Often people ask if the kids try to run during the night.

They don’t.

‘Why not? How not?’ People ask ‘There is nothing to stop them leaving.’

That’s true, there’s nothing to stop them walking off, nothing but total and utter fear. Fear of getting lost, fear of dying, fear of being eaten a bear or worse.

As dusk starts to fall the animals come out and start to make their noises. They run the full gambit of Halloween sounds. The Coyotes come out first. They go from the cartoonish yelps of a solitary dog with a thorn in its paw, to the American werewolf in Londonesque, murderish group howling. I can see the blood drain from the faces of the kids each time they hear it.

Next come the owls. They go from the classic Twit-ta-woo of the wise old owl, to the monkey cackling that I mentioned before.

On top of that we have trees that creek in the wind, leaves and duff that rustles on the forest floor, and more commonly than you would think a helicopter flying over.

This all amuses me, as I am big and tough.

Despite the kids fear of death the regulations say we sometimes have to watch the kids sleep so they don’t abscond. So most nights after an 11 hour day we have to do a night watch. This means splitting the night up in to equal shifts, normally 2 and half hours long, and then staying awake.

I was sitting struggling to stay awake trying to get through my shift without freezing to death. When I hear footsteps in the forest. Its 3am none of the kids should be awake, most are medicated and could sleep through a tornado. Still I have to make sure so I shine a flash light over to the kid’s tarps but see nothing. I jump to my feet and quickly run round to do a head count. They’re all there. I return to the center of camp.

I hear the noise again this time it’s much closer and louder. I have no idea what it is, it’s moving nearer that’s all know. I shine my headlamp again but see nothing. Whatever it is it’s huge, it sounds like a yeti. Then I realize it’s a bear. I start to panic a little and struggle to control myself.

I call out to Finn but nothing comes out. I am bricking it. I try again, still nothing comes out. I decided that if it’s after anything it’s my food so I choose to sacrifice it to save myself. I bend down to pick it up when I see a mouse feasting on it. I decide the mouse must also be feed to the bear as there is no time to spare. As I pick up the bag of food the mouse takes off crashing through the forest. It makes so much noise it could be a bear.

I realize my folly and sit back down and nurse my humiliation.

On a hike, in the woods,
Contemplating murder.
All because the fucking kids
Keep asking ‘How much further?’

Clearly I was walking at the back of this October trip. This was where the slower less willing kids would filter down too.

As discussed, the youth have a very distinct urban vernacular. In its defense it is one of the few truly egalitarian aspects of their culture. Regardless of race, class or ethnicity all my youth employ the same, idiotic, phrases and expressions. They do this in part to blend in, to be part of the gang, but most importantly to be cool. (See previous posts)

The uninitiated, upon hearing them, would mistake this as some exotic or exciting tongue. Those familiar with their language would mock the uninitiated for being stupid and failing to recognize it for anything but madness and stupidity.
I hope I am not coming across as bigoted or ignorant, but I feel an important part of language is that it allows us to communicate. These kids uses all these cool words to talk to each other, but very often they really have no idea what the other is saying. (See That John for another clear example)

Take an incident on my last tip for an example. The kids are eating trail mix, when one turns to the other and said “This trail mix is banging”
“No its popping.” Another youth says.
Both popping and banging are words that I have heard before, along with hitting, cracking, snapping and thumping, they mean good. But up until now I had always assumed that they were interchangeable, I had never imagined it was hierarchical or that there was a graduation from good to ‘goodest’.
So I enquired.
Foolishly perhaps, but hey if you’re not living on the edge your taking up to much room.
“So, is there a hierarchy of onomatopoeic adjectives?” This is of course met with blank stares, raised eye brows and a couple of kids declaring that the ‘old head’ is trippin’.
“What the fuck did you say?’ one of the more articulate youth asks.
‘You said it was banging, he said ‘no it’s popping’ is there an order? Is one better than another? Are the louder sounds better than the quieter ones?”
“No it makes no difference. There all the same” I’m told.
“So what made that popping rather than banging?” I receive more dumb looks.
“You’re being ignorant.” I am told.
“Yeah, your being retarded.” They proclaim.
Of course I am the issue. My mistake.

On October 23 2008 I posted….

 

What’s up bitches? That’s right I am back. After 7 days of Naughties wrangling in the wilds of Northern Pa I have returned. I managed to herd them through the forest without any deaths or a single one straying from the herd. I have lots of news to share with you over the next few days.

A quick sneak peak of what’s to come. Stories with loads of wind, a spot of rain and even a smidgen of snow and plenty sub-freezing temperatures. Wish I could say I was hardy and loved every minute of it, but I have to be honest I was a total queen about the whole thing and bitched about the cold for 7 days straight. I would more than likely have cried myself to sleep each night but my eyes would have frozen shut.

 

I have no memory of this trip. And didn’t post about all the things I teased. Can’t have been that great.  Or it was truly traumatic.  Either way it was October so I must have misjudged the fall transition.