Summer Camp, Part Two: Camp Geronimo

Some time ago, I wrote about my first summer camp experience, with the intent of writing more. I think it's fair to say that the subsequent chapters, encompassing events now years in the past, have not grown any more stale for having waited since April of last year.

After that summer, it would be a while before I had such an experience again. Upon becoming old enough,  I got into Cub Scouts, and then Webelos. Eventually, I was in Boy Scouts, but was in a troop which was at its nadir. There were perhaps three or four of us. Finally, I wound up in a bigger, more active troop. It seems to me that it was immediately after that that I began going to Camp Geronimo with them. With my state of development being what it was at that age, summer camp could be tough at times.

We would gather at the church where meetings where held, and then head north to the town of Payson, Arizona. It would invariably be cooler there. We would briefly pass through town , leading me at least to get curious about this place we never really stopped in. Once we had gotten to the northern end of town, we would then barrel down the dirt road which led to the camp itself. Our scoutmaster for a time drove an old Ford Bronco with the sort of seat belts you tightened manually, and he would enthusiastically exhort us to do so.

This would be on a Saturday, when the camp held no activities save for processing the incoming and outgoing troops. We would go, sign in, and get settled at our campsite. We had the same one each time, and it was regarded as a desirable one for a troop of our size. It was a few minutes' walk to and from the dining hall, and as close to most activity areas as the other campsites. I would later have the experience of staying at one on the very edge of camp, right where the national forest took over. Being so far was not terribly enjoyable. The campsites had a ramada, a water trough, a flag pole and a pit toilet. The toilet smelled very strongly of vanilla, as did much of the camp due to the preponderance of Ponderosa pine trees. I understand that bark beetles have killed many in recent years.

One thing I believe we had to do on Saturday was the swim test. This was anticipated with considerable anxiety, at least on my part. There was no question of passing the test. To the extent that the fear I felt was the least bit rational, it was only about the coldness of the water. This would ultimately be done with no trouble, leaving nothing particular to do until the following day. The various departments, which were fairly typical and included shooting ranges, the nature lodge and all the rest, would be open Sunday afternoon. We boys were rather lazy, and had to be coerced into going out and doing things most afternoons. It was largely our preference to listen to music and play cards in our campsite.

If we wanted to do something, it was go to the trading post, known as the Knappenberger. They carried most of what one would expect at a 7-11 in terms of food (minus any alcohol, of course). The ice cream was good, as were the nachos and slushies. Besides that, they carried all manner of Boy Scout supplies. There were merit badge manuals, materials for earning them, and various other BSA and camping paraphernalia.

Sunday night the staff would put on a campfire with entertainment. A big favorite was a traditional song of the camp where a number of senior members would sing a song detailing preferred things to be apart from Boy Scouts. Must appealing about the number was how silly they looked doing their moves in the outfits. One avowed that he would be a hairdresser, and employed a very effeminate style of speech. The tone was largely of this kind, with various songs and skits which had been done many times before dominating.

The following morning began merit badge classes. They were mainly an hour long, and one could take four between 8am to noon. I don't recall that anyone took fewer. Ones like rifle shooting, horseback riding and the like were most popular, probably because they were hard to accomplish anywhere else, apart from being fun. Ones that entailed a lot of writing were somewhat less popular. I recall being very tired and bored at times.

The camp seemed enormous. It really was big, but now less than when I was so young. It was quite easy to get lost, and I often did. Even traveling with a map was not necessarily any assurance. The worst thing  in this regard were the night hikes, which were for the purpose of learning orientation via compass. That was probably the worst thing about going. One had to navigate from one point to another, with plenty of complications thrown in. Each orientation trail had a name such as Eagle Eye or Owl Eye. I liked Goldeneye because of the Bond film which had come out. Owl Eye was the toughest even before many of the key elements of it were lost or destroyed.

Friday was the closing campfire, when awards were handed out for the Geronimo Olympics and many other competitions which had been held through the week. The closing campfire saw campers put on their own skits and songs. With the week behind us and the prospect of going home in mind, it was always a good night. The following morning would be a hectic one as we had to pack up, and check out, but it was followed sooner after by a trip to some fast food restaurant. I did get to do that very often during childhood, so it felt like a big deal.

I would attend Camp Geronimo a week every summer for several years, stopping only when I began working there. When I get to part three, I'll get into that.