(EDITOR'S NOTE: "Hiking Through History" from the March-April 1997 issue of Scouting magazine was named a finalist in the How-To Feature/Adult Audience category in the 1998 Educational Press Association (EdPress) Distinguished Achievement Awards competition.)

Hiking Through History

By I. Herbert Gordon

The best way for youth to learn about the past, says a former Scoutmaster, is to step into the clothes, eat the food, and walk in the footsteps of those who have lived it.

Three Scout patrol leaders, each armed only with a Civil War-style forage bag, stood nervously beside a tall, somber farmer watching a couple of dozen hens in a pen pecking busily away.

"O.K.," said the farmer, "each of you catch me one."

"Uh, how?" a patrol leader asked.

"Just grab a fat one by the legs and bring it to me."

The farmer smiled as the Scouts moved hesitantly among the chickens. Choosing one was easy; trying to grab it led to a wild melee of running and squawking birds.

The farmer took the captured birds one by one from the patrol leaders and reached for a small, sharp hatchet...

This practical lesson in how a chicken gets from a pen onto a dinner plate occurred when I was Scoutmaster of Troop 402 of Kent Village, Md.

We called this type of specialized outing a "Hike Through History." It let Scouts learn about local history by visiting noted places and seeing something of what life was like for those who once lived that history.

In pursuit of John Wilkes Booth

On this particular hike the troop was simulating a Union army patrol following the route that John Wilkes Booth took in April 1865, when he fled Ford's Theater in Washington, D.C., after assassinating President Abraham Lincoln.

Our goal was the home of Dr. Samuel Mudd, near what then was know as Beantown, Md. Dr. Mudd had bandaged Booth's leg, which the assassin broke when he jumped from the President's box onto the stage, shouting, "Sic semper tyrannis!" ("Thus always to tyrants.")

The hike started at the historic theater in midtown Washington. Booth reached Beantown by riding furiously on a horse through the night. Our Scouts took two and a half days.

A key to each hike was the research the Scouts put into it. Our pursuit of Booth was typical. Each patrol was given an assignment. One had to find Booth's exact route. Another planned menus based on what a Union patrol would have eaten. The third had to figure out the equipment a Civil War soldier carried. We would copy everything as closely as possible.

At the next meeting, the patrol responsible for the route handed out maps to everyone. "Finding the information was easy—we asked our history teacher," the patrol leader explained.

I introduced a Scout's father who had brought a big bag. Out of it he pulled Union-style military forage caps he had found at a souvenir shop.

With the help of other parents and a school librarian, we collected more information and materials, from traditional foods to tin cans for cooking.

The senior patrol leader called historic Ford's Theater and the manager agreed to open it on the morning of our departure. He even arranged for a special guided tour.

"I don't see Booth's horse," a Tenderfoot Scout complained as we exited through the theater's rear door.

"Then you guys better hurry if you expect to catch him!" the tour guide responded with a laugh.

"Hear that? Let's go!" a patrol leader shouted. His patrol dashed off, the rest of the troop galloping behind. Fortunately (unlike John Wilkes Booth) the Scouts halted for a traffic light— and we adult leaders could catch up.

An old-fashioned chicken dinner

Our itinerary called for two nights of camping on farmland. We carried everything with us except for three chickens which we had arranged to buy (dressed, ready to cook) from a farmer.

But the farmer had also captured the spirit of the hike. "Let the boys catch the chickens themselves, like those old troops had to do," he said. "When they catch one, I'll give it to them, no charge."

What a meal the patrols cooked that night! (The newest boy in each patrol had to gather up the feathers.)

When we reached Dr. Mudd's house and sat down for lunch under some trees, the senior patrol leader called for everyone's attention:

"That guy over there [pointing to me] says some joker told him Booth's already been found." I nodded. The air filled with boos.

But if they couldn't actually "find" John Wilkes Booth, the Scouts of Troop 402 did find other things—a never-to-be-forgotten understanding of what it was like to be a soldier at the close of the Civil War and a vivid awareness of the shock of President Lincoln's death.

Oh! Say, can you see the War of 1812?

On our first "Hike Through History" we followed the route used by British troops when they invaded Washington during the War of 181 Instead of stepping off British ships in Chesapeake Bay, we step out of cars in the small village where the invading troops had landed.

"Are you sure there was a town here when the British arrived?" someone wanted to know, looking at quiet docks and buildings.

"Not British—Redcoats," some corrected him.

"Where were the Yanks?"

"There weren't any here. They were back in Washington and Baltimore."

Each patrol had been given a large state road map with the route marked in red.

"Sometimes their route crossed what now looks like fields and sometimes it looks like a highway. How come?" I asked.

There were various explanations, mostly correct, such as:

"I guess they built some new roads when cars came along."

"Yeah, they straightened out crooked roads when they built highways for cars."

"And then straightened old highways to build super highways."

We hiked off singing "Patriotic Diggers," which we had learned from a recording of songs of the War of 1812:

Johnny Bull, beware. Keep your proper distance.
Else we'll make you stare at our firm resistance
Let alone the lads who are freedom tasting;
Recollect our Dads gave you once a basting.

They did better on the chorus:

Pick axe, shovel, spade,
Crow-bar, hoe, and barrow,
Better not invade; Yankees have the marrow.

There's the President!

We camped in fields where the Scouts decided the British might have stopped. One night we camped near some low hills covered with trees.

"That's where the President and his Secretary of War secretly rode out from Washington to find out how big the Redcoat army was," I explained.

"Why did he have to go see it himself?"

"Because he didn't have any Army scouts around to do the looking."

"I know the President's name," a Scout said, standing up. "It was James Madison."

The British invasion route passed close to Kent village, where our troop had its quarters in an apartment building basement. We camped our last night at nearby Peace Cross, a highway intersection every Scout parent with a job in Washington drove through daily.

That night we sang War Of 1812 songs and talked about the "invasion."

"Wait'll I tell my Dad this is where some American soldiers really fought the British. Right here," a Scout said.

"Sure, but the Redcoats whipped them."

"Well, We tried."

The next day we hiked into the District of Columbia. We made it in five days; the British took six. Scouts spotted old homes still bearing the scars and nicks from balls fired by flilnt-and-steel muzzle-loading muskets aimed by the British at Yankee snipers.

Proud parents formed a welcoming committee on the Capitol lawn to greet their even prouder "Yanks." A few of he older boys sort of disappeared from the milling group, Look over there," one of the younger Scouts shouted. Everyone turned. Aha! The missing Scouts were piling twigs against the Capitol.

What you up to?!" I yelled.

"Nothing. We're just going to burn the Capitol. The Redcoats did, didn't they?"

The Capitol still stands. But the War of 1812 would never against be just a date for these Scouts to memorize from a class in American history.

On the Appalachian Trail

When I served as temporary Scoutmaster of Troop 136 in Dobbs Ferry, N.Y., we also had the fun and excitement of taking hikes through history.

Our first was to backpack the original section of the famed Appalachian Trail, where it crosses Bear Mountain in the thick woods of Harriman Bear Mountain park north of New York City.

"This doesn't look too hard," one Scout said as the troop studied brochures they had requested. "We could hike it in a day and a half."

"Three days," I corrected. "You'll find climbing up and down hills isn't like walking an easy trail through the woods."

It wasn't.

Our first surprise was when we hiked down Anthony's Nose ridge and crossed the Hudson River on the Bear Mountain bridge. The lead patrol was stopped by a tollkeeper busy collecting fees from cars.

"Sorry fellows," he said. "You've got to pay a toll to walk across the bridge."

We hadn't figured on that.

The senior patrol leader asked: "How much?"

"A nickel a person." It was the same levy, the tollkeeper noted, charged when ferryboats hauled wagons and travelers where the soaring bridge now stands.

We rustled up enough nickels and continued on our footsore way. (Incidentally, not long afterward, the State of New York dropped the hiker toll.)

We followed the trail past the beautiful Bear Mountain Inn and started up the long, steep path to the summit of Bear Mountain. There, parked all around the stone tower, were the cars of sightseers.

Moans and groans echoed through the troop as we dropped packs for a lunch stop. "Wow—we could driven up," one Scout lamented.

"Oh no," another shot back. "Driving up is cheating."

So was eating lunch near picnickers, the patrol leaders decided, and we packed up and moved down the trail out of sight of the tourists.

The troop became so fascinated with its first Appalachian Trail hike that, for the next several years, it took a major hike on the AT every summer, eventually covering more than 400 miles of the magnificent wilderness trail through the heart of Eastern civilization.

In the wake of the Leni-lenape

At another time, Troop 136 was planning a canoe trip on the Delaware River between New York State and Pennsylvania. A Scout brought a book about the Native Americans who inhabited the region before the arrival of Europeans.

"We could do a 'canoeing through history' trip," he suggested. "Dress and eat like the Indians who once lived in the area." The idea was adopted immediately.

A trip to the library provided more information about the people who called themselves the "Lay-na'paywee-see'poo," but now are known as "Leni-lenape." Parents helped in making breechcloths patterned after those worn by the Indians.

The Scouts donned traditional breechcloths before launching their canoes. (Fortunately, it was a warm weekend on the river.) And everywhere we paddled, other paddlers looked at us in astonishment. They waved greetings, asked who we were and where our campsite was. The Scouts felt sensational.

Mix imagination and history

Any troop can mix imagination with local history and schedule its own brand of a "Hike Through History." |

The key ingredient is to try to reconstruct what it actually was like at some local historic event, not simply drive up for a quick look-see.

Was there a famous pioneer wagon route in your area? Perhaps you could finagle a farmer into lending a horse and wagon to carry the troop's gear, then follow the route for several days.

Did prospectors pan for gold in nearby streams? Encourage the Scouts first to find out about panning, then actually take a weekend to pan for gold. Who knows, they may come up with a full poke.

What historic battle or military march occurred near where you live? (Troop 402 once spent three days backpacking, following the slow advance of Union troops after the Battle of Antietam, learning what happened in the aftermath of a major Civil War battle.)

A final note: Newspapers and television stations enjoy covering such events. Let them know several weeks in advance of your history hike and you'll end up sharing the experience with more people than ever.

Freelance writer I. Herbert Gordon lives in New York City.


How to Eat Your Way Through History

On our hikes through history we built some menus around food eaten at that time.

The most complicated was the menu for our unsuccessful effort to capture John Wilkes Booth.

Two items were the basis of Union Army food: hardtack and coffee. We substituted chocolate for coffee. Hardtack, a plain flour-and-water biscuit which officially measured 3 1/8 by 2 7/8 inches, was baked by two cooperating mothers.

One parent found an ancient recipe for salt beef and prepared a couple of pounds apiece for each patrol.

Freeze-dried vegetables were used to imitate the dried vegetables carried by Union soldiers. Other items included hominy grits, sugar, canned sardines, and Fig Newtons, based on the boxed Elme figs soldiers sometimes were fortunate enough to be issued.

Each patrol cooked its own meals.

Three fabled chickens were carried into camp and, thanks to my assistant Scoutmaster's patient guidance, plucked and dressed. Then, each patrol cut three sturdy branches about four feet long and lashed them into a standing triangle. We scrounged up some vines to hang the chickens over the fire and broiled them slowly.

Our cooking gear consisted of a metal cup and a large can with a wire for a handle, which each Scout nnade himself. Each patrol also had one large pot.

TYPICAL MENU

Breakfast: Boiled hominy grits with sugar, hardtack, hot chocolate.

Lunch: Hardtack, hot chocolate, sardines, apples or other local fruit.

Dinner: Hardtack; broiled chicken one night, otherwise chunks of salt beef boiled with freeze-dried vegetables to make an imaginative soup; Fig Newtons.

(Several years after this hike, I met a former Scout who told me proudly he still had a hardtack biscuit in his room.)

For "canoeing through history," we bought fresh local-water fish from a country market and some smoked Delaware eel. The fish was planked, that is, fastened to a flat piece of wood and cooked by reflected campfire heat, not a simple way for young Scouts to cook fresh fish. I found the smoked eel delicious. But this "snake" was not popular with the boys.

Our Appalachian Trail hike food consisted largely of lightweight-food carbohydrates, such as macaroni and cheese or other pasta dishes, some canned meats, and dishes prepared from freeze-dried ingredients. When a trip would last more than three days, we always arranged to have a "supply car" meet us with fresh ingredients by the third evening.

—I.H.G.


A New Jersey Cub Scout Pack Meets the American Revolution

Shortly after Jeff Lewis became Cubmaster of Maplewood, N.J., Pack 4 in 1995' he attended the local council's roundtable. One speaker was Paul Jackson, a member of the Sons of the American Revolution. He asked for help from the council to rededicate a Revolutionary War alarm beacon on nearby South Mountain.

Lewis had been a history major in college. He volunteered Pack 4 for the ceremony. In the library he found The Forgotten Victory, a book this writer had written about the battle of Springfield. It told how the beacon and its nearby mortar, "The Old Sow," had sounded the alarm and turned out the militia when the British invaded New Jersey in 1780.

HISTORY HAPPENED HERE

The book made Lewis realize they were living in a state that historians call "the cockpit of the Revolution." He decided his Cub Scouts would be excited to learn that British and American soldiers had fought along their local roads and sniped at each other in their backyards.

He launched a program which began with Pack 4 attending the beacon rededication. Next they trekked to a reenactment of the battle of Monmouth. No less than 600 participants wearing the authentic uniforms of both sides refought the largest clash that took place in New Jersey during the war. "Muskets boomed, cannon roared; it was great," Lewis says.

THE PAST COMES ALIVE

A few weeks later, at Jockey Hollow in Morristown National Historical Park, a park service ranger assumed the role of a drill sergeant and marched the Cub Scouts around the restoration of the Continental Army's camp. "The ranger got everyone's attention when he described the awful food and living conditions—and then told them what would happen if they tried to desert," Lewis recalls.

Next they visited Washington Crossing State Park, where they watched filmed reenactments of the battles of Trenton and Princeton. A park ranger passed an officer's pistol around the hall for the Cub Scouts to handle. The Cub Scouts walked down the actual path Washington's men used to reach the Delaware River.

In lewis's opinion, the highlight of the program was a walking tour of the battle of Springfield. Using maps and notes that lewis had researched (including a 1975 article on the battle from Boys' Life), the Cub Scouts followed the two armies across the battlefield and visited 18th-century houses and the churches that played a part in the struggle. They found 17 signs put up by local historical societies that were full of vivid information.

More than a hundred Cub Scouts, parents, and siblings attended this event. It closed with a moving ceremony at a tiny 20-grave Revolutionary War cemetery which they discovered behind a nearby shopping mall. The Cub Scouts planted Betsy Ross flags and saluted the veterans who were buried there.

PERSON-TO-PERSON HISTORY

Another highlight was a Continental Army pack meeting. "We hired an excellent fife-and-drum team and invited two Revolutionary War reenactors to talk to the Cub Scouts," lewis says. "It was person-toperson history."

At the blue and gold dinner in early 1996, a special patch was awarded to 41 Scouts who attended at least half of the events.

"Preparing the materials for these meetings was a lot of work, but I got help from history buff friends like Committee Chairman George Kohl and assistant Cubmaster Frank Hadley. We all found it tremendously rewarding," lewis says. "We learned a lot. I think we gave our Scouts the feeling that they lived in an important, interesting place. Another good effect, which we had not foreseen, was the way the program got kids and parents talking to each other about history."

—Thomas Fleming

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Copyright © 1997 by the Boy Scouts of America. All rights thereunder reserved; anything appearing in Scouting magazine or on its Web site may not be reprinted either wholly or in part without written permission. Because of freedom given authors, opinions may not reflect official concurrence.