. . . a Sierra Club program designed to expose city kids to nature . . .

Writing - Sierra Club

Inner City Outings heads to the mountains

The East Boston start

It's a little after 7:00 on a mid-November Saturday morning. Overhead the sky is clear. When the sun finally rises it may actually be warm. But right now it's freezing, and I'm freezing too. I can't wait to get on the trail and get some blood pumping to my toes. It ought to be a great day for a hike. As I stamp my feet to keep warm, enjoying lungfuls of brisk morning air, a police cruiser passes by, followed by a DPW truck and then a rusted out station wagon riding on its springs. I head across the street to get some hot coffee at the White Hen Pantry, thinking once more that East Boston is a strange place to start a Sierra Club outing. Of course, when that outing is an Inner City Outing, a Sierra Club program designed to expose city kids to nature, and the people going on it are from East Boston's ZUMIX youth group, things don't seem quite as strange.

By eight, I'm finally warm, the kids, ranging in age from eight to fifteen, have arrived and we're ready to go. One of the kids tells me that she and her brother left their home at 6:30 AM in order to get here in time. I'm flattered by their enthusiasm. I give everyone, nine kids and one staff person, a quick safety briefing, make sure they've got warm clothes, check the permission slips and then we head out to the vehicles for the 60 minute drive to Mt. Wachusetts. Settling the usual arguments about who gets to sit up front, we share some bagels and cream cheese and set the radio to 94.5. In the back of the van, three teen age girls are talking about rap stars while the 8 year old boy next to me does an outstanding job reciting Longfellow's "Paul Revere's Ride." A typical trip for most hikers it's not, but it has become a wonderful way for me to start some of my most enjoyable hikes.

The hike starts

When we arrive at the Wachusetts visitor center, three more Inner City Outings (ICO) volunteers are waiting for us. We sort through the gear, making sure everyone has enough layers, gloves and hats. Another safety brief, some name games and we start up the mountain. It's not long before the first break is called. I was right, it did warm up when the sun rose and now everyone's starting to roast. Time to shed some layers. As we stuff more jackets and scarves into my backpack, already bulging with a few gallons of water and lunch for ten, I note the first lesson learned today- on cold weather outings, bring an extra pack for discarded layers. A little while later it's another break to check out some icicles by the side of the trail, and then another one to inspect an abandoned old stone foundation, something not often seen in East Boston, Roslindale, Revere or any of the other areas where these kids live. We stop twice for snacks of chocolate and fruit and once again to check out the view. Is that Boston in the distance? We'll know for sure when we get to the top.

As we get closer to the top, a few of the kids start to lose steam. They don't do much hiking at home and Wachusetts can be tough if you don't drive to the top or take the ski lift. Still they push on, through a small pine forest and across the summit road. A family on the way down tells us we've only a little ways further to go. I show one of the boys where we are on my map. A few minutes later we break into the open clearing at the top of the mountain. Several of the children rush to an iced-over pond and start to bang on the ice with sticks. Kids will be kids. I take a few swings too, breaking a fist-sized chunk loose and sending it skipping over the ice.

We break for lunch at the summit

We spread out for sandwiches at the edge of the parking lot. This time of year, summit road is off limits so there are no cars up here. I'm glad of that, happy that these kids can appreciate a view they had to earn without listening to the blare of car radios and sucking up exhaust fumes instead of fresh mountain air. I break out my binoculars and we check out distant views. Yes, that was Boston we saw. It sure looks different from out here.

A few volunteers go off over the hill with some of the kids and soon we hear shrieks of delight. They've found snow. Manmade, but snow all the same. It doesn't take long for the kids to learn that their coats make decent jury-rigged sleds and they slide down a short section of the otherwise empty ski slope. I think that there will be more people with more sophisticated equipment on these ski trails soon, but I know that they won't have nearly as much fun. We shake the snow off of the coats and get ready to head back down the mountain. But first it's picture time. If I have them developed in time, I'm sure to get a great Christmas card. The ICO and ZUMIX hiking crew, posing by a wooden sign frame with the skyline of Boston in the far distance. It's the sort of picture that everyone should have the opportunity to take. Too bad many of us never get the chance.

Going home and wondering about the future

The trip back is relatively quick, we take a direct route this time. It's important to get off the mountain before it gets too cold and ice starts to form on the trails. Back in the parking lot, we say our good-byes and get back in the vehicles for the trip home. In a little while the chatter in my van has died down. I check the rearview mirror. Cuddled against each other, my passengers have fallen asleep. I switch the radio to a country station and softly sing along with the music.

I think of the future of ICO. Of the need for additional committed volunteers and trip leaders, of our chronic lack of funding, of ways to get more youth agencies involved. Sometimes it all seems just a breath away from collapsing, but then I look at my sleeping hiking companions and know that somehow it'll work out, that others will realize that the future of our world, and our environment, rests with kids like these. I relax a bit, it may take a while, but things will work out. I start to think about next month's outing. Maybe we'll go cross-country skiing.

The Massachusetts Sierran