Casey and I spent the better part of two days more than five hours away in Catawba, Virginia for a Modern Survival course. I have to admit that as last week went by, plagued by last-minute projects and running around, not quite enjoying my birthday as I did in years past, I was dreading packing and sleeping in the woods, instead of on my couch, catching up on my television shows. But when Casey got to my house on Thursday night, and we started anticipating the road trip, and wondering out loud to each other about the goings-on we would experience for the weekend, I became excited to do something new, especially something I knew would result in me being proud of myself.
Who cares about DVDs, gift cards, and other birthday presents? I was lucky to have my boyfriend and my best girlfriend go halvsies each on my tuition for the weekend. Casey and I were ready to go out into the wilderness - and survive on our own. We were ready to go it alone without any of the guys in our lives thinking they could do it better, knew better, or performed better. It was the quintessential girls weekend.
Small-Town Travels
Casey and I were on the road at 10 a.m. Two stops for food, and more than six hours later, we find ourselves winding down a nine-mile road behind a school bus, dropping off children of all ages to parents parked higgledy-piggledy on curvy grassy spots along the way. Everyone turned to see who were riding in the gray Scion XB with all the bumper stickers on the back. Turning into a gravel driveway to Mountain Shepherd , our new home for the weekend, we gunned it up a hill as steep as a roller coaster, the Scion shaking so violently from the shifting around and our laughing as everything on the dashboard slid into our laps. As soon as we pulled up, Reggie, a 40-something ruggedly handsome man with clean lumberjack facial hair came out to greet us. "You guys are mine!," he yelled. And we were off!
After meeting Reggie's beautiful wife Dina, we started hiking up a massive hill into the middle of Reggie's approximately 100 acres of perfectly dense forest. The strap on my bag breaks; I almost pass out from the hill! (Casey said my face was so white, and I could feel it. All that smoking... another item that will be alleviated this year on my "to-do list.") At the top, Reggie pointed out our firewood, and where we could set up the tent; where our drinking water sat; and some emergency supplies in a bear-proof case. And as the sun quickly set, he scurried back down the hill, letting us know he and our other co-students would return at 10 a.m.
Alone Together
Lucky for us, Casey brought some fire pellets. We were supposed to learn how to make a fire ourselves, but that wouldn't have helped us Friday night. We set up the tent, and as Casey made camp more comfortable, fluffing out our sleeping bags and coordinating our sides of the new homestead, I hunted for sticks and tinder to start our fire. The moon almost full, illuminating the mysterious forest we found ourselves habitating (so vibrantly you didn't need a flashlight) we pinpointed our perfect bathroom spot, ate Ramen, and played Rummy.
The night was so cold. I found out fast my sleeping bag was not for such cold weather. Two pairs of long john pants, one long john shirt, one pair of flannel pants, a pair of jeans, a tshirt, a fleece jacket, and two sweatshirts (as well as three pairs of socks and one ear-flapped hat later) I was still freezing from the cold forest floor permeating my skin, my heart my lungs. I hardly slept until Casey convinced me to nap in her eskimo bag while she started the fire for breakfast.
We were really anticipating who would be in our group for the class, but had no indications of their walks of life. It turned out to be a group of individual rascals: Alex, a current Virginia Military Institute (VMI), a small-town boy full of stories about his dad and hunting; Fran, a woman at least 50, wearing a hunting sweatsuit, popping muscle relaxers and carrying hiking poles; Mike, a mysterious Northern Virginian, clean, could be gay, and worked for a government contractor who had sent him to Iraq and Afghanistan (among other exotic, foreign and dangerous places); Vick, a 70 year-old (at least), who had already taken Reggie's four-day survival class, whose wife was taking a women empowerment class run by Dina, and who slept in the cabin at the bottom of the hill, instead of roughing it with us; and Eric (nickname Detroit, because we couldn't remember his name for most of the trip), a hot 35-year-old, who looked like a gorgeous Finnish hiker, with pronounced facial features and a deep voice, on top of out-of-nowhere hilarity.
These were the social vagrants we were spending our weekend with. They reminded me of Casey's nametag in her car that she wore to a wedding as a date with a friend, even though she didn't know the bride and groom - I'm Casey. I'm a Complete Stranger. That's what we all were.
Back to Basics
I could go more in-depth about what we learned. While I retained some of it, some will only pop out when I'm back in the woods, smelling the crisp air, digging my hiking boots into dirt and pine needles, peeing in a valley. The experience was in the ease of learning. In the being out in the open. In feeling beautiful and one with the world, after days of no makeup, the same jeans, no showers and natural odor. In the honesty of complete strangers telling portions of their lives around the campfire, without alcohol. Of taking turns giving opinions not caring what others thought, talking about our travels around the world, our families, our pets. Telling stories about our local mythical creatures, like the Goat Man, the Orangeback Zap, and the ManBearPig.
What we did learn revolved around seven survival skills that I'm going to use in my daily life, and refer to in this blog, to become a better version of myself:
- Positive Mental Attitude
- First-Aid (Take Care of Yourself)
- Shelter (Stay Safe)
- Fire Craft (Stay Passionate)
- Signaling (Maintain Proper Communication)
- Water (Stay hydrated and stay free)
- Food (Feed yourself with what you need)
In the long-term at least. For the short-term, we felt pretty entitled to a beer and a shower.
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