A Dusty Tires Short Story

By Ken Drenten

The weekend was setting up to be the coldest so far in January. So cold in fact that the weather people on the TV news talked about possible record lows, even double-digits below zero.

That fact was unknown to Rex, a 12-year-old Tenderfoot rank Boy Scout in Troop 298. Rex was about to embark on his very first Scout winter camping trip, along with his younger brother Danny, 11, who had just joined the troop that fall, and his older brother Jeff, 14, a First Class rank Scout.

In Boy Scouts in the 1970s, the rank hierarchy was like this: Scout, Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, Star, Life and Eagle. How quickly one advanced through these ranks depended mainly on how quickly one attained merit badges, which were awards earned for learning and demonstrating ability in a wide variety of skills ranging from Aquatics to Zoology. A certain number of merit badges, including some required ones, were needed for each rank, as well as a service project.

This weekend the troop members were planning on working toward the Camping merit badge. They would have to demonstrate how to locate a good campsite, to properly set up and take down a tent, to safely light, use and extinguish a campfire, to safely use a handaxe and other outdoor camping skills.

On the morning of the campout, he stood with the others waiting to leave at the church on Rendville’s east side where the troop met. Rex looked like a typical 12-year-old kid – about 5 foot 6 inches tall, 110 pounds soaking wet, freckles and tousled reddish-brown hair. His Scout shirt was tucked into a pair of Wrangler jeans and rather worn-looking PF Flyers were on his feet.

In preparation for the weekend, he had gathered a sleeping bag, an extra blanket, a winter coat and knit hat, gloves, two extra pairs of socks, a sweater, an extra t-shirt and an extra flannel shirt, a water canteen, his prized Scout pocket knife, an aluminum mess kit and a flashlight with extra batteries. That was about it. Food was to be provided by the troop.

The temperature was in the upper 20s with a slight breeze. It was this breeze that the weather forecasters had predicted would grow stronger and bring the extremely low temperatures for the weekend. So far, though, it was sunny, which made it seem warmer than it was. 

The boys loaded the troop’s camping supplies into a trailer which was hitched to the scoutmaster’s passenger van. The 16 scouts and three adults all piled into the van and two other vehicles, and they were off to their destination – a slightly mysterious-sounding place called Tinker’s Cave.

The small caravan took a highway into a hilly area and turned off to another highway, then to a county road, and finally to a graveled township road that led to the site. Tinker’s Cave was located in a public wildlife area within the Franklin National Forest. By the time they got there, the breeze had stiffened and was bringing with it flakes of hard-biting snow.

They unloaded the trailer, which included two large camp kitchens. These were heavy wooden crates that contained pots and pans, utensils, canned and boxed food and other equipment needed for cooking their meals. The crates were equipped with rope handles on each corner for carrying.

Four Scouts picked up each of the heavy camp kitchens and struggled from the parking area to the campsite several hundred yards away, on a rocky, slippery path downhill and into the cave. Then the Scouts had to hike back up to the parking area and bring back their own belongings, the troop’s heavy canvas tents and other camping equipment.

It grew colder with every step. By the time the troop was fully unloaded and tents were set up, it was well past lunchtime, and as planned, they all ate a cold lunch of sandwiches, chips, apples and drinks. The boys were sweating from the exertion but cold from the wind.

As they ate their lunch, they had a chance to view the area of their campsite. The place known as Tinker’s Cave was not really a cave as such, but an outcrop of sandstone that had been carved out by an ancient creek. Its name was due to the notoriety of a man reputed to have stolen horses and hidden them in the cave back in the 1800s.

The Scoutmaster was concerned. He was more aware of the hazards of falling temperatures than the Scouts were and had paid attention to the dire reports on the van’s radio on the way to Tinker’s Cave. He talked quietly to his two adult assistants and they agreed. Temperatures had already dropped by 10 degrees since they arrived. It was going to get real cold by evening, and they should focus their efforts on keeping everyone warm rather than the merit badge activities that had been planned.

Therefore, after lunch, everyone participated in a vigorous game of Capture the Flag. Capture the Flag is kind of a glorified team-based version of Tag played running around in the woods. The object is to capture the other team’s flag, as well as members of the other team. If tagged, one is captured. The Scoutmaster also encouraged everyone to pick up firewood as they went along.

By the time the game was over, it was starting to get dark. The Scoutmaster looked at the thermometer he had brought along. It read just 5 degrees Fahrenheit.

He had the Scouts build two campfires. Jeff came over and directed the younger boys to slice tinder with their pocketknives. These were very fine, thin pieces of wood that would catch fire immediately. Another couple of boys cut kindling, which were slightly larger pieces of wood that would burn easily and keep the fire going. It wasn’t long before the fire was going well and warming them up.

Naturally, the older Scouts all gathered around one fire, and the younger Scouts – Rex, Danny, and six others – met around the other fire. There were the McGinnis brothers, Simon and Sean, who were next-door neighbors to Rex, Jeff and Danny. There was also Mark, Rufus, Derek and Brian. None of them were older than 13.

The Scoutmaster came over to their fire after it was fully dark. Both fires were burning brightly.

“Boys, we’re not going to have time to earn our Camping merit badges in a formal way this weekend,” he said. “We’re going to need to spend all of our time keeping warm. It’s going to get real cold tonight. Keep supplying your campfire with wood – build it up enough to keep you warm and don’t let it go out. We’ll have dinner in a little while. In the meantime, let us know if you need any help.” Then he walked over to the other fire, where supper was being cooked.

They all looked at each other around the little campfire. Rex regarded the pile of firewood. There was plenty there, but not enough to last the night. Rex glanced over at Mark, a Second Class who was the oldest of the bunch. Never had there been a time in their young lives when keeping a campfire burning was so important.

“Let’s go out in twos,” Mark said. “Gather as much firewood as you can before you get too cold, then come back. Use your flashlights. And don’t get lost.”

Rex and Danny went out first, and each came back with an armload of wood. It was so cold out there he couldn’t feel his feet when he returned. They huddled into the fire as close as they could. Rex made sure Danny was near the fire.

“Take your shoes off,” he told him. Danny did so and put his feet so close to the fire that his socks began to singe before he took them away again. By the end of the night, the toes of Danny’s socks had holes burned into them, though his toes were fine. Simon and Sean went out for firewood next.

The two of them had been gone for a long time. Mark looked at Rex. “When did Simon and Sean go out?”

Rex shrugged. “About 20 minutes ago, I guess.”

“We should go look for them.”

Mark and Rex went out looking for the pair of Scouts. They found Sean quickly enough. He was looking for his brother Simon, who had somehow wandered off. Within a few minutes, the three of them found Simon, who was by far the youngest Scout in Troop 298, sitting and shivering under a pine tree. They helped him up and got him back to the fire, putting a blanket over him.

Dinner was hamburger stew and biscuits cooked by the older Scouts. The stew became cold the moment it struck the freezing-cold aluminum mess kits, and the biscuits were hard as rocks, but the food was eaten hungrily by all nonetheless. They all had hot chocolate with their dinner.

After dinner, several Scouts washed dishes. It had to be done quickly with hot water straight off the fire, and still the water would cool quickly on the dishes.

After the chores were done, it was normally the time when Scouts would sit around the campfire and tell stories. It would be a time to poke sticks in the fire, causing showers of sparks that seemed to drift up into the starlit night sky.

But they had already been sitting and shuffling in front of the fire for hours trying to keep warm. They had finally collected enough firewood to last the night, so there was nothing to do but try to go to bed in their cold tents.

Several of them tried this and came back repeatedly to the campfire, shivering in the cold and adding more wood. Most of them, including Rex, had brought sleeping bags suitable for only for summer evenings, not for the coldest winter night in years.

Rex had on all his extra clothing, including three pairs of socks, and an extra blanket in his sleeping bag, but he was still shivering. So Rex and the others slept fitfully in shifts and kept the fires burning all night. The Scoutmaster’s thermometer dropped to 10 degrees below zero Fahrenheit at 6 a.m., just before sunrise. Several Scouts, including Danny, spent the night in one of the vehicles with the heater running.

By morning, all of the Scouts at both fires, and the adults, had gone through a very uncomfortable night. The Scoutmaster gathered everyone together to make sure everyone was all right. Bacon and eggs were cooked for breakfast but the food became cold as soon as it was served. That was the last straw — going through another day in these conditions was unthinkable.

The Scoutmaster made an announcement. “Boys, we’re going to break camp and leave this morning. It’s just too cold to stay another day and night,” he said.

“What about our Camping merit badges?” asked one Scout.

“Tell me what you’ve done so far to earn it,” responded the Scoutmaster.

The boys talked about setting up their tents, building a fire and finding firewood, keeping the fire going all night and taking care of themselves and each other in the extreme cold. They didn’t tell him about Simon.

“I’ll take a look at the requirements, but I’d say that all of you are well on your way to earning that merit badge,” the Scoutmaster said. 

The years passed and the young Scouts grew into adults. The memories of the coldest-ever campout faded into stories, then legend. A few of them still saw each other as older men.

Whenever they saw each other later on in life, they knew that they had earned much more than a merit badge that weekend. They had survived a January night together at a place called Tinker’s Cave at 10 degrees below zero — or was it 15 degrees below zero? The number got lower each year.

That was an award no one could take away from them.

Ken Drenten is creator and editor of Dusty-Tires.com, a travel blog for out-of-the-ordinary places in Ohio.

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