Building Character and Community at a Scout Winter Klondike in the Woods

 Sometimes life’s lessons come in the most unlikely ways and places. I recently absorbed such a life lesson in the woods of Mahwah. But the story was very much one of River Edge at its best.

The place was Campgaw Mountain. The occasion was the annual Boy Scout Klondike Derby.

For the unfamiliar, a Klondike derby is an annual event held by Boy Scouts of America (and Scouts Canada) districts during the winter months. Started in 1949, these Klondike derbies are based on the heritage of the Klondike Gold Rush.

The event consists of stations where patrols/units must test outdoor skills and their leadership abilities, earning points towards a total score. In it all, the unit must transport their gear on a homemade sled and pulled by the Scouts.

I was there at Campgaw to lend support to my 9-year-old son and his fellow Webelos Cub Scouts from River Edge. Our community was represented by three first year Webelos teams – two from Pack 95 (Roosevelt/St. Peter’s) and one from Pack  229 (Cherry Hill) – part of a larger group of Cub Scouts ( Two Senior Webelos squads) and Boy Scouts from ages 9 to 18.

The Cub Scouts had been training since the warm days of early autumn – through falling leaves, into the first winter’s chill and then in the midst of one winter snow fall after another. Over that time, the boys practiced a number of survival skills from orienteering to shelter building to fire building and more. There were also the knots and lashings.

They also spent these weeks and months learning about what it meant to be part of a team - how to contribute and support something greater than themselves – an in a setting other than home, a classroom or athletic field. Quite often they found themselves trying to navigate a balancing between sports to their commitment to this team.

And, it was not always easy. Kids being kids, attention spans can be short, actions can be impulsive, and insensitive words can sometimes be uttered. And, it often a constant companion was the omni-present cold of winter.

But they were blessed to have a group of volunteers to guide them. It’s perhaps become a tired cliche of the times that “It takes a village”. But here, in fact, could be found a veritable village of volunteers who generously gave of their time and efforts.

They were led by Kevin Kress, himself a scout decades earlier, but who had no business being around except for the fact that he genuinely cared. And there were others. Denmaster Rich Myers (who gives of himself in so many ways), Ray Guinta, Lyle Cookson and Amy Wilheim spearheaded the sled units. Paul Florio, Mike Pepe, Brenan O’Donnell, Mike O’Neill, Ed Yeung and Frank Garcia were there to help the kids master skills at Van Saun and Alpine.

In the meantime, a group of parents spent weeks designing and creating a homemade sled for the derby. This process became an event unto itself, fostering a special level of camaraderie among those involved in the project.

As the weeks passed, and Derby Day approached, veterans of prior events would caution the rest of us about what was coming – what one longtime leader described as “organized chaos”.

With these warnings and a sense of anticipation, we awoke early on the morning of January 28 for the derby.

As a group, Pack 95’s first year Webelos started Derby Day with a 6 a.m. breakfast hosted by Rich Myers and wife Paris. The dining room table was crowded with stacks of pancakes, waffles, bagels, bacon, sausages and quiche - anything to fuel the boys for their day in the woods.

Then it was off to Mahwah. Dozens of cars converged at the same time, and out poured carloads of anxious scouts and accompanying adults. We’re told that some 55 sleds were entered that day – each with an average of 6 scouts – making for some 350 scouts in the Klondike.

After a too lengthy wait in frigid temperatures, the check-in finally began. It was not long thereafter that a start time was given, and patrols proceeded from one activity to another – including first aid, cold weather survival, fire-building, shelter building in the snow and a number of problem solving situations along the way.

For all the organized task assignments, one was struck by the unanticipated and unscripted challenges that were soon to be confronted – whether the bone-chilling cold or surprises at the fire-making station that shook scout and leader alike. But they quickly rebounded, even overcoming a significant challenge by successfully building a type of shelter they never trained for. Somehow they improvised, problem solved, and went on to achieve a perfect score. The lessons being learned went far beyond knots and bows.

The homemade sled got a good work out. Wheels were kept off because of the snow cover. Unfortunately, many of the stations were situated along a plowed park road, and that posed a challenge for those pulling the sled. But it all got done – even after numerous energy-sapping trips up and down the road.

An army of district scout volunteers was there as well – ranging from teenagers to men in their 70’s who have been at derbies for years. A most interesting judge was a gentleman stationed at the tomahawk throw (for older Boy Scouts) attired in snowshoes, a decorative Native American coat, topped off by a coyote hat – coyote paws , coyote head and all.

At midday, as the Derby did not allow time to go back to the headquarters, the patrol adjourned for lunch on the park road – a meal of sandwiches, and snacks along with hot chocolate and soup in thermoses served up by parents.  

As the day’s events neared a close, energy levels and spirits were starting to sag and fray.

The last event – a timed sled race – will most be remembered for the determination and frustration displayed. At one point, things were not going well. The sled had gone off course into deeper snow and was pointed in the wrong direction. Emotions became raw, but, finally, mercifully, the finish line was crossed.

With more than a few aching muscles and bruised spirits, we all made one last trek down the hill – except for those two (my son included) who were given a ride through E.M.S. services.

Ready to head home to heal both body and spirit, we were suddenly summoned to return – our den had won two trophies, teams finishing second and third respectively.

We returned to a place transformed and energized – now a scene of hugs, high five and smiles. Pictures were taken, praises and thank yous flowed.

Putting it all in its proper perspective, Denmaster Myers acknowledged the trophy as a tangible evidence of success for all the months’ efforts. More important however, he stressed, were the true rewards – the life’s lessons learned.

As a parent, I have come to look at that day as one of those magical moments when you can see your child grow and mature right before your very eyes.

In that aftermath of the event, Rich Myers also shared with us how blessed he felt for the relationships made through the Scouts – relationships to last a lifetime, “not just with the kids but with families as well”.

But this is a River Edge story as well – beyond the Klondike and the Scouts.

This success at a scout derby is but one small reflection about something bigger - that which is best about our town – a place where special things seem to happen on a regular basis – whether in school, in houses of worship, on athletic fields, in civic clubs or just a neighbor helping a neighbor in a time of need.

Of course, River Edge does not have a monopoly on these types of efforts. But somehow it feels like it happens here regularly – more frequently than elsewhere. It’s part of what makes this a quality place to live.

So, here I was so proud of my growing scout. But I also found myself proud of my neighbors of River Edge.

It is something I had long known and felt, but not as clearly or as powerfully as after that day in the woods at the Klondike and with the River Edge Cub Scouts.

Sometimes life’s lessons come in the most unlikely ways and places.