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Ben Schnuck, 11, discusses his hiking experience

About three years ago, I committed to the most difficult and memorable adventure I’ve ever faced thanks to the Boy Scouts of America. Before I quit about two years ago, I was a proud part of the Scouts. Since 1910, the organization has been commonly known for bringing boys on campouts, teaching children knots and creating easy targets for bullies.

But for me, it was more than that — it was an outlet for the small part of me that wanted to be outside, go fishing, make campfires and catch bugs. The Boy Scouts of America provided me many adventures. I went kayaking down huge rivers, trekked small mountains, visited monuments and museums. I even had the chance to go camp out in the Colorado mountains for a week, doing all sorts of activities and hanging out with friends. But none of these things would come close to the insanity I experienced in May 2013.

Before I moved to Texas, I lived in Bel Air, Maryland where I was part of Boy Scout Troop 999. Every year, we would go cabin camping at this great campsite, canoe and kayak down the Susquehanna; and more. But the tradition that takes the cake was the 50 mile hike. Twenty four hours to walk 50 miles. Every year, scouts of all ages and ranks would attempt the mighty endeavor, and eventually, it was my turn.

The morning was cold, much colder than I expected. I had only brought a light jacket, expecting to warm up from all of the hiking. The time was 5:58 a.m, I stood at the starting line with my mom, my brother and several other boys. Some were also accompanied by a parent or sibling. Most were enthusiastic, but a few, like myself, were nervous. The clock hit 6 a.m. and we’re off. Some participants ran, some walked, people screamed in excitement. With high energy people are pumped and ready to walk.

The starting shouts of the trek marked the beginning of a recurring nightmare I get. The endless, evil path; we walked and walked and it was still there. Winding and seemingly infinite, stride after stride, it continued on, deaf to my mental plea for respite, mocking me with every step.

Morale of the group fluctuated throughout the day. Early in the morning our mood reflected the rising sun over our heads, bright and burning with energy. As the day progressed, it became quite apparent that our elation would be short lived. I did everything I could to stay positive and carry on. I would listen to music, drink and snack whenever I could and most strange of all, I promised myself that I would sprint to a checkpoint whenever we came close. There were probably 30 checkpoints scattered throughout the meandering trail which provided water, food and a morale boost from the lovely support team. My quick promise proved to be something I would regret later in the course.

As we passed the 20 mile marker, my brother Matt decided he had enough and finished with 21 miles under his belt. As I watched him leave, it was difficult to resist the allure of quitting the journey and relaxing. At the time, I didn’t give my mom enough credit to keep pushing me. She kept my mind on the goal, and we pushed on.

The North Central Railroad trail was the name of the long path. We started in the middle, would travel north for 12.5 miles and then turn around for 25, then turn back around for 12.5. Along the trail, we passed streams, railroad tracks and even through the side of a town. Our most interesting encounter happened at about 11 p.m. We had turned around hours ago and were walking back to finish the endeavor. It was incredibly dark and very quiet.

Our group shrunk over the miles; people slowed down, sped up or quit the trek entirely. Despite our losses, we continued on. There must have been only about four of us, nobody talked, we just hunkered on. But something was suddenly wrong. My mom perked up and looked around. There was a man. He was walking straight toward us. He had no flashlight, he made no noise. All we saw was a dark silhouette and heard the small crunching of his feet on the gravel. Our troop had been given special permission to walk on the path all night because the trail closes at sunset. It was far past sunset and this man was walking. We all quickly huddled together and hugged the side of the trail to let the man go by. He said a simple “Hello” and walked on as if nothing happened.

At the time, I was freaked out. The rest of the group was a color palette of emotions, a few were confused, some were scared, one was coming up with wild conspiracy theories about why he would be there. As I look back today, I have to thank the man, he kept our minds off of the trail for a couple miles. The time of the encounter was about mile 42, and it was crucial that nobody gave up. We were incredibly close, and if it wasn’t for that man, I don’t think I would’ve finished the hike.

Mile 49 was absolutely the hardest for me. We had been walking for about 19 hours straight with a fairly consistent pace. As crazy as it sounds, I really just wanted to quit on mile 49. I was dead tired, my legs were hurting extra bad –remember the sprints– and my stomach was killing me. I was one of the few who were getting sick close to the end. Unfortunately, I had nothing in my stomach leaving me in a perpetual state of feeling horrible and wanting to eat. But I wouldn’t because of my terrible state.

I mentioned before how much my mom pushed me on, but I can’t give her enough credit for everything she did. She practically pushed me the entirety of the last few miles.

And there it was, like an oasis in an endless desert of rocks, road and a strange man walking in the dark, the finish line. I was so incredibly sleep deprived. I didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation. The time was 1:25 a.m. We had finished the course in 19 hours and 25 minutes. My mom was ecstatic, she was exhausted but still very happy. She was the second woman ever to finish the hike. Personally, I didn’t understand how anyone had any energy left for emotions. I stumbled over to the car, so I could go home. I sat down in the seat still feeling sick. The next thing I remember is waking up in bed many hours later with no feeling in my legs. My incredible mother somehow drove 30 minutes home after all of this.There was no time to change clothes or shower, just sleep.

Looking back three years later, I suppose there is a lesson in here, something about you can only get so far by yourself and having others will prove to be extremely invaluable. But I digress, the experience of the 50 mile hike will forever be ingrained in my mind, and I will never forget crazy, unexplainable, incredible, NCR trail.