Trying Out His Wings: Philmont 2026

This morning I woke up at the absolutely ridiculous hour of 4am to deliver my 16-year-old son to meet the shuttle that would take him, 8 other Scouts, and 3 supervising adults to the airport to travel to Cimmaron, New Mexico, for an intensive 12-day High Adventure trek. 

It has been an exercise for both of us in letting him try out his wings. 

If you are unfamiliar with Scouting High Adventures, here's a quick overview: Scouting USA (formerly BSA Scouting, formerly Boy Scouts) has four locations in the US called "High Adventure Base Camps." Each camp is staffed with rangers or other professional staff who coordinate and lead programs which can include sailing, fishing, snorkeling, and scuba diving (Sea Base, in the Florida Keys); ATVing, whitewater rafting, ziplining, shooting, and rock climbing (Summit Bechtel Reserve, in West Virginia); canoeing, winter camping, ice fishing, and dogsledding (Northern Tier, in Minnesota); and hard-core mountain backpacking (Philmont Ranch, in New Mexico). 

High Adventure treks are entirely optional in Scouting; there is no requirement to attend, even to reach the rank of Eagle Scout. But it is considered a mark of excellence to go on a High Adventure, and Philmont is considered the "jewel in the crown" among the High Adventures. If you attend three of the four High Adventures, you receive a special recognition called the Triple Crown, and if you complete all four, you receive a special recognition called the Grand Slam. 

My son has already completed two High Adventures: going an on ATV trek at Bechtel and taking a sailing trip at Sea Base. Philmont will complete his Triple Crown, and he is signed up to attend a Northern Tier dogsledding trip next February, which will complete his Grand Slam. 

Philmont treks are, by far, the most physically demanding of all the High Adventures. His crew is doing the longest option, a 12-day hike, which includes multiple days at camps with no water or sanitary facilities. Which means they must carry all their gear, plus several days' worth of food and water, while hiking during brutally hot days and chilly nights, at high altitude. It is challenging, physically and mentally. As one of the older and larger members of the crew, he will be responsible for carrying a good part of the crew gear: stoves, cooking pots, shared food, etc. He is an athlete and a hiker, and he is in very good physical condition, so I'm not especially concerned about his stamina or endurance. He's mentally tough and pretty good at rolling with whatever situation he's in, so I'm not even overly concerned about his mental state. Honestly, I'm not exactly "concerned" about him at all. 

It's actually hard to describe what I'm feeling. Maybe I'm a little frustrated that he seems to be fairly nonchalant about making sure he packed everything. I'm very tightly wound when it comes to packing, so I make lists six weeks ahead of time when I travel, pack two weeks ahead, and double- and triple-check the night before. He casually ignored some of the "suggestions" on the packing list which turned out to be requirements, resulting in a frantic overnight Amazon delivery of water shoes and water bladders to replace the ones that had mysteriously vanished on the final shakedown trip the previous weekend (he did figure out that the missing bladders had gone home with another scout, so 12 hours before departure we drove across town to pick them up). He was, no doubt, frustrated by my flurry of last-minute instructions and reminders: "Keep your cash in your carry-on, not your packed bag." "Pack your Scout knife in your checked bag, not your carry-on." "Did you put all 3 luggage tags on your bags?" "Don't drag your duffel; carry it!" I try hard to rein in my inner Helicopter Mom, but she kept slipping out. 

I guess what I'm struggling with most is admitting that he can manage on his own without me. For the past 16 years, I've always been there to do things for him, to explain and teach whatever he needed to know, to be there watching in case something went wrong so I could fix it. But he doesn't need me to do that any more. He doesn't want me to do that any more. He's ready to figure things out for himself, to fix his own problems, or to deal with the situation if he can't fix it. 

He's ready, but I'm not. 

I know that it's ridiculous. My whole job as a parent is to get him to the place where he doesn't need me. To get him to the point where he can figure out how to solve his own problems instead of expecting me to do it for him. And I've done it. It's still a work in progress, of course, but this important trip is something he can manage - something he needs to manage - with minimal interference from me. 

It's a big step for both of us. I'm glad he's ready to take it. I just hope I am, too.