A Scoutmaster's Blog

The Black Forest is an original campfire horror story developed in the 1980’s by the members of Melrose Troop 68. It all began with a couple of the Boy Scouts writing a poem while on a camping trip. The poem described the deaths of four people, each death occurring in a different manner. It was a short poem, but one that served well as the foundation for the story of The Black Forest.

The story changes a little each time I tell it to the troop, but the basic plot remains the same. If I am tired and not really in the mood the story is quicker, shorter. On one of those nights when I am in a groove, then look out! New bits may be added to the storyline and the details become more graphic. The television of the mind can really go into overdrive during one of those evenings.

The story opens with George, the central character, when he receives a notice that a distant, nearly unknown relative has died and left him a cabin located deep in a remote wilderness area. George, his brother, and his parents decide to pack up, drive the couple hundred miles, and spend the weekend at the cabin that they have never been to before.

As they near the forest they drive into a huge thunderstorm. The downpour cuts the visibility as the father carefully drives the car through the thickening forest. The dirt road becomes so narrow and and overgrown with weeds that it appears to be nothing more then a wide animal trail.

As the family finally arrives at the cabin the rain is coming down so hard that the group almost expects to see an ark float by the ravine located about fifty yards away from the building. At least the nearly continuous lightning helps to light the way as they unload the car of supplies, although the thunder makes it difficult to carry on any sort of conversation.

Luckily, the four room cabin has electricity and light as the family begins to unpack the groceries, bedding, and clothing. The rooms consist of two small bedrooms, a small bathroom, and a larger great room which seems to take half of the cabin. Toward the end of the great room is a small kitchenette. It would be a cozy little getaway if the weather would cooperate.

Suddenly, lightning strikes a tree near the cabin. The thunder rattles the windows to nearly the breaking point. As the winds howls around the cottage, the family hears a tree crash to the ground. And the house goes dark as the electricity goes out.

As the story continues the members of the family leave the relative safety of the cabin, one by one. One by one, they disappear. Soon George finds himself alone in this dark cabin in the middle of the wilderness during a storm to end all storms. George finally makes a decision and….

Sorry to cut the story short, but you really did not expect me to write the whole thing in this blog, did you? But now that I have your attention I would like to take a moment to wish you a happy and safe Halloween!

Halloween is almost upon us. Soon there will be little spidermans, princesses, and a variety of monsters knocking on my door looking for whatever treat I decide to offer this year. Halloween is also the time for scary movies and stories. Like most Boy Scouts, the boys of Troop 68 love to hear a good horror or ghost story while sitting around the campfire. The story of the wolfen has been a troop favorite for nearly twenty years.

I began telling the Scouts about the wolfen soon after I read the novel by Whitley Streiber. I did not tell the tale like a typical campfire story. No, I told it more as a warning of a newly discovered creature that all campers need to be made aware of while camping in the wilderness. The story is usually told when new campers are attending the camping trip.

The story may begin with a warning about storing food in the tents overnight. I talk about the local animal pests, the skunks, raccoons, chipmunks, bears, and coyotes. Then I begin the description of a new animal that has been discovered within the last few years. When I notice the Scout’s flame-lit faces watching my every move then I know they will be listening to every word.

I tell the campers that at first appearance this creature looks like a large wolf. But if you get close enough to get a good look at its face, and hopefully you never will get that close, you will discover one of the ugliest animal faces that you will ever see. It will be a face to haunt your dreams for years to come.

I explain that this creature is as fast as a cheetah, can track scents better then a bloodhound, has acute hearing that rivals any other animal, and can see heat radiation, thus being able to see in the dark of dark. Instead of paws simular to a dog or wolf, this creature has longer digits that end in razor sharp claws. The powerful jaws latches onto its prey’s throat so quickly, and the claws kill so rapidly, that the scream of its prey is literally torn from its throat. This creature is nature’s best killing machine. (Of course, sitting around the campfire I will go into more detail then I will as I write this article.)

The most important and dangerous characteristic of this creature is its ability to to think and rationalize. It is intelligent. It can and does learn. It has a form of communication through which it can “speak” with others from its pack. It has been theorized that this creature know as the wolfen is the basis for the legend of the werewolf.

Of course, after I tell the campers about all these abilities of the wolfen, I end by telling them the most important thing of all, the one thing that will protect them as they go to bed, the one thing that will keep them from being attacked this night or any other. That is that they must realize that the wolfen is… a fictional story. They do not exist. They are not real. They are creatures from a fictional novel.

At least, I do not think they are real. I hope they are not real. (Insert nervous laughter and the howl of a distant wolf.)

Over the last few years it seems that Philadelphia is doing its best to get rid of the Boy Scouts of America within it’s city. I really don’t understand why the city council has taking such a hard line case against the Scouts after 80 years of Scouting doing so much good for the city. It would seem to me the city has more important issues, like crime and gangs, that they should be concerned about. Why pick on a great organization like the BSA?

I have been reading posts in the Scouting groups and forums that I am a member of, and WOW, do feelings go across the board. I do not think any form of government has the right to impose it’s sense of “morality” on any group like the BSA, especially when many governments seem to be lacking in any sense of morality. The supreme court has stated that the BSA has a right to state membership guidelines for the organization, a right granted by the constitution of the United States. Oh well, I am not going to argue about it here.

I would suggest that you read this article I found that was written by Hans Zeiger, the author of “Get Off My Honor: The Assault on the Boy Scouts of America.” You can read it by clicking this LINK.

Another good article can be found at The Scoutmaster Minute. Jerry has written a nice article dealing with a “pest” that has been trying to post his opinion on that blog.

In 2002, Troop 68 sent two crews to the Charles Sommers Canoe Base near Ely, Minnesota, to canoe through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. This was the first time Troop 68 had sent anyone to this high adventure base that was practically in our own backyard. One crew consisted of the older Boy Scouts, 15-17 years old. The other crew was made up of the younger boys. I was one of the two adult advisers for the older boy crew.

We were assigned an interpreter when we arrived at the base camp. A CSCB interpreter is similar to the Philmont ranger. The interpreter prepared us for our five day trip, helped us to plan our trip through the BWCA, and then went on the trip with us, providing pointers and how-to advice along the way.

Our interpreter, Sinclair, was a very nice guy who really knew his stuff. We could tell he loved being a part of this high adventure base. He was easy to get along with and the Scouts enjoyed having him around. He also had the ability to fall asleep easily, in any position, and at any time. When we would take a rest break there would be Sinclair, sleeping on top of a fallen tree. Once camp was made for the day Sinclair would disappear into his tent for a quick nap.

We had no problems with Sinclair taking a nap. In fact, I envied him being able to nod off so easily. One of the first days though, it backfired on him. He was taking a nap in his tent after camp was set up. The Scouts had begun cooking the evening meal. They used every pot that we had brought along on the trip. Sinclair was not a happy camper when he woke up and all the messy pots. He had a nice chat with the Scouts about one pot meals, or at least using as few cooking utensils as possible. The next day we noticed he did not take a nap if there was work to be done by the crew.

Like I said, he got along great with the crew, both the boys and the adults. The boys enjoyed the trip so much that they wrote a poem about it, including various events along the way, the food, and of course, our interpreter’s naps. One crew member read the poem during the closing program at base camp our last night. I think Sinclair was a little embarrassed. Here is is for your enjoyment….

And The Interpreter Slept
written by The 2002 BWCA Crew B, Melrose Troop 68

Our trip to the BWCA
began one glorious day.
The interpreter was late to eat.
He jumped to another when they would meet.
Then our interpreter slept.

We paddled through the rain
though a lot we did gain.
A downed tree interrupted our strut
We realized through it we must cut.
And our interpreter slept.

Through the deep mud we did trudge
All but two were stuck in the sludge.
Before a picture we took
No one escaped from the gook.
And our interpreter slept.

Though the portage had been tread
by two we still had not been fed.
To get us anything to eat
We pumped and pumped and pumped ‘till vee vere beat.
And our interpreter slept.

When it came time for supper that night
We used every pot in site.
Sand infiltrated the sweets we ate.
“It’s crunchy. It tastes like cereal. It’s awesome. It’s great!”
Because our interpreter slept.

Through the rapids we did walk
Though at the site of a ruined canoe we balked.
And though Ben’s hand was half ruined
all replied, “Tis only a flesh wound!”
As our interpreter slept.

Our interpreter could not count ‘til eight
so we had to share the food we ate.
Since he could not seem to count past six
We taught the Magic Eskimo Counting Sticks.
Then our interpreter slept.

Our Scout leader got us lost
to a lake only dogs cross in frost.
It took us out of our way
Adding two miles to our day.
While our interpreter slept.

A portage with rollers and a dock
Got us over with an easy walk.
The portage seemed to be a cheat
though Mike continued to loose his feet.
And our interpreter slept.

Schwieters took the rap
because our eggs tasted like cr___.
We took the portage two miles long
through a rain that could drown King Kong.
And our interpreter slept.

We arrived early to base
through the cold hard rain with haste.
So we finished our Northern Tier trek
Happy, but severely bent to heck.

And the crew finally slept.

**By the way, if you would like to see pictures from the trip check out of troop’s high adventure page by clicking HERE.

Some of the best things about attending summer camp are the campfire programs at the beginning and the end of the week. The 2007 staff of Buckskin Camp of Many Point Scout Camp did an excellent job of keeping everyone entertained during this summer’s opening campfire program. Due to a rain storm that happened to wonder into camp that evening, we had to have the program in the dining hall. The location did not damper the spirit of any of the Scouts, leaders, or staff. Everyone had a great time.

This video of the Melrose Scouting Production Podcast features the Buckskin Staff singing a song about Scouting as the campfire program came to a close. I do not know what the song is titled, but it is a great song that includes the twelve points of the Scout Law. It is a catchy little tune and I find myself humming it while I write this blog entry. Enjoy it and tell your friends about this podcast.

Download Video Podcast
Watch Video on the troop’s website.
Subscribe through iTunes.

As I was posting the previous entry to this blog, I began thinking about other multi-generational families of Melrose Boy Scout Troop 68. There have been a few of these.

Jerome is two years younger then I am. We were both members of the Falcon Patrol in the mid 1970’s. His younger brother, Shawn, joined the troop in the 1980’s, a few years after I became the scoutmaster. Their nephew, Zack, is currently a member of the troop, in the Nighthawk Patrol.

John was also a member of Troop 68 when I was a Boy Scout. John grew up, got married, and moved to the Twin Cities area. When he moved back to Melrose his sons joined Troop 68 as they got old enough. John’s two oldest boys, Nick and Jacob, have both earned the rank of Eagle Scouts while members of the troop. His youngest son, Lucas, joined the troop early this year.

Bill was an adult leader of Troop 68 in the 1960’s. One of his youngest sons was a member of the troop when I became the assistant scoutmaster in 1980. Bill’s grandson, Chris, joined the troop in 2000 and last year was awarded the rank of Eagle Scout.

One final note about spanning the generations. When I was a student in high school I never gave a thought to being a scoutmaster when I became an adult. I found it interesting that many of the members of the troop committee who appointed me as the scoutmaster were former high school teachers of mine. I am sure it never occurred to them that one of their students would one day be in charge of teaching their sons the skills needed in Boy Scouting.

A little ironic, don’t ya think?
.

I began my career as a Boy Scout troop leader early in my life. I was only a few months shy of my twentieth birthday when I became the assistant scoutmaster for Troop 68. Two months after my twenty-first birthday I was appointed the scoutmaster, a position I still hold today. There have been a few unique markers along this highway of my Scouting life that I would like to share with you.

The first marker was when I became the scoutmaster. Suddenly I was “responsible” for the troop. I was not the young assistant scoutmaster any longer who was practically still one of the gang. I was now the adult “figurehead” of Scouting in town. More then anything else, becoming the troop’s scoutmaster marked the beginning of my adulthood.

During the eighties the troop began going to Philmont Scout Ranch. I will admit that one of the reasons I stayed on as a scoutmaster is because I wanted to go to Philmont. I went to Philmont in 1986 and 1989 with the Scouts from Melrose. That first decade seemed to go by pretty quickly.

The second marker caught me a little off guard. Boys began joining the troop that were born after I signed on as an assistant scoutmaster. Two years later boys entered Scouting that would come to know me as the only scoutmaster in Melrose during their lifetime. I was beginning to feel old at thirty-one.

The third marker was when I began receiving invitations to weddings of troop alumni. I was even asked to be the best man at one of those weddings.

The fourth marker was when I noticed that the parents of some of the Scouts were younger then I was. Holy cow, I thought. I have been doing this scoutmaster thing for a long time. I was really starting to feel older.

Another marker came along when next generation cousins of former troop members began joining Scouting. In fact, my assistant scoutmaster, who is eighty years old, joined the troop when his youngest son was a Boy Scout. Since then, two of his grandchildren, sons of my assistant’s oldest son, have been members of the troop. I have seen three generations of this family involved with the Scout program on some level.

I think the next marker will be when the son of a former Boy Scout joins the troop. That has not happened yet, but it could. While most of the troop members have moved to other cities as they got older, there are a few that have decided to stay in this area. There seems to be more daughters then sons among that small group at the moment. I am thinking it may be time to retire when the first son of a troop member joins the troop. (he writes with a grin on his face.)

Whoever says that one person cannot make a difference obviously has not met Eagle Scout Andrew Larochelle. Check out what he did by reading this article in the Philadelphia Inquirer which was posted on October 12th. It is great to see a Boy Scout making a positive difference in on country.