Scout Class Memoir Page 1

Scout Class Memoir 2004

The following is a memoir of my Summer 2004 trip to Tom Brown Jr.s Scout Class at the Tracker School. I'd like to thank the six or seven Wandering Ones fans that donated to the trip fund; I really appreciated your help. I'd also like to thank Kevin Reeve, former head instructor of the Tracker School (and now head of On Point Tactical Tracking School http://www.onPointTactical.com ) who made a generous tuition donation.

Clint's Big Scout Class Adventure

I arrived in the Newark Intl. Airport at 6 am Sunday (July 18) morning, feeling hung over from lack of sleep, and a bit nervous about being so far from my beloved Cascades. I had taken a Continental Redeye flight, hoping to sleep on the plane, but Continental tends to cram a lot of people in a small space. As I am usually a very light sleeper, I spent most of the flight watching Master & Commander on a 12 inch screen 6 feet away, and needless to say, the grandeur I had heard about the movie was pretty much lost.

After waiting an hour or so at the bus stop, I caught the ride to Tom's River (no relation) and did my best to catch up on my sleep, figuring it was always best to sleep when you can. You never know when the opportunity will arise again. Strangely, this turned into a theme for the trip.

At Tom's River, I met a fellow student named Paul, and we hit it off all right. He was from Oregon, and I from Washington. There's nothing quite like commiserating about a bad air flight to bring up instant camaraderie. A short time later, a few more Scout students showed up, Glen from Tampa, Tom from Phoenix, and Bill from Denver. We spent the afternoon talking about Tracker type things, until the school van showed up and Tom Brown the third loaded us in. After winding through the back-roads of New Jersey, we arrived at the Pine Barrens "Primitive Camp". I had last been at the camp in 1992, for the "Back to Back" class, (Advanced Standard and Advanced tracking) and while the landscape was recognizable it had changed quite a bit. The fresh clear cut from '92 was now filled with 12-foot young Cedar trees. The Pines, which had been infested with moths in '92 looked spry and healthy. The signs of the huge forest fires, which had raged on my last visit, were undetectable without looking deeply. The enclosed tarp shelter was replaced with a much larger Log and tarp shelter that is open to the air.

I went through registration, and heard someone behind me say, "Clint?" I turned to see Greg Summers, apprentice to Jon Young . I had spent many an afternoon with Greg out on the Tracking Sandbar when Jon had been training him, and it was VERY good to see him again. He was staying here at the Primitive Camp as part of the Tracker School's Caretaker program. Taking the Scout class was pretty convenient for him travel-wise.

After setting up my camp, (I had brought all my "second string" camping gear, figuring if it got lost in transit I wouldn't miss it that much) We all gathered at the shelter and Tom came up from teaching one of his intensives to sit with us and lay down some inspiration. I once figured out the Tracker is about 10 years older than I am, and it had been about 10 years since I had been to one of his classes (The Philosophy 1 class - which didn't turn out very well) and his iron gray hair had tuned white. He was still a commanding presence. He didn't call for the crowd (about 70 students) to quiet down, he just looked down at his folded hands for a few moments and the students grew silent.

He has a way of speaking to the crowd, drifting into speaking just above a whisper, then bursting into his point at almost a roar, like the best of the old time fire and brimstone preachers. He was a little more laid back than I had seen him before, (and maybe... happier?) but no one wanted to miss anything he said.

He spoke of the Way of the Scout. Of how the world is our training ground and how the scout always keeps up their guard and awareness (something I could use work on). He warned us that during our stay, Shadow Scouts, previous grads of the Scout class, would be harrying us constantly. They were our friendly nemeses, our Coyote teachers, our difficult sensei who would try to trick us and catch us in traps at every opportunity. And no, we weren't going to be introduced to them. To punctuate this, the area surrounding the shelter burst out in smokey fireworks that the shadow scouts had set. When the thick smoke cleared, Tom had left in the confusion.

We went to our tents, and I fell into a wonderful sleep. How I was to miss that deep warm rest.

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