“You excited?” my dad asked while driving our blue minivan. “Oh yeah.” I responded with a grin. I had been waiting for this day for weeks. Today was special because I was finally able to join my Boy Scout troop’s weeklong 50-mile hike. As a 13-year-old this was awesome. My older brother had been on a few and he always had cool stories. I couldn’t think of a lot things better than spending a full week walking around rugged mountains with my dad and older brother.

The troop that I was a part of (Troop 586) loved doing advanced hikes. One of these hikes was a once-a-year weeklong hike. Every year, around August, a group of leaders and scouts would go hike in the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was grueling and rough, but I wanted to join. The first year I was a Boy Scout I was too immature. Scouts starts at the age of 12 and goes up to 18 usually. During those years a boy would grow into a man…with the right push. After a year of maturing my dad thought that I was ready.

“You grabbed everything on the list I made?”

“Yes dad, I went through the whole two-page list and made sure everything was in my bag.” I said with a tinge of annoyance. Since this was my first big trip it was extra important that I didn’t leave anything at home. My dad had asked multiple times if I had grabbed everything. I know he was just being a dad, but it was getting annoying.

“I grabbed my tent, my food, enough clothes, my eating utensils, and the other small nick-nacks that I need.”

“Did you set up your tent before you packed it?”

“Yes, I set it up, inspected the poles, and made sure I had all of my stakes.”

“Good job. Did you pack enough food to last the whole trip?”

“I think so. I grabbed extra snacks and made sure that I have enough meals to last the seven days.”

“Did you divvy up your food into what day you would eat it on, so you don’t eat too much?”

“No, but I’ll be fine.” After my dad made sure that I had prepared everything we drove in silence for a while.

After about six or so hours of driving we finally arrived at the campground parking lot. Some trips we would start by camping near the cars, and on others we would hike a few miles and then camp. This trip we hiked a while down the trail and then set up camp. The first day is always the worst because my backpack is still settling. The straps feel rough and uneven, the items inside might need to be rearranged, and my muscles always need time to adjust.

After hiking the first few miles I was ready to sleep. Between sitting in a car most of the day and then walking with 50 pounds on my back, I was tired. We finally stopped at a nice open area that would fit everyone. I took a few minutes to set up my tent, find a place for my backpack, and fished out some food for dinner. I didn’t eat much because I was still full from lunch, but I did eat a little trail-mix. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake me and I hit the bed hard.

Waking up that morning, I sleepily heated up some water to make oatmeal. My dad might have made the water, I don’t quite remember. Either way, I ate some oatmeal and some of my snacks, and then dismantled my tent. The sun was starting to trickle through the trees casting golden beams onto the ground. The air had that mountain fresh smell that always clears my mind making me feel calm and awake. Once my bag was repacked, I walked over to join the other hikers ready for our long day. It was a little cold, so I was shivering a bit while chatting with my friends.

“Everyone ready?!” shouted our leader. “Double check that you have everything you brought, and that you did not leave any trash.”

“I’m ready.” I said after double checking my site.

“Ready.” Replied one kid.

“All good.” Said another.

Sure thing!” Shouted a third.

One after another everyone confirmed that they were ready to start the trip. About ten in all. We were at the base of our first incline, and it was going to be a doozy. That first day we were going to walk up about 2,000 feet in elevation over about five miles and then finish by walking another three miles. No one was excited.

The Sierra Nevada mountains are not known for being gentle or kind. They are beautiful, full of tall peaks, flowering fields, and rugged paths. Breathtaking views can await around any corner. Cool lakes scatter the gray landscape providing peaceful resting places for us. All in all, I loved these mountains, but they were not for the weak.

Climbing up we stopped multiple times before we reached the summit. Every time we stopped, I snacked. I had trail-mix and freeze-dried fruit that was supposed to last the whole week. After a few hours of hiking, we got to a good spot for lunch. For lunch we usually ate our snack food. The only difference was that we sat longer. We usually took off our packs and lounged around trying to regain some of our spent energy. After about twenty or thirty minutes we donned our backpacks and started again.

Huffing and puffing I finally reached the top of our first big ledge. The rest of the hike would be much easier. It took us about four hours after lunch to reach this spot. We hiked a little bit further until we found an adequate spot to camp. I looked around until I found a spot that I liked, and then set up my bear burrito tent. That was the nickname for my tent because it was a one-man tent that was bright yellow. We joked that I was going to be a midnight snack for a bear. Maybe slightly dark, but what do you expect from a bunch of boys out in the woods?

Dinner that night was freeze-dried lasagna from a bag. I would boil water and then put it in the pouch for 5-15 minutes. The water would be absorbed into the food and then it is ready to be eaten. It actually wasn’t that bad. Some flavors were even downright tasty. Others tasted terribly. Unfortunately, I only found out which ones I liked through trial and error. That night we ate, hung out by a campfire, and eventually the day caught up to me and I went to sleep. The older scouts would sometimes camp by the fire and keep it alive all night long. As the youngest there, I was never asked to tend the fire.

Day two dawns with a clear sky, brisk air, and a growling stomach. The rest of the day went very similarly to the first day. We walked, sweated, snacked, and set up camp. I ate beef stroganoff that night for dinner. The lasagna tasted better. After hanging out by the fire for a while I finally started crashing and headed to my yellow burrito.

The sun rose red turning a few clouds a pretty pink. The air was a little colder this morning since we were higher up. I looked in my food canister to get some breakfast, and that is when I came to a shocking realization. I had eaten most of my food.

Sheepishly walking up to my dad and said, “Dad…I don’t have any breakfast.”

“Where is your food?” He asked.

“It’s in my canister, but I don’t think I packed enough.”

“You said you did on the way up here.”

“I thought that I did! but I don’t have enough for breakfast.”

“Where did it all go?” he asked with a dawning expression on his face. “Did you not ration your food?”

“…No…” I was used to hiking for only a day or two, so I did not pay attention to how much I was eating. I found out to late that I had accidentally eaten too much food, and I would not have enough food for the rest of the week.

“Let me see what I have in my canister.” My dad sighed while walking over to his tent. “I think I have enough for you to eat.”

“Thanks dad.”

“I can’t believe that you ate most of your food already. How did you eat so much?”

“I just ate whenever we stopped. I guess I just ate too much.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

For the rest of the trip he gave me some of his food even though it meant he was always a little hungry himself. The rest of our trip went pretty uneventful. We hiked, we saw beautiful scenery, we laughed, we cried, it was a fun trip. But I learned a valuable lesson that week. Always ration your food, it’s embarrassing asking for food from your dad.