As autumn arrives, and summer fades into memory, I had a few thoughts on how we teach, and how we learn, when it comes to scouting and bushcraft skills.
My first year of junior college had me in a classroom where the professor was telling us shiny-faced 18 year-olds that the point of higher education was to get to the point where we could teach ourselves, and not need a guy like him. Later, in graduate school I learned about the Orders of Ignorance, and was told that the goal in any learning should be to reduce your OI by one, at least.
In my experience working outdoors with my kids and my scouts, watching survival shows on TV, paying for a week of hands-on instruction, and even my back-yard practice, there is hopefully an element of discovery involved. Trying something new, trying an old trick in a new way, or under different conditions, just as long as I'm pushing the envelope a little bit.
Recently I've seen more and more argument about teachers, though, and harsh critiques of people who've set out to share something, because the viewer didn't like the guy's style, or thought he had a better way, or was put off by a certain method. One thing I've learned, and I think this is really important to keep in mind when trying to learn anything, is that a teacher is the sum of their experience, training, and environment. The sum of human experience is far greater than any individual can ever imagine, let alone master, so I think it bears remembering that every teacher has something to offer, because they've been to places I haven't, done things I've not thought of, or researched and learned techniques and disciplines that I've not already mastered myself. Even on my death bed, when I've done all the wilderness survival, camp cooking, knot-tying, fish-catching, and tent-sleeping I've cared to do, I will most certainly not be able to say "I've done it all." There are ways of doing this that I'll never get around to, never earn mastery of, or even have an experience close enough to really understand why they do it that way over there, when I do it this way over here.
When I try to teach, I try to share what I've learned so that others can gain skills, and earn vital knowledge... the kind that, once known, doesn't need to be remembered. I know where my limits are, though, and I expect most other instructors of any craft know this about themselves as well. The know-it-all's tend to get weeded out eventually. And as I was pondering this subject, it occurred to me that there are a couple of truths that anyone, learning or teaching, ought to keep in mind before judging someone too hard. Style counts less than substance, and those who get hung up on "how" someone goes about their teaching may be missing important information stuffed inside the wrapper. The other thing is, someone's method of teaching informs the student, it doesn't always define the whole person. A popular instructor may have a distinct persona, but especially in the case of television shows, that's usually just the facet they show to make their mark in an increasingly crowded market. At home, as human beings, we're far more complex than we tend to be for a fixed audience. I know at scout camp, I'm the Man In Charge... but I don't live my life this way, and there are very specific reasons I operate a camp of youth the way I do that has nothing to do with me as a person.
So next time you're looking for a school to teach you bushcrafting skills, or watching a show with a host you may or may not like, or reading a new book on the subject, keep in mind that you're only ever going to get a slice of the human experience out of one author, one host, or one teacher. This is where not being dogmatic, staying open-minded, and proving out what you learn through your own experience benefit you better than pride, or ego, or just plain old-fashioned stubbornness.
Now get out there, the leaves are turning.
Eagle Island Base Camp
Monday, September 22, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
On Whose Authority?
On Whose Authority?
Over the last year or so I've noticed several discussions which focus on teachers, on authority, on certifications, and so forth. Who is the better teacher of a skill (old kung fu movies come to mind, "My master is better than yours!") is a question many students wish to know the answer to, because they strive to become qualified in some way. There are many schools out there focusing on bushcraft, outdoor living, self reliance, and survival. A student can spend an enormous amount of money going through all this training and certification, and then hang out their own shingle as an "expert" because someone else said so.
At the academic level, we do this all the time without thinking. Universities teach courses and offer credit, and at the end you get a diploma which proves to the working world that you might know something about your subject of expertise. But Harvard doesn't offer Masters in Bushcrafting right now. so we have to make do with other forms of training and trust in the quality of that training.
I'd like to paraphrase one of my respected teachers, Alan Watts, on the subject of Authority. It was originally written regarding spiritual authority, the word of the church, and so on. But I think the theme is equally useful to consider in any pursuit of recognition.
So, in the case of the various survival and bushcraft schools--which I choose not to name because I'm not trying to pick a fight with them--or any number of other groups who offer training, followed by some form of certification that you know what you're doing, it gives the student a sense of superior accomplishment because we tend not to trust our own experience and authority in complex skills and decision-making. These schools might say that their way will prepare you to be confident, prepare you to teach, or prepare you to survive, and that this way must be obeyed in a certain way or else you won't pass the class, and your time will be wasted. But their ways are held to be effective and right only because we say so.
Now, there are times where the authority of teachers is far more obvious, and I'll put medical training up on this pedestal readily. I would not suggest that one can become an EMT or a doctor without going through extensive and rigorous training, to acquire knowledge that is not readily available to the average person. The basics of anatomy and medicine are available to most people through good books and online resources, but the difficult lessons of how it all actually works, depends on life-and-death judgements, and that is probably better left to experienced teachers, rather than self-education.
But when it comes to more humble experiences like starting a fire, building a shelter, obtaining food, signalling for help, or even purifying water, there are so many resources available to the common person that there is no excuse for not getting outdoors and testing it for yourself. And in this way, through your own experience, you create your own authority and wisdom on the subject of living and recreating outdoors. It may take many nights outdoors for you to earn your experience and gain confidence, but the false lure of paying thousands of dollars and holding up a certificate risks confusing the symbol with the real thing. That certificate isn't going to keep you warm at night unless you use it to start your campfire with, nor will it fill your belly or stop your bleeding or quench your thirst. These are all things you have to learn for yourself. Good teachers help, of course, but reliance on dogma is not a reflection of an adaptable mind, which I think is far more important in any situation human beings find themselves in.
As the cliques and popular groups tell you they have "the way" for being successful outdoors, remember that they live by all the same rules you do - they need to eat and drink, be sheltered, and generally have the same powers of observation and reasoning as you do. I think that the sharing of experience, and of hard lessons learned, is a good thing for all of us, but I find it puzzling why people go so far out of their way to elevate to "rock star" status certain personalities or groups when the body of their teaching is, and has been for quite some time, very much in the public domain.
Some people are more effective at communicating information than others. That's to be applauded and maybe even invested in, but the egos which attend our community do us no service at all, in my opinion. Any discussion of who is "in" or "out" of a group takes away from the reason we're all doing this to begin with, and that is to have joy in our outdoor experiences.
Over the last year or so I've noticed several discussions which focus on teachers, on authority, on certifications, and so forth. Who is the better teacher of a skill (old kung fu movies come to mind, "My master is better than yours!") is a question many students wish to know the answer to, because they strive to become qualified in some way. There are many schools out there focusing on bushcraft, outdoor living, self reliance, and survival. A student can spend an enormous amount of money going through all this training and certification, and then hang out their own shingle as an "expert" because someone else said so.
At the academic level, we do this all the time without thinking. Universities teach courses and offer credit, and at the end you get a diploma which proves to the working world that you might know something about your subject of expertise. But Harvard doesn't offer Masters in Bushcrafting right now. so we have to make do with other forms of training and trust in the quality of that training.
I'd like to paraphrase one of my respected teachers, Alan Watts, on the subject of Authority. It was originally written regarding spiritual authority, the word of the church, and so on. But I think the theme is equally useful to consider in any pursuit of recognition.
What is the source of a teacher's authority? He can tell you that he can speak from experience. That he has experienced situations which have made him profoundly skilled or understanding or clever or whatever it may be. And you have his word for it. You have the word of other people who likewise agree with him. But each one of them and you in turn, agree with him out of your own opinion and by your own judgment. And so it is you that are the source of the teacher’s authority. And that is true whether he speaks as an individual or whether he speaks as the representative of a tradition or a school.
So the question comes back to you. Why do you believe, why do you form this opinion? Upon what basis does all this rest?
So, in the case of the various survival and bushcraft schools--which I choose not to name because I'm not trying to pick a fight with them--or any number of other groups who offer training, followed by some form of certification that you know what you're doing, it gives the student a sense of superior accomplishment because we tend not to trust our own experience and authority in complex skills and decision-making. These schools might say that their way will prepare you to be confident, prepare you to teach, or prepare you to survive, and that this way must be obeyed in a certain way or else you won't pass the class, and your time will be wasted. But their ways are held to be effective and right only because we say so.
Now, there are times where the authority of teachers is far more obvious, and I'll put medical training up on this pedestal readily. I would not suggest that one can become an EMT or a doctor without going through extensive and rigorous training, to acquire knowledge that is not readily available to the average person. The basics of anatomy and medicine are available to most people through good books and online resources, but the difficult lessons of how it all actually works, depends on life-and-death judgements, and that is probably better left to experienced teachers, rather than self-education.
But when it comes to more humble experiences like starting a fire, building a shelter, obtaining food, signalling for help, or even purifying water, there are so many resources available to the common person that there is no excuse for not getting outdoors and testing it for yourself. And in this way, through your own experience, you create your own authority and wisdom on the subject of living and recreating outdoors. It may take many nights outdoors for you to earn your experience and gain confidence, but the false lure of paying thousands of dollars and holding up a certificate risks confusing the symbol with the real thing. That certificate isn't going to keep you warm at night unless you use it to start your campfire with, nor will it fill your belly or stop your bleeding or quench your thirst. These are all things you have to learn for yourself. Good teachers help, of course, but reliance on dogma is not a reflection of an adaptable mind, which I think is far more important in any situation human beings find themselves in.
As the cliques and popular groups tell you they have "the way" for being successful outdoors, remember that they live by all the same rules you do - they need to eat and drink, be sheltered, and generally have the same powers of observation and reasoning as you do. I think that the sharing of experience, and of hard lessons learned, is a good thing for all of us, but I find it puzzling why people go so far out of their way to elevate to "rock star" status certain personalities or groups when the body of their teaching is, and has been for quite some time, very much in the public domain.
Some people are more effective at communicating information than others. That's to be applauded and maybe even invested in, but the egos which attend our community do us no service at all, in my opinion. Any discussion of who is "in" or "out" of a group takes away from the reason we're all doing this to begin with, and that is to have joy in our outdoor experiences.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
The Personal Survival Kit
The Personal Survival Kit
Not your camping gear. Not your bushcrafting gear. Not your "let's try out a new skill" gear. Not your snivel gear.
We're talking about your core Personal Survival Kit (PSK). The stuff that, when roaming outdoors, you carry no matter what. The stuff you'll rely on when things go wrong, not when they go right.
Naturally, there will be some layering, some things in your pockets not in this kit, and some things in this kit you might use in normal bushcrafting, but this kit is put together and carried as a single item to be broken into when circumstance requires. Tied to your body, more often than not, at all times.
Pictured is 99% of it. Not in the photo is my first and most important survival item: my cell phone. Even in the most remote woods I have available to me, I can often get enough signal to send a text, even if it won't connect voice. SMS requires far less bandwidth, and can handle interrupted connections, as it breaks the text down into packets and sends them as it can until the message has gone out. Also not pictured is my GPS, which I rarely use for personal navigation, but if I'm not near a road intersection, and I need to provide precise coordinates, is an invaluable tool for getting those numbers to a rescue team. I could replace both with a SPOT tracker, and just mash the 911 button if things go wrong, and it's on my short list of outdoors gear to add to my setup.
From the upper left: SOL Survival Bivy. Oven roaster bag for the wayward traveler. About the same cost as a Wal-mart sleeping bag, but tiny and more important, light. Good for cutting the wind off my body at night, and keeping 20 degrees or so inside. Not perfect, but much better than nothing, far better than a mylar sheet. A red bandanna, for whatever you need a bandanna for... too many uses to count. Contrasting color to the woods, though, is important. Next, my most expensive item here, a sil-nylon tarp/poncho. 11.5oz of waterproof heaven, 104x57 inches. Worth every penny in fast personal shelter in place, or on the go. A map of the local area. More useful by itself than a compass, because it contains information about the area, and can be oriented to without any other tools. This one is waterproof and tear-resistant, and has served many trips to this particular locale. Under it are a couple contractor bags. Additional waterproofing for gear, shelter, me, or a buddy. Fill with dry leaves and browse for a mattress, or just use as a ground cloth to keep dry. slippery, though, so be warned.
The beer can had its lid removed with a side-safe can opener, and rinsed well. A favorite of ultra-light backpackers, it serves as the billy pot and weighs nothing. Keep the lid to hasten boiling or keep stuff out of the pot while working. Titanium spork, because the plastic ones melt too easy. The little ziplock bag is my pocket kit, which has a button compass, water purification tablets, storm matches, blot clotter, safety pins, and kevlar thread. Handy if all else is lost, I'm not without something to help improve my situation. Small bic lighter, because that works 99% of the time. Match case with more UCO storm matches, along with a ferro rod and the best blast whistle I've ever tested. Small Petzl headlamp. LIFESTRAW, because they're cheap and they work, really useful if you can't get a fire going for whatever reason. Just keep the drinking end clean, and chug down that dirty river. Pack of dry soap leaves, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer, because hygiene is important in the bush, and the alcohol is a secondary fuel source or firestarter. Hank of paracord, because, well, paracord.
12 hour light stick if I need to save, or have drained, my headlamp. Good enough for one night. Arrowcard dogtag model for extra little blade, saw, and hunting point, not that it should come to that. Connected on a chain is a dogtag-sized signal mirror. At the bottom, my tool kit tin. Heaviest item in the picture, but contains many excellent tricks including bank line, saw blades, a small multitool with pliers, and other goodies. It is an entire post unto itself. Mora knife, floating handle, solid sheath. I own two, neither has failed me yet. Shaving sharp. Some first aid stuff, hard to show as that bit of kit is always evolving and repacked for almost every trip outside my neighborhood, but at a minimum, some gauze and blood clotting agent, in plastic bags useful for sealing up serious wounds against infection or air movement. The duct tape in the tool kit suffices for small cuts. Finally, a bit of food. Mio water enhancer, so that foul-tasting but safe water can be made a bit more palatable, especially warm. Tea would be better for hot drinks, if you can carry it and a little sugar, but this works cold too. Couple flat-packs of tuna and a mountain house ration. Not because I'm going to starve in 48 hours, but keeping both energy and morale up helps everything else.
Pack it all into the container of your choice. Nest small gear in the billy pot, keep first aid and the knife at the top, shelter items next down.
And it goes everywhere with me in the bush. Period.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Scouting and Politics
Scouting and Politics
When I was a boy, the only politics in scouting were the petty ones carried in by some of the adult leaders, centered more around who was a better Scoutmaster than anything else. National politics were, thankfully, not on our radar as youth.
Today that is no longer true. In a world constantly bombarded by the 24/7 in-your-face news cycle, social media, and instant information, we're helpless against the onslaught of agendas coming our way from every direction.
Today, I got in my email a letter concerning the contentious issue of Gays and Scouting. I'll begin by saying I don't know what the right answer is. I support my friends who have other orientations and experiences than mine, and I will defend their right to be who they are, whether that conforms to someone else's idea of what's "right" or not. I also see, how in an all-male organization, there are some questions that are driven mostly by fear, but still remain unanswered because the BSA is not willing to use the youth of the program as guinea pigs in the experiment of finding out whether a pro-LGBT stance is appropriate or not.
The letter says:
It goes on...
What I want to say is this - the BSA made a choice last year to allow Gay youth, but prohibit Gay leaders. I think this was the worst possible choice they could have made, for two reasons. First, it was an act of appeasement. Had they held their ground and stuck with tradition, they'd have been called a bigoted organization, but as a private organization that is their right. It may not be for everyone, and I find that tragic, but it remains a legitimate option. Second, it creates the worst possible environment for a gay young man... membership in an organization that tolerates him because it feels it has to, but sends a clear message that his natural mentors, the gay men who've lived in silence or shame, are not worthy to lead other young men as adults. It puts the young man in a position of being surrounded by people who accept him by policy, and not in true fellowship.
I think if BSA were genuinely interested in helping young men today, it would find a way to accommodate the young men of yesterday, and display the kind of character we try to teach boys... that all are worth of our positive attention, that there are good lessons to be learned in the outdoor experience, and that sexual behavior, regardless of orientation, doesn't belong at camp. The fear that a gay leader might be acting inappropriately with gay boys should be lumped in with the same youth protection we follow now, in defending against any other form of pedophelia. Abuse is abuse, and that should be where policy stops. Further marginalization and judgement doesn't achieve the high moral standard BSA claims to be carrying the torch for. Rather, demonstrating the quality of character to dive in and tackle difficult problems at the adult level, so they don't turn into problems at the youth level, is what BSA really ought to be doing, if it weren't living in fear.
I'll not discount those fears, either, because the other truth of today is that our society is more litigious than it used to be, and trials are far more public than they were in my youth. The BSA has a lot of money coming in from people who think there should be no compromise, and their fear of being sued, de-funded, abandoned by their base, or pilloried any other way for taking a stand for equality is something its board of directors has to deal with.
But I think men like Green Bar Bill, Ernest Seaton, or even Lord Baden-Powell might have risen to the challenge if they were here today.
When I was a boy, the only politics in scouting were the petty ones carried in by some of the adult leaders, centered more around who was a better Scoutmaster than anything else. National politics were, thankfully, not on our radar as youth.
Today that is no longer true. In a world constantly bombarded by the 24/7 in-your-face news cycle, social media, and instant information, we're helpless against the onslaught of agendas coming our way from every direction.
Today, I got in my email a letter concerning the contentious issue of Gays and Scouting. I'll begin by saying I don't know what the right answer is. I support my friends who have other orientations and experiences than mine, and I will defend their right to be who they are, whether that conforms to someone else's idea of what's "right" or not. I also see, how in an all-male organization, there are some questions that are driven mostly by fear, but still remain unanswered because the BSA is not willing to use the youth of the program as guinea pigs in the experiment of finding out whether a pro-LGBT stance is appropriate or not.
The letter says:
As many of you are aware, a youth member and Eagle Scout in our council has been publicly advocating for further change to the current BSA adult leader standards. This young man, who is openly gay, has stated his intentions to attempt to register as an adult leader when he turns 18, in early August.
It goes on...
NCAC has, and will follow the policies and procedures set by the National Council. As such, it is anticipated that the scout’s application for adult membership will ultimately be denied, after a full review like any other application that is submitted, and he will
voluntary adult leader after he reaches 18 years of age.
What I want to say is this - the BSA made a choice last year to allow Gay youth, but prohibit Gay leaders. I think this was the worst possible choice they could have made, for two reasons. First, it was an act of appeasement. Had they held their ground and stuck with tradition, they'd have been called a bigoted organization, but as a private organization that is their right. It may not be for everyone, and I find that tragic, but it remains a legitimate option. Second, it creates the worst possible environment for a gay young man... membership in an organization that tolerates him because it feels it has to, but sends a clear message that his natural mentors, the gay men who've lived in silence or shame, are not worthy to lead other young men as adults. It puts the young man in a position of being surrounded by people who accept him by policy, and not in true fellowship.
I think if BSA were genuinely interested in helping young men today, it would find a way to accommodate the young men of yesterday, and display the kind of character we try to teach boys... that all are worth of our positive attention, that there are good lessons to be learned in the outdoor experience, and that sexual behavior, regardless of orientation, doesn't belong at camp. The fear that a gay leader might be acting inappropriately with gay boys should be lumped in with the same youth protection we follow now, in defending against any other form of pedophelia. Abuse is abuse, and that should be where policy stops. Further marginalization and judgement doesn't achieve the high moral standard BSA claims to be carrying the torch for. Rather, demonstrating the quality of character to dive in and tackle difficult problems at the adult level, so they don't turn into problems at the youth level, is what BSA really ought to be doing, if it weren't living in fear.
I'll not discount those fears, either, because the other truth of today is that our society is more litigious than it used to be, and trials are far more public than they were in my youth. The BSA has a lot of money coming in from people who think there should be no compromise, and their fear of being sued, de-funded, abandoned by their base, or pilloried any other way for taking a stand for equality is something its board of directors has to deal with.
But I think men like Green Bar Bill, Ernest Seaton, or even Lord Baden-Powell might have risen to the challenge if they were here today.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Wilderness Deficiency
Wilderness Deficiency
I had half-written a blog post earlier this week, and trashed it, because I was rambling and not making my point. Today, I stumbled across an article that helps focus the issue I wanted to bring attention to: the benefits of being outdoors. I think it can be broader than that, though, a communion with nature, solitude, even meditation in the midst of the natural world can be of enormous benefit to us, regardless of the practice of wilderness skills, which is what I'm mostly focused on here. But the point is, get outdoors - it's good for you.
From The Nature Conservancy:
One thing I've noticed about life in these United States, is that we've made it a challenging experience to actually get outdoors. There's a permit or fee just about everywhere you go. It's not near where we live, since most of us live in cities now. It takes effort to crack time out of our busy schedules. It's temporary, meaning you can only go for a short stay... long treks in true wilderness are getting very rare. Nevermind trying to live out there, unless you've come into enough money to buy yourself a piece of remote land, bought the permits to build a dwelling there, and can afford the taxes and upkeep. The days of going to the mountain to ponder life in a cave for months are unobtainable in this country, in this time. So the best we can hope for is to sample it, get a little taste now and then, and hope it's good enough for our soul in the long term.
I read the article the other day about a woman getting in trouble for letting her kid play in the park unsupervised. Such play-time was a staple for me as a child, as I've written before. It's sad that we seem to be exerting conscious effort in moving away from the very activities that produced generations of rugged people, and now we're finding some really solid reasons to go back to that kind of activity, but our policies and laws try and sell us on the illusion of total safety and control, if only we're willing to deny our kids the freedom of exploration, of risk, and God forbid, discovery of the real world, and not our manufactured artifices we dull them with every day.
I had half-written a blog post earlier this week, and trashed it, because I was rambling and not making my point. Today, I stumbled across an article that helps focus the issue I wanted to bring attention to: the benefits of being outdoors. I think it can be broader than that, though, a communion with nature, solitude, even meditation in the midst of the natural world can be of enormous benefit to us, regardless of the practice of wilderness skills, which is what I'm mostly focused on here. But the point is, get outdoors - it's good for you.
From The Nature Conservancy:
Full ArticleI too am scared of nature sometimes. I’m guilty of listening to the stories of one-in-a-million accidents and giving into irrational fears. Heck, my cousin has Lyme disease. What if my daughter, Kareena, got Lyme disease? Or what if the unthinkable happened—a drowning, a broken neck?But then I realize: No one discusses the successes. Getting up the mountain or through the rapids is not news. But in truth, the risk of a freak accident is, by definition, miniscule, and the benefits of persevering are enormous. Being outside provides a sense of accomplishment, no matter what you’re doing—hiking, looking for bugs, kayaking. And it offers real biological benefits that far outweigh the risks.Parents and grandparents have intuitively known about these benefits for years. Now, the medical community is getting behind them too.
One thing I've noticed about life in these United States, is that we've made it a challenging experience to actually get outdoors. There's a permit or fee just about everywhere you go. It's not near where we live, since most of us live in cities now. It takes effort to crack time out of our busy schedules. It's temporary, meaning you can only go for a short stay... long treks in true wilderness are getting very rare. Nevermind trying to live out there, unless you've come into enough money to buy yourself a piece of remote land, bought the permits to build a dwelling there, and can afford the taxes and upkeep. The days of going to the mountain to ponder life in a cave for months are unobtainable in this country, in this time. So the best we can hope for is to sample it, get a little taste now and then, and hope it's good enough for our soul in the long term.
I read the article the other day about a woman getting in trouble for letting her kid play in the park unsupervised. Such play-time was a staple for me as a child, as I've written before. It's sad that we seem to be exerting conscious effort in moving away from the very activities that produced generations of rugged people, and now we're finding some really solid reasons to go back to that kind of activity, but our policies and laws try and sell us on the illusion of total safety and control, if only we're willing to deny our kids the freedom of exploration, of risk, and God forbid, discovery of the real world, and not our manufactured artifices we dull them with every day.
Monday, July 14, 2014
City Mouse, Country Mouse
City Mouse, Country Mouse
As a man in my 40's, I remember a distinct difference between city living, and country life. I was raised in Portland Oregon when I was a child, but always spent time in the summer at my grandparent's homes, which were far more rural. One set lived near the water in Washington, with woods just behind the house, the others lived in Oregon farm country for a few years, raising filberts and grass (as far as I could tell when I was 7). The difference between these two great summer vacation choices, and my home in the city, was obvious to me even as a young boy.
In the city, there were pretty distinct boundaries. I couldn't go past the end of the street alone, I could go to the corner store with a friend (3 blocks away) and we'd walk to school in a loose herd, but there were real limits. Playgrounds were concrete, stone, and asphalt. I had a mud hole in the backyard, where I was free to dig in good weather, provided I rinsed off before coming in, and there are still probably a dozen matchbox cars buried in that lawn the current owners know nothing about. I remember getting a pocketknife at some point, but not being able to do much with it there in town. As an only child, I ended up spending a lot of time indoors, entertaining myself with model cars, and a vivid imagination.
But when I went to the grandparents, it was a different story altogether. My physical boundaries expanded, my unsupervised world grew, and my activities were naturally outdoor-oriented, even if there weren't any friends to play with. I learned about trees, water, boats, fishing, knife use, fires, and maybe a few fireworks. It was like living another life, when I stack the memories up against each other now, many years later. What struck me, was the kids who lived out by the farm, or up against the woods, whose home was those places, taught me a lot by their familiarity with it. They were used to doing things differently than I did them in the city, and we're all familiar with the old story of the mice, one who lived in the city and one who lived in the country. They each specialize in different things, and live very different lives.
What's this got to do with Scouting?
We have a Scouting program to help get our city-fied kids out in the woods once in a while, and try to teach them how to do things in a more natural environment. If we're lucky, some of it sticks. There's only one problem: all the available places to camp, especially here on the East Coast (but I hear reports of it out West as well) have so many rules, so many restrictions, that one is forced to endure a thin copy of what used to be a "rugged moment" in a boy's life. You can't cut your own firewood, you can't pick up dead wood even, lest the fungus have nowhere to grow with the heavy use these campgrounds survive, but you can buy a bundle of wet firewood for $8 at the camp store if you like. Oh, and don't bring it with you, there's a beetle problem and we don't want people spreading invasive and destructive species. So we get just enough to heat up a foil dinner and maybe roast a marshmallow, and probably lit it with some match-lite charcoal, and didn't put much thought into fire lays, or starting techniques, or whittling fuzz sticks or even finding and preparing tinder and kindling in any meaningful way. The tent pitches easily on flat ground, where ten thousand have been pitched before. The cooler has fresh ice, so we don't worry about managing our food for a simple overnight. We're at home, except there's not much of a roof over it... but for all intents and purposes, we've not really left our mindset behind and because of that, there's little room for a new one to creep in.
This hit me in the stomach the last evening of our High Adventure this summer, when one young man told me that his big lesson of the week was the importance of woods tools, and how he'd never really had to use them before. This is one of my high-flying Eagle Scouts. A natural leader, charismatic, achieved and decorated, and as experienced as any kid coming through our program. And he'd never really had to use an axe, or a saw, or a knife, for days of firewood prep just to boil water for dinner, or dry his clothes, or keep warm at night. Now I understand our Wilderness Survival High Adventure is a bit challenging, but it's just built on a set of basic Scouting skills, and I was surprised to learn that these skills were not as common as I'd assumed they were, and the youth were not nearly as practiced in them as they ought to be by the time they're finishing High School and getting ready to enter the world as Men.
It exposed a weakness, in my opinion, of city-based Scouting programs. That weakness is, the ease of which we assume we're doing a good job just because we're getting them out camping every couple of months, and that they're getting through the advancement to Eagle Scout. But these alone do not make a man prepared to deal with the outdoors, not really. It takes more focus on the things they actually learn. It takes repeated practice at things that, because of our limited camping options, are becoming harder and harder to do. That means we, as leaders, need to put in some extra effort to make sure they have the opportunities to really learn and put into practice the basic skills that we assume Eagle Scouts carry around with them.
How to accomplish this? I think the mental discipline is the hardest part... to be aware of how we might be missing something, and then actively plug the gap, is the first and greatest challenge. Survey the boys' skills. Put them to the test, challenge them to skills and see if they have it, or fail for lack of either real teaching, or for lack of practice at what they might have once learned. Bushcraft skills are perishable, like so many other skills that require good hand-eye coordination, focus, and discipline to accomplish safely, efficiently, and effectively. Theory is great, but observation under real conditions is priceless, and a variety of conditions for every outdoor task is needed to provide a well-trained and capable Scout. then we must create an environment where they can have these opportunities. I have a fire pit in my backyard, and plenty of cuttings from trees and bushes in a pile. Inviting the boys over to practice preparing that wood for a small cooking fire, and then making them start the fire over, and over, and over, where I don't care what they cut or how they cut it, or how many times they burn up what's in my pit... that's something I can do to get them more practical experience. It just doesn't fit our model of "meet at the church Wednesday night and nothing else," a rut I'd like to break out of more often.
But we're all busy. I get that, but it's no excuse. If we're to be responsible leaders of young men who want adventure, want challenge, and want success, I feel compelled to suggest we rise to the occasion, and go that extra mile to make sure they have the opportunity they need to learn what's expected of them, in a meaningful way that will stick with them as they enter adulthood.
I challenge the leaders of youth programs out there to take a good look at their program, and find the holes that might go overlooked. Fill them with practical learning opportunities, and watch your boys respond to it. Everyone wins.
As a man in my 40's, I remember a distinct difference between city living, and country life. I was raised in Portland Oregon when I was a child, but always spent time in the summer at my grandparent's homes, which were far more rural. One set lived near the water in Washington, with woods just behind the house, the others lived in Oregon farm country for a few years, raising filberts and grass (as far as I could tell when I was 7). The difference between these two great summer vacation choices, and my home in the city, was obvious to me even as a young boy.
In the city, there were pretty distinct boundaries. I couldn't go past the end of the street alone, I could go to the corner store with a friend (3 blocks away) and we'd walk to school in a loose herd, but there were real limits. Playgrounds were concrete, stone, and asphalt. I had a mud hole in the backyard, where I was free to dig in good weather, provided I rinsed off before coming in, and there are still probably a dozen matchbox cars buried in that lawn the current owners know nothing about. I remember getting a pocketknife at some point, but not being able to do much with it there in town. As an only child, I ended up spending a lot of time indoors, entertaining myself with model cars, and a vivid imagination.
But when I went to the grandparents, it was a different story altogether. My physical boundaries expanded, my unsupervised world grew, and my activities were naturally outdoor-oriented, even if there weren't any friends to play with. I learned about trees, water, boats, fishing, knife use, fires, and maybe a few fireworks. It was like living another life, when I stack the memories up against each other now, many years later. What struck me, was the kids who lived out by the farm, or up against the woods, whose home was those places, taught me a lot by their familiarity with it. They were used to doing things differently than I did them in the city, and we're all familiar with the old story of the mice, one who lived in the city and one who lived in the country. They each specialize in different things, and live very different lives.
What's this got to do with Scouting?
We have a Scouting program to help get our city-fied kids out in the woods once in a while, and try to teach them how to do things in a more natural environment. If we're lucky, some of it sticks. There's only one problem: all the available places to camp, especially here on the East Coast (but I hear reports of it out West as well) have so many rules, so many restrictions, that one is forced to endure a thin copy of what used to be a "rugged moment" in a boy's life. You can't cut your own firewood, you can't pick up dead wood even, lest the fungus have nowhere to grow with the heavy use these campgrounds survive, but you can buy a bundle of wet firewood for $8 at the camp store if you like. Oh, and don't bring it with you, there's a beetle problem and we don't want people spreading invasive and destructive species. So we get just enough to heat up a foil dinner and maybe roast a marshmallow, and probably lit it with some match-lite charcoal, and didn't put much thought into fire lays, or starting techniques, or whittling fuzz sticks or even finding and preparing tinder and kindling in any meaningful way. The tent pitches easily on flat ground, where ten thousand have been pitched before. The cooler has fresh ice, so we don't worry about managing our food for a simple overnight. We're at home, except there's not much of a roof over it... but for all intents and purposes, we've not really left our mindset behind and because of that, there's little room for a new one to creep in.
This hit me in the stomach the last evening of our High Adventure this summer, when one young man told me that his big lesson of the week was the importance of woods tools, and how he'd never really had to use them before. This is one of my high-flying Eagle Scouts. A natural leader, charismatic, achieved and decorated, and as experienced as any kid coming through our program. And he'd never really had to use an axe, or a saw, or a knife, for days of firewood prep just to boil water for dinner, or dry his clothes, or keep warm at night. Now I understand our Wilderness Survival High Adventure is a bit challenging, but it's just built on a set of basic Scouting skills, and I was surprised to learn that these skills were not as common as I'd assumed they were, and the youth were not nearly as practiced in them as they ought to be by the time they're finishing High School and getting ready to enter the world as Men.
It exposed a weakness, in my opinion, of city-based Scouting programs. That weakness is, the ease of which we assume we're doing a good job just because we're getting them out camping every couple of months, and that they're getting through the advancement to Eagle Scout. But these alone do not make a man prepared to deal with the outdoors, not really. It takes more focus on the things they actually learn. It takes repeated practice at things that, because of our limited camping options, are becoming harder and harder to do. That means we, as leaders, need to put in some extra effort to make sure they have the opportunities to really learn and put into practice the basic skills that we assume Eagle Scouts carry around with them.
How to accomplish this? I think the mental discipline is the hardest part... to be aware of how we might be missing something, and then actively plug the gap, is the first and greatest challenge. Survey the boys' skills. Put them to the test, challenge them to skills and see if they have it, or fail for lack of either real teaching, or for lack of practice at what they might have once learned. Bushcraft skills are perishable, like so many other skills that require good hand-eye coordination, focus, and discipline to accomplish safely, efficiently, and effectively. Theory is great, but observation under real conditions is priceless, and a variety of conditions for every outdoor task is needed to provide a well-trained and capable Scout. then we must create an environment where they can have these opportunities. I have a fire pit in my backyard, and plenty of cuttings from trees and bushes in a pile. Inviting the boys over to practice preparing that wood for a small cooking fire, and then making them start the fire over, and over, and over, where I don't care what they cut or how they cut it, or how many times they burn up what's in my pit... that's something I can do to get them more practical experience. It just doesn't fit our model of "meet at the church Wednesday night and nothing else," a rut I'd like to break out of more often.
But we're all busy. I get that, but it's no excuse. If we're to be responsible leaders of young men who want adventure, want challenge, and want success, I feel compelled to suggest we rise to the occasion, and go that extra mile to make sure they have the opportunity they need to learn what's expected of them, in a meaningful way that will stick with them as they enter adulthood.
I challenge the leaders of youth programs out there to take a good look at their program, and find the holes that might go overlooked. Fill them with practical learning opportunities, and watch your boys respond to it. Everyone wins.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
On the growing of Men
On the growing of Men:
There are moments when we have to cast off our comfortable habits, get outside of our institutions, bend a few rules, and take matters into our own hands. A couple weeks ago, I went out in the woods with 3 other motivated men, and 15 teenage boys, for our Eagle Island Wilderness Survival High Adventure trip. These boys were challenged in ways they have never seen in polite society. They were challenged to work together just to get a drink of clean water, to rely on each other for the comfort of their sleep, the quality of their food, and the character of their fun. Nature threw in a couple surprises for us, and we engineered some stress of our own to keep it all interesting, but by the end of the week, 15 young men left the island with more self-confidence, a better appreciation of teamwork, an ability to be self-reliant, and a gratitude for the comforts of home they might not have had going out.
When I wonder if my youth programs have an impact, I need only think of the story a mother told yesterday about one of her sons who attended this camp 4 years ago - he is now in Ghana, serving a 2 year mission there, and she is convinced that the hardships he faced on my trip then, prepared him for the struggles he faces now. I can think of no greater reward than witnessing the practical application of the bushcraft, survival, self-reliance, and self-confidence skills I've tried to teach over the years.
A hearty Thank-You is owed to the other men who assisted me, kept things going when I myself got ill, related to the boys in ways I couldn't, and complimented my style of leadership with their own, providing a broad spectrum of excellent examples for the youth to look up to. I also want to thank the boys for rising to the occasion, and making it a positive experience for everyone, and for bringing their "A Game" when it came to behaving with courtesy and respect, when sometimes that was the hardest thing to do while wet, cold, hungry, and tired. You all have my respect for making it through a very challenging week.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Trip Report: Eagle Island Wilderness Survival High Adventure
Trip Report: Eagle Island Wilderness Survival High Adventure
For the last 8 years or so, I've run a high adventure trip for 3 or 4 Scout troops who operate together more often than not, for lack of large memberships. Because we're not paying BSA overhead, I typically end up spending a small fraction of what a trip to an official BSA camp costs. This year the ratio was 1:6. That's right, we spent 6 times as much money to send the same number of boys (in the younger age bracket) to Goshen scout camp, than it cost me to take 15 boys out to Eagle Island. And I think these older boys had a better time.
This is the story...
15 young men between 14 and 18 years old, up at 5am on a Tuesday morning. Blowing off the last so-called day of school, nothing happening so we took 'em. I had my chuckwagon (old dodge van) with 2 canoes lashed to the top, and a trailer behind with 3 more, and 7 kayaks. Food for 20 people for a week, and a little program gear (table, shelter, my hooch, etc.) for the leader camp.
We hauled out to West Virginia, by way of the town of Paw Paw. Had a safety brief, put them out on the water, and I proceeded to haul ass to my parking spot nearby our island. I call it Eagle Island, because the first time I visited, I saw a bald eagle take a fish from the river not 100 yards from me. I considered it a good omen. It's part of Maryland Wildlands, abutting a state forest, and when I called the rangers and asked about the hunk of land with a different shade of green on the map, they told me it was pretty much at my disposal - no way to collect fees, they didn't mind us making fire and cutting small trees for projects, perfect for my wilderness survival high adventure.
Wednesday morning, however, is a different story altogether.
First thing we have them do, is work with fire. To be rescued, one must be seen. Be seen from space, I say. The first challenge was to build a signal fire, which could produce good contrast smoke visible against the sky. The boys snapped to it, and got hot fires going quickly. Being adaptive users of their environment, they immediately seized upon some of the river trash to help - old tires. There are hundreds of them on the banks of the river, scattered about. Most are pretty damn old, but they have a half-life of a century at least. Grab one of those, and toss it on the flames, and in about 5 minutes you have a good smokey signal fire reaching up to the sky. As soon as I see it's taking off, I have them kill it, so as not to pollute too much, or attract actual attention we don't want. Good times.
The next challenge is to improvise the purification of water. Sometimes, you just don't have a pot you can boil it with, your filter's broken, your pills lost in the river - pick an excuse, sometimes an emergency leaves you with little but your wits. I gave them a container, but a rule that they were not to boil the water over fire.
The solution is hot rocks. Get a new fire going, get the rocks screaming hot, and start adding them to the quart of water, until it comes to a rolling boil. Allow to cool, then the team must drink the quart to finish. The smart kids took the container down to the river to cool it off faster, and then put a t-shirt over the top so strain out the soot and sand. What's funny, is after a week of boiling, pumping, etc., they all agreed that the rock water was the tastiest of all they had, all week.
That afternoon, they were challenged once again with fire, this time, carrying it. They were required to start a fire in one location, and then carry a flame or ember capable of starting a 2nd fire about 200 yards through an obstacle course which took them up terrain, through heavy overgrowth, down a slope, and across open water to the sandbar they'd made their signal fires on. What made this one great, was that just as the teams were getting ready to build their new fires, the skies opened up and started dumping... I mean dumping rain. It must have been some of the hardest rain I've ever seen, just sheeting down, so bad you couldn't see far through it. Three of the four teams got their fires going despite it, which was admirable. Of course, they'd not prepared their camps terribly well for such a downpour, and some shelters suffered for it. Experience is a meaner teacher than I ever could be.
Thursday, we stepped away from fire for a bit, and worked on making things. The first was, a ladder or tower, to simulate the need to get up high and survey one's surroundings. All of these challenges, mind you, must be completed with only the contents of the boys' personal survival kits, and fortunately some carried some cordage, enough to get through this challenge at least. Duct tape got involved in one tower.
We also worked on signalling, using tools other than fire this time. We sent a leader half a mile upstream with a radio, so he could report on what he saw or heard. BIG LESSON TIME: Those high-pitched, shrill whistles everyone gets, do not carry over distance at all. You'd make your ears bleed next to one, but only half a mile away, 2500 feet or so over flat water with no obstructions, they couldn't be heard over the talking of the boys in their lower-pitch noise. There were one or two whistles that worked, those which produce a split tone and a harmonic in low frequency, and that carried. Flares work, big bright ponchos work, yellow and orange life vests sort of work, just jumping around does not. A signal mirror, properly used, works great, and some shiny knives were made to do as well - and a flashlight, pointed right at the guy, was visible against shaded brush. The best audible was a low-pitch holler, though, and the best visible seemed to be large orange panels.
15 young men between 14 and 18 years old, up at 5am on a Tuesday morning. Blowing off the last so-called day of school, nothing happening so we took 'em. I had my chuckwagon (old dodge van) with 2 canoes lashed to the top, and a trailer behind with 3 more, and 7 kayaks. Food for 20 people for a week, and a little program gear (table, shelter, my hooch, etc.) for the leader camp.
We hauled out to West Virginia, by way of the town of Paw Paw. Had a safety brief, put them out on the water, and I proceeded to haul ass to my parking spot nearby our island. I call it Eagle Island, because the first time I visited, I saw a bald eagle take a fish from the river not 100 yards from me. I considered it a good omen. It's part of Maryland Wildlands, abutting a state forest, and when I called the rangers and asked about the hunk of land with a different shade of green on the map, they told me it was pretty much at my disposal - no way to collect fees, they didn't mind us making fire and cutting small trees for projects, perfect for my wilderness survival high adventure.
So I get around to my spot, which is on a CSX road, under an abandoned bridge. There are private lots on the river there, and most are posted, so I try not to park in front of their space. I drag my canoe down the hill, and float over to my island, check out what the last couple years have done to it since I've been there. It's low enough, most of it gets flooded at high water... so leave no trace is less emphasized here. It also means there's no shortage of driftwood and trash, other people using the place and leaving their junk and garbage - there's no way to clean the whole river, so we tidy up as we can, but generally leave it no worse for our use, refuse-related at least.
The boys have paddled for 7.5 miles to get here, and when they do, we get them wet and test the waterproofing of their gear. One of their first challenges is to start setting up camp, get a fire going, and start purifying water. We're drinking out of this river all week, so every drop needs to be treated, filtered, boiled, somehow made safe. No excuses.
Day one is pretty light, I get them organized into teams, let them settle in, explore the place a bit. Make the boats safe, get dinner into them.
Wednesday morning, however, is a different story altogether.
First thing we have them do, is work with fire. To be rescued, one must be seen. Be seen from space, I say. The first challenge was to build a signal fire, which could produce good contrast smoke visible against the sky. The boys snapped to it, and got hot fires going quickly. Being adaptive users of their environment, they immediately seized upon some of the river trash to help - old tires. There are hundreds of them on the banks of the river, scattered about. Most are pretty damn old, but they have a half-life of a century at least. Grab one of those, and toss it on the flames, and in about 5 minutes you have a good smokey signal fire reaching up to the sky. As soon as I see it's taking off, I have them kill it, so as not to pollute too much, or attract actual attention we don't want. Good times.
The next challenge is to improvise the purification of water. Sometimes, you just don't have a pot you can boil it with, your filter's broken, your pills lost in the river - pick an excuse, sometimes an emergency leaves you with little but your wits. I gave them a container, but a rule that they were not to boil the water over fire.
The solution is hot rocks. Get a new fire going, get the rocks screaming hot, and start adding them to the quart of water, until it comes to a rolling boil. Allow to cool, then the team must drink the quart to finish. The smart kids took the container down to the river to cool it off faster, and then put a t-shirt over the top so strain out the soot and sand. What's funny, is after a week of boiling, pumping, etc., they all agreed that the rock water was the tastiest of all they had, all week.
That afternoon, they were challenged once again with fire, this time, carrying it. They were required to start a fire in one location, and then carry a flame or ember capable of starting a 2nd fire about 200 yards through an obstacle course which took them up terrain, through heavy overgrowth, down a slope, and across open water to the sandbar they'd made their signal fires on. What made this one great, was that just as the teams were getting ready to build their new fires, the skies opened up and started dumping... I mean dumping rain. It must have been some of the hardest rain I've ever seen, just sheeting down, so bad you couldn't see far through it. Three of the four teams got their fires going despite it, which was admirable. Of course, they'd not prepared their camps terribly well for such a downpour, and some shelters suffered for it. Experience is a meaner teacher than I ever could be.
Thursday, we stepped away from fire for a bit, and worked on making things. The first was, a ladder or tower, to simulate the need to get up high and survey one's surroundings. All of these challenges, mind you, must be completed with only the contents of the boys' personal survival kits, and fortunately some carried some cordage, enough to get through this challenge at least. Duct tape got involved in one tower.
We also worked on signalling, using tools other than fire this time. We sent a leader half a mile upstream with a radio, so he could report on what he saw or heard. BIG LESSON TIME: Those high-pitched, shrill whistles everyone gets, do not carry over distance at all. You'd make your ears bleed next to one, but only half a mile away, 2500 feet or so over flat water with no obstructions, they couldn't be heard over the talking of the boys in their lower-pitch noise. There were one or two whistles that worked, those which produce a split tone and a harmonic in low frequency, and that carried. Flares work, big bright ponchos work, yellow and orange life vests sort of work, just jumping around does not. A signal mirror, properly used, works great, and some shiny knives were made to do as well - and a flashlight, pointed right at the guy, was visible against shaded brush. The best audible was a low-pitch holler, though, and the best visible seemed to be large orange panels.
The boys were next challenged to make their own cordage, something one might be faced with when something needs to be built, and one's paracord in the pack is used up, gone, or insufficient to the task. They were taught how to weave a 2-ply opposing twist from grass or bark, and they were required to make a 5-foot length which could be tied in a knot, as to suspend a bucket with about 5 or so pounds of weight. Not quite as easy as it sounds, but they learned a ton about the use of natural materials and how weak spots can ruin the project.
That afternoon, at their constant insistence all year, they were provided an opportunity to hunt, trap, fish, or gig. Despite my reluctance to do this (not that I'm squeamish, but the business of killing and gutting and cooking requires commitment I wasn't sure they had... these are city boys, after all) they were given instruction on several forms of hunting and trapping earlier in the year, and a refresher on site, and given the afternoon to produce something. Every event had points on the line for teams, so there was an incentive to at least catch and cook a small fish, or frog, but every team reported no success at the end of the day.
Friday, being the last full day on the island, was our Total Survival Scenario. Teams were brought in for a meager breakfast, then sent to fetch all the boat. We took them a hundred yards downstream, and had them swamp the boat with their personal survival kits, until everything was soaked, then led them up the steepest, muddiest hillside to the island we could find. They had to get their boats up out of the current as well, which took some doing. Once up on dry land, we simulated an injury per team, and had them perform first aid. The rest of the day was mainly taken up with fulfilling the other requirements for survival - building a shelter (which they were to sleep in that night), purifying water all day, cooking their lunch and drying their clothes which required a fire, attempting to signal for help, and so forth.
This is where it gets interesting. The dominant small tree there is the Paw Paw tree. The fruits were not yet ripe, but we were all using our knives to work with the bark, which is very fibrous and makes great improvised cordage.
It also is quite toxic. Not to the skin so much, but extract of the bark juice used to be sold as an emetic 100 years or so ago. This, we did not know.
While the boys were keeping busy, we were preparing them a feast to celebrate a week of hard work. Food safety was observed, we even tried to clean our knives, at least as much as a rinse and a wipe can do out there. It wasn't enough, and the oils in the sap got into our food. While the food itself was cooked well, and delicious at the time, about 5 hours later like clockwork people started getting sick, myself included. And I mean sick. Projectile dry-heave sick. Stomach cramps, dehydration, the works. It was horrible, and lasted all night. I didn't get any sleep at all, shat liquid death about 8 times into the next morning, and generally wanted to die.
Since about 6 boys were also in a bad state of affairs, and the morning's activity was to be primitive fire-making (a physically intense exercise which I was simply not up to) we called a halt to formal activities, and focused on making the ill comfortable, and slowly packing up camp. Around lunchtime I started shuttling cars with another leader to the pick-up point, and the boys put out to river for the 4 mile float down to meet us. Fortunately there was a gas station in the middle, where I bought them out of gatorade, and started pushing fluids as hard as I could, just so I could function. One visit to a proper toilet helped my mood immensely, and we finally got everyone home by dinnertime.
So I owe them a Saturday campout, locally, where we cover the last day's program, but they seem to have had a great time, illness notwithstanding. I've heard since, that it was hard, really hard, but good. I heard feedback from the boys about the things they learned. Some had never really used woods tools seriously before, not at this level. They had a great appreciation for the comforts of home. They certainly learned the importance of teamwork, of listening to people's ideas, and relying on one another in a high-stress environment.
And that's what Eagle Island was for us this year.
Knives
I suppose I'll start with one of the more controversial topics I've ever come across, and get it out of the way.
That is, the subject of knives.
It must first be said, that I am a knife-maker. It is a professional hobby of mine, insomuch as I do it occasionally and not full-time, but I treat it with high regard for quality, in my research of metallurgy and historical metalwork, and in how I deal with customers. I take it seriously, and have now for over 15 years.
Arguments pop up here and there, on forums, on facebook, and even in person at camp, which is the best knife for a particular use, or overall. Debates on steel, its chemistry, what hardness is best, the difference in heat-treating methods, etc. Endless preference for one grind or another.
To all who love an argument, I will say this first: Most people simply cannot tell quality from a visual inspection. It's not possible to see inside the steel of a knife with your eyes, short of damaging it somehow, or performing destructive testing on it to define its limits. Marketing and selling the sizzle is the job of every knife manufacturer, and the airwaves are cluttered to a fault with misinformation, half-truths, and rapt persuasion for commercial products. The lay-person can use a knife, and know what they like about its performance, but at the end of the day, the core quality of steel is unknown until it's too late. That's why reputation is so important, and brands will do almost anything to develop and protect it. In the modern age of social media, their zealots do half the work for them, encouraging what I see as the uninformed opinions that shout down objective truth.
I also see a lot of questions about the "ultimate metal," often from people taken in by entertainment, fantasy, or just wishful thinking. The reality is, that steel is the ultimate metal. There are thousands of alloys, and different ways of heat-treating them for very specific tasks. Any single application won't do every job perfectly, but there's a perfect blend for every job these days. Following that, shape and geometry is driven as much by the chemistry of the steel as it is by the intended use. An antique Viking axe in my collection weighs about twice as much, and is overly thick in some places, than a modern equivalent should be. This is not because the ancient smiths didn't understand conservation of material, in fact they probably understood it far better than most modern smiths. It's that the material they had available at the time had a certain performance envelope, and so the shape, size, and weight were driven by that, and its intended use, rather than just whimsical design or a fluke of the hammer that forged it. Steel is a marvelous material, and our modern abilities to create a wide range from simple carbon steel, to exotic blends meant for very specific applications means the consumer has a dizzying array of choices, and thoughtful consideration is needed to make the choice appropriate for their needs.
So what's a woodsman to do? Simply put, find what you like, learn how to use it, and take care of it.
Knives perform 3 functions, generally speaking. They pierce, they slice, and they chop. I've tried to raise the question politely, and have yet to find unbiased or unemotional discussion on just when the recent fad of batoning came into popularity. I consider it abuse of a knife, when what you're really doing is treating it like a wedge, and that's an entirely different set of requirements for metallurgy, heat treatment, and geometry. I understand the utility of the method in dire need, but consider it a last option as opposed to a prime quality in a manufactured blade.
To pierce is to stab, and that requires a sharp tip, with enough reinforcement for whatever the knife is intended to pierce. Most often it's soft material like skin and meat, sometimes it's wood, as when preparing a fire board for bow or hand drill. It should never mean pounding into a tree, disrespecting the grain of wood, or heaven forbid, stabbing at rocks.
Slicing is exactly that, using the length of the blade to separate one thing into two. Again, most often this is meat or skin, or skin from meat, sometimes bone from flesh, and quite often bark from wood. Slicing is done starting at the heel of the blade, and finishing near the tip, using a smooth draw motion.
Chopping is the rapid separation of one thing into two, and should be done with a stable base (like a cutting board), material soft enough to be chopped, and a firm grip of both the knife and the material being cut. While chopping through logs and 2x4's is possible with well-made knives, it's an abusive test popularized by the American Bladesmith Society to weed out bad work, and is generally not an appropriate use of a knife in everyday practice. I find that when something needs chopping that's beyond appropriate scale of the knife in hand, a better tool is an axe, thought-problems of "which single tool do you want in an emergency" notwithstanding.
Back to my advice on what to do, I think it's important first to understand how to use a knife safely and properly. It's a difficult skill to teach, but a good training exercise is to carve a lot of wood. Make "try sticks," carve relief patterns, carve 3-dimensional objects, carve love spoons, carve whistles, and carve food of every variety. Do this, and you'll start to understand what works and what doesn't. Very quickly, one begins to appreciate that the shape of handle, it's comfort during hard use, is just as important as the blade itself. The shape of the knife will lend itself to certain tasks more than others, so a nice, simple all-purpose shape is best to carry in most environments. A knife ought to be a multi-tool, capable of making dinner, or making shelter. While one can carry specialized tools for every conceivable task, it's a far better skill to learn how to use one or two tools very well, under any circumstance, and excel as a generalist.
To conclude, I'll share my weapons of choice for the woods. For a knife, I prefer a simple Mora in a hard sheath. They're inexpensive, I've only seen one picture of a broken one, and I've used mine for a wide range of projects (shelter building to minor surgery) with great success. Because of their economy and size, a backup can be carried in the case of loss or damage, which would require carelessness or abuse on the part of the user. I also carry a simple pocketknife, which I keep surgically sharp, an Opinel No. 8, for fine work only. In the Eastern Hardwood forests I generally haunt, I also like a Tramontina machete of either 14 or 18 inches in length for brush-clearing and light de-limbing, and I like a mid-size scout axe for any serious chopping, which only happens around a base camp I have vehicle or boat access to, not for lightweight backpacking where I'm making a smaller footprint.
Everyone will have their favorite tools, and some are impressed by brand, some by testimony of performance, some by price alone. Again, find what fits well in your hand, what you can use all day without blisters, what you can afford, and most importantly, what gets the job done. The rest is just oh so much personal taste being flaunted around, at the end of the day.
Happy camping.
That is, the subject of knives.
It must first be said, that I am a knife-maker. It is a professional hobby of mine, insomuch as I do it occasionally and not full-time, but I treat it with high regard for quality, in my research of metallurgy and historical metalwork, and in how I deal with customers. I take it seriously, and have now for over 15 years.
Arguments pop up here and there, on forums, on facebook, and even in person at camp, which is the best knife for a particular use, or overall. Debates on steel, its chemistry, what hardness is best, the difference in heat-treating methods, etc. Endless preference for one grind or another.
To all who love an argument, I will say this first: Most people simply cannot tell quality from a visual inspection. It's not possible to see inside the steel of a knife with your eyes, short of damaging it somehow, or performing destructive testing on it to define its limits. Marketing and selling the sizzle is the job of every knife manufacturer, and the airwaves are cluttered to a fault with misinformation, half-truths, and rapt persuasion for commercial products. The lay-person can use a knife, and know what they like about its performance, but at the end of the day, the core quality of steel is unknown until it's too late. That's why reputation is so important, and brands will do almost anything to develop and protect it. In the modern age of social media, their zealots do half the work for them, encouraging what I see as the uninformed opinions that shout down objective truth.
I also see a lot of questions about the "ultimate metal," often from people taken in by entertainment, fantasy, or just wishful thinking. The reality is, that steel is the ultimate metal. There are thousands of alloys, and different ways of heat-treating them for very specific tasks. Any single application won't do every job perfectly, but there's a perfect blend for every job these days. Following that, shape and geometry is driven as much by the chemistry of the steel as it is by the intended use. An antique Viking axe in my collection weighs about twice as much, and is overly thick in some places, than a modern equivalent should be. This is not because the ancient smiths didn't understand conservation of material, in fact they probably understood it far better than most modern smiths. It's that the material they had available at the time had a certain performance envelope, and so the shape, size, and weight were driven by that, and its intended use, rather than just whimsical design or a fluke of the hammer that forged it. Steel is a marvelous material, and our modern abilities to create a wide range from simple carbon steel, to exotic blends meant for very specific applications means the consumer has a dizzying array of choices, and thoughtful consideration is needed to make the choice appropriate for their needs.
So what's a woodsman to do? Simply put, find what you like, learn how to use it, and take care of it.
Knives perform 3 functions, generally speaking. They pierce, they slice, and they chop. I've tried to raise the question politely, and have yet to find unbiased or unemotional discussion on just when the recent fad of batoning came into popularity. I consider it abuse of a knife, when what you're really doing is treating it like a wedge, and that's an entirely different set of requirements for metallurgy, heat treatment, and geometry. I understand the utility of the method in dire need, but consider it a last option as opposed to a prime quality in a manufactured blade.
To pierce is to stab, and that requires a sharp tip, with enough reinforcement for whatever the knife is intended to pierce. Most often it's soft material like skin and meat, sometimes it's wood, as when preparing a fire board for bow or hand drill. It should never mean pounding into a tree, disrespecting the grain of wood, or heaven forbid, stabbing at rocks.
Slicing is exactly that, using the length of the blade to separate one thing into two. Again, most often this is meat or skin, or skin from meat, sometimes bone from flesh, and quite often bark from wood. Slicing is done starting at the heel of the blade, and finishing near the tip, using a smooth draw motion.
Chopping is the rapid separation of one thing into two, and should be done with a stable base (like a cutting board), material soft enough to be chopped, and a firm grip of both the knife and the material being cut. While chopping through logs and 2x4's is possible with well-made knives, it's an abusive test popularized by the American Bladesmith Society to weed out bad work, and is generally not an appropriate use of a knife in everyday practice. I find that when something needs chopping that's beyond appropriate scale of the knife in hand, a better tool is an axe, thought-problems of "which single tool do you want in an emergency" notwithstanding.
Back to my advice on what to do, I think it's important first to understand how to use a knife safely and properly. It's a difficult skill to teach, but a good training exercise is to carve a lot of wood. Make "try sticks," carve relief patterns, carve 3-dimensional objects, carve love spoons, carve whistles, and carve food of every variety. Do this, and you'll start to understand what works and what doesn't. Very quickly, one begins to appreciate that the shape of handle, it's comfort during hard use, is just as important as the blade itself. The shape of the knife will lend itself to certain tasks more than others, so a nice, simple all-purpose shape is best to carry in most environments. A knife ought to be a multi-tool, capable of making dinner, or making shelter. While one can carry specialized tools for every conceivable task, it's a far better skill to learn how to use one or two tools very well, under any circumstance, and excel as a generalist.
To conclude, I'll share my weapons of choice for the woods. For a knife, I prefer a simple Mora in a hard sheath. They're inexpensive, I've only seen one picture of a broken one, and I've used mine for a wide range of projects (shelter building to minor surgery) with great success. Because of their economy and size, a backup can be carried in the case of loss or damage, which would require carelessness or abuse on the part of the user. I also carry a simple pocketknife, which I keep surgically sharp, an Opinel No. 8, for fine work only. In the Eastern Hardwood forests I generally haunt, I also like a Tramontina machete of either 14 or 18 inches in length for brush-clearing and light de-limbing, and I like a mid-size scout axe for any serious chopping, which only happens around a base camp I have vehicle or boat access to, not for lightweight backpacking where I'm making a smaller footprint.
Everyone will have their favorite tools, and some are impressed by brand, some by testimony of performance, some by price alone. Again, find what fits well in your hand, what you can use all day without blisters, what you can afford, and most importantly, what gets the job done. The rest is just oh so much personal taste being flaunted around, at the end of the day.
Happy camping.
Introduction
Hello, and
welcome to “35 Years of Scouting.” My
name is Chris, and I want to share a little of what I've learned since I first
put on a uniform and started treating outdoors skills as something more than
just playing in the backyard.
As a Cub
Scout, I started learning about tools, and thought a pocketknife was the
neatest thing ever invented. I started
learning about teamwork and leadership, and working with a group to accomplish
a goal. As an only child, this was very important to me, and I have to thank my
parents who did an awesome job of running those dens and events when I was
little.
I can still
remember the day I put on a Boy Scout shirt… that tan cloth was a rite of
passage out of childhood, and things started getting serious. Dad took a job
overseas, so most of my Boy Scouting was done in Europe, where I started
learning first aid, survival skills, cooking, camp craft, and took a real
appreciation for our international brothers and sisters. We worked with German and English and Dutch
troops a lot, their different ways of doing things, and that gave me a real
sense of respect for a multi-cultural approach to things.
I earned my
Eagle Scout at the age of 17, and remember clearly the challenge posed to me at
my court of honor… to give back more to Scouting than was given to me. I might
be letting the cat out of the bag here, but it’s a trick. It’s impossible to do, because every time you
give something of yourself, you grow even more, learn even more, and so you can
never give back more than you gain in the process. That hasn’t stopped me,
though, and I’ve been working as an adult leader for well over 20 years now,
with every age group and in nearly every position available to a volunteer Scouter.
So with that
introduction out of the way, let me thank you for joining me as I chat about my
experiences, my observations, and my concerns for the young men I work with
today. It’s a rough world and I think we
owe it to our boys to prepare them as best we can, by acting as good role models,
teaching them valuable skills and ethics, and challenging them to realize their
potential. My self-interest in this is
I’ve got daughters, and while I work with them on many of the same issues, and
don’t teach them any less than the boys, I hope the men they choose to be with
someday are of quality, and I hope my work can improve the field a bit.
We'll discuss modern bushcrafting, wilderness survival, general camping, anything that comes out of the tradition of Scouting that we can all take advantage of today.
Thank you
and welcome to “35 Years of Scouting.”
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