Your survival experience
- Thread starter survivor
- Start date
one of my first big game hunts out in wyoming about 15 years ago, we had ridden the horses into the back country about 4 hours, and were with a young guide he had a big cowboy hat and a very large knife strapped to his leg, should have known something right there, all of a sudden heavy wet snow and high winds came up, it was essentially a white out in the mountains, the guide was wearing cotton, real bad move, and in about an hour he was shivering. now we have a situation, cant see 50 ft, hypothermic guide, and 5 tender foot hunters trying to decide what to do? all of a sudden several of the hunters started talking about separating and "finding their way to the trailhead". i kept thinking about the stories in sports afield about lost hunters found frozen to a tree in the morning, or wandering off a cliff in the poor visability. i was able to prevail on the guys to stick together, start a big fire, and wait. after about 4 hours we had warmed the guide and dryied his clothes , the weather lifted, and we rode back to camp with a good story to tell, and no one the worse for wear. there was a significant potential for disaster here, but fortunately everyone was very reasonable, and it worked out fine. also fortunately i had brought a fairly substantial firestarting kit, which at the time contained a couple pieces fo the charcoal starters that worked well at starting the fire.
alex
alex
Back when I was a kid and knew everything, I had a dangerous experience that turned out for the best. I was hunting NY's Adirondacks alone and with a hangover. Some may think NY??? Well, when you look at an upstate NY map, you'll find some areas where you can still walk 25 or 30 miles in one direction and not hit a road.
Anyways, I had posted myself on a good deer trail and had taken a shot at a fair buck. I immediately started on the blood trail of the durn thing and didn't pay any attention to time or direction. Just as darkness was rapidly approaching, I realized my quandry ... confused in the northwoods with only my .30/30 and a half dozen rounds, a .357 with 12 more, a Buck Woodsman knife, a pack of Newport Lights and a lighter. I found a high spot near a relatively clear fast moving stream and set up for a long, cold October night. I hastily made a fire in front of a good sized deadfall and gathered up some pine boughs to make myself as comfortable as I could. Just before darkness completely fell I had my fill of water from the stream and gathered up as much dead wood as I could to maintain the fire. It wasn't long after that when I could clearly hear the howls of the local coyotes and what I thought was a bear pretty close by. I made two more smaller fires on my flanks and managed a miserable dozing night with the firearms close at hand. I was able to find my way out the next morning by listening to and following the sounds of trucks headed either to or from the local paper mill.
I've not been without ample survival equipment since that night.
Mike
Anyways, I had posted myself on a good deer trail and had taken a shot at a fair buck. I immediately started on the blood trail of the durn thing and didn't pay any attention to time or direction. Just as darkness was rapidly approaching, I realized my quandry ... confused in the northwoods with only my .30/30 and a half dozen rounds, a .357 with 12 more, a Buck Woodsman knife, a pack of Newport Lights and a lighter. I found a high spot near a relatively clear fast moving stream and set up for a long, cold October night. I hastily made a fire in front of a good sized deadfall and gathered up some pine boughs to make myself as comfortable as I could. Just before darkness completely fell I had my fill of water from the stream and gathered up as much dead wood as I could to maintain the fire. It wasn't long after that when I could clearly hear the howls of the local coyotes and what I thought was a bear pretty close by. I made two more smaller fires on my flanks and managed a miserable dozing night with the firearms close at hand. I was able to find my way out the next morning by listening to and following the sounds of trucks headed either to or from the local paper mill.
I've not been without ample survival equipment since that night.
Mike
- Joined
- Oct 19, 1998
- Messages
- 498
The experience that made me more interested in survival was about 6 or 7 years ago. I was hunting in the upper peninsula with my dad. We had driven down a couple mile long dirt road back into some state land. We each walked a little ways off of the road to sit and look for dear. After about two hours I was getting board so I decided to walk parallel to the dirt road toward the main paved road it branched off. After about a half hour I decided to walk out to the dirt road and walk back to our truck on it. Well to make a long story short, I soon realized that where I was in my head had absolutely no relation to where I was in the woods. After walking for about 15 minutes in the directin I thought was the road, I was still in the woods. Well about this time I decided that I was lost, and got out my compass. However it was pretty useless since I hadn't been taking bearings up until this point anyway. It was probably about 5:30, and starting to turn to twighlight out. I was just getting to the point where I was starting to think about gathering wood and having to spend the night out in the woods when I saw another hunter. This kind individual led me all the way back to the end of the road where my dad was waiting. It was about a 25 minute walk. I had somehow looped around and ended up probably a half mile past the end of the dirt road. If the other hunter hadn't been there it would have been a very interesting situation. Looking back I am ashamed of how foolish and ill-prepared I was equipment wise. I had a lighter, my rifle, my knife, and a very small button compass, as well as some snacks, but not really any water, or real survival equipment. Since then I have definately been more aware of what is going on and also have tried to be as prepared as possible for where I am going. I am really lucky that things turned out the way they did. I had plenty of fire building experience, so I am pretty sure I wouldn't have froze, but it still would have been a long night.
I think one of the most over looked aspects of "survival" is when it is needed at home. You don't have to be in the woods or on a great adventure to use the skills. About a dozen years ago, hurricane Hugo came through Charlotte. That is a "once-in-a-lifetime" experience. Needless to say for a hurricane to come that far inland and maintain force is rare. But most of the city ended up without power for 1 to 2 weeks. Think about getting up to find 10 full grown trees down in your yard. Then you drive around to realize that there isn't a single traffic light working. Those were two weeks where every little bit of knowledge was put to use. I guess what I'm saying is, the efforts put into learning may be needed at anytime. People have died in the middle of a busy city because of the lack of firstaid knowledge and at the same time, there is no lifetime promise that when you hit that switch, the lights will come on.
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2001
- Messages
- 848
(I wrote this up about a year ago today, while I was still cold...)
Today was a truly lovely day - in the mid 60s, bright sunlight, a gentle breeze - a perfect day for sailing.
After my wife and I picked up our daughter from school, I rigged up my dory for sailing, and launched from my mother's beach, on the North Shore of Orcas, in a pass famous for killing stupid kayakers every year, who capsize, are swept away by the heavy currents, and then proceed to freeze to death in the 45 degree water.
This, of course, wouldn't happen to me ever - I'm far too clever for that, and habitually overprepared for potential emergency situations.
Before setting out, I carefully checked the tide and current charts, to make sure that if I did capsize, and for some reason couldn't restore the boat to an upright and dry status, I wouldn't be swept away to Canada or Bellingham. No problem - slack currents at the time I'm launching, and a "slight" 1-2 knot current sweeping towards the point about the time I'm heading back.
So, I'm heading out from the beach, and trying a few practice tacks. This dory has way too much canvas, being rigged for racing, but I've experimented all winter with the rigging to reduce its power to a level suitable for just messing about. Several things are clear after a short period of on-water trials - first, that my rigging changes haven't helped a bit and the boat is still too unstable, and second, that the nice smooth breeze has died out, and has been replaced with medium gusts from random directions.
I set out trying to make it back to Mom's beach. I had tried to remain within 100 yards of the beach during the trials, Just In Case. However, due to the winds, to make it back, I had to take a few long tacks, one of which took me quite a ways off the beach.
At this point, two things happened - a rather strong gust from The Wrong Direction hit, and, as I was letting out the mainsheet to dump the gust, the mainsheet jammed.
Two hundred fifty pound dories with lots of sail capsize very very quickly in such circumstances. But just slowly enough so you realize that you're about to take a swim. In 45-48 degree water. Words do not describe the sensation of plunging into this water, nor your thoughts as you are about to do so.
In water of this temperature, the average person loses effectiveness in 15 minutes, and after half an hour, is unconscious. In an hour, unless you know what to do, you are dead. You can extend the time to 4 hours if you are clueful.
So here I am, off the beach, waving at my wife, my daughter, my mom, and my Grandma. I pull the ripcord on my over-the-top offshore life jacket, which inflates with a very cool and inspiring POP! I then attempt 3 times to right the dory, using tried-and-true techniques. I right the boat several times, but it is so swamped, and the wind is puffy enough, that it goes back over again, and I am unable to get in the boat. Bummer.
At this point, I realize I am in trouble. I'm losing a lot of energy and heat trying to right the boat, and my hands are losing their fine motor control. I'm too far off the beach to swim back for sure, and the wind is blowing off the beach. I wave the "rescue my sorry self" signal at my family, blow my little whistle attached to the life jacket, shout "Mayday!" a few times, and observe their reactions. They are still waving at me, as if they are waiting for me to do something clever. Uh oh.
Now, I'm thinking real hard about the whole pile of flares I have with me. All carefully packed away in watertight ziplock bags. Rolled up in a big yellow rubber dry bag. Which is neatly packed in the stern watertight compartment. Ooops.
Well, I've got my handy-dandy waterproof VHF radio. On a cord, tied to the boat. I swim around to the other side of the boat, feel around, and locate the cord. I look at the radio with a smile - being overprepared pays off at last! I turn it on, and issue a Mayday. I hear only static. Odd, I'm only 10 miles from the Bellingham Coast Guard Station... I repeat my Mayday a few times more, hear one brief static-filled "Mayday off Orcas..." phrase on the speaker, then the expensive, waterproof, hi-tech VHF goes "Zzzzzt! Poof." Hmmm.
The current is now carrying me along the coastline, opposing the wind nicely, so I am heading for the point, as planned. Clever me. I project that in another 30 minutes or so, I'll be in range of swimming a short distance to the point. If the wind shifts, I'll be carried onto Parker Reef instead, and can climb onto the marker tower and freeze to death there. Such good planning.
I notice my wife is no longer on the beach - hopefully she has gone to get some help. I rig up a wee step with the jib and a line I can reach, so I can step partway out of the water, and get the top half of me out of the water while clinging to the hull of the boat. With some luck, I could now survive 4-5 hours easily, if I don't get too weak to hold on to the boat. Which is not-so-slowly happening, I note with some concern.
When I get onto my step, after a few more minutes, I notice that my wife and my mom's 72-year-old neighbor have dragged a small 6 foot skiff from someone's house to the beach, and are apparently about to set out rowing to rescue me. This should be good - neither of them have life jackets, the skiff is too small, and the wind is blowing. We'll all make the papers for sure...
I'm now directly offshore the Orcas airport. Several planes land, right over top me, but I don't think any of them see my signals. Too bad the flares are so carefully stored away. I'm conserving my energy now, for either a last-ditch swim for the point or the reef as I get closer, or any needed rescue of my wife and the neighbor.
Since my fine muscle control is now about gone, I am about to pull the cord on my Breitling Emergency, which contains an EPIRB, a miniature satellite emergency rescue beacon. Generally, in coastal waters hereabouts, within an hour of deploying one, a nice shiny Coast Guard cutter or helicopter shows up, and rescues you and Ursala Andress. I wonder if it'll work as well as my VHF radio did.
As I am reaching for it, I see a power boat coming out of the small marina nearby, with a few people in it. I wave at them, and they wave back. This is a good sign, I think.
They approach, and I yell out "how do you want to do this"? "Good question!" they respond, as one of them, the Sheriff, attempts to spear me with a boathook (something clearly prohibited by the Marine Mammal Protection Act). "Well, how about we start by turning off the propellers?" I suggest. "Good idea!". I then swim to the back of the boat, and, with their help, manage to haul my frozen self over the stern, much like landing a giant halibut. On board are the sheriff, who responded to a phone call from Moana, but who did not have a boat, the port commisioner, who was at the marina, and two of Mom's neighbors, who had rushed from their house seeing me signal as I drifted past, ran to the marina, and hopped in their boat to save me. They wrap me in blankets, and rush me back to the dock at the marina, where the paramedics are waiting. Along with about a dozen onlookers from a nearby resort and someone snapping photos for the town paper. Great...
The nice paramedics provide more blankets, handy warming packs, and give me an exam. As I was in the water perhaps 30 minutes, everyone is amazed at the state I am in - I am still lucid, able to walk, and my core body temperature has only dropped to 97.5. Apparently, this is quite rare after 30 minutes. My blood pressure is 146 over 96, up from my normal 120/80 or so. My pulse is at 116, up from my normal 65 or so. The paramedics and sheriff complement me on my clever use of life vest and emergency rescue equipment.
They call off the Coast Guard, which apparently heard my first few Maydays before the radio died, and dispatched both a helicopter and a rescue boat. They were only another 2 minutes from arriving on-site. Sometimes you get true value for your tax dollars.
They warmed me up for another 25 minutes, while my wife came over to pick me up. They decided that I didn't need to go to the hospital. The doctor who was coordinating the paramedics over the radio was amazed at the vital signs - I overheard one of the paramedics say "I don't know, but he's, ummm, pretty well insulated, it looks like."
My mom's neighbor about this time pulls into the harbor towing my dory, which he had rescued. He managed to even retrieve most of the flotsam - boat cushions and boat parts, except for a single paddle and a pump. What a guy!
My wife took me back to my mom's house, where mom draped me with warmed-in-the-dryer comforters, made me miso soup, hot tea, and grilled cheese sandwiches. It's sometimes really good to have your Mom handy.
Lessons learned:
0) You can never be too overprepared.
0a) Even the best gear fails when you need it most.
1) Don't get out of the boat!
1a) If you do get out of the boat, make sure the water is warm.
1b) Drink lots of beer in college, so you have plenty of
insulation.
2) Don't panic - take the time to come up with a plan.
2a) Several plans are even better.
2b) Having the plan thought out before the emergency is better
still.
3) If you don't have a piece of emergency gear attached to your body,
it's of no earthly use to you.
4) Make sure you haven't pissed off your neighbors if you live on a
small island - they may be fishing you out of the water some day.
5) When in doubt, get a bigger boat.
6) Positive mental attitude.
Today was a truly lovely day - in the mid 60s, bright sunlight, a gentle breeze - a perfect day for sailing.
After my wife and I picked up our daughter from school, I rigged up my dory for sailing, and launched from my mother's beach, on the North Shore of Orcas, in a pass famous for killing stupid kayakers every year, who capsize, are swept away by the heavy currents, and then proceed to freeze to death in the 45 degree water.
This, of course, wouldn't happen to me ever - I'm far too clever for that, and habitually overprepared for potential emergency situations.
Before setting out, I carefully checked the tide and current charts, to make sure that if I did capsize, and for some reason couldn't restore the boat to an upright and dry status, I wouldn't be swept away to Canada or Bellingham. No problem - slack currents at the time I'm launching, and a "slight" 1-2 knot current sweeping towards the point about the time I'm heading back.
So, I'm heading out from the beach, and trying a few practice tacks. This dory has way too much canvas, being rigged for racing, but I've experimented all winter with the rigging to reduce its power to a level suitable for just messing about. Several things are clear after a short period of on-water trials - first, that my rigging changes haven't helped a bit and the boat is still too unstable, and second, that the nice smooth breeze has died out, and has been replaced with medium gusts from random directions.
I set out trying to make it back to Mom's beach. I had tried to remain within 100 yards of the beach during the trials, Just In Case. However, due to the winds, to make it back, I had to take a few long tacks, one of which took me quite a ways off the beach.
At this point, two things happened - a rather strong gust from The Wrong Direction hit, and, as I was letting out the mainsheet to dump the gust, the mainsheet jammed.
Two hundred fifty pound dories with lots of sail capsize very very quickly in such circumstances. But just slowly enough so you realize that you're about to take a swim. In 45-48 degree water. Words do not describe the sensation of plunging into this water, nor your thoughts as you are about to do so.
In water of this temperature, the average person loses effectiveness in 15 minutes, and after half an hour, is unconscious. In an hour, unless you know what to do, you are dead. You can extend the time to 4 hours if you are clueful.
So here I am, off the beach, waving at my wife, my daughter, my mom, and my Grandma. I pull the ripcord on my over-the-top offshore life jacket, which inflates with a very cool and inspiring POP! I then attempt 3 times to right the dory, using tried-and-true techniques. I right the boat several times, but it is so swamped, and the wind is puffy enough, that it goes back over again, and I am unable to get in the boat. Bummer.
At this point, I realize I am in trouble. I'm losing a lot of energy and heat trying to right the boat, and my hands are losing their fine motor control. I'm too far off the beach to swim back for sure, and the wind is blowing off the beach. I wave the "rescue my sorry self" signal at my family, blow my little whistle attached to the life jacket, shout "Mayday!" a few times, and observe their reactions. They are still waving at me, as if they are waiting for me to do something clever. Uh oh.
Now, I'm thinking real hard about the whole pile of flares I have with me. All carefully packed away in watertight ziplock bags. Rolled up in a big yellow rubber dry bag. Which is neatly packed in the stern watertight compartment. Ooops.
Well, I've got my handy-dandy waterproof VHF radio. On a cord, tied to the boat. I swim around to the other side of the boat, feel around, and locate the cord. I look at the radio with a smile - being overprepared pays off at last! I turn it on, and issue a Mayday. I hear only static. Odd, I'm only 10 miles from the Bellingham Coast Guard Station... I repeat my Mayday a few times more, hear one brief static-filled "Mayday off Orcas..." phrase on the speaker, then the expensive, waterproof, hi-tech VHF goes "Zzzzzt! Poof." Hmmm.
The current is now carrying me along the coastline, opposing the wind nicely, so I am heading for the point, as planned. Clever me. I project that in another 30 minutes or so, I'll be in range of swimming a short distance to the point. If the wind shifts, I'll be carried onto Parker Reef instead, and can climb onto the marker tower and freeze to death there. Such good planning.
I notice my wife is no longer on the beach - hopefully she has gone to get some help. I rig up a wee step with the jib and a line I can reach, so I can step partway out of the water, and get the top half of me out of the water while clinging to the hull of the boat. With some luck, I could now survive 4-5 hours easily, if I don't get too weak to hold on to the boat. Which is not-so-slowly happening, I note with some concern.
When I get onto my step, after a few more minutes, I notice that my wife and my mom's 72-year-old neighbor have dragged a small 6 foot skiff from someone's house to the beach, and are apparently about to set out rowing to rescue me. This should be good - neither of them have life jackets, the skiff is too small, and the wind is blowing. We'll all make the papers for sure...
I'm now directly offshore the Orcas airport. Several planes land, right over top me, but I don't think any of them see my signals. Too bad the flares are so carefully stored away. I'm conserving my energy now, for either a last-ditch swim for the point or the reef as I get closer, or any needed rescue of my wife and the neighbor.
Since my fine muscle control is now about gone, I am about to pull the cord on my Breitling Emergency, which contains an EPIRB, a miniature satellite emergency rescue beacon. Generally, in coastal waters hereabouts, within an hour of deploying one, a nice shiny Coast Guard cutter or helicopter shows up, and rescues you and Ursala Andress. I wonder if it'll work as well as my VHF radio did.
As I am reaching for it, I see a power boat coming out of the small marina nearby, with a few people in it. I wave at them, and they wave back. This is a good sign, I think.
They approach, and I yell out "how do you want to do this"? "Good question!" they respond, as one of them, the Sheriff, attempts to spear me with a boathook (something clearly prohibited by the Marine Mammal Protection Act). "Well, how about we start by turning off the propellers?" I suggest. "Good idea!". I then swim to the back of the boat, and, with their help, manage to haul my frozen self over the stern, much like landing a giant halibut. On board are the sheriff, who responded to a phone call from Moana, but who did not have a boat, the port commisioner, who was at the marina, and two of Mom's neighbors, who had rushed from their house seeing me signal as I drifted past, ran to the marina, and hopped in their boat to save me. They wrap me in blankets, and rush me back to the dock at the marina, where the paramedics are waiting. Along with about a dozen onlookers from a nearby resort and someone snapping photos for the town paper. Great...
The nice paramedics provide more blankets, handy warming packs, and give me an exam. As I was in the water perhaps 30 minutes, everyone is amazed at the state I am in - I am still lucid, able to walk, and my core body temperature has only dropped to 97.5. Apparently, this is quite rare after 30 minutes. My blood pressure is 146 over 96, up from my normal 120/80 or so. My pulse is at 116, up from my normal 65 or so. The paramedics and sheriff complement me on my clever use of life vest and emergency rescue equipment.
They call off the Coast Guard, which apparently heard my first few Maydays before the radio died, and dispatched both a helicopter and a rescue boat. They were only another 2 minutes from arriving on-site. Sometimes you get true value for your tax dollars.
They warmed me up for another 25 minutes, while my wife came over to pick me up. They decided that I didn't need to go to the hospital. The doctor who was coordinating the paramedics over the radio was amazed at the vital signs - I overheard one of the paramedics say "I don't know, but he's, ummm, pretty well insulated, it looks like."
My mom's neighbor about this time pulls into the harbor towing my dory, which he had rescued. He managed to even retrieve most of the flotsam - boat cushions and boat parts, except for a single paddle and a pump. What a guy!
My wife took me back to my mom's house, where mom draped me with warmed-in-the-dryer comforters, made me miso soup, hot tea, and grilled cheese sandwiches. It's sometimes really good to have your Mom handy.
Lessons learned:
0) You can never be too overprepared.
0a) Even the best gear fails when you need it most.
1) Don't get out of the boat!
1a) If you do get out of the boat, make sure the water is warm.
1b) Drink lots of beer in college, so you have plenty of
insulation.
2) Don't panic - take the time to come up with a plan.
2a) Several plans are even better.
2b) Having the plan thought out before the emergency is better
still.
3) If you don't have a piece of emergency gear attached to your body,
it's of no earthly use to you.
4) Make sure you haven't pissed off your neighbors if you live on a
small island - they may be fishing you out of the water some day.
5) When in doubt, get a bigger boat.
6) Positive mental attitude.
Bae- Thanks for the well written account of your survial episode. Describe yourself physically and age if you don't mind. What clothing were you wearing?
Some people say you should dress for water temperature when you are in a boat which has a higher potential for capsize such as canoes , kayaks and small craft. In the Pacific Northwest summer air temperature can often reach into the 80's while the water is 48-50 F year round. So obviously you aren't going to wear a drysuit or wetsuit when air is that warm as hyperthermia is no fun either. Still you should wear some significant layer of clothing which will insulate you from the cold water. What happens when the shock of the cold water hits your chest and head is that you hyperventilate for some time - usually a minute or two and if your head happens to be underwater then you can literally inhale a mouthful of water and its all over right there. That is why it is vital to be wearing a lifejacket at all times.
Some people say you should dress for water temperature when you are in a boat which has a higher potential for capsize such as canoes , kayaks and small craft. In the Pacific Northwest summer air temperature can often reach into the 80's while the water is 48-50 F year round. So obviously you aren't going to wear a drysuit or wetsuit when air is that warm as hyperthermia is no fun either. Still you should wear some significant layer of clothing which will insulate you from the cold water. What happens when the shock of the cold water hits your chest and head is that you hyperventilate for some time - usually a minute or two and if your head happens to be underwater then you can literally inhale a mouthful of water and its all over right there. That is why it is vital to be wearing a lifejacket at all times.
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2001
- Messages
- 848
I'm 38, 5'11", 290 lbs. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Good plan, eh?
It took me probably about a minute or so to calm down my heartbeat and blood pressure when I hit the water - it was a huge shock. I've dumped the boat in water in the mid-50s before without this problem - the extra few degrees made a huge difference. I suspect this is why the mast had time to fill with water, making the boat unrightable - the extra time it took me to get into action righting the boat was crucial. (Mast is now filled with foam and sealed...)
I've also read that a significant portion of the population suffers heart trouble when immersed in water this cold. Fortunately, I'm not in that group. Good thing to know before it happens...
The single hardest thing about the episode was not just swimming to shore. It looked close enough, and I felt like an idiot staying with the boat and waiting for rescue, but so many people have perished in these waters, starting out even closer to shore, that I forced myself to stay with the boat. Last year we had some folks dump a canoe only 100 yards offshore who required rescue - they couldn't swim the distance due to the cold.
I still think I could have made it, but that I did the right thing in sticking with the boat.
- Joined
- Mar 26, 2001
- Messages
- 313
Ironically, my survival situation happened while I was on a planned solo survival trip.
My brother had dropped me off on a remote mountain side and I had hiked along an old logging road to the base of the mountain, where I set up camp along a stream. I had a rope, my compound bow and arrows, a pocket knife, a blanket, a tin can for boiling water, and a few books about edible plants. I intended to stay for a week.
As I was dragging poles for my shelter towards camp I saw that somebody else was already in my camp. He had a horse and a dog with him, but no obvious weapons. I put the poles down quietly and crouched down under a tree to watch him.
As he looked around my camp he kept looking back over his shoulder and off into the woods, so I knew that he felt my presence, but I blended with my surroundings too well, so he never saw me. He finally left, riding his horse up the mountain, all the while still trying to see where I was hiding.
The next morning I woke up early and climbed the opposing mountain side to lay in the rays of the suns first light. As I lay there being warmed I heard 3 shotgun blasts from my camp. Thinking that my brother had come to get me because of a family emergency I jumped up and started to throw my clothes on. As I raced down the mountain it occurred to me that the 3 shots might not have been an S.O.S. and that a stranger might be in my camp with a shotgun.
I cat-footed my way around to the same path I had been on the night before and sneaked towards camp. Lo and behold, it was the same guy! This time he didnt have the horse or dog, but he had the gun. He felt my presence again and was visibly nervous because he knew that he was being watched. He left my camp and walked out into the meadow that I would have been running across if I had not realized the possibility of danger.
I sneaked into camp and grabbed my bow and arrows and took them up the hillside, where I buried them in the leaves. (The arrows were metal and would have made way too much noise to warrant carrying them around.) I sneaked back down to camp and began to stalk the visitor. I paralleled him, keeping a blackberry patch between us. I was literally crawling under and over the blackberry vines because the only other option was to crawl through poison oak.
He turned and went back to camp, where he had to have noticed that my bow and arrow were now missing. I hoped that he would think I was armed when he saw that I had been there and gone, and that my bow had left with me. I hope he messed his pants when he realized that I was following him!
Well, I lit out of there and down to the river, where I tried to convince some boaters to give me a ride across so that I could get help from a nearby community. The boaters wouldnt have anything to do with it, so I hike back up the mountain to the road and hitch-hiked home. My brother and I went back that night with his 12-guage and slug and got my stuff. None of it had been messed with.
Was he just a bird hunter? Maybe. But he shot a gun in my camp, so I had to assume the worst. He could have been a marijuana grower, too, and wanted to run me out of there if I was too close to an illegal garden.
Well, it makes for a good story and some awesome lessons
My brother had dropped me off on a remote mountain side and I had hiked along an old logging road to the base of the mountain, where I set up camp along a stream. I had a rope, my compound bow and arrows, a pocket knife, a blanket, a tin can for boiling water, and a few books about edible plants. I intended to stay for a week.
As I was dragging poles for my shelter towards camp I saw that somebody else was already in my camp. He had a horse and a dog with him, but no obvious weapons. I put the poles down quietly and crouched down under a tree to watch him.
As he looked around my camp he kept looking back over his shoulder and off into the woods, so I knew that he felt my presence, but I blended with my surroundings too well, so he never saw me. He finally left, riding his horse up the mountain, all the while still trying to see where I was hiding.
The next morning I woke up early and climbed the opposing mountain side to lay in the rays of the suns first light. As I lay there being warmed I heard 3 shotgun blasts from my camp. Thinking that my brother had come to get me because of a family emergency I jumped up and started to throw my clothes on. As I raced down the mountain it occurred to me that the 3 shots might not have been an S.O.S. and that a stranger might be in my camp with a shotgun.
I cat-footed my way around to the same path I had been on the night before and sneaked towards camp. Lo and behold, it was the same guy! This time he didnt have the horse or dog, but he had the gun. He felt my presence again and was visibly nervous because he knew that he was being watched. He left my camp and walked out into the meadow that I would have been running across if I had not realized the possibility of danger.
I sneaked into camp and grabbed my bow and arrows and took them up the hillside, where I buried them in the leaves. (The arrows were metal and would have made way too much noise to warrant carrying them around.) I sneaked back down to camp and began to stalk the visitor. I paralleled him, keeping a blackberry patch between us. I was literally crawling under and over the blackberry vines because the only other option was to crawl through poison oak.
He turned and went back to camp, where he had to have noticed that my bow and arrow were now missing. I hoped that he would think I was armed when he saw that I had been there and gone, and that my bow had left with me. I hope he messed his pants when he realized that I was following him!
Well, I lit out of there and down to the river, where I tried to convince some boaters to give me a ride across so that I could get help from a nearby community. The boaters wouldnt have anything to do with it, so I hike back up the mountain to the road and hitch-hiked home. My brother and I went back that night with his 12-guage and slug and got my stuff. None of it had been messed with.
Was he just a bird hunter? Maybe. But he shot a gun in my camp, so I had to assume the worst. He could have been a marijuana grower, too, and wanted to run me out of there if I was too close to an illegal garden.
Well, it makes for a good story and some awesome lessons
Coyotlyviejo - That experience sounds a little too close to Deliverance for comfort! Glad it worked out OK.
Bae - Thanks for the info. Your general health and .... um added insulation must have helped you retain your internal heat for longer than a more slender person. That was a good decision to stay with the boat. A powerful experience!
I remember reading about a group of marines who capsize their boat in a river near the east coast , it was winter and while these guys were tough and in shape they all drowned trying to swim to shore which was less than 100 yards away. Cold water is scary.
One nice January day I went canoeing on the ocean temperature was around 32F no wind , paddling kept me warm , after about an hours paddling I got out of the canoe and a few steps later the shock of the cold blood in my legs hit my chest and heart and stopped me in my tracks , I didn't fall over or anything but it made me wonder for a second what was going on. I was in my mid 20's at the time.
Bae - Thanks for the info. Your general health and .... um added insulation must have helped you retain your internal heat for longer than a more slender person. That was a good decision to stay with the boat. A powerful experience!
I remember reading about a group of marines who capsize their boat in a river near the east coast , it was winter and while these guys were tough and in shape they all drowned trying to swim to shore which was less than 100 yards away. Cold water is scary.
One nice January day I went canoeing on the ocean temperature was around 32F no wind , paddling kept me warm , after about an hours paddling I got out of the canoe and a few steps later the shock of the cold blood in my legs hit my chest and heart and stopped me in my tracks , I didn't fall over or anything but it made me wonder for a second what was going on. I was in my mid 20's at the time.
I am not sure if this counts..But here is the story...
About 20 years ago I was living in a northern New Hampshire town, and was familar with the National Forest which began at my back yard.
I went deer hunting in muzzel loading season, just by walking out the door.
I did not intend to be out all night, and my wife at that time never bought my story about getting lost, but lost I was, and in my own back yard!
I had hunted my way up thru 2 clear cuts staying in the tree line, and crossed 2 brooks as I went. I had been there hundreds of times, and on horse back as well hundreds more times. There was no way I could get lost........
About 30 minutes before the end of legal shooting, a snow squall, came up hard, and I turned down the mountain to head home. I choose a ravine which was deep and steep, with a mountain brook boiling madly in the bottom. I re-crossed both brooks that I knew well, and I was following an old logging road, but it ended at a swamp. Huh? Where is this? There ain't no swamp here?????? And where did this 3rd brook come from???? That fed into the swamp... I was lost and it was snowin hard. I could not see in the open due to snow, and I could not see in the spruce, hemlocks either, as it was quite dark.
I decided I did not want to get wet in a unknown swamp, so I bumbled back up hill in the cover of the trees.....
I hunt "Traditional" I had a red wool capote' and wool leggings on and 2 wool shirts. I had more than one knife, a tomahawk, and my shooting bag with flint and steel, so I was all set but for shelter. I even had jerky, wheat flour, and maple sugar chips. After a few minutes I ran into a downed tree. It was a hemlock, not that I could see it. But I felt my way to the upper parts, where I found good tinder from the small twigs, which I broke off many.
I traced my way back to the root hole, and ducked in and built a fire. The fire allowed me to see more what was around, and I gathered more wood, and bigger wood, which was added to the fire in that hole.
I made some boiled mash, and then baked it on rocks that were in the hole, and ate that with maple sugar mixed in, and ate a couple strips of jerky. I just got water from the brook, and it was boiled for more than 3 minutes, so that was not much of an issue. While the food was cooking I set about getting a few poles to create a lousy shelter, but it helped a little...... After some time of building this fire I used a stick to rake it out wider, and longer...my size... and polked at the dirt held over the fire in the roots, which fell on the fire. At where I decided my head would be I left a small blaze to see by, and covered the rest of the fire about 6" deep with soil, and packed that down lightly.That was covered with leaf debris about 6" deep . Then I set up the poles against the roots across the hole, and tossed up a bit of brush to cut the breeze.....and climbed in.....
The next day I got up rather late and made a cup of coffee, brushed of the mud and snow, and found my way home to a very ticked off wife. }:-( Mac
About 20 years ago I was living in a northern New Hampshire town, and was familar with the National Forest which began at my back yard.
I went deer hunting in muzzel loading season, just by walking out the door.
I did not intend to be out all night, and my wife at that time never bought my story about getting lost, but lost I was, and in my own back yard!
I had hunted my way up thru 2 clear cuts staying in the tree line, and crossed 2 brooks as I went. I had been there hundreds of times, and on horse back as well hundreds more times. There was no way I could get lost........
About 30 minutes before the end of legal shooting, a snow squall, came up hard, and I turned down the mountain to head home. I choose a ravine which was deep and steep, with a mountain brook boiling madly in the bottom. I re-crossed both brooks that I knew well, and I was following an old logging road, but it ended at a swamp. Huh? Where is this? There ain't no swamp here?????? And where did this 3rd brook come from???? That fed into the swamp... I was lost and it was snowin hard. I could not see in the open due to snow, and I could not see in the spruce, hemlocks either, as it was quite dark.
I decided I did not want to get wet in a unknown swamp, so I bumbled back up hill in the cover of the trees.....
I hunt "Traditional" I had a red wool capote' and wool leggings on and 2 wool shirts. I had more than one knife, a tomahawk, and my shooting bag with flint and steel, so I was all set but for shelter. I even had jerky, wheat flour, and maple sugar chips. After a few minutes I ran into a downed tree. It was a hemlock, not that I could see it. But I felt my way to the upper parts, where I found good tinder from the small twigs, which I broke off many.
I traced my way back to the root hole, and ducked in and built a fire. The fire allowed me to see more what was around, and I gathered more wood, and bigger wood, which was added to the fire in that hole.
I made some boiled mash, and then baked it on rocks that were in the hole, and ate that with maple sugar mixed in, and ate a couple strips of jerky. I just got water from the brook, and it was boiled for more than 3 minutes, so that was not much of an issue. While the food was cooking I set about getting a few poles to create a lousy shelter, but it helped a little...... After some time of building this fire I used a stick to rake it out wider, and longer...my size... and polked at the dirt held over the fire in the roots, which fell on the fire. At where I decided my head would be I left a small blaze to see by, and covered the rest of the fire about 6" deep with soil, and packed that down lightly.That was covered with leaf debris about 6" deep . Then I set up the poles against the roots across the hole, and tossed up a bit of brush to cut the breeze.....and climbed in.....
The next day I got up rather late and made a cup of coffee, brushed of the mud and snow, and found my way home to a very ticked off wife. }:-( Mac
The most memorable survival situation I found my self was 2 years ago when I found myself cut of by a flood with the waters rising I used my Ka-bar to cit down a tree (it was about 8 in diameter and it took a long time to cut it down, rely long time). Once I got it to drop over the water to a small peace of land also cut of by the water but it had some higher ground. Once I got there I got to the top of the hill and made camp. What was the problem was that a friend offered to take my pack on his truck so it would be essayer for my to walk out, a part from plenty of food I also had a machete and a tent in there so as my friend drove of I went on a quick search for some equipment we left behind I underestimated the rising waterer. I did have on me some survival equipment so I spent next 3 days on the high ground waiting for waters to get down to the level where I could cross them safely and when it was a pleasantly short walk as I stumbled into a rescue party from the SES (state emergency service) who were looking for me. 
In '79 or '80 took a 16 mile boat trip in middle of summer in north Louisiana in a 10 ft long "pirogue" (sort of like a short canoe). The trip was supposed to be an over-niter and from a point 16 miles from where the highway crossed the bayou to our farm on the lake. A friend had told me that the bayou widened into the lake just past the highway.
My father dropped me off about 3 in the afternoon. The bayou went for a mile and then tapered off into myriad little streamlets in between 5 ft high cypress knees. Knowing that the lake and easy paddling was just ahead somewhere, I proceded to drag pirogue, gear, food, and water to the next floatable slough on the bayou. It went for about 1/4 mile and then ended in a stream trickling between cypress roots. This process went on all afternoon. I killed 3 water moccassins the first day. Camped out that night in pup tent, sure that in the morning I would arrive at the main lake shortly and paddle leisuely down the lake to our farm.
The morning was a repeat of the previous afternoon, except I only killed 2 water moccassins. We were in a string of 100 F days during this trip. By afternoon I was getting pretty tired of dragging pirogue/food/gear/water from one mud hole or slough to the other. I quit killing snakes and just shooed them away with my 6' paddle. In some places they would follow me from one end of their slough to the other. For a while I would wade in the shallow end of sloughs or in the stream dragging boat behind me but quit when I once discovered a large cotton-mouth coiled up under 2-3 inches of water. I whacked him with machete. By the second nite I had run out of food and water.
The third day found me dragging boat/gear once again in a repeat of the previous days. Finally at noon the bayou began to widen out where it was backing up from the lake. There was one tree that had fallen across the entire bayou. I stepped out on it and began to drag the pirogue across. I grabbed a tree limb for better leverage but disturbed a large red wasp nest and was stung about 20 or so times on head, face, and arm. Ran down the tree swatting off the wasps and knocked my glasses into the water. Finally jumped in myself to avoid the wasps. My head swelled up and could only see out of one eye. Kept paddling and came to some cabins about dark. The lady who lived there let me get some water, my first drink that day.
Made it to the farm at midnite on the 3rd day.
Just your typical everyday overnite boat trip in lovely and scenic north Louisiana.
My father dropped me off about 3 in the afternoon. The bayou went for a mile and then tapered off into myriad little streamlets in between 5 ft high cypress knees. Knowing that the lake and easy paddling was just ahead somewhere, I proceded to drag pirogue, gear, food, and water to the next floatable slough on the bayou. It went for about 1/4 mile and then ended in a stream trickling between cypress roots. This process went on all afternoon. I killed 3 water moccassins the first day. Camped out that night in pup tent, sure that in the morning I would arrive at the main lake shortly and paddle leisuely down the lake to our farm.
The morning was a repeat of the previous afternoon, except I only killed 2 water moccassins. We were in a string of 100 F days during this trip. By afternoon I was getting pretty tired of dragging pirogue/food/gear/water from one mud hole or slough to the other. I quit killing snakes and just shooed them away with my 6' paddle. In some places they would follow me from one end of their slough to the other. For a while I would wade in the shallow end of sloughs or in the stream dragging boat behind me but quit when I once discovered a large cotton-mouth coiled up under 2-3 inches of water. I whacked him with machete. By the second nite I had run out of food and water.
The third day found me dragging boat/gear once again in a repeat of the previous days. Finally at noon the bayou began to widen out where it was backing up from the lake. There was one tree that had fallen across the entire bayou. I stepped out on it and began to drag the pirogue across. I grabbed a tree limb for better leverage but disturbed a large red wasp nest and was stung about 20 or so times on head, face, and arm. Ran down the tree swatting off the wasps and knocked my glasses into the water. Finally jumped in myself to avoid the wasps. My head swelled up and could only see out of one eye. Kept paddling and came to some cabins about dark. The lady who lived there let me get some water, my first drink that day.
Made it to the farm at midnite on the 3rd day.
Just your typical everyday overnite boat trip in lovely and scenic north Louisiana.