Henry Ford

Tales of a . Modern Noah

Lazy Man's Garden Guide, II
The Man-Making of Norman Ash
-And Other Cranbrook Boys Who Survived
r
r
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By RICKE
Free Press Staff Writer
Tears ran paths down the dirty face
of Norman Ash, the slight 15-year-old
son of a wealthy Detroit auto parts
supplier. Ash, an only child who al-
ways had the best of everything, maids
to pick up after him, mutt ere cl : "I
can't. I just can' t."
It was sti ll w i n t e r in the Appa-
lachian high country, and there, on a
mountainside in western North Caro-
lina, Ash and his f e 11 ow Cranbrook
studentswere swinging on thick ropes
from one naked tree to another.
It was the ropes course of the North
Caroli na Outward Bound School. In
the middle were two platforms six feet
apart with no rope to swing on. Every-
one had to jump and Norman Ash,
his long golden hair full of sweat and
c r u m p l e d leaves and twigs, stood
frozen on the first platform. He had
to j ump the six feet like all the others,
but he was shorter and thinner than
they were.
He had already tried to jump across
once. and he had fallen 15 feet onto
the sleeping bags held by instructors
below. Now he stood crying and say-
ing he c o u I cl n 't until finally he
climbed down the side of the platform
and walked off into the woods.
It the first of nine days in the
mountains for the 88 boys of Cran-
brook School. Bloomfield Hills, and
Norman Ash wanted desperately to go
home. Ahead, he had a four-day hike
with a 45-pound pack half as big as he
was. and then a three day solo, three
days alone in the mountains without
food. And he couldn't jump six feet.
He really could have, but Norman
Ash didn't know it then. All he knew
was tha t he was the smallest in his
class and he never had to do any-
thing like it before.
"Please, please let me make it with
the others," Ash wrote that night in
his journal. "I hope an.cl pray to God I
ran make it. Please, please."
C/V
T he valleys and lowlands below
those mountains where the American
pioneer legends b e g a n start to turd
green during the third week of
March. New born calves wobble on
t h e i-r bony legs and the new grass
pokes up through the red earth.
Signs read "Cumberland Gap" and
"Great Continental Divide" and in
the distance are the mountains where
Daniel Boone cut the wilderness trail
through to the west and carved "D.
Boone killed a bar heer" on so many
trees.
Four thousand feet above in the
mounta ins of western North Carolina,
the 88 preppies from Cran brook
hiked through thew i I cl er n es sin
14
11
Please, please let me make it with the
others," Ash wrote that night in his journal.
I hope and pray to God I can make it. Please,
I
"
pease ...
search of whatever it was that P.i
oneers found there and used to bmld
a new nation. In search of whatever it
was we have s o m e h o w lost in our
high-rise freeway gleaming stainless
zooming jet cylinder bullet pill-a-day
civilization, which somehow has deep
roots in those mountains where some
of the boys from Cranbrook were ex
periencing their first blisters.
The Cranbrook instructors who or-
ganized the trip wanted the young
men to get their first blisters there, to
get wet and cold and tired and hungry
and angry, angry enough to yell at
each other. They wanted them to be
afraid and lost and so exhausted that
they couldn't take another step but
st ill had to.
It was Cran brook's first n i n e -d a y
0 u t w a r d Bound project, modeled
after the nationally known 26-day wil-
derness survival program at the North
Carolina school. It was organized as
part of a social sciences coune for
10th graders by Chris Norris, the
s c. h o o I 's football and hockey coach
and social sciences teacher. It was vol-
untary. but teachers and parents and
coaches had made it clear that if you
didn' t go, you were a copout.
Cranbrook rented the facilities of
the North C a r o l i n a school located
near the top of Table Rock Mountain
for the trip and its two main objec-
tives: A four-day group expedition
and a three-day solo.
During t'he expeditions, groups of
12 young men would hike 15 miles a
day with 45-pound packs on their
backs, making camp each night with
sheets of clear plastic for tents. The
young men would have to work to-
gether _to make the hike; the strong
would have to help the weak if they
all were going to make it.
During the solo, each 15-year-old
w o u Id spend three days and two
nights completely alone, eating only
what they could find from the land.
But during the third week of March,
the land in the western mountains of
North Carolina bears litt
1
e food, and
everyone knew it would be more like
a three-<lav fast.
Late Monday afternoon at the end
of rhe first clay of the expeditions, the
12 young men of Ash's group stood be-
fore a 35-f<>?t-wide, two-foot deep, icy
m o. u n t a 1 n stream. One by one, the
t i red young men sat down and
groaned and took off their boots and
socks. All except Ash and Gary Zim-
merman and Roger Smith, who at the
end of a 13-mile hike did not want to
take the time and trouble to take off
their boots and put them backon
again on the other side.
The water was about 30 degrees,
and the bottom of the stream was s.ip-
ery with loose rocks. Half way across,
the h i k er s' feet became numb and
when they lifted their feet from the
cold water to the colder air, the water
on their feet froze and their feet stuck
to whatever they touched until they
were d r i e d off. The "Ohhs" and
"Ahhhs" and "Goddams" lasted for IO
minutes but there was no one around
to hear them. Ash and Smit11 and Zim-
merman walked across last, with their
boocs on.
T<he group e I e c t e d as its leaders
Mark Carrington. a tall, lean athlete
with bushy. dark hair who smiled at
ever y th i n g. and Mark Komray. a
strong. silent football player with long
blond hair who liked to show how
strong he was and to have others do
things for him.
At 8 p.m. they tied their sheets of
plastic together to make one big tent
and tried to go to bed.
They used dry leaves to start their
fire that night and pieces of hickory
they found on the ground. It was eas-
ier to keep putting the leaves in the
fire than to cut up wood, so the air
was full of the smell of burning leaves
and hickory and the sounds of the
nearby stream. It smelled like autumn
and sounded like summer and soon it
would be spring.
Norman Ash and Gary Zimmerman
and Roger Smith stood by the fire
tr y i n g to dry out their boots and
socks. One of Ash's socks caught fire
and he dropped it into the flames and
cursed.
COVER and other photographs by Ira Rosenberg
"Well, what do you th in k of all
this?" he was asked.
"This is asinine," he replied. "I
can't think of any gooc1 reason I'm
doing this. The only thing t hat will
help me through is what r will get
when I get home. A new yellow Mach
I as soon as I turn 16 next week. My
father's on the dad's club and real big
on this Outward Bound thing and he
and my grandfather arc helping me
pay for the car ...
"My dad makes auto parts," he
said." And I always wanted a car of
my own. But I don't know if it's worth
all this."
Carrington came down to the fire I
with his sleeping bag. "Not enough ,
room for us all up there," he said.
I decided to sleep here by myself m
the open."
The nine-degree cold slowly crept
t h r o u g h the big tent and into the
sleeping bags with the y o u n g men,
and the wind whipped and sucked at
the tent until parts of it fell down.
Nick Martin couldn't stop cough-
ing, and Phil Brown, the onlt black in
the group, wouldn't stop ta king and
the only thing to warm the cola air
was the stale breath of the young men.
l11ere was little sleeping that night.
OATMEAL never tasted so good as
it did the next morning at 7a.m .. just
after the young men laced up their
f r o z e n boots and stood by the fire
waiting for the numbness to leave
their hands and feet .
Carrington and Komray charted the
day's hike on the map while the others
packed up their gear.
At 8 a.m. they set out for the top of
Brown M o u n t a i n. They agreed to
make the biggest push that day. so the
last two days would be easier.
After 15 m in u t es. they came to a
stream just like the one they crossed
the e v e n i n g before. They tried to
make a bridge of rocks, but they all
ended up taking off their boots, ex-
cept Carrington, who made it across
the tops of some narrow slippery rocks
by balancing himself with a walking
stick in each hand.
The trail s e e med to end on the
other side of a stream. saw
a river bed which went straight uphill
and said that he found t'he trail and
C\eryone followed him. T he y were
lost. Carrington, it but not
willing to admit it. kept pretending
they were on the right trail. l\fost of
the gr o u p susoected they were not ,
but followed any,vay.
St r a i g h t up Brown Mountain.
climbing by rocks and tree roctts. t he
group twice crossed without knowi ng
Continued on 16
Detroit Free Press, April 18. 1971
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MIKE NEFF: On cold mountain
ridges, ht day-dreamed of Mian1i
Beach.
PH!L BROWN: "You try walk-
ing straight up a mountain, hooey."
GARY ZIMMERMAN: "For.d
invented _cars so we wouldn't have
this crap. "
MARK CARRI NG TON: Strang
and praud, he wauldn't admit ht
ll'llS lost.
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THE SURVIVAL S'l'OBY
" ... Twenty-four hours later, I thought I
would never see civilization again. I nearly
died on three separate occasions climbing
straight up Brown Mountain ... "
Continued
it the correct trail, which wound
a r o u n d the mountain at a leisurely
incline.
The voutiis' legs felt like thev were
made of r u b b er. and every muscle
cried out to quit. Their hearts beat so
fast they seemed to be climbinl!" into
.their heads, and the heavy packs felt
as if they would pull evervone down
to the bottom of the mountain.
After two hours of climbing straight
up, Carrington and Komrav asked the
group to make a decision: Either keep
on "bushwhacking" straight up - by
his compass Carrington cou'd te'l they
were going in the right direction -
and hope to find the trail, or slide
down the hill to the right abont 100
yards where there was a trail,
they d i d n 't know for sure where 1t
went. The 1 e a d er s wanted to keep
going straight up. It was a matter of
pride and they were strong.
The rest of the gr o u p was ex
hausted, and they voted for the trail.
It was the right one; at 1 p.m. they
were atop Brown Mountain.
The temperature rose to 55 as they
hiked along the top of the mountain
ridges. In the distance the mountains
were blue and 20 miles away Table
Rock Mountain stuck out like a turtle
head. Table Rock Mountain: They
had started there two days ago and it
looked like a year's march away.
The youths stopped for lunch by a
brook near the mountain top. Short
bread biscuits and honey and cold
mountain water; it was a banquet.
"You know," Gary Zimmerman said,
"Henry Ford invented cars so people
w 0 u rd n 't have to put up wiih this
crap. What are we doing all this for?
Don't give me that togetherness stuff.
If God had intended people to be a
team, we would be born attached to
each other."
Mike Neff daydreamed out loud
about being on a Miami beach during
spring vacation and Z i m m er man
about his upcoming trip to Hawaii . .
They sat in a line on the side of the
road with their packs lying b e h i n d
them and their legs stretched straight
out in front and each moment they sat
was very, very good.
Ash talked about the Mach I he was
to drive soon. Kevin McNeely, a rug-
handsome blond with a square
pw who is shy and P.?lite with all the
makings of a lady killer, talked about
silk sheets and wine and soft shoes.
"W h e n I get back home," Phil
Brown said, "and some girl says, 'Let's
get a ride or take a bus,' I'm going to
say: 'You mind walking two or.tliree
m ea s 1 y miles on this flat ground?
That's hardly nothing. You ought to
try walking straight up a mountam,
honey. Walking on this Detroit stuff
is like going downhill.' ..
On the way from Brown Mountain
to Looking Glass Mountain the group
took a wrong turn and walked four
miles out of their way.
During the walk Ash lagged behind
and needed to rest more than the oth-
ers . .. Hold it, hold it up front," Phil
B row n said, and Carrington kept
going. "Hold it," he yelled again, and
this time the group s t o p p e d and
rested with Ash.
"Come on," Roger Smith said. "I
don't want to stop now." Smith has
short light hair and wears brown
hornrimmed glasses and 1 o o k s a lot
like the math and science bookworm
he is. He wore a new red and white
and black stocking hat with a tassel
on top that his mother bought for
him.
"I was just getting my second wind,"
he said. "Now this ruins it."
"We stopped enough for you yester
day," Brown said. "Nobody com-
plained then."
"Yeah, just 'hold it, Roger," Carring-
ton said. "We'll start again in a min-
ute."
"OK," said Roger.
They ended up hiking in a circle.
At 5 p.m., when they were supposed
to be looking for a campsite, they
were only a mile and a half away from
where they made camp the night
before.
They never realized it. If they had,
it would have destroyed their morale.
They only knew they went the wrong
way again. All that w a I k i n g and
sweating and climbing and they had
only come a mile and a half straight.
t..r.>
About six weeks before the Cran-
brook students left, an editor walked
over to my desk and asked me if I'd
like to go to North Carolina during
the middle of March.
"Ah, a little rest and relaxation," I
thought, "It has to be better than De-
troit in March." If only I had known.
As soon as I arrived at the Outward
Bound School, Chris Norris handed
me my own 45-pound pack.
Twenty four bours later, I thought I
would never see civilization again. I
nearly died on three separate occa-
sions c I i m b i n g straight up Brown
Mountain. And even on the.trails, I
gave the younger men plenty of extra
rest stops.
Late Tuesday afternoon, when the
group found out it had marched the
wrong way again, Chris Norris res-
Continued on Page 17
net.:Oit Free Press, April 18, 1971
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THE SUBVIVAL STOBY
" ... Ah, the Holiday Inn. We ate 16 ounce T-bone steaks and drank beer and talked about
the group we left behind in the mountains ... "
Continued
cued me.
"I'm glad to see you're alive," Nor-
ris said, "I was really w or r i e d we
might have had to send out a search
party for you. I'm surprised you made
1t this far. Not bad for a city slicker,"
he tried to joke.
''Thanks," I said.
He drove me back to camp where
we took showers and jumped into a
rented car and drove the IS miles to
Morganton. Ah, the Holiday Inn. We
ate 16 ounce T-bone steaks and drank
beer and ate baked patatoes and sour
cream and apple pie and ice cream.
During the steak, Norris talked about
the group we left behind in the moun-
tains.
"These are the first blisters - at
least psychologically - that these kids
have ever experienced. Not many of
them have ever had to do anything
they didn't want to do. During the ex-
peditions they aH will want to quit
many ti:mes, but they can't be c a use
ther. are afraid of being left behind
While Norris was talking I remem-
bered the two young men who came
to my aid the second time I thought I
had died. They were Phil _Brown, the
black youth whose father" IS an execu-
tive at Wayne State University, and
A 1 a n Mullins, a scholarship student
who was born in Appalachia and
whose parents live near the Chrysler
E. Jefferson plant. Brown and Mul-
lins and the two elected leaders Car-
rington and Komray were also the
ones who helped the rest of the group
make good tents and fires.
"During the solo," Norris contin-
ued, "they learn they have to depend
on themselves for the first time. There
is no one else to make a lire or tent
for them. If they don't do it, it doesn't
get done. No maids. And it really is a
matter of survival. None of them will
enjoy it until it's over. We don't ex-
pect them to."
HALF
GALLONS
ALSO
AVAILABLE
On Wednesday, the third day
of the expeditions, winter spent its
last moments on the mountains of
North Carolina, dumping four inches
of heavy, wet snow and gusting cold,
biting winds.
There were eight groups on expedi-
tion. Four left from the 0 u t w a r d
bound camp at Table Rock Moun-
tain. Four o t h e rs left from a base
camp at Bennet Gap, a three hour
drive east of the 0 u t w a r d Bound
School.
Wednesday afternoon, a group Jed
by Cranbrook's star halfback Rich
String came in a day early and went
straight to the camp's showers.
"We're doing our solos in the show-
ers," they yelled.
Norris' anger m o u n t e d as he
watched String's group come in. The
youths spread out for a mile down the
dirt road, the strongest in front, the
weakest struggling far behind and out
of sight of those in front.
"We made our expedition,' String
said in the showers. "We wenno
Grandfather M o u n t a i n and back.
When we came on this trip, I had no
idea there would be so much hiking.
Now I quit. We all quit. When I was .
younger my parents sent me to a sum-
mer camp and there was a lot of hik-
ing. I was the only one to quit and
they brought me back in a car. That
road today, it just kept on coming.
We cursed and swore a t that road. If I .
had a stick of dynamite, I would have
blown that road off the map," he said.
Instead of using the maps and com-
p a s s e s and hiking on vhe trails,
S t r i n g 's group had marched down
North Carolina State 181 to the Blue
Ridge Parkway and walked down the
parkway to the parking lot at the bot-'
tom of their objective, Grandfather
Mountain.
Paved highway all the way. The)'
didn't even bother to take the tourist
Continued on Page 18
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A mild way to stir
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ANE WHISKEY
ON THE MILD SIDE
Stir things up.
17
THE SUBYIYAL STOBY
" . .. You guys make me so damn mad," Norris yelled suddenly. "It's me, me, me. Cranbrook
is the most me-me-me school I've ever known. You're all just a bunch of affluent candies ... "
Continued
trail to rhe top of the mountain.
String's group didn't like the freeze-
dried food they were given, so they
stopped at a grocery store and stocked
up on hamburgers and hot dogs and
pop. They had blisters, all right, from
walkinl{ down the pavement, but they
weren't the kind they were supposed
to have.
Bruce Margulis was in String's
group. He was c h u b by and not in
good physical shape, but the other
young men listened carefully to him.
T he fi rst night they camped out,
Margulis said he was sick and the oth-
ers brought him tea as he lay in his
sleeping bag. The next morning, they
served him oatmeal and hot chocolate
while he was still in his sleeping bag,
and they packed up his equipment for
him.
''What I learned-from all this,"
Margulis said in the shower room, "is
to r ea 11 y appreciate what I have at
home. I'll never take a warm bed or a
good meal for granted again."
"This is no fun," String said. "I, for
Listen to those steaks siz-
zle! Watch 'em smile!
Your cue to outdoor living.
one, don't rhink the so1os will be "
good time. l decided a Jong time ago
that I've had e n o u g h hard times,
enough bad times in my lie. I'm just
not going. to have any more.'.'
Norris stood in the shower room lis-
tening until he couldn't listen any
more. He had never had a ivoup come
in early like that, never 1n his eight
years of working in Outward Bound
programs.
"You guys make me so goddamn
mad," Norris ,yelled suddenly. "It's
me, me, me. Cranbrook is the most,
me, me, me school I've evc;r known.
You're all just a bunch of affluent
candies. I ckm't care what you do."
A fow minutes later, Norris, the
balding, short 190-pound coach who
would r a t h e r run than walk most
places, calmed down, and tried to per
suade the youths to go on their solos
with the rest.
"I'd rather take pictures and write,"
String said. "I like to do that. I know
I can do that."
WHILE String's group was debat
ing whether to go on their solos, Dom
inic Marinelli, a Cranbrook instructor
who was separated from 'his g r o u p.
walked down a mountain road with a
flashlight in one hand and a knife in
the other.
He was walking down a road on
which Chris Norris told him he would
be picked up, and there were three
sets of bear tracks in front of him.
Bears were still supposed to be hiber
nating, but so m e w 'here nearby a
mother and her two cubs didn't know
that.
N or ma n Ash's group hiked up
Looking Glass Mountain that night,
slipping in the snow; soaked to the.
s k i n and cold. They bushwhacked
until nearly m i d n i g h t before they
made camp.
That night two of the students in
Morinelli's group, camped on the top
. of Grandmother Mountain, got frost
bitten.
At Bennet Gap, where the other
four groups were on expedition, the
weather was even worse. Nineteen
year-old Christina (Nini) Hindert, the
sister of a Cranbrook instructor, 'had
been hirer! to lead a group. A lean,
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pretty woman with long b1on<l hair,
she had climbed mountains all over
tlie world and was stronger than all
the boys in her group and in better
s h a p e than most of the instructors.
That night she blazed a trail through
a blizzard for three groups of tired
young men who were lost and wet and
cold and hungry.
Back at 0 u t w a rd Bound, Rich
S t r i n g 's group made camp in the
h e a t e d shower room. They cooked
their freeze-dried food with hot water
from the faucet. They dozed off warm
and clean and comfortable,. speculat-
ing how much it would cost them to
hire a bus and go back to Detroit
early the next <lay.
On Thursday, the fourth and last
day of the expeditions. the sun melted
all the snow and warmed the air tQ
about 60 degrees.
It was the first taste of spring, and a
new burst of-energy came over the stu-
dents as they hiked back to their base
camp. Small buds which would hlos
som in two weeks were forming on the
tops of the rhododendrons.
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Detroit Free Press, April 18, 1971
. ,
Most of the gr o u p s had hiked
through Kawana, North Carolina dur-
ing their expeditions. The only way to
Kawana is by a rough mountain road
which ends at a river in the center of
the place. When we arrived, it seemed
as if no one lived there. Then:
"Hee haw, hee haw, you boys lost?"
the voice came from tl1e lop of a hill.
'"Hee haw, Hee haw. We got you
guys coming by here all the time. Al-
ways l<>st," said a middle-aged man,
his son standing on one side and his
father on the other.
Morinelli, w ho was convinced we
were lost, walked up and began a con-
v e r s a t ion. "After all, he said, "the
Green Berets train around here and.
they get lost, too."
"This here is Kawana Falls," tlte
man said. "Used to be a lot more of us
here but they got soft and left.
"Couldn't keep up with the work,"
he continued. "Noborly but us Clarks
and them Maxwells left around here
now. We don't get along. My name's
Mike Clark."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark,"
said Morineli. "You and the Max-
wells shoot at each other?"
"Naw, not much of that any more,"
Cl.ark said. "We burn now. I got ol'
Tom M ax w e 11 's place last month.
They know I bought the gasoline but
can't prove I lit the match. You boys
have a good trip. you hear?"
Early T h u rs d a y afternoon Ash's
group marched back into tile base
camp cheering and singing. When
they arrived at their wooden-floored
tents, they took off their boots and
compared blisters and sat there in the
warm sun.
"We made it. Goddamn, we made
it," Norman Ash said over and over.
"I made it."
"We should've left him behind a
long time ago," Phil Brown kidded.
Two tents away Rick String's group
sulked. Ash came over to talk to hts
friend, Bruce Margulis. "Hi Bruce,"
he said. "We made it. We're back."
"So what," M a r g u I i s said. "Big
deal."
"I heard about y ~ u guys," Ash said.
"Walked on the highways and ate hot
dogs and hamburgers. Ha, we bush-
whacked and got Jost and nearly froze.
We bushw'hackecl after dark in the
snow over 1,000 feet straight up this
mountain."
"We walked 18 miles in one day,"
Margulis said. "We were really truck-
ing."
"Yeah," Ash said. "On the road."
St.ring's _group began packing up
their equipment. As the others came
in and heard about the paved roads
and hamburgers, it wasn't comforta-
. ble for them in the base camp any-
more. They decided to go out on a
one-day expedition and do their solos
after all.
Walter Shwayder, whose mother is a
concert pianist and whose family owns
Samsomte luggage, was the leader in
the movement to go on another expe-
dition. "I just never challenged Stnng
or t!he others," he said. "None of us
did. We just did what they wanted.
We wanted to go on trails and stuff,
but we just never spoke up."
While the other three g r o u p s
lounged in the sun and took showers
and bragged about whose expedition
was the toughest, the group that came
in a day early walked silently and bit-
terly back into the woods.
(./i)
"Do yau fear the force of the wind the
slash of the rain?
Go face them and fight them and be
savage again.
Go hungry and cold like the wolf
Go wade like the Crane:
The palms of your hands will tllicken
The skin of your cheeks will tan
You'll grow ragged and weary and
swarthy
But you'll walk like a man."
Hannibal Garland (circa 1860) -
a poem on the front door of tile of-
fice of the Outward Bound School.
~
During the solo days, temperatures
stayed in the 60s during daylight anc\
in the . high 40s and low 50s at night.
Insects came out the second day and
snakes and bears stirred in their win-
ter Jong sleep.
Geoff Dallemand, the 16-year-old
Continued on Page 211
II
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THE SVBVI.VAL :STOBY
11
This experience has helped me. Thanks
papa. I was a little pansy before and now I
still am but I like it. I wm come home like a
tough man ... "
Norman Ash's group c<nnes marching home, exhausted but justifiably pr<md.
C.Ontinued
son of a General Motors executive,
took his solo near Bennet Gap.
"Hiked a long way to get to this
spot," he W?ote in 'his journal. "On
the hike. nobody talked to each other.
When I reached my spot I started to
build my shelter but I was sidetracked
by nothing. I'm very light and dizzy
and confused. I walk up and clown the
paths and sing. I really don't want to
do too much but. then I do. Jets over-
ihead!
''I'm tired and weak and finding
that while I considered myself inde-
pendent and introverted. I can't really
cope with myself when I'm out of my
environment. The others are really
quite close. I know where three are lo-
cated. But I still have enough self-con-
trol not to talk to them. Time passes
too slowly. I just think about the re-
lief of Sunday morning when I can be
back again with the people and food
and civilization and finally the best -
. home. I really see that I was wrong
a1?<>ut myself. I misjudged my person-
ality.
"I just want the time to pass. Insects
are out. All sorts of songs run through
my mind. I'll be glad to be home. I'll
see more and realize more. I don't
know how I can stand going through
tomorrow. I don't fear the wQOds so
much as the remoteness and the slow-
ness of time. I don't know Whether I
wish I had a watch or not. I try and
put my mind where I can't put my
body. I hope that I sleep for a long
time. It is my Ol)e blessing at rhe mo-
ment."
The last sentence in his journal
read:
. "The ,iets overhead are still annoy-
mg but I know that in a little while I
will be just like the people on th<'>se
,jets."
NORMAN ASH'S solo site was an
hour-and-a-half hike. from the school.
At first he tried to pitd1 it in a picnic
area, but i n st r u c to r John Morris
wouldn't let liim. After Ash found a
site, he wrote in his journal: "Well, it
is good because at least I'm not cop-
ping out."
Under the heading "Reflections,"
Ash wrote:
"I just don't know. I will be super-
happy to get back home. At least for a
while then I will appreciate the finer
things a bit more. Pers0nally I know
e x p e r i e n c e has helped me.
Thanks papa. But it is difficult to say.
exactly how, I was a little pansv be-
fore and now I still am but I like it.
This is my life with mom and p<>P and
everyone there and I liked 1t. I will
come home like a tough man of the
woods. That's a joke. I will just brag
but I deserve to after going through
this."
On the last morning of the solos, the
c r a n b r 0 0 k students woke ur in
h ea v e n. l'he solo sites were al on
mountain tops or ridges and there was
a low cloud cover that morning. The
youths looked down on the soft white
billows and it was the day before they
would be home; it was nearly all over
and they were all in heaven.
All except Lance Stone and Hugh
Kerr, who decided not to go on their
solos. They spent the three days at the
Bennet Gap base camp. They were
not afraid of the solos, they said, but
objected to them on "moral princi-
ples."
Walter Schwayder got up at 5 a.m.
on the last day and climbed a high
Detroit Free Press, April 18, 1971
rock near his solo site and watched the
sunrise. He wrote:
"The whole valley was covered by
the clouds. The sky was perfectly
clear and blue. On the horizon were
two or three bands of colors, orange,
red, yellow then later, blue, green and
purple. A somewhat strange feeling
came over me-as I stood on this large
rock, from where I could look 360 de-
grees-and l o o k i n ~ down on all the
clouds just covermg the hills and val-
leys. I felt sort of like a god - over-
looking everything . . .
"Five minutes later the sun just
touched the horizon - putting a red
edge on the entire horizon and a red
glow on the nearby clouds . . . I
never really appreciated beauty until
now."
When the 88 youths from Cran-
brook got back to school, they limped
and were very happy and bragged
about their blisters. All except Lance
Stone and Hugh Kerr. They told
everyone they thought they had made
a mistake and were sorry they had not
gone on their solos.
The blisters have healed by now.
Mike Neff went to Miami and Gary
Zimmerman to Hawaii. Norman Ash
drives his new canary yellow Mach I
Mustang up and down Woodward.
The young men look the same as al-
w a y s, but they have climbed moun-
tains and they know what it's like to
be hungry and cold and so tired they
can't take another step but still have
to. They know what it is like to be
alone and they' know what it.is like to
work together.
For nine days the v a 1 u es which
paid the tuition of most of them at
Cranbrook, business values where the
strong outdo rhe weak and t11e wea'k
are left alone, those values were re-
versed.
For nine days, the only thing to en-
joy was life itself. No cars or stereos
or color televisions. It didn't mauer
then who wore knit suits or whose tie
was most expensive.
The greatest satisfaction of being
strong can be helping the weak. The
greatest satisfaction of being weak
can be knowing it was harder for you
and you still did it the same as every-
one else.
For three days each had been alone
with his little patch of land., finding
it a little easier to be alone after
realizing what it is like to be toge-
ther.
Getting across those mountains was
one of the great American challenges
two hundred years ago, after the Rev-
olutionery War. The mountains know
how we did it then. They still hold
the secret. l2iJ
s
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