A camping trip from Derrick‘s past reveals what he needs the most during one of the world’s greatest disturbances.

– Part One –

A BRIEF HISTORY OF CAMPING

August 2000: Thirteen Years Old

It hadn’t been the first time I had wandered off on my own, but this was different.

My father and I had traveled over 250 miles to reach Camp Whitsett in California’s Sequoia National Forest. Our hometown near Joshua Tree National Park, with its strange cacti and seas of dirt, had now been replaced with sprawling green hills and a sparkling lake.

We’d previously gone on other Boy Scout camping trips that sometimes included forestry wonderlands, but they had been much closer. Camp Emerson and Hurkey Creek in Idyllwild, a camporee in Phelan, Serrano campground at Big Bear, a Salton Sea campground, and the Black Rock and Indian Cove campgrounds in Joshua Tree.

Each location had its own quirks and fun moments that sadly lose detail the further my memories seep into the past.

However, I still can’t help but recall one of my first experiences at Mount San Jacinto’s Camp Emerson in 1997, during a “Klondike Derby.” My father and I had camped in the snow amongst the pines in a small tent, becoming frozen popsicles in the night. It was quite an intense early impression of the Boy Scouts world.

Exploring nature through long hikes was always my favorite thing about the program. Everything else felt like a hurdle before entering forest trees or ambling among giant desert boulders. We would learn how to tie knots, properly handle pocketknives, learn valuable life skills, and sell popcorn. I can attest that our popcorn tubs weren’t nearly as popular as Girl Scout cookies. Still, all of this was interesting enough during our long meetings or while performing tasks at home.

But why would I be reading from a book, learning about what to do outdoors, when I was already outside?

Because that’s exactly what was happening at Camp Whitsett when I was there.

THE GREAT BORING OUTDOORS

From what I can excavate within my fossilized memories, I was not a happy camper. There were several Boy Scout troops there, with everyone going off on their own to different “hubs” where various skills would be taught by adult supervisors. This was meant to be a fun way to earn merit badges required to gain ranks in the organization. At every hub we would be sitting down, reading and talking. I’m not sure if this was because the skills I had chosen were flat-out dull or if they were just poorly handled.

But there was a big lake, right around the corner! Why were we reading? We should be jumping in there!

This resembled my disappointment with sixth grade “science camp” at Lake Arrowhead the year prior. We were mostly indoors doing various activities for four days, but this was partially due to it being foggy most of the time.

This place didn’t have that excuse.

The weather was perfect, and I was my troop’s designated historian! What was there to take pictures of with the way things were: all of us sitting on logs with books clasped in our hands?

My young teenage mind was spinning with madness. I couldn’t stand the fact that there was a whole vibrant world just paces away for us to explore and here we were slumped in one spot.

And we were staying there for six days! We had traveled so far, just for this?

No: I had to make this trip worthwhile for me.

GOING OFF TRAIL

The next day I made the irrational decision to sneak away and explore the wilderness on my own. It was surprisingly easy to do. Everyone went from hub to hub on their own without any supervision. And after that first day, I learned that none of the adult supervisors ever took roll call. We would just have a piece of paper or a card that they would sign off for the day’s work we had done. None of them knew who we were, and no one would be missed if they weren’t there. Surprisingly, I also didn’t have any of these “lessons” with anyone from my troop. They wouldn’t miss me either.

So, I simply didn’t show up to most of it.

I walked off the main path, with my camera in tow, and wandered aimlessly into the forest. I don’t recommend this reckless behavior to other teenagers, or adults for that matter. But one must remember I had already been a Boy Scout for several years at this point. I had a knife, a compass, and other tools on hand. However, I don’t believe I had a cellphone. In the birth of the new millennium, they weren’t mainstream just yet. Even if I had one, I doubt there would have been any service where I was going.

Looming pine trees surrounded me as I trekked away from the camp. There was no longer any trail: I was making my own. As I walked, the forest eventually blocked the sounds of everyone behind me. All I could hear were the squawks of birds and the crunches of my footsteps against the ground.

I went up and down various hills that rolled with the shaded trees. Eventually, I sought refuge under one of them. I kept still and allowed nature to reveal itself as if I wasn’t there. Squirrels and chipmunks would soon reveal themselves from nearby trees or bushes, while the birds would fly in singing. Chirps from insects would quickly join their chorus, not wanting to be left out.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. The earthy air wafted into my nostrils, and I smiled. When I opened my eyes again it was like waking up inside a dream. I remained in that spot for at least an hour, possibly more.

This was the escape I had wanted.

OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS

My off-trail adventure continued toward a mountain I saw in the near distance: Sentinel Peak. It stands at the foot of the Upper Kern River Canyon; at least, that’s what I later learned. At the time I simply saw it as a unique looking mountain that was covered with pines except for one side of its tip; revealing gray rocks. I wondered if I could make it there and back again, but I was too scared to ascend an entire mountain alone. There was also worry if I’d make it back in time before my absence was noticed.

Eventually I did return, just in time for the end of everyone’s lessons. When I rejoined my troop, no one questioned anything. I was simply asked how my day went, and I told them it went well.

I wasn’t lying.

When the next day came, I snuck away again. I did it for my remaining days there, and no one ever noticed. It was wonderful. I would sometimes go to different spots and sit for a long time, like before. At each location I would simply sit in silence and take in the beauty of the world around me. I felt like I was experiencing nature with much more veracity than I ever would have in the classes. There’s a chance that I had missed out on some fun times, but I still don’t regret what I did instead. It was much more personal, engaging, and soul-searching.

I was a young teenager going through the advancing stages of my life, and things were confusing. A lot didn’t make sense in the world around me. To finally shut it all out and seek peace in the forest primeval was an experience I would never forget.

It was my own secret journey. It was special.

Miraculously I never injured myself. I fell at least once, near a cliff’s edge. I’ll admit that was a bit scary, but no harm done. There was a barbed fence that I crossed over into one area that I was likely not meant to enter, but nothing bad happened there. Snakes were somehow absent, but I do remember running into some terrifying spiders. I never was a “bug person.” Somehow, I never got lost, which was shocking. Perhaps I would sometimes be a little turned around, but eventually I’d figure it out. I don’t think I was always the best at navigation. Still, I can understand my actions being seen as irresponsible and potentially idiotic.

Zero regrets.

When the camp was over, I hadn’t earned many badges. I don’t recall what my father’s reaction was to this, but I can’t imagine he was thrilled. Perhaps he didn’t mind since it seemed clear I had a good time. He just never knew exactly why. But even back then, I knew it had been a special experience that was all my own.

“LIFE” AWAY FROM SCOUTS

Camp Whitsett ended up being my last big camping trip for my time in Boy Scouts. I recall a change in leadership not long after it happened, which affected some of my enjoyment. Several of the other boys I had become friends with weren’t there anymore as a result. This had been a revolving issue over the years, making true connections scarce. (Some would even pass away before the millennium’s first decade came to a close.)

It was also clear that I wasn’t taking it as seriously as I once had. I was going to be a high school student in just a year’s time and classes were getting harder for me. Throwing Boy Scouts into the mix felt like learning in a second school and I needed to focus on my actual grades.

When my freshman year arrived, I reached “Life” Scout status, which was only one level below the highest ranking: “Eagle.”  But by the time I was a sophomore, I was out. There was simply no room for it anymore. I was wrapped up in high school, theater, fandoms, writing, and dealing with my own sexuality. When I graduated and became an adult, that all merged with retail work, a little bit of college, and relationships. Boy Scouts, and everything that came with it, quickly became a distant memory.

It was a shame that I didn’t achieve the “Eagle” rank. At the time, it was something highly revered and could have possibly helped with gaining jobs. Achieving it would have also likely pleased my father after all the time and money that had been spent on the program over the years. However, I personally didn’t think all was wasted. There were still many life skills that were learned, and the most prominent one for me came from that fateful camping trip. But there were many other trips and excursions that were also fun, engaging, and memorable. It was just unfortunate that it all ended the way it had.

My life carried on. For nearly two decades after it was all over, I always felt like a piece of me was missing inside. I just couldn’t figure out what that piece was.

That was until a pandemic happened.

---

This article was written & assembled by Derrick Davis on July 1st, 2024 exclusively for Derrick Davis Media. Most photographs are taken by Derrick, but also includes select documents and images from Google and other sources.