One of my first Boy Scout camp outs was on a private ranch near the mid southern coast of Texas. Here they love hurricanes, because it's about the only rain they get, and second they never had a steer blow off the ranch. My father "Uncle" Billy Jack Voelkle was Assistant Scoutmaster of venerable Troop 27, assisted by "Uncle" Paul Harriman, led by legendary Texas sportsman "Uncle" Bob Stephenson.
When we planned a trip on the first weekend of each month, that was it. No cancellations, no whining. We left our mothers crying in front of the scout house and drove our old school bus, the blue "Eagle" off into the darkening storm. The rain had been falling all day. When we pulled out at 0700h it looked like a fine weekend coming up. We would practice our firemaking skills.
Uncle Jack, Uncle Paul and Uncle Bob were consummate Scoutmasters. Skills to the gills. Brave. Strong. Patient teachers. Hunters, fishermen, divers, good family men and respected community leaders. The mothers back on the dock would have stopped the trip, but fate was in control.
About 30 boys in four patrols, all equipped very well with surplus gear. Some would stay in big 8x12 wall tents and about a dozen of us in surplus hammocks.
It rained sideways at 50mph. We had to erect a big 8x14 canvas tarp over our miserable but effective cooking fire. The wood eventually caught and burned.
We were kids. I still am. Waiting for a hurricane to add to my list. Have a nice place up on my little 30ac jungle in "Cut and Shoot" Texas and my Korean vet buddy Frank and some others to join me. We have a new top secret tarp from Tom Claytor to test, and Frank assures me the Jack Daniels requires no cooking.
Let me know if you're so inclined. I have about 12,000 extra trees.
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