Boreal Expedition pt. 2

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We woke up the next day having learned something about our gear.

I’m of the mindset that too much focus on gear is the bane of the outdoor/bushcraft industry. You get a lot of “experts” who know a hell of a lot about knives for example, in an academic sense, and put a lot of weight on the details of a knife. (How it’s constructed, the materials used, etc). To me though, it’s about the ability with a piece of gear that matters. You should be able to do with a ten dollar morakniv, the exact same things you manage with a two hundred dollar custom knife. I’m cheap as anything, so I still stick with my battered “companion” model mora, and know that if and when it eventually breaks (as tools are apt to do with the work we put them through), I’m out fifteen bucks and it’s an easy thing to replace.

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This is getting pointed out as a contrast to a necessary approach to winter gear. Specifically sleeping bags and sleep pads. The most important thing you can do in the field, besides keep hydrated, is make sure you’re getting a good nights rest. Sleep’s not often pointed out a neccesity in outdoor work, but think about that time you crammed every night for a week for upcoming tests. Remember how your mind worked at the end of it? Not exactly firing on all cylinders was it? Now add in days filled with the intense physical activity required by winter camping. The simple mechanisms of keeping warm are draining in a biochemical sense. Even if you’re not expending energy processing wood for your fire, or hiking around the site, your body is working harder than it’s probably used to in order to keep you warm. A few days of that will sap even the most energetic of people without the chance to recharge and reset when you sleep each night. So if you’re planning a winter camping trip, don’t hesitate to drop a little extra money on a good bag. There are ways around it, like layering a couple of subpar bags together or keeping

So if you’re planning a winter camping trip, don’t hesitate to drop a little extra money on a good bag. There are ways around it, like layering a couple of subpar bags together or keeping your stove/fire going all night. However extra sleeping bags mean extra weight, and keeping a fire of any kind going all night means sacrificing some of that much-needed rest. For the most part, we all slept alright. Save one of us, who’d rolled off his sleep pads and lost a lot of warmth as the cold ground sapped it out of him. He didn’t complain much, but it was a visible mental struggle as he warmed back up by the stove. Nobody likes getting out from under the covers on a cold winter morning, let alone when it’s ten degrees while camping out.

Our first day was spent rehashing the skills we’d gone over in a hurry the night before in order to get camp set up. We had two students with us who had virtually no outdoor experience, and this meant going over axe safety, firewood processing and a lot of other pretty basic stuff. For me, that was a good experience. It allowed me to test my own abilities by helping out when the new people struggled. (“See one, do one, teach one” is Tim Smith’s approach to the learning process, and it’s proved itself over and over)

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This was particularly true with one match fires. The process involves gathering a “twig bundle”, and while that seems pretty straight forward, it’s a subtle skill. Simple, and basic sure, but getting the density of the fuel right, as well as collecting the right sized twigs is important. You can explain it over and over, but until someone’s done it a few times the necessity doesn’t quite make sense.

Axe work was pretty similar. There’s a tendency to think of splitting wood as a formula of “harder work=faster processing”. I disagree. Splitting is a calm, almost lazy process if you’re doing it right, All you really need to do is lift the axe up and let it fall again. That’s an obvious simplification, but the idea’s right. Contact splitting makes it even easier, just hold the axe and the piece of wood together, then let them drop. It was interesting to watch new student’s figure these things out as they went. I had a whole semester of fiddling with these skills. They’d had a day or so with them, but a day fueled by necessity is apparently worth more than a day where it doesn’t matter.

In the next article in this series, I’ll span a few days of our trip. We covered a lot of winter skills in a very short time, but I don’t want this series to become a study in winter living minutiae.

Hope you’re all doing well, and thanks for coming back!

Slainte Maithe everyone.

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Boreal Snowshoe Expedition Pt. I

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   I just finished attending the Boreal Snowshoe Expedition offered by Jack Mountain. As learning experiences go, this was a great one. Not only for technical skills used on trail, but also for all the teacher/guide skills that go on in the background of trips. I got to help Tim out with the preparation for the trip before and after we got on trail, and that’s as important a job as all the minutiae that happens once everyone is out in the woods.
A lot goes into these trips, and that requires careful planning and a sixth sense for possible issues that’s born of experience. Seeing all the back end work of planning meals and buying supplies for them, going over group kit to make sure everything is working etc. and getting to help with it added something to the trip that would never have happened otherwise. Seeing all the gear and preparation get employed as we went really hammered home the necessity of having a well thought out schedule, organization of gear, and a knowledge base to cope with problems as they arise.
  We left the folk school in New Hampshire the day before the course started, and took an evening of relative “luxury” in a small hotel in Presque Isle Maine. This was oddly another moment of insight into how experience teaches about how to best plan out these trips. In the past, the classes met at the entrance point to Squapan (The lake we’d be trekking across), and invariably people were late, or couldn’t find the spot etc. With this slight adjustment, we could convoy over to the lake and all arrive at the same time.
Arriving at the lake, we unloaded all our gear and the group kit and went over the methods of securing it on our toboggans, and Tim’s approach to snowshoe bindings. We used a simple binding of one rope, looped and knotted in a way that allows for quick, hands-free removal, rather than some of the modern bindings with clips and straps. As we loaded up the gear, each of us was given a piece or to of group gear to haul with our personal kit. This included our twelve-foot wall tent, all of our food for the trip, chisels for breaking holes in the ice for water, and all the other little things I’d seen Tim methodically check off the list while we were packing up.
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Toboggan, loaded and ready to be hauled.
Once the gear was loaded, and the harness explained (they go over one shoulder like a bandolier, NOT around your waist like a belt. My first mistake of the course) we started the trek out onto the lake. The day was beautiful, and the walking easy when aided by snowshoes. In retrospect, the warmth should have been an indication of future issues, but we were all too excited to be out on trail to pay attention.
We found a location for our camp site, our first steps were unloading gear and setting up the tent. Again, this proved to be a finely tuned process that required a certain amount of foresight and attention to detail. Winter camping is much less forgiving than other seasons. The cold, combined with the deep snow creates an environment that demands a procedural approach to site selection and development. You need access to the lake in order to chip a hole to pull water out of, a location for the canvas tent with plenty of tie off points (our tent was eight sided and included a fly with its own eight separate tie offs), as well as an investment of time to stamp around the snow sintering down the ground to create a level spot for the tent and cooking area.
 Once camp was set up, we settled in for dinner and talked about the skills and experiences that the course would cover. Meals on trail are always a high point, they go in for calorie content and replenishing lost nutrients of the day. That’s not to say they aren’t delicious, just that I remember wolfing them down too fast to recall anything in regards to “flavor”. As darkness snuck in around us and we piled into the tent, nothing but joy at being back on trail, and revelry at the feel of once again aching muscles and a calm, tired feeling filled my head.

The Big Shift 

I have been a student all my life. I plan on continuing to be one for the remainder of it. However, starting next year, I’ll be making”the big shift” from student to instructor. I’ll be moving (again) to New Hampshire and helping the owner and head instructor of my school in Maine start a youth program

Now, in retrospect I’ve been helping with courses like this for a long time. Different subject matter, but similar formats. In highschool I worked for my fencing coach on occasion, going with him to fencing demos at schools, and teaching/performing at Renaissance Fair’s. Eventually, doing a few demo’s on my own when my coach couldn’t find the time. I helped facilitate groups attending Heifer international’s poverty courses in Arkansas, and organized youth programs for the Midwest-US China association. 

Its a big change in mindset though, to go from student to teacher. It takes a basic comfort in the subject, paired with an understanding that the people you teach may be completely oblivious to the little details of it that you take for granted. 

On top of that, it’s likely the most responsibility I’ve ever shouldered. The purpose of the courses I’ll be running is not just to inform, but to help young people find something that is missing from modern life. A closeness, and deeper understanding of nature and our place in it. I am of the mind that this is at the root of a lot of modern issues, and I’m not alone. In his book “Last child in the woods” author Richard Louv lays out a description of modern children and the way they are educated that lacks any real immersion in the outdoors. He refers to a “nature deficient” generation, that I was born into, but due to the choice of my parents to homeschool my siblings and I, observed from the outside. As Louv talks about all the things previous generations were able to partake in (Unstructured outdoor time, gardening, nature walks etc) that young people today simply don’t do, some mental and emotional puzzle pieces that have been irking me for a long time started to fall into place.  

I was lucky in my young life to have a school structure that encouraged me to be outdoors (this is all your fault Ma), it allowed curiosity to grow that was stifled in the one year I attended a regular grade school. Once I completed the scheduled curriculum content, that was it. Information and understanding was a step in a ladder that teachers would only allow me, and the rest of the class to climb so high on, because if we went to far ahead, what would they teach tomorrow? It created boredom, and a tendency to create problems for teachers. Which really meant I took time away from other students during some classes. To them I apologize wholeheartedly. 

So, the antithesis of this is the guiding factor as I create lesson plans in preparation for this new project. I want to have to say “I don’t know” in answer to questions on occasion, and follow it up with”why don’t we figure it out?” Not only does this mean that I’ll be learning as I teach, but hopefully it will help students to light that spark of curiosity and gently give it air, and fuel until it’s a roaring fire they can cook their ideas on.

Between that as my guide, and the fact that I’m also responsible for these kids safety. (Outdoor activities involve a few potentially dangerous tools, if not used properly, as well as the simple fact that kids fall a lot) the task can seem pretty daunting. However, when I remember all the time I’ve spent outdoors, and the training I received at Jack Mountain, and in all those other projects mentioned earlier, I know I’ve got a good set of skills to start with but plenty to learn as I go. 

So, that big shift? I pretty well stoked for it. Now I just have to ask my siblings about all the stupid things they remember us getting into when Ma took us hiking so that I can keep an eye out for students attempting them. 

And that’s another reason I’m excited for this. Some of my favorite memories involve my youngest siblings and being outside with them. When there’s six of you, there’s a pretty big age gap between the oldest and the youngest. Which meant that I could help them as problems arose, or answer questions if I knew them. 

In particular I remember going to Rockwood state park with my youngest brother, Pj. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. Inside the visitor center was a row of terrariums, filled with local reptiles and amphibians. One of them contained a large, fat tiger salamander that Pj instantly became fascinated with. I don’t recall being particularly drawn to it, but I remember helping him read the placard below its tank. With every new bit of information his eyes hungered for another bit. At the time I remember mostly being annoyed that he couldn’t just read it himself, but in hindsight I see the beginnings of something that’s still a bit part of his life. PJ has had a whole menagerie of lizards, snakes, frogs, fish and anything else you can think of. With that comes a knowledge base that is entirely built on his own curiosity about them. 

Moments like that are what make being an instructor of young people so simultaneously daunting and exciting. If I had let my annoyance at his inability to read stop me from helping, maybe that curiosity would have had one less match lit under it. On the other hand, I have the opportunity to help light more matches along the way, and I likely won’t even know I’ve lit them most of the time, but I can tell you all this, I hope I help regardless. 

I’ll be sure to let you all know as things progress with the program, and as always if you have questions don’t hesitate to ask. 

Slainte Maithe everyone 

 

Immersion 

Americans love the outdoors. 


Well. Something along those lines. We love the idea of them, and we love to have personally conquered them. It’s a strange pattern in our culture, and ours specifically.  

It’s not just about the commercialization and industrial mentality I’m talking about. People smarter than me are doing a much better job pointing out the issues brought up by that and working towards solutions.

No, this has more to do with our disconnect from nature as a culture. Nature and the outdoors are something we DO, the way we go to a bar or a theme park. We “make a day of it”. We plan it out and check off things as we go along. I’m as guilty of it as anyone. Probably more so. I’m working on it. 

Now, this isn’t unique to Americans. We aren’t the only ones who market adventures and use the outdoors as a backdrop. There’s nothing wrong with that inherently. If an individual has the ability to show people a more tantalizing side of life by taking them climbing a mountain, or skydiving, all the power to them. 

The difference is, we don’t know when to stop. Everything is peacocked up into some grand escapade. I’ve even seen nature walks marketed as “adventure in an afternoon”. 

That’s not right. Not in the slightest. Worse yet, it cuts us off from a lot of aspects of the outdoors. Things that inarguably help us be better people. 

Other cultures have this inherently tied into aspects of daily life. The concept of “friluftsliv” is a recent discovery for me, but it’s one I’m going to pursue doggedly for the rest of my life. It’s a Scandinavian idea that roughly translates to “free air life”. It bleeds into a lot of daily life in those cultures. It’s the idea of just being in nature. Not out to conquer it, or take something away. Just existing. That’s something I’ve always felt when I’m out on trail, or even just sitting out in a backyard. We need it so badly, and we don’t even know it. 
I’ve been reading a lot about youth education lately. It’s all in preparation for a project I’ll be starting in the new year. (If you’re curious check out the site and let me know what you think) 

One of the books every teacher I approached recommended was “Last child in the woods”. I’d recommend everyone read it, but the premise is that young people NEED the outdoors the way a tadpole needs water until it’s a frog. Then it can take time away from it if necessary. That’s my analogy, not the author’s, but I think it’s a good one. We don’t immerse ourselves in nature as much as we should. We spend our time there to accomplish a goal, and then it’s back to the humdrum of every day life. 

I get it, and for some folks maybe that’s the only way they can enjoy it. Going back to that tadpole analogy, maybe some people are more like toads. In the water when they absolutely have to be, then a whole life spent out of it. Why though? As much as we’d like to remove ourselves from the natural world, we’re part of it. Admittedly, modern life tends to paint the “wild” as an other. An outside force we’ve been trying to escape since we first stood upright and came down from the trees.


 I tend to disagree with this, and I’m not alone. There have been plenty of studies and research done showing that time spent outdoors is not only good for us physically, it makes us happier. Again, I’d recommend “last child in the woods if you want a clear explanation of how it effects the growth of young minds, and how those effects can change a person’s entire life.


  

So, here’s a challenge. The next time you go outdoors? Go by yourself. Not just without a group of friends, but without anything else that connects you to them. Leave your phone, or if you really MUST have it for pictures/emergencies/etc put it on airplane mode. Take a journal, and just find a quiet place to stare off for a few hours. Jot down the thoughts that really reach out to you, or sketch what you see. Anything to really force yourself into just being. Because, no matter how much you feel like you’re not part of nature, you are. And in my experience, it’ll remind you pretty quickly. 

“I’ve learned”

 

 

There was a man.

He couldn’t tell you much about himself.

Not for lack of trying mind,

He just always seemed to replace the pieces he’d shown you as soon as you’d seen them.

He’d say “I’m not really a sports sort of guy”

Next thing you’d know he’d be next to you at a ball game cheering as loudly as the rest.

I recall a conversation I’d had with him, common interests was the topic.

We’d been on the subject of things that brought us grief. Family we’d lost, friends we couldn’t trust.

And just like that, in the middle of this conversation,

he sluffed off his skin

Not like a snake, or a crustacean shedding it’s skin to get bigger.

He just shrugged, and sort of burrowed into himself,

turned inside out and responded to my latest complaint with a completely sincere

“I’ve learned to let these things slide off me”

I thought he meant the little things, that brought him grief, but I was wrong.

He meant himself, his entire being, the things that made him, him.

And it was in that phrase that I saw his secret,

I understood how I could envy and pity this man all at once.

I pitied him, for his lost friends

Not lost by error, but by giving them up, in a hope for newer cleaner ones.

I pitied his family

For having to deal with this shifting spectre of a son and brother.

And yet I envied him, for he stood in the center of all this mistrust

orbited by abandoned loved ones and betrayed, confused friends.

And he was happy, and when the happiness stopped?

 

He simply turned himself inside out and said

 

“I’ve learned to let these things slide off me”

 

What you want to do isn’t always what you need to do. 

I’ve been working for my uncle between courses in Maine. I’ve been towing cars, which isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse. It’s good money and physically hard work, but it bores the hell out of me. 

Last week, I stumbled upon an opportunity to work for the rest of the year as a canoe and hiking guide. Of course, this initially seemed like a great idea. It lined up with my time frame before I go back to Maine, I’d be outside every day and I’d be helping other people have experiences outdoors. This is what school for, and it’s what makes me happy. 

Seems like an obvious choice doesn’t it? 

It did to me too. Believe me. At least until I sat down and thought about it.

 

Most of the readers here are a lot like me. Folks that have that hint of wanderlust in our souls that drive us towards the new and exciting. People of our ilk tend to do what we like. It’s a good quality most of the time. We find something we’re passionate about we do it whole heatedly, we don’t know any other way to be. 

Sometimes though, we need to reign that urge in and think about our long term goals. My uncle went out of his way to get me this job, and I owe him for that.

That’s  hard thing tor independent minded people to accept. We don’t live in a vacuum. Other people take chances on us all the time, and if we give someone our word that we’ll do something, we better do it as well as we can.  

That doesn’t mean it’s not a hard thing to make yourself stay somewhere that isn’t a good fit. We’ve all been there. Jobs that drove us up a wall, towns that seemed like we’d be stuck in them forever, relationships that just weren’t right but made us comfortable in some odd way. It’s so easy to just drop out of them in the hope of something better. It’s a part of the human condition I think, to move on to seemingly greener pastures. We wonder what’s over the hill and eventually that wondering turns into action. Sometimes though, it’s good to hold out on those urges and just stick with something for a while. 

(My corvid friends ALWAYS seem to find me, no matter where I am)

There are ways of subverting that feeling of restlessness and being trapped. It’s especially easy if you have a timeline that you know will play out, but it’s doable either way. I know I’m only in Maryland until January, and then I’ll be back in Maine doing what I’ve so recently found to be what calls me. So I’ll make the most of the time I have here. Not just in the work I’m doing, but in my time to myself. 

In regards to the work, it may bore me but it’s a skill I don’t have yet. That’s the important thing to realize when you’re feeling trapped. There’s always something to learn, or improve. If you’re stuck somewhere, find a way to keep yourself occupied and busy. If your job isn’t providing you with challenges and you really are just killing time there, then find something in your free time that will help you once you’ve left. Waiting tables until school starts up? Pick up your text books early and start studying. Working an office job for the summer before you move somewhere else? Find a map and familiarize yourself with your future home and the things to do there. 

I’m lucky enough to be in a situation that allows for both. I know next to nothing about cars, let alone towing them. So I’m throwing myself into this job wholeheartedly while I can. 

(Crab claws are part of a car’s basic requirements right?)

And during my time off? Well, Maryland is a great place to be if you’re an outdoorsy sort. In my time here I’ve hiked every chance I’ve gotten, and continued to study the environment here. It’s a good way to occupy my time, and it’s fun to go out and know everything I can about the flora and fauna I encouter during my hikes. 

It’s also just as beautiful here as I remember from being a kid. There’s something incredible about seeing some of the places I remember from childhood with more mature eyes. If you’re ever around the area drop me a line and we’ll go visit whichever environment you’d like. Ocean? We’ve got it. Salt marshes? Check? Rivers and mountains? You better believe it. 

So, the long and short of this article is this; life isn’t just about doing what you like, or even what you’re already good at. Sometimes it’s about putting your head down, working hard to be better at something you dislike and finding those little moments that remind you that it isn’t forever. That those things you want to do or see will still be there when you’re finished, and the time spent waiting for them will only improve your ability to enjoy them, as long as you keep them in the back of your mind while you work towards them. 

Slainte Maithe everyone. Keep working towards what you want, and I hope you get there soon. 

Pop Heinkle’s Hands And Reprobus’ Work Ethic

We’ve all heard that whole bit about people looking like their dogs right? You see a man with a sagged, lined face walking his bulldog and it just seems right. We see bits of ourselves reflected in our pets, and that’s why we like having them around.

Sometimes it isn’t just a physical resemblance. It’s certain traits that let us get along so well with these balls of fur and joy. We can learn a lot from the dogs we have around us. A lot of the time they’re a better indicator of ourselves than any psychoanalysis would be.

My dog is absolutely this for me. My family jokes constantly that Reprobus is my “id”. All my energy and impulsiveness bottled and corked into 45 pounds of joy and desire for work. He needs a job to be doing, or he gets himself into trouble. Curiosity and impishness that can only be countered by wearing himself out entirely, and a distrust of new people. I can certainly relate to that, especially the other side of that distrust, which is an almost asinine devotion to people once his border collie brain decides they’re part of the “flock”.

We all need something to devote ourselves to. For some, it’s social interaction or a creative outlet. It’s the thing you do that all other things in life work towards. The thing that you can put everything you are into. For Rep and I, that thing is work itself. Something that physically wears us out to the point of sitting still for longer than ten minutes.

It’s a hard thing to channel for some of us who take part in an outdoor heavy lifestyle. Especially when the workweek takes up most of our time, and the work we do isn’t physically demanding. I worked in an office all through college, and I’d come home with my mind racing and my bones aching for some kind of activity. It got me in trouble a lot. I’d do stupid things out of sheer boredom, and annoy the hell out of anyone around me with an endless stream of consciousness out of my mouth.

Now that I’m back in Baltimore, I’m working for my uncle towing cars. It’s demanding physically and leaves me feeling truly tired after a twelve hour shift. The other day I glanced down at my hands and realized that they were starting to look like my great grandfather’s paws. He worked in a brickyard his whole life and some of my first memories of him involve his hands. Even in his nineties he still had hands like a bear. Albeit a bear covered in grease and clay, or dirt if he’d been working in their garden. We don’t always intend to end up like our family, but sometimes it sneaks up on us, in ways we don’t expect. I have never considered myself to be a hard worker, if anything I’m prone to bouts of laziness. However, having a job to do that allows me to work with my hands all day and come home sweaty and filthy has brought out the work ethic I respected so much about my great grandfather. It’s rewarding in and of itself, rather than being rewarding because of the money or accolades received. 

So, how does this apply to you, the reader?

 I can’t rightly say. All I know is that if you have the opportunity to work with your hands in some way do it. Find small tasks that require some form of tactical dexterity and apply yourself to them. If you’re mind is racing and you can’t slow it down, physical work draws you out of yourself and into the subject of your efforts. It doesn’t have to be something truly manual. Got an artistic bend? Try some form of sculpture or wood working. If I’m still wired after a day of work lately, I carve and whittle. It’s even better if you can make something you or someone else will have a daily use for. 

For example, 

After my first week of working at Henry’s I found myself restless on the weekend. Even hiking couldn’t wear me out enough to replace the long days of the workweek. So I asked around at work and found a few little projects. Currently I’m working on a walking cane for a coworkers mother.

 

It adds an extra touch of meaning to a project when it’s for someone else. You’ll find yourself more focused on getting it right, and that’s drive to improve your ability as you go, rather than doing good enough for yourself. 

So, get the chaos of your mind out on occasion. Work with something tangible, sweat a little and get a few calluses on your hands. At the very least you’ll end up with a better nights sleep, at best you’ll find the work ethic of physical labor transferred into your daily life. That’s nothing to shake a stick at, carved or otherwise. 

 

 

Conversation with DJ Brand on a drive into town

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Hey everyone, hope it’s been a good week for you all.
So, rather than just writing about my own personal experience here at Jack Mountain, I’m going to be posting a few articles about the other students here. I’ll still be writing about the things we do, but I figure you’ve heard my views on the school and it couldn’t hurt to get some other opinions in if you’re thinking about doing a course at Jack Mountain or at a similar school. I’ve been slowly sitting down with each of them and conducting short interviews about how they found the school, what they’d like to do after, etc. I hope that if I can’t sway you into coming to Jack Mountain, one of the other students here can.

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I’d like to introduce you first to DJ Brand. DJ  drove the farthest to get up here to Masardis, coming all the way from Corpus Christi Texas. He’s a good guy, and has really been getting into the work up here. You’ll usually find him drinking a mountain dew, and laughing about whatever scrape his case of habitual bad luck has gotten him into last.
DJ served in the Navy after highschool, and in doing so continued the lifestyle he already knew. DJ’s father was also in the military, so he grew up bouncing around in Texas and Virginia. Once he got out of the service he took a job working at his father’s computer repair shop. I pressed him for what drew him from working on computers to coming all the way up north and leaving most of technology behind him for a few months. He explained that while he’s still fascinated by technology and modern life, he started to get tired of the day to day, and wanted to find a way to “get back to our roots”. Not in a cultural sense, but literally back to the basics of living as a human. Food, warmth and the skills required to obtain them without driving through a McDonald’s.
After talking to Tim about the course, he admits he had some trepidation. “I was sort of nervous “ he explains as we drive, taking a drag from both his ever present can of mountain dew, and his cigarette one after the other. “ I’d always wanted to be in a “survival” course, and that’s what I was looking for. After being here a few weeks, I hate that word now. Tim’s shown us that this isn’t about “surviving”, it’s about actually living outdoors “. He’s completely right, Tim Smith harps against that dreaded word “survival “ constantly, and for good reason. If you’re living an outdoor lifestyle, you aren’t needlessly putting yourself in dangerous situations. You’re trying to make yourself as comfortable as you can be without harming the natural world more than necessary.  Throughout this course we’ve learned a lot about that. How to build shelters, make fire under pressure and increase our understanding of the part of the web of the natural world that we fit into.

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When asked what he plans to do after finishing his studies at Jack Mountain, he isn’t quite sure. He knows he wants to keep going to more schools  like this. He jokes about finding one in Texas that isn’t “so damn cold”, and perhaps getting his guide license there. This is an ongoing thing with our friend from Texas. The first few weeks here the night time temperatures were in the high teens and low twenties. Texas weather, it was not. However, DJ’s says the adjustment has been a good reality check for him, and forced him to really focus on our studies on fires and shelter building, if only to keep his toes warm enough at night.
The biggest take away for him though? Cooking. We do a lot of simple, from scratch meals up here (if you haven’t had Bannock fresh out of a solar over, you aren’t living my friends) and he admits to a habit of getting fast food more often than he should. However the skills we’re learning here about the process of making good, simple food have affected him immensely. He’s looking forward to going back home, and cooking for his girlfriend and not using something he picked up.

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When I ask him for a final statement or advice for people considering Jack Mountain, he jumps on it without even thinking. Typical Texan.  “even if you’ve just been curious, or are just thinking about doing a course like this, do it. You may not end up working in this industry, but the experience is worth it.
I agree DJ, I certainly do. Now crack open another can of mountain dew and let’s get the dust off those canoe paddles.