“The Lost Boys” consisted of a group of Boy Scouts from Marin County Troop 84 who managed to get lost while hiking on the slopes of Marin County’s Mount Tamalpais during the 1970’s. They were missing for twelve harrowing hours. Upon finding their way back to the trail and then eventually the main road The Lost Boys were picked up by a relieved father and taken to a make shift “command central” where a surprising number of well organized adults had assembled.

There was a big, warm pot of chili!

It was past midnight, so now The Lost Boys could boast that they had been lost “all night”. The Lost Boys and their associates enjoyed many adventures together on and off the trail and because of these bonds some still manage to see each other even after many years have passed by.

The Catcher, The Peaceful Warrior, The Chilean and The Brain have all played an important part in this writer’s life.

My first backpacking trip was quite possibly with The Catcher. The Catcher moved to Lucas Valley in the 1970’s. (If ever there was an idyllic suburb of San Francisco, it was Lucas Valley in the 1970’s.)

Fun fact: In 1978, film director George Lucas began acquiring land in the area for his Skywalker Ranch. However, Lucas Valley Road was named after 19th-century rancher John Lucas, who is not related to George Lucas. In the Spring of 1977 (at the behest of The Brain), The Catcher and I would attend the premier of Star Wars at a theater on Van Ness Avenue in The City. 

After moving to Lucas Valley, The Catcher joined Boy Scout Troop 84. My Dad Stan was scoutmaster and pilot of the vehicle of our misadventures – a station wagon. The troop leadership consisted of my best friends.

I recently enjoyed a day hike with The Catcher near where we got lost 45 years before.

It was under Stan’s guidance and tutelage that we experienced our first backpacking trip at Point Reyes National Seashore. The Catcher was there.

Our first backpacks were army surplus items with wood frames and canvas straps. You would pack everything in your sleeping bag and then roll up the sleeping bag and strap it to the frame. We carried canned food. Dinty Moore Beef Stew was a favorite.

We were the black sheep of the Marin Boy Scout Council, but we spent more time outdoors than any other troop, we knew our way around a canoe and we could build a good campfire.

We also invested some time and energy in throwing things at cars. In the summer we would throw water balloons. During the annual winter camping trip to Yosemite we would throw snowballs. Not only were we good at starting fires and throwing things at moving vehicles, we were involved in additional shenanigans and became quite good at escaping pursuit. We could run fast and hide well.

Our training culminated in hiking the West Rim Trail of Zion National Park.

For The Peaceful Warrior, this trip would become a favorite memory. By this time we had graduated to real backpacks and had learned to properly fix our sleeping bags to them. Though I must admit that seeing one of our sleeping bags gaily bouncing all the way down Yosemite’s Mist Trail back in the early days had been a beautiful sight.

Because of the bonds formed on the trail, The Peaceful Warrior would later save my life from one particular high school bully who was intent on killing me – or so I believed. The Peaceful Warrior had a way of showing up just when he was most needed. With his size and confidence, he never had to use violence to discourage bullies from threatening his friends.

I would later have the privilege of teaching The Peaceful Warrior’s son in one of my science classes.

The Chilean came to us at the request of our high school Spanish teacher. “Would we take The Chilean into our group? You are nice boys. You can teach The Chilean all about America.” So we took The Chilean in. He was a perfect fit. An added bonus was that The Chilean had his own car – a Mustang – albeit a mustang with bad tires, but still – a real Mustang. 

These experiences are the iron and carbon that forge the steel of friendship. I’ve come to understand that a certain degree of mischievousness during the developing stages of life allows a person to view the folly of the adult world with the proper amount of humor. If while growing up you have been told by the adults who love you how certain harmless pranks “were not funny” (even though they were), then upon entering the adult world you have some perspective built in. You live life with a glint in your eye. You might even find yourself in a superfluous meeting – laughing for no apparent reason – then being told, “Come on Dave, this is serious!” But is it, really?

The bonds extend beyond those initial experiences, as my wife will attest. She was not present for most of our “team building activities”, yet to this day, these people – The Catcher, The Chilean and The Peaceful Warrior- are some of her favorite people.    

(Originally published on September 29, 2021)