Survival Training, pt 1

The bastard sun in my eyes woke me up. He was already boiling water from God-knows-what stagnant hole in the ground he found. Millipedes crawled over everything, including on my sleeping bag and inside my shoes. The Navy SEAL looked around with trepidation, clearly bothered by the deluge of roly-polys. For a man who was until recently getting shot at by terrorists with automatic rifles, he was a bit of a sissy about bugs. His stove and prepackaged dehydrated food also struck me as lacking in authenticity. However, by this point I’d already lost my resolve and ate a hot egg sandwich from the grill in the woods, so who was I to talk?

Confused? You should be. I skipped ahead a few days. After my day at the Smithsonian and my night at a Couchsufer’s place watching Phelps rack up a record medal count with my host, his girlfriend, and their psychotic dog, I set off the next morning for Shenandoah National Park. Known for is beauty and bears, I intended it to be 3 days of silence, solitude, and self-reliance on the Appalachian Trail, with nothing but trail mix and my inner thoughts to sustain me. How long you think hat lasted?

It was raining when I arrived, but by the time I filled out my paperwork and lied about my intended hitchhiking escape (I brought a sign this time!), the sun was peeking through. I felt optimistic. I chose what I thought would be a nice starting point where after 3 days I would find a busy intersection of trail and road and accommodating old woman to drive me back to my car. Coincidentally, another hiker, a man who I guessed was in his thirties, crossed the road and continued on the trail as I pulled up. I wondered if I’d cross paths with him again.

I came prepared for this. Lots of dried nuts and chips and such. 3 liters of purified water and plenty of purifying pills. A detailed topographic map and compass. A tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bag, and pillow. A first aid kit. And in case of emergencies, my ipod. I would need barely half that.

For starters, the topo map was useless. The trail was clearly marked, and continually crossed Skyline Drive, the main road through the park, so you never really got lost. The trail went basically due south at all times, so no compass. I thought I might need them to find water or a campsite, but the springs (read: small concrete tub in woods full of muddy water) were on clearly labeled side trails. And the campsites, well, I broke rules both nights.

I discovered the marked springs, to my mild disappointment, after less than an hour of walking. The older man was walking up a side path and making his way back down the main trail as I approached. I walked behind him, and said nothing for another half an hour. After that hour, I was already ready for a rest; my ankle was still killing me and I was still an aspirin junkie. As fate had it, he was ready for a rest himself, and the two of us coincidentally stopped at the same sunny spot. This time I struck up a conversation. I learned he was a Navy SEAL, back from Iraq, with a wife and a new kid waiting for him at home. This trip was his last hurrah before settling into domestic life. I listened intently as he talked, occasionally piping in with my thoughts but fully aware I was still some dumb unmarried pacifist kid.

The man must’ve been paranoid about keeping his water bottles full, because as I realized my water was running low, we came across another marked spring, and both decided we needed to fill up. I had my purification pills ready, but he offered to let me use his drops. They only took half an hour to work, which was much better than the 4 hours mine took. So we shared drops. We returned to the trail, silent now, enjoying our nature walk. But in the silence, something had clearly happened. Without saying a word, we became traveling companions. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, he said “We’d better make camp sometime soon”, and I agreed.

As luck would have it, and luck continually showed itself on this trip, we didn’t need to make camp. Just as we were deciding where to stop, we saw a sign for one of the rentable cabins on the AT in Shenandoah. As much as I wanted to rough it, I’d already broke my promise by talking to the SEAL for hours on end. So we went to the cabin. It was locked, but the porch would still nice. It was sheltered and off the ground, which was good for him because he feared spiders and snakes. The porch even had a fireplace. We raided the woodbox on the side of the house and took some schmuck’s hard-cut timber and made us a fire, wholly unnecessary in the August evening. He busted out his portable stove and prepackaged food, while I stubbornly but wistfully ate my cold beans. He then pulled out a portable radio from his TARDIS of a backpack, and put on NPR, something that seemed out of character for a backpacker and a Navy SEAL at that. We spread out our sleeping bags, forgoing the tens and to the calming sounds of dry liberal media I passed out.

In the morning, the bastard sun woke me up. The Navy SEAL was already up boiling water for his coffee. My urine steamed as I took a piss in the surprisingly chill morning air. When I returned, he presented me with a gift: he thought it would be only proper to restock some of the wood we used, but he saved one stick for me to use as a walking stick. He thought it’d help my noticeable limp. We ate a snack, packed our stuff, and carried on.

Breakfast wasn’t satisfying, and nuts and banana chips tends not to be. I was hungry after an hour. It was about that moment that we tripped upon the campground. There were 3 drive-in campgrounds on the AT in Shenandoah; because the road and the trail are basically parallel, the trail passes through all 3 campgrounds. Naturally, we pass through one just as we were getting hungry, and the campground had a general store. The SEAL decided to stock up, and I figured maybe I’d cheat and buy some M&Ms.

Turns out the general store had a full grill. The SEAL, with no rules to break, quickly jumped on the opportunity to buy hot breakfast. I stubbornly refused, until I saw him blissfully eating his. I broke down, and bought a hot sandwich, milk, cheese, and chocolate fudge. I also decided to try package of freeze dried food, which I found out later sucked ass. The cheese, however, was the greatest 80 cents I ever spent in my entire life.

With all this tasty food in our packs, I started to wonder if a bear would gain interest in us. No, no bears ever stalked us, but Shenandoah has an average of one bear per square mile. It didn’t take long for me to find our first one. It was at a short rest in the morning, along the short stone fence where the trail and road met for the umpteenth time. We saw rustling on the other side of the road, and wondered if it was bear, deer, or hiker. I decided to investigate. I crossed the street and stealthily crept down towards the sound. I could see a large dark shape, a Black Bear. I edged ever closer, blissfully lacking self-preservation instinct. I got surprisingly close, but eventually the bear noticed me and walked off with a distinct lack of haste. It was taller and stronger than me, and was clearly not afraid. I went to take a photo, only to realize I’d left my camera in my backpack. I ran back topspeed, grabbed, it and stealthily ran back. By that point, the bear was too far away to get a good photo through the trees. Ah well, I figured, I’d get another chance.

I did, to be fair, but at no point did I ever get a good photo. Fuck bears.