We set off striking a relatively fast pace since we can't be sure how long it will take us to complete the first leg of our trek to Miner's Park. The going initially is easy since we are descending through gentle pine forests into the valley of South Fork Urraca Creek, but the terrain becomes rockier as we push further on.

At one point as it prepares for the final descent to the creek, the trail narrows and bends sharply to the left around a rock face. The trail is treacherously slippery here and a misstep could send a hiker tumbling to the stream bed a substantial distance below. Fortunately, trail crews have attached ropes to the cliff face to serve as hand-holds, and we get around this obstacle without incident, then descend to the creek and cross on a narrow bridge that consists of two logs snugged up against each other. This seems a little likewalking a tightrope, however, because the two logs really aren't all that wide, and the drop off on either side looks to be about six to eight feet.

Safely across the stream, we find a collection of hoes, shovels, wheelbarrows and work gloves, along with a hand-written note declaring that the conservation project here is canceled for the morning because of all the rain. However, the note adds that crews should check with the conservation ranger at Miner's Park for further instructions.

That's both good news and bad. The good news is that we probably can proceed with our other plans without taking three hours out of the day for the conservation project. The bad news is, we won't have the opportunity of giving something back to Philmont for future generations of Scouts - maybe some day the children of the Scouts of 621-D-7.

The hike up the bank is steep but short, and the trail soon tops out and intersects a wide jeep trail. A glance at the topo map shows exactly where we are. The jeep trail runs between Beaubien and base camp. The route we want follows the jeep trail east for just a bit, then diverges and heads straight to Miner's Park. Following this route, we find ourselves on an easy hike through a pine forest. Before much time has passed we begin spotting tent sites and then out-buildings and, finally, the main headquarters. We are here.

Majestic Miner's Park rivals all of the major camps we have seen at Philmont thus far. Situated in a luxurious, broad stand of Ponderosa Pine, the camp's green meadows seem as manicured as those of any country club. The meadow is ringed by close-in, pine-covered hills which occasionally show bald spots where landslides have occurred. Several hills show impressive rock faces. Beyond a low gap to the north, Shaefer's Peak rises into a clear blue sky. This could be a little bit of heaven, and it has been only about a 45-minute hike from Crater Lake!

We check in with the rangers here, including the conservation ranger. He tells us that since we turned up at the work site and were ready to work, he will give us credit for having met the conservation requirements for the Philmont Arrowhead patch. Accordingly, he signs our itinerary sheet. But he says it's beginning to look to him like crews behind us will be pressed into service.

Even though it is barely after 10 a.m., we have just missed the 10 a.m. rappelling group. So the rangers sign us up for the 1 p.m. class, meaning we have lots of time to relax here. They assign us a temporary campsite - the campfire arena - and point out a few amenities for us to enjoy. Near the arena is a ropes course which they invite us to use at our leisure. There also is a volleyball net.

We spend a half-hour or so relaxing, trying out the ropes course or playing volleyball. By 11 a.m. or so, however, we figure we should begin our mid-day meal. Two hours should be plenty of time to cook today's offerings: macaroni, green beans and lemon pie.

This meal does, in fact, require lots of water, lots of stoves and lots of pots. And it takes a considerable among of clean-up. Before we are entirely through washing dishes, we see that other crews have begun gathering at headquarters for the 1 p.m. rappelling class. We pour on the speed, finish the chores and saddle up just in time to head out with the main group.

Unlike most of the others in this class, we are wearing our backpacks because the rappelling area is along the trail we will be taking out of camp. Those less burdened pass us as the trail begins a long, uphill pull, leaving us to take up the rear.

Our sister crew remains in camp. They came in a half-hour or so after we did, just as the conservation ranger was deciding he'd better recruit some crews for today's work. So they will miss the rappelling here, entirely. But they, like we, got an unscheduled rappelling experience at Cimarroncito many days ago. So all is not lost for them.

On we go, following a winding, uphill trail. The day is warm and sweat begins to bead on our foreheads. At a point where the trail to the hiking area splits from the main trail, we stop and rack our packs, then follow the others up a steep slope.

The mountain on which we now find ourselves is one of the low hills we had noticed below. We had wondered if it would prove to the rappelling location and, indeed, it has.

Up, up, up the trail goes, winding around the mountain and finally reaching a massive outcropping of Dacite Porphyry that has formed steep cliffs and wide overhangs. Blasted by wind and sculpted by ice and rain, the rock face shows numerous cracks and fissures where hand- and toe-holds can be found. Ponderosa Pines shade us from the sun as the rangers seat us and begin explaining safety procedures and climbing techniques.

The view from here is superb. The peaks and valleys south of us shimmer in the sun. We can even see Crater Lake from here, a broad, meadow-like area on the slope of Fowler Mesa.

The instructors are breezy and funny. They sprinkle liberal doses of humor in with the serious stuff. Climbers, for instance, are told to use the international distress signal if they get in trouble by yelling: "Aaargh!" And they are instructed to yell "Off Belay" when completing the climb up, and "Splat!" at the conclusion of the rappel down.

That information passed along, it is time to begin the event. Richard manages to get our crew first in line for the climb. Two lanes are open, meaning two people at a time can scale the 30-foot cliff face. The left one is clearly harder because of an overhang near the top, but neither is a snap.

The instructors, belaying the climbers from the top, keep up a light banter with the Scouts, offering encouragement where needed and laughter and jokes for all.

Once they have scrambled up the cliff, Scouts walk across the ledge to an area just beyond the climbing route and put on rappelling gear for the trip down. This goes much faster, of course, and before long we are done. We pass our helmets and climbing harnesses to Scouts still waiting to go up, then we hike back down the mountain to retrieve our packs. A small rest would seem to be in order here, so we take time out to prepare mentally and physically for what we know will be another hard bit of hiking - the journey to Shaefer's Pass.

After a bit, we saddle up and head down the trail, passing through a cattle gate which we are careful to secure behind us.

The trail angles downward, first gently and then steeply, as it heads to the valley of North Fork Urraca Creek. Shaefer's Peak and Black Mountain fill the horizon ahead of us with Shaefer's Pass lying somewhere in between.

Our descent is remarkably swift. Soon, we are crossing North Fork Urraca on stepping stones just below the surface of the gurgling mountain stream. We rack our packs and fill our canteens and water carriers. This is our last sure supply of water until base camp.

The veterans are familiar with this location from having camped here last year. We hiked down from the Shaefer's Pass side, however, so we know the tough climb that still lies ahead. Still, the veterans are anxious to return to Shaefer's Pass to take another crack at the Tooth. Side-hiking to the Tooth was an option for us last year rather than a destination. We tried to reach it, however, only to be chased off the ridge by an intense storm.

We know the ascent is a long, steep climb and figure it will take as much as two hours to reach the pass, some 800 feet above us. But we've got plenty of time and nothing more pressing to do at the pass but make camp and prepare an easy evening meal. So we pause here a bit longer. The banks of the splashing creek are thick with sweet-smelling vegetation, weaving a kind of hypnotic spell that tugs at us to stay.

Some of us examine a partially-buried, inch-thick, rust-covered cable and wonder why it is here. Was it used for logging? Mining? Gold was, indeed, mined at Philmont. Or maybe there was a cable bridge here once?

At last, we saddle up and begin the long, uphill pull. There are a number of switchbacks and, to that extent, this is a better trail than the one we have just come down. But it still is a strenuous climb. Up we go, mechanically putting one foot ahead of the other in a rhythmic pattern until an unexpected shower makes us stop to pull on raingear.

Trudging along in the rain, now, we find the going even harder as the trail becomes a slippery stream. But the changing scenery helps take our minds off the labor. At several points, the trail wanders over to one side of the slope and allows us a glimpse of Shaefer's Peak wearing a cloud on its brow.

The rain stops now but the air remains sodden. We continue, gaining altitude with every step and pausing only occasionally. At one such stop, we become aware of some rustling in the brush nearby and then we see several streaks of brown. Finally, several mule deer emerge, not 30 feet from us. We extend our rest break to watch as they browse, barely paying us any heed.

At last we push on, and a half-mile or so of not-so-steep hiking brings us to a broad, sloping meadow at Shaefer's Pass. Red tents already are occupying most of the campsites, but after scouting ahead, Richard reports we can camp at a site directly atop the pass.

We hike past crews playing frisbee, making needed equipment repairs or preparing dinner, and we hike past the incredibly steep trail we will have to hike tomorrow to reach Shaefer's Peak. Just beyond, we find a level spot in the pass that is just right for our crew. Both Richard and Tim remembered this spot was here, since last year's crew collapsed in a heap here for a rest after ascending from the other side.

The fit is a bit snug but we manage to get all the tents in the site. We even have room left over for us all to lounge around the fire ring. The bear cable is nearby. The view is superb. Northwest of us, Cimarroncito rises high into the sky, the low sun now casting deep shadows among its rugged creases. In the distance, Baldy rises high above the North Country.

There is plenty of daylight left, but we prepare our meal now, anyway. Afterwards, we conduct another short service from the chaplains' booklet, "Eagles Soaring High." Then some play cards, others talk, some wander off a bit to take in the view and others watch the family of deer wandering up toward our campsite - a buck with a fine rack of antlers and a couple of does. Chip pursues them cautiously, snapping pictures as he goes.

We are in our tents by 8 p.m., an hour before dark. For the next half-hour or so, there is a good deal of quiet talking. But it tapers off as sleep overtakes us.

We all are aware that this is our final night under the stars in Philmont's back country, and we approach that fact with a mixture of mainly unspoken feelings.

For our tired muscles, there is a sense of approaching relief. And certainly we all are looking forward to real food and a soft mattress and to not having to cook and clean up on the trail.

Deep down, though, I am hoping the Scouts all have just a tinge of regret over having to leave this high, beautiful, wonderful country and the lessons it has taught us over the past two weeks of shared joy and hardship and adventure and endurance on the trail.

But deep thoughts of the sort are for the future. Tonight, we sleep.