My first week long scout camp was at Hull Valley, Idaho.  To give you an idea as to how exciting Hull Valley is, I just spent the last half hour souring the innertubes for cool pictures or videos of the Hull Valley adventure camp. I found nothing. Absolutely nada. Either Google knows how lame Hull Valley is, and they’re trying to hide any and all information about it, or it means that Hull Valley has been nuked, and now exists solely as a giant crater.  Either way, I’m happy.

Right from the get go, misery reared its ugly head upon our trip.  As we pulled into the parking lot we were advised to be aware that a mother moose with a young calf had been spotted in and around the proximity of the camp in recent weeks.  The camp directors then proceeded to inform our car full of 12-year-old prepubescent boys experiencing their first full week away from their mothers that a mother moose is more dangerous than a full grown, bloodthirsty grizzly bear… especially if you stand between it and its young.

“Oh joy, we’re at camp death.” I thought to myself.

By mid afternoon, we were required to meet down at the lake for a swim check. For those of you who aren’t familiar with lakes in the rocky mountains, even in the summer the water consists of freshly melted glacier juice.  Jumping into the freezing liquid is comparable to rolling around naked in the arctic tundra.

I had taken swimming lessons for quite a few years, so I wasn’t nervous… I was absolutely mortified.  I stood there on the dock watching scout after scout jump into the water, submerging themselves entirely in the near freezing lake, only to pierce the surface gasping for breath as if their life force had been sucked out by one of Satan’s minions.

I pretended to act tough by letting people go in front of me and by almost throwing up 3 times.

Finally, I had to face my fear.  I marched to the front of the dock and leapt out over the fridgid glacial runoff. It felt like I entered the water in slow motion, each part of my body progressively getting instant frostbite. I kicked and paddled for all I was worth to emerge from my icy prison.  When my head broke the surface, I gasped and gulped at the wonderful, glorious air.

I felt two arms reach down and yank me out of the water. They dropped me in a heap on the dock.

Neeldess to say, I failed the swimming test, which meant I was not allowed on the canoes.  Psssh! Who likes canoes anyway? Oh yeah, that’s right. Everyone.

A day or 2 into camp, I had convinced myself that the lake wasn’t all that cool anyway. I decided to begin focusing all my attention on being a professional at burning things. I spent a lot of time at that fire.

My favorite moments were late at night. One night in particular stands out.  We were sitting around the fire listening to our scout masters tell stories as the blaze turned to embers.  As the conversation started to die down, a twig snapped off in the darkness.

I froze.

One of the leaders turned looked over his shoulder then turned back and whispered for us all to hold still.  Just then, the demon moose from Hull Hell that we had been warned about tromped through our camp.  I panicked and ran for my tent.  One of the adults snapped at me to stop moving, and before I knew it I was standing there… in the darkness… 5 feet away from the moose from my wildest nightmares.  After staring at me for a bit, it got bored and meandered off into the trees.

I hung my underwear up to dry by the fire that night.

The camp ended with the Hull Valley Relay Race. Five boys from each troop were asked to participate.  I’m positive that the only reason I played a role was because our troop only consisted of 5 members.  The race started at the top of camp where one scout for each troop took an unlit match and ran a mile, full speed, down the hill to the shore of the lake.  He would pass the match off to another boy who would run a lap around the lake. The third boy in the relay would put the match in his mouth and back stroke across the lake with the match held securely in his teeth.  At the other side of the lake, a row boat would be waiting.  (I was sitting in the back of the row boat. My scout master paddled).

What was supposed to happen after receiving the match was a rowboat race across the lake followed by the striking of the match.  The first troop with a flame won.  However, this is not what happened.  When our swimmer reached the row boat and passed the match off, I heard a scream.

At first, I thought the screaming was cheering as we were entering the final legs of the race.  When I looked up, I learned that I was very, very wrong.  (I promise you, I’m not making this up.)  The demon moose came charging out of the woods with her baby, right at the group of 100+ scouts.  The troop leader was oblivious, because he was hellbent on  paddling for the win. I screamed and pointed as the moose entered the water and started heading straight at us.  We avoided the bobbing moose head with some stealth and headed back to shore to join the ranks of panicked teenage boys.

The moose took its time swimming around the lake, and then emerged with a sense of humor.  All of a sudden, the moose thought it would be a good idea to play a little game called chase the scouts.  She started running around the lake, straight at our cowering horde.  We all took off at a sprint.  The moose stopped, turned around and started chasing us the other direction.  This continued for a good 10 minutes until the moose got bored and went back into the woods.

No scout burgers for Ms. Moose that night!

We all trudged back to the camp, exhausted and ready to go home.  I didn’t care about the race.  I only cared that the Devil’s pet moose didn’t get me this week.  I had won. And I was never coming back.