“Twenty more miles,” Caleb murmured, feeling the weight of each stroke. The Missouri River stretched endlessly ahead, and he wasn’t sure how much more his arms—or spirit—could take. He looked over at Ricky, First Officer of the expedition, whose own strength and resolve seemed to bolster everyone’s spirits. Together, with a whispered prayer and steely determination, they paddled on, each mile a testament to the brotherhood they were forming.
In the summer of 2024, a band of ten Trailmen from across the nation was selected to embark on a 107-mile paddle trip in the footsteps of Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery down the Missouri River in Montana. The great experiment was to see if Trailmen could gather without knowing each other or their strengths and weaknesses and work together as a patrol.
The Plan
The boys did not know each other before the expedition—an unusual and challenging dynamic, to be sure. In most cases, an expedition crew has the advantage of training together and bonding for months before they arrive at the main event. How many football teams would perform well if their first in-person contact was at the first game of the season?
The boys did what they could to build team spirit before the event. They used a Discord group chat and regular Zoom meetings to get to know each other and facilitate planning for the trip, so they already had some inside jokes and lingo established coming in. While this was certainly helpful, there is simply no substitute for the real thing. Only under pressure do you see a unit’s strength.
A 15-Year Old to Lead to Expedition
First Officer Ricky Hartian, a 15-year-old from Illinois, had been training for months to lead the expedition using the Patrol Method—the approach pioneered by Lord Baden-Powell to foster boys’ responsibility, ownership, and growth. But Ricky’s task was uniquely challenging: not only would he lead a team meeting in person for the first time, but he’d also be responsible for two older Freedom Rangemen, both of whom outranked him, and he’d do it all with a few of Trail Life’s most influential adult leaders, including the CEO.
“I learned that although I felt less prepared, I was more prepared than I realized for this challenge,” Ricky recalled. Ricky had the humility to understand the challenge he was up against but found that his upbringing and training had adequately prepared him for the task.
“The most notable thing about how Ricky handled the dynamic with the two Freedom Rangemen is that it wasn’t noticeable,” explained Mark Hancock, Trail Life’s CEO. “If I hadn’t known about that dynamic coming in, I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
Challenges
It wasn’t always smooth sailing, though. Early in the expedition, the patrol had to work through some conflict as the boys rapidly adapted to working alongside each other. Once on the water, they had to improve their craft as a group. The first day, their canoes wobbled back and forth as the boys struggled to get into rhythm paddling with their partners. The second day, the canoes wobbled less. By the third day, they had found their rhythm and were moving along in a straight line. These things take time and patience, commitment to the objective, and dedication to the other men around you.
The biggest challenge of all, however, came on the second-to-last day of the trek. On previous days, they had routinely covered distances of 9 or 10 miles. On this day, their plan was to cover 28 miles. The day dawned hot and humid. Flies buzzed all around the boys as they quietly worked together to prepare their breakfast. Their muscles were already sore from days of paddling, and they rubbed their tired eyes. They’d been functioning on about six hours of sleep per night, which, combined with the heat, direct sun, and daily paddling, had left the boys feeling constantly tired.
The 30-Mile Day
On paper, when the trip was still in the planning phase, the boys had known that covering nearly 30 miles on one of their last days would be a challenge, but now that they had days of hard paddling behind them, they began to wonder if they had what it took to reach the finish line.
As the boys cleaned up after breakfast and readied their canoes, Ricky whispered a quick prayer: “Lord, we need your help today. Help me to lead my patrol well and for us all to honor you with our words and actions today.”
There was an air of trepidation in all the boys’ interactions that morning. They exchanged pats on the back and words of encouragement as they prepared to hit the water, but there was less joking around than usual. They had unfinished business to take care of, and they knew it was going to take all they had.
They hit the water early, but the heat set in fast. There was no shade on the river, and the high was in the 90s. They were making good time, and around noon, they took a lunch break.
“That’s all we’ve got for lunch?” Caleb asked, his heart sinking. There had been a miscommunication, and the lunch was smaller than most of the boys had envisioned. Caleb heard his stomach growl as he stifled some of the unhelpful thoughts buzzing in his head. It was a demoralizing blow.
“Let’s load it back up, boys!” Ricky shouted, the two Freedom Rangemen hopping up quickly and urging the others along. Caleb knew they needed to get back on the water, but he could feel his arms trembling from exhaustion. “How many miles left?” he asked.
“About 20,” came the reply.
Twenty more miles. Wow. Okay. I can do this… right?
To Caleb, that afternoon felt like at least five afternoons, each mile of paddling longer and harder than the last. To keep his arms moving, he had to shut out outside sights and sounds. He put his head down and paddled on and on and on.
“Laaaaand ho!” Caleb heard someone shout.
The crew had reached the point on the map where they had planned to camp for the night. For the first few days, they had camped at established campsites, but at this stage of the journey the boys had to carve their own campsites out of the tall grass that lined the river.
Yes! We’re there! We did it! Caleb allowed himself a smile. This felt good. Really good.
The boys kept paddling, looking around for a good place to pull their canoes onto the bank. Their muscles began to relax as they laughed together, a sense of pride overwhelming any soreness they felt.
No Place to Camp
The banks along this stretch of the river were steep, making any potential campsites inaccessible. Everyone paddled on, fully expecting the steep banks to gradually give way any minute… but then a few minutes passed… and then a few more.
The chatter began to die down.
“Hey Bennett,” Ryan called out, “You sure this is the spot we’re supposed to camp?”
Bennett was the navigator for the trek. In just a week, he’d grown by leaps in bounds in his navigation skills. He pulled out the map and double-checked. “Yeah, this is it.” He confirmed. “I’m sure we’ll find a campsite soon.”
“It’s just like what happened to Lewis and Clark,” Jackson, the second officer chimed in. “I read they sometimes had to paddle an extra five, or even ten miles before they found a place to camp.”
“Ten miles?” Caleb blurted out. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“Of course you could!” Jackson retorted.
The boys paddled on, trying to strike up light conversation and sing songs to pass the time, but as the minutes continued to pass without a viable campsite, the mood began to falter.
Caleb didn’t think it was possible that his arms could feel any more exhausted, but the impact of a false-finish left him struggling to even stay upright in the canoe, much less contribute to the paddling.
A Breaking Point
“Caleb. Caleb!” He realized someone was calling out to him. “Caleb, you alright, buddy?” He found it difficult to respond. He felt so lethargic, and everything was looking sort of fuzzy.
“I can’t keep going!” The words came leaping out of him, almost against his will. “I can’t keep paddling. I can’t make it. I can’t make it.” He was fighting back tears, but it was no use.
Ricky looked back. He saw Sam had pulled his canoe alongside Caleb’s and was encouraging him. Sam and Ricky looked at each other for a moment, and Ricky could tell by Sam’s expression that the situation was serious. “Let’s pull over for a minute, guys!” Ricky shouted. The boys promptly pulled up along the bank, and they helped Caleb out of his canoe.
“Have you been drinking water?” Bennett asked. Caleb shook his head.
“I think he’s overheated. Let’s get him something to drink and maybe a snack too,” said Ricky.
The boys worked together to revive their friend. They stood in the path of the sun and created some shade for Caleb as he sat, Ricky and Sam both taking a knee by his side, encouraging him and making sure he replenished electrolytes, fluids, and calories. After a while, Caleb visibly began to perk up again. He was still shaking from the exhaustion and emotions, but he was over the worst of it.
“I’m sorry, guys,” he said, still shaking a bit.
“We got you, Caleb,” Ricky replied. “Soon, we’ll be at the campsite, and we’ll all be able to say we accomplished something… together.” Ricky and Sam pulled Caleb up to his feet and patted him on the back. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
Overcomers!
It wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t easy, but that night, the boys did in fact find themselves sitting around a campfire, a warm dinner in their bellies, reminiscing about the highs and lows from the journey. Their arms felt like limp noodles at their sides, but it was a good feeling. They’d made it. Like pioneers of old, they’d set out and faced the unknown, accepting challenges as they came and advancing towards their goal.
Just like he had every night of the expedition, Jackson pulled out his ukulele and led the crew in song. The fire flickered, a sky full of stars was looking down on them, and every boy knew this was a moment that would stick with them forever.
“I learned I can do hard things even when I don’t really want to,” Caleb recalled the next day once the trek was officially complete. “There was a day during the trip where I hit my physical limit but I needed to keep paddling, so I did.”
If that isn’t the mark of a man, what is? There are times in every man’s life where he has to keep doing something, even when he doesn’t feel he can. In those moments, he can despair. He can tap out. He can run away. Or, he can just keep paddling. It’s not always pretty, and sometimes it really hurts, but with God’s help and with brothers at his side, a man can walk worthy and finish the race set before him.
Emerging as Men
These are the kinds of lessons that shape boys into godly men. This is the Patrol Method in action, as Sir Robert Baden Powell understood so well. Boys, like Ricky and Caleb, need the opportunity to push their limits, stumble, and eventually find their footing through experience.
In remembering the adventure, Kent Marks, a Trail Life adult volunteer who accompanied the boys on this journey, recounted: “While the trip was hot and challenging, each learned more about themselves, how to treat others, and to honor God in ways they never imagined. Their paddling skills improved each day and their toughness increased at each obstacle. God's beautiful handiwork was amongst us at every paddle stroke. No fathers came along as we recognized to be a man, one has to do that on his own. The boys who started this adventure emerged as men.”
The young men who went their separate ways were no longer a group of individuals from different Troops, different states. They had become a well-oiled machine, and their brotherhood was solidified and tested through fire, and now it would be a lifelong bond.