when i was about 8, i read a book titled "My Side of the Mountain" by Jean George. it is a story about a boy that moves into the woods that his grandfather owned and farmed in the catskills. he was a middle child of ten living in new york city and didn't like it. he picked up and left after spending some time visiting the library and learning from a chinese man at a market how to use flint and steel. the book is the story of the first year he spends in the woods, told in reflection as he sits and chuckles over how many mistakes he made in that first year.
after i read that book, i asked my mom to give me a pocket knife so that i could move to the woods. i pleaded even. i begged. no go. i wasn't mature enough...
that's what she said, and looking back i probably was, but she was just being the overprotective worry-wart that she is. alright fine. i don't need a pocket knife. i sometimes got to borrow her vic tinker that she got from some promotion and take it into the yard, or chop up a cardboard box in an attempt to make a box submarine. i didn't worry too much.
in the meantime i got friendly with this kid in school that was a grade below me, but he wasn't too much younger than me. he loved the outdoors as much as i did, so we had alot of playdates.
he lived at teh base of this big mountain, he said it was called onion mountain. we would spend hours walking around in the woods and exploring, many times getting a little lost. but it was alright, as long as we walked downwards, we ended up on a road that connected to the street that he lived on.
then my uncle, who had been in the airforce for a year to two at that point, gave me a set of the smallest army fatigues that he could find at the PX for my birthday, complete with pants, jacket, belt and cap. they were huge on me, and i had to double the belt around my waist twice before i could buckle it. the hat was a tad large, but it was alright. the sleeves hung down past my fingertips, and the pants were baggier than MC Hammer's. but i loved that outfit, and lived in it for that whole summer until school rolled around again.
i wore that outfit, and these big red rubber rainboots into the woods for our adventures. with the added pocket space, i carried whatever survival gear i could find. usually that was bits of string and an old beat up compass my dad got at a garage sale for me. i also had one of those fork/spoon/knife sets in the vinyl sleeve. so i would get to my friend's house, and we would get ready to head out, with a bottle of water and a handful of peanuts or something else snacky. on our way out, he would sneak his hand into the knife drawer in the kitchen and snatch a paring knife (he wasn't allowed a knife either) and pass it to me. i would stick it in the huge pocket of the jacket.
in the woods we would mostly walk around and plan out campsites for the future (none of which were ever camped in). we would mark our path for the way back by shaving a bit of bark off of a sapling with the paring knife. sometimes we would bring a "rope" (something about the size of para cord) and scale the steep rock outcroppings we have in the woods around here.
we had alot of fun running around the woods, even though we didn't have any real gear. we just liked to get out there and get dirty.
after i read that book, i asked my mom to give me a pocket knife so that i could move to the woods. i pleaded even. i begged. no go. i wasn't mature enough...
that's what she said, and looking back i probably was, but she was just being the overprotective worry-wart that she is. alright fine. i don't need a pocket knife. i sometimes got to borrow her vic tinker that she got from some promotion and take it into the yard, or chop up a cardboard box in an attempt to make a box submarine. i didn't worry too much. in the meantime i got friendly with this kid in school that was a grade below me, but he wasn't too much younger than me. he loved the outdoors as much as i did, so we had alot of playdates.
he lived at teh base of this big mountain, he said it was called onion mountain. we would spend hours walking around in the woods and exploring, many times getting a little lost. but it was alright, as long as we walked downwards, we ended up on a road that connected to the street that he lived on.
then my uncle, who had been in the airforce for a year to two at that point, gave me a set of the smallest army fatigues that he could find at the PX for my birthday, complete with pants, jacket, belt and cap. they were huge on me, and i had to double the belt around my waist twice before i could buckle it. the hat was a tad large, but it was alright. the sleeves hung down past my fingertips, and the pants were baggier than MC Hammer's. but i loved that outfit, and lived in it for that whole summer until school rolled around again.
i wore that outfit, and these big red rubber rainboots into the woods for our adventures. with the added pocket space, i carried whatever survival gear i could find. usually that was bits of string and an old beat up compass my dad got at a garage sale for me. i also had one of those fork/spoon/knife sets in the vinyl sleeve. so i would get to my friend's house, and we would get ready to head out, with a bottle of water and a handful of peanuts or something else snacky. on our way out, he would sneak his hand into the knife drawer in the kitchen and snatch a paring knife (he wasn't allowed a knife either) and pass it to me. i would stick it in the huge pocket of the jacket.
in the woods we would mostly walk around and plan out campsites for the future (none of which were ever camped in). we would mark our path for the way back by shaving a bit of bark off of a sapling with the paring knife. sometimes we would bring a "rope" (something about the size of para cord) and scale the steep rock outcroppings we have in the woods around here.
we had alot of fun running around the woods, even though we didn't have any real gear. we just liked to get out there and get dirty.
