KennyBy Dave Bartholomew It was my first BCM trip. We met in Colorado, but the team came from all over the nation. The youth came from Florida, and four of the five had never left Florida prior to this trip. None of them had been camping, seen a mountain first hand, touched snow, been on an airplane, or been on a multi-day backpacking trip. These boys had certainly faced their challenges in life. All of them had been in trouble of sorts, but all of them had made the tough decision to turn the corner and do what is right with their lives. While all from Florida, they covered a wide-range of ages, ethnicities, and size. One boy was so short that even the shortest backpack in the BCM warehouse almost dragged on the ground behind him. Not having been on a BCM trip prior to this, there were many aspects of the experience that I could not anticipate (but that I have since learned are typical on these trips). I was intrigued, for instance, with the trepidation of the youth as we approached the experience. I was amazed with how quickly this was replaced with a boldness and boundless self-confidence as testosterone levels rose. Several days into the trip, as we climbed up the Continental Divide, it was fascinating to see how attitude impeded progress and impacted spirits. I also did not anticipate the bonds that would form between individuals on the trip. Almost as if done by assignment, each of the five youth became fast friends with one of the five adult leaders. Kenny (not his real name) quickly took a liking to me. He was a large boy for his age, both horizontally and vertically. Clearly, his mental prowess was not his strongest suit. But Kenny was filled with unmatched joy and enthusiasm. I didn't ask about his family life, but through the trip he shared that he came from a dysfunctional home situation, that he received his parenting from miscellaneous sources, that he had made some mistakes in his life. While enthusiastic, he lacked ambition, because he knew no suitable recipient of such ambition. Like the other four youth (and some of the adult leaders), Kenny's enthusiasm was challenged that day as we climbed up the Continental Divide. He began to whimper, then whine. His voice joined the chorus from others in our group. Packs gained weight with every step. Lungs lost capacity. Complaints persisted, but so did we. Soon, we crested the Divide, and spirits soared, and the thoughts of "I can't do this" were completely replaced with "I did it!" As we took our break, I watched Kenny as he stood atop the Continental Divide, the greatest achievement of his life thus far. His eyes scanned the horizon, then retraced the long path we had just climbed. He was deep in thought, barely noticing the lunch he consumed in a few short bites. He didn't even see me watching him, and when he spoke these words, he did so as if he was speaking only to himself: "When I grow up, I'm going to become an attorney and move to Colorado!" These few words may seem insignificant to someone who was not on the trip, who did not know Kenny, who had not led the life that Kenny had led so far. But I knew how profound they were, how meaningful, how literally life changing they were for Kenny. Did I really believe that Kenny would indeed become an attorney and move to Colorado? Not likely. But that is not the important part. What was important, vitally important, was that Kenny had discovered two very important things. One was that there is a world beyond the troubled existence that had consumed his entire upbringing. Secondly, that he was capable of far more than he had ever imagined. He had proved it climbing the Continental Divide, and he would prove it every day of the rest of his life.
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