I Was Once a Boy Scout

Scouting is a movement which encourages the development of young people physically, mentally and spiritually so that they may become positive and respectful members of society. The origins of the scouting movement reaches back to 1907 when Lord Baden-Powell, Lieutenant General in the British Army, organized the first Scouting encampment in England. Since then, scouting has spread throughout the world. Today there are over 38 million members reaching into 216 countries.

A close friend of mine, who is a descendant of Lord Baden Powell, is very proud of what her ancestor has done for children around the world. As a matter of fact, it can be safe to assume that his scouting movement has created many positive experiences and lasting memories for hundreds of millions of children in each of the countries where scouting movements are active.

I was a boy scout for a number of years. Throughout those years, I learned many skills, visited many places, formed many great memories and made many new friends. My best experiences as a boy scout were when we went camping. After each of the camps that we attended, we were awarded a scouting badge (sometimes called patches) of that particular campout. Over the years, I collected many of them and I still have them. I will always have them as they are an integral part of my youthful experiences. When I think back, I often laugh at some of the fun we had. If I was to live my childhood over again, I would never change a single thing that had to do with camping as a boy scout. These memories will stay with me forever!

One of these memories had to do with when we went camping in the middle of January. Now, if you have experience with Canadian winters prior to Global Warming, you would know how frigid it was in the middle of January and how insane it probably was to go camping in a tent out in the middle of nowhere. I remember one time when, because of a recent snowstorm, the leaders were unable to drive the vehicles close to the campsite and so we had to hike in like a bunch of pack mules loaded down to the hilt. When we got to our destination and after shovelling off a clearing, we pitched tents, built a number of campfires and proceeded to enjoy a hot meal. Later on in the evening, as the temperature dropped, we huddled around the fire. Now, because of the not-so-good winterized rubber boots of mine, my feet were freezing. Hoping to alleviate this situation, I straddled the campfire. After awhile, I couldn’t help notice that my boots were melting with the intense heat of the fire. Fortunately, I was able to remove myself to a safe distance before they completely melted onto my feet! I had to spend the entire two days with damaged boots. Upon returning home, my father was most certainly not impressed with how I destroyed my boots.

Now, I am sure that I had a great time regardless of almost cooking my boots and, if given the chance, I would winter camp all over again… not today, mind you… I am way too old sensible for that nowadays!

“Akala, Akala… we’ll do our best!”