gimbelsjeep
Sharpest Tool
Gather around kids and read this reprinted story from The Gaslamp Newsletter.
Submitter note: A journey like this realistically will never happen again, I wish I was there. There are also photos of the Jeep Truck. This truck burned in a garage fire the next year. The garage and truck were never rebuilt. Enjoy
Rocky Mountain Trek
In the summer of 1952, I was one of 11 Boy Scouts from Glen Ridge who joined Troop 3 Scoutmaster George Gimbel on a 73-day cross-country adventure. The trip took in 22 states and two Canadian provinces. Nineteen fifty-two was years before the construction of the Interstate Highway System, so all of our travel was via state and local roads. We saw the country up-close. We camped out every night in national parks, state forests, and Boy Scout camps.
We departed from Glen Ridge on June 17, just a couple of days after the start of school vacation. The prior three months we had worked together to refit Gimbel’s Jeep truck with seating benches, storage chests, canvas curtains, a galvanized roof to carry two 18-foot aluminum canoes, and a trailer for tents, packs, provisions, and two more canoes.
Our itinerary called for us to travel south and west through the Ozarks to Little Rock, Ark., and continue west through Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle. Driving through the Ozark Mountains, it became obvious that the local lifestyle was worlds away from anything I had experienced in Glen Ridge. By the time we reached Drumwright, Okla., with oil wells in all directions, the upholstered green benches in the Jeep had turned a dusty brown. In early July, we reached Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in eastern New Mexico, where we spent
nearly a week with fellow scouts from all over the country.
One evening while there, we watched as professional rodeo cowboys at the Raton Rodeo wrestled steer to the ground and rode bareback on broncos. Next we headed north to Colorado. After establishing our campsite in Rocky Mountain National Park, five scouts, including me, headed off on a two-day hike to the summit of Long’s Peak. Halfway up the open mountain face we encountered a July snow storm. Very scary!
In northwestern Wyoming we visited Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks. It was here that I celebrated my 14th birthday on July 22. We rigged masts on our canoes with lodge pole pine trunks that we found in the woods, adding ponchos as sails and driftwood as daggerboards. Sailing in the shadows of the Tetons was unforgettable. One fine day we embarked on a canoe trip down the
Snake River in Wyoming. We linked up with a local guide who assured us he had everything under control. Not so! We had to rescue two scouts as their canoe disappeared downstream near Jackson Hole.
Some of my clearest memories are of Glacier National Park in northern Montana, where we hiked to the forest fire observation towers and were educated by the rangers in charge. We also spent a memorable day hiking on the surface of glaciers and dropping rocks down the crevasses to get a sense of their depths. One night after falling sleep on the shore of Saint Mary Lake, we were interrupted by unfamiliar sounds. About 30 feet beyond our tents were two bears competing for the food we had suspended by rope from a tree limb. Eventually they were successful and wandered off.
One of our frequent distractions was flat tires. We became Nascar-proficient at unexpected pit stops. The most memorable took place in the Blackfoot Confederacy territory of northern Montana. While changing the tire we heard unusual noises that sounded like distant firecrackers followed by whistling zings. Turned out two guys on the next ridge were using our truck-mounted canoes for target practice. That tire change set a speed record.
Our scoutmaster, an engineer by profession, included non-touristy visits across the country, such as a refinery, copper mines, and a power plant. My father, Herb, also arranged a visit to General Motors in Detroit through a college friend who was a vice-president. On our arrival at
the outskirts of Detroit, we received a police escort to the downtown headquarters, where we were photographed and interviewed. We arrived back in Glen Ridge on August 28, just in time for the school year.
Ted Meyer
Submitter note: A journey like this realistically will never happen again, I wish I was there. There are also photos of the Jeep Truck. This truck burned in a garage fire the next year. The garage and truck were never rebuilt. Enjoy
Rocky Mountain Trek
In the summer of 1952, I was one of 11 Boy Scouts from Glen Ridge who joined Troop 3 Scoutmaster George Gimbel on a 73-day cross-country adventure. The trip took in 22 states and two Canadian provinces. Nineteen fifty-two was years before the construction of the Interstate Highway System, so all of our travel was via state and local roads. We saw the country up-close. We camped out every night in national parks, state forests, and Boy Scout camps.
We departed from Glen Ridge on June 17, just a couple of days after the start of school vacation. The prior three months we had worked together to refit Gimbel’s Jeep truck with seating benches, storage chests, canvas curtains, a galvanized roof to carry two 18-foot aluminum canoes, and a trailer for tents, packs, provisions, and two more canoes.
Our itinerary called for us to travel south and west through the Ozarks to Little Rock, Ark., and continue west through Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle. Driving through the Ozark Mountains, it became obvious that the local lifestyle was worlds away from anything I had experienced in Glen Ridge. By the time we reached Drumwright, Okla., with oil wells in all directions, the upholstered green benches in the Jeep had turned a dusty brown. In early July, we reached Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in eastern New Mexico, where we spent
nearly a week with fellow scouts from all over the country.
One evening while there, we watched as professional rodeo cowboys at the Raton Rodeo wrestled steer to the ground and rode bareback on broncos. Next we headed north to Colorado. After establishing our campsite in Rocky Mountain National Park, five scouts, including me, headed off on a two-day hike to the summit of Long’s Peak. Halfway up the open mountain face we encountered a July snow storm. Very scary!
In northwestern Wyoming we visited Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks. It was here that I celebrated my 14th birthday on July 22. We rigged masts on our canoes with lodge pole pine trunks that we found in the woods, adding ponchos as sails and driftwood as daggerboards. Sailing in the shadows of the Tetons was unforgettable. One fine day we embarked on a canoe trip down the
Snake River in Wyoming. We linked up with a local guide who assured us he had everything under control. Not so! We had to rescue two scouts as their canoe disappeared downstream near Jackson Hole.
Some of my clearest memories are of Glacier National Park in northern Montana, where we hiked to the forest fire observation towers and were educated by the rangers in charge. We also spent a memorable day hiking on the surface of glaciers and dropping rocks down the crevasses to get a sense of their depths. One night after falling sleep on the shore of Saint Mary Lake, we were interrupted by unfamiliar sounds. About 30 feet beyond our tents were two bears competing for the food we had suspended by rope from a tree limb. Eventually they were successful and wandered off.
One of our frequent distractions was flat tires. We became Nascar-proficient at unexpected pit stops. The most memorable took place in the Blackfoot Confederacy territory of northern Montana. While changing the tire we heard unusual noises that sounded like distant firecrackers followed by whistling zings. Turned out two guys on the next ridge were using our truck-mounted canoes for target practice. That tire change set a speed record.
Our scoutmaster, an engineer by profession, included non-touristy visits across the country, such as a refinery, copper mines, and a power plant. My father, Herb, also arranged a visit to General Motors in Detroit through a college friend who was a vice-president. On our arrival at
the outskirts of Detroit, we received a police escort to the downtown headquarters, where we were photographed and interviewed. We arrived back in Glen Ridge on August 28, just in time for the school year.
Ted Meyer