One of my earliest and most fond memories of my life as a Boy Scout was a week-long camping adventure in Utah’s High Uinta Mountains. Camp Steiner was a dream-come-true for a 12-year-old city boy. In the shadow of 13,500 foot King’s Peak, my buddies and I scampered through the forests, canoed on cold mountain lakes, slept snugly in mummy bags against the frigid night air, cooked our meals over open fires and thrilled to the endless tales of ghosts, goblins and mystic white buffalo as we ...