The Geriatric Adventure Society
Men of a certain age enjoy themselves by getting lost in the College Grant in the dead of winter. And they look forward to it every year.
THIS IS THE TRUE STORY of the inaugural Grand Sub-Arctic Bushwhack of the Geriatric Adventure Society. It was in March of 1972, a Sunday morning, almost precisely at the 45th Parallel in the Dartmouth College Grant. The last of the winter's threeweek Dartmouth Outward Bound courses had just ended (it was in those glorious days when Dartmouth had an Outward Bound program). Weary high-school-age students had just completed a four-day expedition through the deep snow and brush of the Grant, turned in their skis and gear, and left for home.
Three instructors and the Outward Bound director now sat drinking coffee in Merrill Brook Cabin. "I wonder," one of them mused aloud, "how much territory that gang really did cover in four days. They sure seemed tired out when they got back. And to hear them talk, you'd think they'd been halfway to Portland."
"Why don't we just ski in their tracks and find out?" suggested another.
Six hours later, still well before dark, the instructors returned to Merrill Brook. They had traced virtually the entire four-day route of their students' expedition.
Thus were born the Geriatric Adventure Society (GAS) and its annual odyssey through the Dartmouth Grant. The Bushwhack reenacts the star-crossed wanderings of Ulysses and constantly tests that hero's credo: Old age hath yet his honor and his toil...some work of noble note may yet be done, not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The name of the Geriatric Adventure Society was because it was a name we could grow into, rather than—like the Boy Scouts—one that would sound silly as we grew older. We started out silly, but now it's getting serious.
There is no shortage of raw material for members, who call themselves Gassers. Hanover and Dartmouth, in their north country setting, have always attracted people who like cold, wilderness, and outdoor sports, and "who take tradition seriously enough," in the words of one pundit, "to make fun of it." Thus most scheduled trips develop waiting lists. Younger recruits sometimes receive preference, particularly in winters of deep snow. Their joy is often diminished somewhat when they discover they are expected to perform the lion's share of trail-breaking and food-hauling.
Membership is open to any male human being (not out of any sexist intent but to preserve the considerable modesty of members in the small cabins); Dartmouth alumni and faculty have naturally found the Society's adventurous appeal magnetic. They now compose a majority. Dean of Upperclass Students Dan Nelson '75 is one of the youngest members; Walker Weed '40, retired head of the Hopkins Center woodshop, is the oldest.
Each winter the Society's Chief Perpetual Navigator (a position attained by seniority rather than merit) pores over topographic maps of the College Grant and proposes an objective that probably cannot be reached by human beings on skis. Then, breaking into two groups Group 1 and Group A—and following compass courses through the woods, the members attempt to meet at that location. In military terms, it is the classic pincers movement; in practical terms, it is a miracle when it works. Last year, the 20th Bushwhack, was even more complicated. A record number of participants forced us to add a Group Alpha. A "double pince" was pulled off with near pin-point accuracy (that is, two of the groups ran into each other by accident and then found the other group on purpose).
The length of the jaunts has occasionally approached 30 miles. One year we lashed up a makeshift toboggan to evacuate Wayne Tobiasson Th' 34, who broke a femur in a fall (he has since received an artificial hip and returned to the Bushwhack stronger than ever). We have circumambulated the Grant, climbed almost all the mountains in sight, and been completely befuddled and lost on at least a dozen occasions.
Many times, weary parties have returned to camp by starlight. The bright side of this predicament is that they find the other party there before them, the cabin warm, and the hors d'oeuvres all laid out. One year, after a typically awful navigational debacle, a worn-out group stumbled hopefully into the cabin clearing at Merrill Brook long after dark, only to find it empty.
"Men," announced their leader, as he kindled a fire in the woodstove, "we are now a potential rescue party."
One of his exhausted followers mumbled from the bunkroom, "I don't believe I could rescue my ski poles from the front yard."
None of which is to suggest that this is solely a hair-shirt organization. In camp, haute cuisine is the order of the day—octopus canapes, boeuf bourguignon, and the like—and coat and tie are suggested for evening meals. The conversation is of drawing-room quality, unless the attorneys and physicians begin discussing medical and legal ethics, or the group tries to affix the blame for that day's navigation upon any one individual.
In recent years the Society has begun to branch out. Its flag has been photographed flying from a staff at the South Pole, courtesy of Tobiasson; and in July of 1989 it reached the Arctic Circle, as six members canoed the Canadian Barrens to salt water at Bathurst Inlet. In 1985, Dudley Weider '60 and another member represented the Society at the Iditaski Marathon, a 210-mile cross-country ski race in the Alaskan bush.
During September, members gather with their wives at the College Grant for a work weekend—repairing stovepipes and roofs, staining and painting buildings, and stacking firewood. At New Year's, they meet for pot luck, glog, and folk songs of the fifties.
But the great moment or each year comes sometime around Christmas, when the annual Bushwhack invitations arrive with a description of the proposed route inspired by Bob & Ray. "Dear Sir," they invariably begin. "You are most cordially invited to participate in, etc Please send in your suggestions. I will mail you farther information after I have collated and discarded them Please call if you have any questions (any reasonable person should)... And in the meantime, friends, hang by your thumbs and write if you get work."
THE BUSHWHACK REENACTS THE STAR-CROSSED WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES.
Carpenter, builder, newspaper columnist, and former director of Dartmouth's Onward Bound Program, Will Lange is also co-founder and Chief Perpetual Navigator of the Geriatric Adventure Society.
