing we'd get in trouble, we went around the cliff to the road, down to the bottom of the amphitheater, found the wire, and reattached it to the fire-log as best we could,
That night, the part of the show came when the flaming arrow was to be shot down the wire. From previous years, I knew what was in store. I was sitting with Rod in the audience, and I could tell we both had the same thought at the same moment. Uh oh. Did we really re-attach that wire correctly? Did anyone check it before the show? What happens if it comes loose when the flaming arrow is fired? Is a flaming arrow going to whip into the crowd? That's ridiculous, I thought. If the wire gets slack, it'll just bring the flaming arrow to a screeching halt. Right? Right?
The Indian Brave at the cliff-top fired the arrow, and it behaved perfectly, zooming down the wire and lighting the fire. Big double sigh of relief.
Later, the flaming waterfall went as planned.
--------
Fast-forward six months later. We're at the same camp, but now it's a winter wonderland. We're staying in a cabin by the lake. The lake is frozen over, and there is snow. You can sled down the hill and when you hit the frozen lake, it's frictionless; the metal runners of the Flexible-Flyer hum on the ice. You can practically sled all the way across the frozen lake.
Later we relocate uphill to the natural amphitheater, now covered in snow. But the ground is bumpier here, and the sledding isn't as good. We have a snowball fight. The waterfall is frozen, and there are big icicles, 300-400 pound icicles.
Because we're dumb kids, a bunch of us start throwing rocks at the frozen waterfall. But we still stay a healthy 50 feet away or so. However, as we throw more rocks, we start to get closer, until we're 40, 35 feet away. Rod gets a little closer than the rest of us, but still is keeping 30 feet feet away. Now 25 feet.
Suddenly, there's a big cracking noise, as our rock-throwing starts to do some damage to the frozen waterfall. Rod tries to backpedal away. But he's standing in the slush that the mist from the waterfall has made of the snow, and it's slippery. He slips and falls, then slides down the icy rock ramp until he's just 5 feet away from the bottom of the waterfall, into the cold water with a sploosh.
A 300-pound icicle cracks off, and smashes down with a huge thump, scant feet away from his prone body. It would have squashed him like a bug.
This area has almost killed him twice in six months.
"You know, Rod," I say. "I think maybe you should stay away from this waterfall."
One area of the camp was a beautiful natural amphitheater, surrounded by a curving cliff. On Thursday nights, parents' night, we'd put on a show down by the lake, skits and sing-alongs and whatnot, and then, when darkness fell, the entire audience would relocate uphill to this natural amphitheater, where the Order of the Arrow would put on an Indian pageant. Something about Evil Spirits whisking away members of a tribe to their cave, until a brave warrior comes and shows them What For. One dramatic highlight of the show was a flaming arrow which would be fired down from the cliff to light the fire. In the dark, you couldn't see that it was fired along a wire, so there was no chance of the flaming arrow flying off into the audience.
Then, at the end of the show, when the Evil Spirits were defeated, they'd dammed up the waterfall, and dumped a barrel of kerosene into it. At the climax of the show, they'd undam the waterfall and light the kerosene on fire. Which would result in a giant flaming waterfall. In the audience, it'd become as bright as daylight, and you'd feel the heat from the burning waterfall like a sunburn on your face. I'm pretty sure they've stopped lighting the waterfall on fire since then. Environment, don't you know. But it sure was cool.
On this particular Thursday (maybe 1979), earlier in the day, I'd been at the top of that cliff, doing a requirement for my Environmental Science merit badge. Our campsite was further up the hill and through the woods. My friend Rod came ambling down the trail from our campsite, Eagle's Nest, and then began walking along the clifftop where I was sitting. "Hey Tom, whatcha doing?" I explained that, for this merit badge, I had to sit in the woods for a few hours and record all the wildlife I saw. Mostly squirrels and chipmunks, I'm sure.
He came up to my position, not too far from the waterfall atop the cliff. Unfortunately, the campfire for this evening's festivities had already been assembled down below (unlit), with the metal wire for the flaming arrow attached to a fire log and leading diagonally up to the top of the cliff where it was wrapped around a small tree. Rod tripped over the wire and fell hard, about 6 inches from what would have doubtlessly been a fatal 60-foot drop onto rocks. Also, there was a twang as the wire detached from the fire-log below and shot up the cliff like a Slinky. "Oh shit! Are you OK?" I shouted. He was, though he had the wind knocked out of him. Then we noticed the loose wire.
Fearing we'd get in trouble, we went around the cliff to the road, down to the bottom of the amphitheater, found the wire, and reattached it to the fire-log as best we could,
That night, the part of the show came when the flaming arrow was to be shot down the wire. From previous years, I knew what was in store. I was sitting with Rod in the audience, and I could tell we both had the same thought at the same moment. Uh oh. Did we really re-attach that wire correctly? Did anyone check it before the show? What happens if it comes loose when the flaming arrow is fired? Is a flaming arrow going to whip into the crowd? That's ridiculous, I thought. If the wire gets slack, it'll just bring the flaming arrow to a screeching halt. Right? Right?
The Indian Brave at the cliff-top fired the arrow, and it behaved perfectly, zooming down the wire and lighting the fire. Big double sigh of relief.
Later, the flaming waterfall went as planned.
--------
Fast-forward six months later. We're at the same camp, but now it's a winter wonderland. We're staying in a cabin by the lake. The lake is frozen over, and there is snow. You can sled down the hill and when you hit the frozen lake, it's frictionless; the metal runners of the Flexible-Flyer hum on the ice. You can practically sled all the way across the frozen lake.
Later we relocate uphill to the natural amphitheater, now covered in snow. But the ground is bumpier here, and the sledding isn't as good. We have a snowball fight. The waterfall is frozen, and there are big icicles, 300-400 pound icicles.
Because we're dumb kids, a bunch of us start throwing rocks at the frozen waterfall. But we still stay a healthy 50 feet away or so. However, as we throw more rocks, we start to get closer, until we're 40, 35 feet away. Rod gets a little closer than the rest of us, but still is keeping 30 feet feet away. Now 25 feet.
Suddenly, there's a big cracking noise, as our rock-throwing starts to do some damage to the frozen waterfall. Rod tries to backpedal away. But he's standing in the slush that the mist from the waterfall has made of the snow, and it's slippery. He slips and falls, then slides down the icy rock ramp until he's just 5 feet away from the bottom of the waterfall, into the cold water with a sploosh.
A 300-pound icicle cracks off, and smashes down with a huge thump, scant feet away from his prone body. It would have squashed him like a bug.
This area has almost killed him twice in six months.
"You know, Rod," I say. "I think maybe you should stay away from this waterfall."