The first portion of the hike leads up a grassy slope and proves to be just plain hard work. There is little tree cover and, for now at least, there aren't even any great views to distract us from the mechanics of putting one foot in front of the other, time after time after time. The sun is out in earnest now, warming our spirits but giving the air a heavy, muggy feel.

Today's hike seems more tiring than usual. Part of that may be physical, but perhaps it is only that the idea of hitting the mountain trails again after a rest on the plains seems tougher than if we had never left the mountains at all.

The trail gains elevation steadily, offering us views of the wide plains below and of Urraca Mesa opposite us. Far ahead in the distance, the Tooth of Time protrudes faintly over the intervening hills. With luck, we will stand atop the Tooth and exult in our accomplishment soon.

At last the trail leads us into a forested section of the mesa that offers shelter from the increasingly hot sun. Here, we run into the Wood Badgers we met over at Fish Camp. We exchange hellos and pause just a bit to talk. They are such a friendly group it is hard not to pass a little time with them. Still, we have to push on and cannot spend too much time here.

After a bit, the trail becomes less steep and makes the effort seem more of a stroll across a wooded hill than a hard day's work. The pine needles which cover the ground send up a friendly, woodsy fragrance as they catch the sun's heat.

Now, however, the trail takes a sharp turn to the left and then heads steeply uphill. We take this section slowly and pause for a rest break where a massive tree has fallen across the trail. We'd like to beat our sister crew to the top today, so we don't pause for very long.

On we go, still gaining elevation and the climbing still tough. But at last we level out and encounter a very different type of terrain.

We emerge from the woods in a sun-drenched clearing part-way up the mesa in which a flat, marshy meadow has formed. Straight ahead, Fowler Mesa continues climbing toward the sky in a series of jagged red cliffs and overhanging rocks. But fortunately our route doesn't lead that way today. Instead, we splash through the marsh and stop for a break on the other side where we encounter what obviously is a jeep trail.

As we rest, the crew members notice a tassel-eared squirrel sitting absolutely still on a boulder adjacent to the trail. At first, it was so motionless no one noticed. Now as we look at it, we wonder if it is sick or injured. Finally it scampers off, and reminds us that it is time for us to push on, too.

The trail is level now and the hiking pleasant. We think we may have topped-out for good and that, with the exception of a few roller-coaster stretches, we may have completed the hard part of the day's trek.

We have gone only a short distance when we reach signs of a trail camp. The only such camp in the vicinity should be Aguilla - Spanish for Eagle. But we're not sure we have gone that far. Several trails diverge here, where the map shows there should be only one.

Obviously, we must send out scouting parties here, so we unsaddle for another break. As some of our crew members go out in pairs to scout the terrain, the rest of us stretch our legs or get into some of the food we have lugged up from the Cantina.

This is a great place to rest and, we think, a great spot for a trail camp. Overhead, the red cliffs rise vividly against an intense, blue sky. Down here, the harsh sunlight is softened and filtered by a park-like stand of pine.

The reports begin coming back now from our scouting parties. The trail to the west leads to a spring. The trail to the northwest leads to campsites. The trail that remains must be the main route.

We are almost ready to depart when our sister crew overtakes and then passes us, heading straight up the path we have previously determined leads to the spring. When they return, as we knew they would, we tell them the route we have chosen and they agree it seems to make sense. They head on out, and we give them a five- to 10-minute head start.

Off we go now, soon passing a point where the trail to Stonewall Pass splits off. It is not on our itinerary, but if we took this trail we would find ourselves on Urraca Mesa.

We continue on our appointed route, traversing first a deep gully and then a boulder field. Our sister crew has picked the boulder field for its lunch stop, reminding us that it has gotten to be about that time. We push on a bit, however, climbing a steep, muddy bank, then leveling off, then winding around a shoulder of the mesa.

We find ourselves out in the open now, away from the cover of the forest, and it almost seems that we can see into forever! There, still some distance away but as distinct as it could possibly be, is the Tooth of Time, exposed in awe-inspiring grandeur. We spend long moments staring at the gray monument and the long, rocky ridge of which it is a part. Although the sun is shining here, thick clouds with darkening underbellies are beginning to gather around the ridge. We think there is a good chance the squall will blow over or, at worst, take several hours before reaching us.

The Tooth remains our focus for some time as we take picture after picture and soak up the scene. But finally it is time to move on.

Around a bend, then down, now up, around another bend and then up. At last we reach what can only be Bear Caves Camp. And clearly it is time for lunch.

We rack our packs at the camp, which has a deserted, lonely feel to it, and back-track a couple hundred feet to a broad, rocky outcropping that offers fine views of the Tooth and looks ideal for lunch.

Out come the meal packs with their jalapeno cheese spread, biscuits, fruit bars and Wah-Guru-Chews. We feel pretty good. The map indicates we have, indeed, completed the hard part of the hike. We've had no rain so far. We've got good company, good views and good food. Life, indeed, is good. We linger a while over lunch.

Returning to Bear Caves Camp for our packs gives us a chance to examine this area more closely. Steep, broken cliffs loom over the vacant meadow, and we can easily imagine them to be honeycombed with caves. This is fine country for bats and bears. There is no one in camp, which enhances the strange, deserted feel to this area. It doesn't seem to have been visited often. In fact, it is a stopover on only two treks - 5 and 6. A ranger solo-hiking back to camp passes us here and stops for a friendly chat. After that, it is time to get a move on.

We saddle up and hit the trail for the last leg of today's journey, a hike from Bear Caves to Crater Lake. The trail winds down the mesa a bit, crosses through yet another marsh, climbs back up and then takes us through a grassy, tree-lined field where, for the first time in days, we can see the familiar form of Black Mountain the distance.

It's good to see that landmark again, even though we've never really been far from it. Our entire trek has simply been a wide circle around this prominent geologic feature, from Sawmill on the north to Mount Phillips and Clear Creek on the west, to New Abreu on the south and, soon, to the Tooth of Time on the east.

We have taken a perimeter route that has shown us a great deal of Philmont's Central and South Country. We have backpacked over Philmont's second-highest peak, visited its highest staffed camp and trekked through its rugged Rayado gorge. If luck holds, we will stand atop its most famous landmark, the Tooth, before bringing this challenging but care-free time in our lives to a close.

The foot trail soon widens to become a jeep trail with deep, water-filled ruts. At one point, the trail is flooded from shoulder to shoulder, forcing us to bulldoze our way through the thick tangle of forest along its sides. But we persevere.

Before long, the trail turns slightly uphill again and we begin seeing those familiar red Philmont tents. That means, of course, that we are nearing our destination.

The trail leads past a meadow where Scouts are climbing spar poles - one of the traditional program features at this camp, and one in which we are anxious to participate. Then the trail leads us to Crater Lake cabin. The rustic building sits on a rock foundation just slightly uphill from a brown pond, where Scouts are splashing in the water or trying to stay atop a massive log floating therein. We can see immediately that this is another adventure we want to undertake.

The rangers are friendly, but greet us with the word that they will have to give us a campsite that is far uphill tonight. The reason is that the Philmont hands will be "running the bulls" tomorrow and they want crews to be placed in campsites far away from the trails they will be using.

Once again we saddle up and begin hiking up, up, up. We pass the wood-fired showers and the first set of campsites and the outhouses. Then we are led into a meadow bordered by barbed wire. Our sister crew is encamped just below, having passed us while we were lunching at Bear Caves.

It is not a great site for camping, but it offers perhaps the best view of any campsite we have had on the trek. Back in the direction of Crater Lake cabin, the Philmont mountains rise before us in hard relief against an ominously-colored sky.

From this overlook, we can see the full length of Tooth Ridge, from Black Mountain on the west to the Tooth on the east. Below Black Mountain, we can clearly see Shaefer's Pass, where we will camp tomorrow, and above that Shaefer's Peak.

At Left: The Ridge, From Shaefer's Peak to the Tooth

Camp is quickly set up. We're old hands at this now. So down we go to the spar-pole climbing activity, careful to take with us the long pants we have been told are necessary for this event.

Spar-pole climbing is perhaps the key feature of what Philmont calls the "Continental Tie and Lumber Co." program. There really was such an enterprise years ago, begun by a businessman named Thomas Schomburg, who expected to profit by harvesting the timber resources along Ponil Creek in Philmont's north country.

Schomburg built a railroad, the Cimarron and Northwestern, to transport timber out, and, as a result, mills and logging camps sprouted throughout the region.

The business was in operation from the early 1900s to about the 1930s. Depletion of the timber, along with the coming of the Great Depression, put the company out of business.

A big bear of a ranger greets us at the cabin and leads us down to the spar-pole climbing area. He has us sit in a semi-circle while he explains how the event is run. Crew members who wish to climb must first strap climbing spikes to the insides of both legs, then put on harnesses and hard hats. A climbing rope attached to the harness runs through a pulley system at the top of the pole, then down to the ground where it is held by a belayer - referred to as "the donkey."

To climb the 20 to 25-foot spar, a participant digs in the spikes, pulls himself forward with a waist belt that wraps around the spar, flips the waist belt upward, and then takes another step up the pole with the spikes. That process is continued until he reaches the top of the pole. The belay rope is used only for coming down - either deliberately or accidentally.

When a climber reaches the top of the pole, he must yell out a phrase chosen by a ranger. The ranger asks what our crew cheer is. Since we haven't chosen one, I suggest to him, "La Bamba." Not liking this idea, someone says, "No, it's not." To which the ranger laughingly replies, "Okay, `snot' is what it is." Thus, when they reach the top of the spar, our crew members must shout "Snot! Snot! Snot!" at the top of their lungs.

At Left: Daniel Climbs The Spar Pole

So, up they go, spikes digging into wood, harnesses flapping against the spar as they are flipped up to gain height. "Snot! Snot! Snot!" echoes from the hills time after time.

Now it's time to go to the pond for some log-rolling. Tim, Richard, Thomas, Daniel and Ruben try their luck, the object being to get one, two, three or more Scouts standing on the slippery log. To maintain their balance, they must alternately pedal backward and forward. Several were able to stand on the log for various lengths of time. All-in-all, a lot of splashing and a lot of fun.

It's getting toward dinner time now and the showers await.

We have previously been told that we can postpone one other activity here - tie-making - until bright and early tomorrow morning. So some of us head to the showers and some head up to camp to prepare supper preparations. Fortunately, a previous crew built a roaring fire in the shower water heaters. Chip continued feeding it while other crew members relaxed in the soothing hot water.

Back at camp now, we see that the clouds over Tooth Ridge have thickened and have picked up a strange kind of faint rose glow. They continue thickening until gray fills the whole sky. Then the gray gives way to a spreading darkness that can mean only one thing. Hastily, we move the cooking operation under the tarp. We are just in time. The rain comes again, preceded by a brief period of hail. But we can endure. We've endured thus far and, after tonight, we'll have only one more evening on the trail.

"This has been an interesting transition," Mr. Hand says at one point. "I used to see the rain and say, `Oh, no.' Now I see it and I say, `Well, at least it's not TOO wet.'"

We continue preparing dinner - tacos tonight - and despite the misery, we are given extraordinary views of the ponderous storm front moving over Tooth Ridge.

The rain slackens but never really stops. I decide to go down to the cabin for the advisors' coffee at 7 p.m., encouraging the rest of the crew to join me for what is scheduled to be the Philmont Story at 8 p.m. Chip has volunteered to get the campfire going for the rangers. But the rains have ruled out a campfire and turned the steep, dirt trails into slippery streams. The rangers decide to conduct a shortened campfire inside the cabin with a fire going in the fireplace.

Half the crew members join us at 8, but the other half had been told incorrectly by other crews that tonight's activities had been canceled. The rangers fool around a bit with a guitar, but never really get much started. After a verse or two of "Rocky Top," we decide we'd better head back up the trail before night sets in for good.

The tents are dry, the dishes done and only the bear bags still need tending to. We find the cable only a few paces away and make short work of that final chore.

We don't quite know what is in store for tomorrow. We still have our conservation program to do, we are scheduled for rock climbing at Miner's Park and, before all of that, we've got to finish the program here. A busy day awaits.