Fire lighting - effective techniques for all weathers

Your basic survival kit should be able to provide all the essentials for survival, but what if you don’t have your survival kit with you? The ability to improvise using whatever resources are close to hand is a vital skill that should be practiced and honed whenever you get the chance. In most cases shelter from the elements will be your primary consideration and it makes a lot of sense to initially search for some form of existing or natural shelter in the near vicinity. However, if natural cover isn't available, having a good understanding of the most fundamental shelter building principles , a working knowledge of natural materials and a simple but effective shelter option up your sleeve could save the day. So, even without our basic survival kit, effective protection from the elements can still be achieved and the immediate threat to life dealt with. In many cases, certainly in colder climates our next consideration must be to provide warmth and without specialised gear such as a sleeping bag or cold weather clothing, a warming camp fire may be the only option.

In survival terms a camp fire is so much more than just a provider of warmth. It’s flames and smoke provide an age old signalling device to alert rescuers, water can be made safe to drink by boiling, nuisance animals and insects can be kept at bay, wet clothing can be dried, the toxins in certain plant foods can be destroyed by heat making them safe to eat and food stuffs can be dried and smoked to preserve them. Wooden tools and weapons can be made more durable by baking them hard in the embers, in fact fire itself has even been used as a tool in days gone by, both for hunting by attracting fish to a flaming torch or driving animals from their hiding places and as a method of felling trees, sectioning the trunk and hollowing out the wood to make containers or even dug-out canoes. It’s pretty much wholly responsible for taking us out of the stone-age and onwards towards the manufacture of metal tools, shiny trinkets and the X box. In short, it really is such an essential element of our existence that, quite frankly if you feel that you don’t possess the skills to produce fire with or without modern equipment then you should probably question your current position as a serving member of the human race!

 

Don’t panic though, help is at hand. In this post I’ll cover the basics of preparing and lighting a fire, stripping the skill right back to basics assuming minimal access to modern gear. With this in mind, a keyword to remember above all else is ‘preparation’. If your only available method of ignition is an improvised one (think Tom Hanks in ‘Castaway’) then all attempts to produce flames could end in tears if you haven’t adequately prepared the materials necessary to turn smoke into fire. Throw some less than perfect weather conditions, a sprinkling of thirst and hunger plus a good dollop of tiredness into the mix and despite being supreme ruler of the barbeque at home, failure could well be waiting to pull the rug right out from under you.

Tinder:

 

Without your survival kit to fall back on, your first consideration must always be tinder. The definition of tinder is a material, so fine, dry and combustible that it will ignite from the smallest flame or coolest spark. Chances are, such a material will also be incredibly absorbent to moisture so if relying on locally foraged tinder then unless it’s a bright sunny day it’ll probably be anything from slightly damp to sodden. Collecting tinder early gives you the chance to dry it out by putting a little bit in all of your inside pockets and letting body-heat warm it through. Remember that to be a successful survivor you must be an opportunist and gathering tinder materials when you see them to squirrel away somewhere dry should be pretty high on the priority list. You’ll ideally want a bundle of tinder around the size of a grapefruit. In a typical European temperate environment look out for dead bracken, wild clematis or honeysuckle bark, dead grass, dead pine needles, thistle down and the lord of all tinders, birch bark. Birch trees naturally shed their outer bark in wispy, papery peelings perfect for catching a spark but best of all, this bark contains a natural tar substance that burns with a strong, bright flame.

Wild Clematis vine bark peelings

 

 'Cramp Ball' or 'King Alfred's Cakes' a fungus which grows on dead ash

 

Wild honeysuckle bark. Only remove the dead peelings

 

Thistle down. Perfect for catching a spark and turning it into flame but it must be surrounded by a more substantial, coarse tinder

 

 

Prepare the fire place:

Next, prepare your fireplace. For all it’s many good points, a fire lit in the wrong place can have disastrous consequences so regardless of your situation always be wary of the risk of your fire spreading and becoming out of control. Choose an area well away from combustible materials and clear all plant matter away for at least a metre all around the fireplace, paying close attention to any overhanging foliage. If possible, clear it right back to bare earth but even then be alert to the terrifying possibility that certain soil types will burn and smoulder (peaty soil or soil with shallow, interlocking root systems). Look for a sheltered place out of the wind or create a barrier with local materials. Avoid surrounding the fire with rocks if you can as the moisture inside will expand as they heat up, causing them to crack open with a loud bang at best. At worst, they’ll explode sending red hot shards of rock flying through the air! I’ve experienced this inside a natural shelter and it made me squeal! Good job nobody else was there to witness such a shameful spectacle. Instead, dig a shallow pit about the circumference and depth of an upturned dustbin lid in which to start your fire off. This will provide some shelter from the wind and keep it where you want it as it grows. Line the base of the pit with dry sticks to provide a dry platform for your tinder and allow plenty of air flow underneath. A wind barrier can be made using piles of firewood with the added bonus of allowing the wood a chance to dry out.

A well prepared fire site, instructor ready to attempt ignition

 

Taking no chances! This fireplace in coniferous woodland has been excavated and filled with a clay base to prevent accidental ignition of underground root systems 

 

 

Kindling:

A fire needs three elements to exist and grow – oxygen, heat and fuel. Oxygen is obviously all around us but can be restricted if your fire isn’t constructed so as to allow air flow easily through the fuel wood. It can also be increased if needs be by blowing or fanning when the fire’s struggling to get going. Heat relates to your chosen method of ignition and fuel, in most instances will be wood (but might also be blubber, bones, dung or peat depending on where in the world you happen to be). Fuel wood must be added to the tinder starting with the thinnest, driest stuff first to allow it to grow steadily. This important next stage in your fire’s development goes by the name of ‘kindling’ and can be anything from match stick up to finger in thickness. It should also be bone dry, gathered from dead tree trunks and suspended fallen branches rather than from the damp forest floor. In wet weather, strip the soggy bark away or better still, split down larger sections of dead, dry wood into thin splints. This is a highly underrated fire lighting technique that is well worth the investment in time and energy. In fact, in cold wet climates you’ll struggle to achieve a fire without doing this. Even when all the tinder and kindling in the wood is soaking wet, splitting open larger section dead wood will provide both. By using a lump of heavy wood as a batten with a knife, axe or even a piece of flint as a splitting wedge, even quite sizeable logs can be halved, quartered and so on with relative ease. By carefully carving the dry wood inside into paper thin shavings you have all the makings of a successful fire even in wet weather. With practice, these ‘feather sticks’ can be carved fine enough to light from a spark!

'Feathering' split dry standing deadwood to provide dry tinder in wet conditions

Building a jenga stack of split seasoned oak - maximum oxygen, fuel and heat for a hot ember bed

 

Fuel wood:

Fuel wood should only be added as the fire becomes established and able to support itself. Start with the thinnest pieces first and increase in size as the fire grows. Flinging a yule log on too early could smother the fire and put you right back to square one. Fuel wood must also be dead and well-seasoned, ranging from finger thick upwards depending on how much of an inferno you’re hoping to achieve. Not all woods burn the same and different species have different qualities. Oak and ash burn well providing excellent cooking embers, hawthorn and beech burn bright and hot, pine will provide plenty of light to work by after dark, fruit woods smell nice and sweet chestnut spits sparks out onto your sleeping bag all night long. Gather a sizeable stack while you still have daylight remaining, more than you think you’ll need. There’s nothing more depressing than trudging round a cold dark forest at 3am looking for firewood in your boots and underpants.

Sawing fuel wood to length and splitting it with an axe will help a fire in it's early stages or cold, damp conditions

 

 

Play it safe when splitting smaller pieces. The technique of bringing a small axe and small section of wood together onto a solid stump minimizes risk of a poorly placed chop 

Once the fire is established, feed long lengths into the centre. Unnecessary processing wastes energy. Note the log wall fire reflector - this throws radiated heat back at the shelter occupant and shields the fire from the wind, conserving fuel 

 

Light it up!

There are many ways to arrange your kindling and fuel wood around your tinder before introducing a method of ignition. A tepee arrangement starting with the thinnest kindling first will catch the flames from your tinder bundle and easily spread upwards and outwards to the thicker fuel wood, helped along by it’s chimney like structure encouraging good ‘draw’. It’s a classic for bad weather and damp materials. Around this build a kind of ‘log cabin’ alternating stack of ever increasingly thicker fuel wood providing plenty of air flow, combined with plenty of fuel and you’ll be guaranteed of a morale boosting blaze extremely quick. Kindling can also be propped up over the tinder using a thicker log, or even held above it using a little mini goalpost made from the largest kindling sticks.

 

 

IGNITION!

 

Providing a blast of oxygen right into the heart of the tinder bundle

Showing the bare minimum amount of ultra dry, match stick thin kindling you should gather

Propping up the kindling to allow the fire to grow upwards without smothering the flame

 

Adding the thinnest fuel wood in an alternating matrix to create a hot 'heart' to the fire. Increasingly thicker fuel wood is added in the same way. Now put the kettle on and never let it go out...

 

 

Whichever arrangement you use remember that fire needs fuel and oxygen as well as heat to grow and it naturally wants to spread upwards. If something isn’t working as you’d hoped then come back to these basic principles and re-arrange your materials accordingly. After sourcing suitable materials, success is really just a matter of trouble shooting.  If you’ve ever had to rely on fire as a tool for survival through necessity or choice then I’m sure you’ll agree that once those flames are dancing, suddenly everything else becomes possible.

But hang on. Before you reach for the marshmallows we need to discuss a method of ignition. Again, assuming no survival kit we’ll take it right back to basics and in the next post I’ll take a detailed look at the bow and drill method of friction fire lighting.

 

 

 

Moccasin boot hybrids - old meets new (traditional buckskin woodland footwear, with a modern twist..)

 

 

This is an article I wrote for a magazine around this time last year, re-posted for those who haven't yet seen it, anyone who has expressed an interest in how they were made having seen them on a course or on my social media images and anyone who likes looking at bluebells!

As an amateur designer and maker of home-made clothing and equipment, my holy grail has always been footwear. To look at a modern pair of training shoes for example, with a view to replicating them befuddles my brain beyond belief. Even a standard pair of leather boots seems to combine an unbelievable number of highly developed skills to stitch, shape and join the leather, rubber and metal in order to make something we all take for granted. 

The humble pair of boots has to fulfil an extraordinary task for which they are not given enough credit. They must be light in weight to ease the load for your weary legs but at the same time, strong enough to support our feeble 21stcentury feet. They must also be flexible to allow the twenty six bones and one hundred or so muscles, ligaments and tendons in each foot and ankle to flex, contract and expand freely. They must have a flexible but hardwearing sole to cope with the incredibly tough and unforgiving modern surfaces we are all expected to walk around on. Not only that but we prefer them to have a certain amount of cushioning and often require some insulation, waterproofing and breathability too. In short, we’re all wearing a pair of little miracles on our feet!

Surely then, to make one’s own footwear for the woods is a skill reserved for only an elite minority, the chosen few, a special kind of craftsman?

“Cobblers!” I exclaimed and set about researching the subject (that joke surely deserves an award of some kind…). I took my research right back to basics, to a time when nobody even knew what a Vibram sole was and tools and materials could be made rather than bought. After all, the sort of footwear I wanted to make would be for using only in the woods. I wanted a degree of protection for walking through spiky, stinging foliage and also from the elements. At the same time I wanted them to be extremely light weight, flexible and noise free underfoot.  When I’m out in the woods on my own I like to pad about as quietly and as stealthily as possible. It’s amazing what you see and hear when you aren’t crashing through the undergrowth in a pair of clumpy boots.

As I read every piece of literature I could find on the subject of traditional footwear I was astounded by the variation between cultures and environments. One quite disappointing truth that cropped up repeatedly was that back in the day, in relatively warm temperate environments most of us didn’t wear boots of any kind for much of the time. Even where some kind of footwear should really have been necessary due to the local flora and fauna, people just went without whenever they could. We were obviously tougher back then (well our feet were anyway) and with traditional materials wearing out pretty quick when worn as foot wear, to go barefoot was probably the preferred option. For someone who can’t walk across a pebbly beach barefoot without yelping and whining, this clearly wasn’t going to be an option.

While reading (well, looking at the pictures…) one type of traditional footwear had caught my eye more than once. The buckskin moccasin was, and still is renowned the world over for quietness, flexibility and just feeling closer to nature. Ellsworth Jaeger in his book ‘Wildwood Wisdom’ tells us that “moccasins are the best natural footwear that has ever been devised. The moccasined foot can feel it’s way along the trail and are light and warm at night. Moccasined feet are like the pads of animals”.  Jim Riggs author of the Blue Mountain Buckskin manual says quite simply “buckskin moccasins give you magic feet!” and who are we to argue with that.

Another advantage of this wonder footwear is that the fabric used to make traditional moccasins is born of the land itself. Buckskin is a material manufactured from animal hides (mainly deer species) thereby making good use of a natural resource and by-product of hunting for meat. To make buckskin is a fairly lengthy process, a subject in it’s own right. In a nutshell, the hide must first be scraped to remove any flesh, soaked in a lye solution of wood ash and water for several days then scraped to remove the top layer of skin along with the hair or fur. After a good rinsing the hide is scraped again to remove any membrane still clinging onto the flesh side then a solution of brains and warm water is massaged well into the fibres (whole eggs or pure soap and neat’s foot oil will also do the job). This oily solution is left to penetrate the hide for as long as possible, usually overnight, then firmly wrung out by twisting the hide around a wooden pole until it feels clammy rather than wet. The skin is then manipulated and stretched until dry, softened further by working the fibres over a slightly abrasive surface. Finally the now soft buckskin is force smoked over a punky fire to help preserve and keep it soft as well as colour it to the desired shade from a light tan to a rich brown. This fantastic fabric is virtually windproof and showerproof, retains some warmth when wet, is quiet in use, comfortable to wear, tough (quite literally as old boots) and very easy to make into clothing and equipment.

There were many designs of moccasin depending on where in the world the wearer lived. Some had hard soles made from thick rawhide to give a degree of protection from thorns and others kept the hair on for insulation. For the most part a soft sole seemed to be common place. As I had no desire to stay true to any particular tribal group or historical period I was happy to ‘mix and match’ where possible, even incorporating some modern ideas to hopefully tailor an existing design to my own British woodland environment. My first modern improvement would be a sewn in tongue to prevent grit and other debris finding it’s way inside through the laces. Also, the sole needed some attention for several reasons. Firstly, the sole of a traditional moccasin has a very limited lifespan, even when used only in the woods. Secondly, buckskin is also not really designed to be waterproofed (it’s just too breathable and flexible) and thirdly, in damp conditions buckskin can feel ‘slimy’ therefore making the soles incredibly slick and likely to put you on your backside without warning. My proposed solution was to add a thin, grippy rubber sole somehow. Lastly, many traditional designs had a very simple lacing system, basically a length of buckskin thonging to wrap around the lower leg several times and tie off. I wanted proper parachute cord laces and lacing tabs to pull the moccasins in tight and give me a better fit. With all this in mind I took some inspiration from Ellsworth Jaeger’s book which has several excellent moccasin designs and plenty of moccasin related information. The illustrations are quite cartoony and there is one character who frequently pops up in full buckskin garb, wearing a natty little pair of pucker toe moccasin/boot hybrids. His little cartoony feet became the inspiration behind my new footwear.

 

Scissors, saddlers needles, artificial sinew, awl, blunt pincers and rubber thimbles are all you need

 

The wonder fabric – buckskin

 

An animal hide, being a natural product has an inconsistent thickness. Some areas need to be stronger such as the area around the neck, the haunches and along the ridge of the back. The side flanks and underbelly are slightly thinner and therefore softer. These different qualities can be used to our advantage and incorporated into a clothing design. For example, moccasin soles need to be strong and thick but the uppers and tongue are better made from the thinner areas. When marking out a pattern it’s good to arrange the different pieces with all of this in mind. Also, some hides are generally thicker than others. The difference in thickness between a winter hide and a summer hide is notable but there is also a thickness variation between male and female and even different deer species. Roe deer will give the crafts person a thin and small hide, Muntjac is smaller still but quite thick, Red deer although much larger has quite an obvious thickness variation between the neck and flank area and also has a more open fibre structure making it wear quicker. Across the pond, Moose is the preferred choice of hide for making buckskin moccasins but we don’t have many in Wiltshire! I have found that winter Fallow deer hide will give a good thickness combined with a pretty good size, certainly suitable enough for making a pair of moccasin boots.

 

A well smoked buckskin showing the typical variation in thickness and strength

I based the bare bones of my design around the ‘pucker toe’ moccasin worn by the woodland tribes of North America. There are other, simpler designs that I had made before such as the side fold ‘mitten’ moccasin but I liked the way the puckering lifted up any stitching to the top of the foot, well away from ground level where it might leak or wear more quickly. I had also decided to use a liquid rubber mixed with shredded sticky rubber granules to paint a hard wearing, grippy sole onto the moccasins and I quite liked the idea of being able to extend this waterproof surface up the sides slightly and seal the stitching on the heel tab. Although in theory, buckskin costs nothing in monetary terms, it is priceless to the person who has just made it so not wanting to end up with a ruined buckskin, my initial attempt was to be made using calico stitched together with wool and a darning needle. Using this method, I could get the fit just right with the added advantage of being able to take the prototype moccasin apart and use it as a working pattern. After playing around with the puckering method and adding uppers and a sewn in ‘bellows’ tongue I felt confident enough to mark out my first moccasin on a nice, thick fallow buckskin and cut out the five pieces that would form it’s basic structure.





Pucker toe moccasin pieces showing foot placement. A-foot section. B – vamp tongue. C – upper. D – bellows tongue wings
 

 

It probably comes as no surprise to learn that there are also many methods of stitching buckskin. For rough and ready garments, an oversized running stitch or whip stitch using buckskin thonging is quick and effective. The fibres in buckskin ‘knit’ together quite nicely when joined in this way, with no need for hems. As the material is so thick, each stitch hole must first be made using a sharp awl. This isn’t as time consuming as it sounds once you get in a rhythm. The buckskin thonging even becomes it’s own needle by twisting one end into a point with licked fingers. Being a show off I decided to keep my stitching small and neat for maximum weatherproofing opting for sinew as a thread and a modern size 18 saddlers needle rather than a traditional bone or antler version. Highly weatherproof skin garments that were traditionally sewn using sinew are truly amazing. Sinew, again being a natural product, has it’s limitations. Although incredibly strong for it’s size, sinew only comes in short lengths so must be joined or twisted into thin cordage. Luckily there is a modern alternative in the form of synthetic sinew which comes on a huge roll. Hurrah!

 

Running stitch using buckskin thonging

 

Whip stitch using buckskin thonging

 

Punching holes through two thicknesses of buckskin using an awl, for fine stitching using artificial sinew

 

 

Using a pair of blunt pincers to help push and pull the needle through

My attempts at neat puckering weren’t quite as good as planned. It’s a difficult technique to master as you can see from the images, especially with thick buckskin. Each stich on the tongue vamp (B) corresponds with a wider spaced partner on the front foot section (A). As the stitching is pulled tight, the foot section ’puckers’ up to make the toe box. At this stage the moccasins were beginning to take shape but also looking worringly like a pair of granny slippers! The vamp, now stitched in place extends to form the tongue and soft, thin ‘wings’ (D) were sewn onto the sides of this for joining to the upper (C) later, forming a ‘bellows’ tongue. It’s worth pointing out here that due to the thickness of the fallow hide, I had soaked the buckskin to make it easier to crimp and sew the puckering. Even with pre-made awl holes, the needle proved difficult to push through two thicknesses of hide so a pair of blunt pincers proved invaluable.

 

Pucker toe stitching technique

 

 

Toe section finished and 'puckered up'

  While the foot section was still damp I pushed my foot inside to get a good fit before marking the correct position of the heel tab and stitching it together. Buckskin will stretch when damp so make your moccasins slightly small while the individual pieces are still dry. Once the moccasins are completely stitched soak them in water for a short while, plunge your feet within, lace them up and wear them until they dry again. In theory, they will stretch and mould to your exact foot shape!

 

Heel tab completed and uppers stitched into position

 

Upper added with bellows tongue and lace tabs

With the heel tab stitched in position the upper was then joined to the foot section with an overlapping seam and running stitch. Lastly, the tongue wings were stitched to the upper incorporating looped tabs for threading the parachute cord laces through. Both moccasins were soaked, stretched and worn until dry as previously mentioned. Magic feet here we come!

 

After a couple of experiments with ‘shoe goo’ and rubber flakes painted onto buckskin scraps, I felt confident enough to begin waving the paintbrush around threateningly near my precious new footwear. To help the rubber goo adhere to the buckskin surface I ‘roughed’ up the soles with coarse sandpaper and slapped the mixture on while it was still malleable and tacky. The goo starts to solidify quickly so the rubber flakes were patted into the pungent coating as soon as it was in position immediately giving a matt, textured finish. Warning – liquid rubber has pretty toxic fumes. Don’t do this with the shed windows shut or you’ll start to see pixies dancing around the room, possibly being encouraged by a singing unicorn wearing a fez!

 

Rubber paint, rubber flakes and roughened sole

Applying liquid rubber and rubber flakes in the workshop

 

 

The finished rubber sole - grippy and waterproof

 

 Having worn my woodland moccasin/boot hybrids several times in the last twelve months I must say that they certainly bring you closer to nature. The detail of the woodland floor can be felt with every step! The small packable size makes them perfect as back up footwear or for silently padding around camp. I’ve been using a selection of home-made buckskin equipment for several years now, knife sheaths, pouches and various bags and looking down at my moccasined feet I’m starting to think the fashion might be spreading. Will I get away with the trousers too? I think I just might…

 

Completed moccasin/boot hybrids airing in the wood smoke of a campfire

 

A Suitably Snowy Test for a Super Sleeping Bag

Alpkit is a company I’ve been aware of for a good few years, initially through their fantastic lightweight drybag/daysack hybrids. Their well-designed products dovetail perfectly with my ethos of travelling as light as possible whilst also being as well equipped as I can be (an endless struggle of conflicting concepts, clashing horns to the extent where my kit is arranged and re-arranged to death umpteen times before I can leave the house). In the colder months of the year, a depressingly large amount of available packing space is occupied by my winter sleeping bag leaving me with very few options other than to load up the BIG rucksack. This old dinosaur, a battered Berghaus Vulcan from my days in the forces, weighs half a tonne even before I put anything in it but I absolutely refuse to buy a new, lightweight expedition sack as to do so feels like surrendering to the suppressed kit junky in me. Also, I like it’s worn appearance and hastily repaired straps, non-matching buckles and the elasticated lid that isn’t elasticated anymore, flapping about in the wind like the roof of a ram-shackle tin shed. Having spent many a cold, winters night outdoors without a sufficiently warm sleeping bag in days of yore, I never skimp on my sleeping gear nowadays. My sleeping system is a haven of tranquillity, a cosy, dry place that I can look forward to however grim the weather during the day. So, the big warm sleeping bag takes prime position, above the spare clothing but below the inflatable sleep mat and waterproof tarp. Despite the cavernous size of my Berghaus Vulcan rucksack, this seems to leave me with just enough room for a single Rizla paper and a waffer thin mint. In my minds eye, I imagine the highly unprofessional image of me stooping under the bulk of a massive rucksack festooned with all manner of camping gear, pots and pans clanking about on the outside as I trudge through the wilderness.

This seasonal dilemma has been a familiar one for so long that I’ve come to accept it, however I have made some progress. My first winter sleeping bag was an old 58 pattern army bag with a heavy pvc built in base and a filling of down. I haven’t a clue what grade of down was used but I’m sure I could feel a few feet and beaks in there! Not only that but no matter how well you looked after the old army down bags they still exuded a dank odour of cabbage. With all this and the fact that it weighed quite a bit when damp I think I must’ve made up my mind to avoid down bags fairly early on in my outdoor career. The many sleeping bags that followed in subsequent years were all synthetic fill ranging from fairly small and lightweight right up to the size of a small bungalow. I thought I’d cracked it last winter with a nice, small synthetic bag boasting a decent comfort rating in the minus’s….but (fanfare) then came the Skyehigh 800  four season bag from Alpkit!

The Skyehigh range of sleeping bags compressed

 

It started like this…in recent years, spending increasingly longer periods living outdoors I decided to invest in a good quality down jacket. The antics I get up to outdoors require reasonably bomb proof work clothes combined with effective weather resistance properties. More often than not these tend to be thick heavy wool, tough weatherproof cotton outers (yes, I know cotton’s a killer but it’s hard wearing and won’t melt next to a campfire...) and a spattering of modern, technical fibres. While they perform well when worn in the woods these clothes don’t suit the role of being carried around as a spare or emergency warm layer. Basically they fill a daysack and weigh as much as a small pony. My new down jacket was a revelation, squishing down to almost nothing in my pack but keeping me as toasty warm as two or three heavy wool shirts. Admittedly, it was slightly less robust but this was a garment reserved for evenings, early frosty mornings or really, awfully cold weather when I’d be unlikely to be doing too much manual labour. If I absolutely needed to start man-handling logs or rolling around in the mud then my bomb proof cotton outer layer could give a degree of protection when worn over the top (my cotton smock is single layer Ventile; a high performance, weatherproof fabric…he said smugly). My down jacket gave me peace of mind. It’s pack ability meant that I could always take it along without getting in a flap about an unnecessarily warm layer taking up too much room. If the temperature dropped – BOOM, the jacket exploded into action from it’s tiny stuff sack and warmth and happiness prevailed. The ultimate security blanket!

Looking at the diminutive little package in the bottom of my daysack, knowing how the jacket within harboured such mystical and heroic qualities, I started to consider the benefits of a down filled sleeping bag. I knew the potential problems with down in the wet but it had been a long time since I had to worry about being unable to effectively dry a sleeping bag due to the tactical restrictions of not building an enormous campfire and breaking out the marshmallows. After all, knowing just how brilliant my down jacket was, I always looked after it well and had never got it wet to the point where it became ineffective. Life is a compromise and the small size and tiny weight penalty of a modern down bag seemed to outweigh any of the old problems I had experienced years before. With outdoor kit technology constantly moving forward I was sure a modern down bag would have a lightweight, weatherproof outer, special compartments for the filling, a waterproof coating perhaps? I still couldn’t help wondering if it would smell of old cabbages.

Showing excellent 'loft' even when pulled straight out of the bag

 

And so, a short while later a suspiciously sleeping bag shaped parcel with a pleasant little note from Alpkit arrived at Wilderness Survival Skills HQ. The Skyehigh 800 is a four season sleeping bag from a range that also includes the three season 600 model and a five season beast, the 1000. Somewhat confused by the weight to size ratio (the bag was at it’s biggest and loftiest in the long term storage bag supplied but felt as though someone had slipped a helium filled balloon in there for a joke) I pulled out the bag and gave it a shake to ‘puff it up’ to the max. Within seconds I was in it, zip pulled up to the neck baffle, prostrate on the living room floor watching CBeebies upside down. Even with a three year old jumping up and down on the huge blue worm that had appeared in the middle of the room, I felt immediately warm, comfortable and ever so sleeeeppppyyy…..

Micro ripstop DWR nylon outer

After an unexpected micro snooze I blearily clambered back out for a better look at the bag. As I’d come to expect from Alpkit, my first impressions of the bag were of a subtle, no nonsense, fine standard of quality workmanship. The outer material (micro ripstop DWR nylon) looked as though it would easily shrug off any tent condensation or wind-blown rain coming in under a tarp. The next and most obvious thing that stood out was the bag’s ‘lofting’ properties. Those down filled chambers plumped up immediately and stayed plump, trapping oodles of insulating air among the soft feathers to keep me warm at night, (incidentally the filling in this bag is super warm 90/10 goose down, 650+ fill power EU, whereas the next batch are due to use premium duck down making it one of the best value, high performance down bags on the market). The cowl hood looked more than capable of holding enough spare clothing to make a comfy pillow but still had enough depth to ensure my head would be surrounded by cosiness when scooped up into a cowl shape using the draw strings and snow locks. A good sized neck baffle would easily stop my valuable body heat from leaking out of the bag through the neck. Likewise the substantial zip baffle would prevent heat loss through the zip too. Fine touches around this area included the use of a reassuringly heavy duty YKK zip for a bag that squashes down so small and a length of heavier duty fabric sewn in place along the zip side of the baffle to reduce the chance of getting the zipper all snarled up when you desperately need to get out for a pee in the night.

Tactel nylon lining with good cowl hood and neck baffle

 

 

Positioned around the upper chest area was a handy little internal zip up pocket, ideal for keeping mobile phones warm and safe at night. The 300l Tactel nylon lining looked invitingly soft and the fit suited me just fine (regular length suits folks up to 6ft 1” but there are longer and shorter versions available). I’m what many might consider to be a chunky monkey but there was just enough room around the shoulders so as not to induce a ‘being buried alive’ panic attack in the early hours. I’ve slept in bags before that should have really included a butler or at least a trained mammal of some kind to assist in undoing the zip because the fit has been too slim to allow enough arm movement to operate the zip on your own. Not without dislocating a shoulder anyway. The foot section was also well sculpted and felt in no way restrictive.

The compression sack provided looked lightweight, well made…and possibly a little too small at first glance. All the same, the sleeping bag disappeared inside easily, no problems at all. The top closure consists of a simple drawstring and then the whole caboodle can be cinched down by what seems to be another 50% using the strong webbing straps and tensioning buckles. This gives you a neat little bundle only slightly bigger than a football. All that warmth in such a tiny package! I literally couldn’t wait to pack my kit for the weekend. With all the usual suspects lined up and ready to go (spare clothing, thermal mat, hunka bivi bag, rig 7 tarp, warm top, water, cooking kit, waterproofs and other assorted dry bags containing various useful bits and bobs) I dropped my new, fully compressed sleeping bag into the cavernous depths of my big rucksack. There was a barely audible and muffled ‘thud’ as it hit the bottom about twenty seconds later (ok, a bit of an exaggeration but it was certainly rattling around in the bottom somewhere). All the other essentials followed after and for the first time in a long time I was able to cinch the hood straps right down; virtually unheard of when packing kit for a couple of days winter camping.

Surprisingly heavy duty zip and crafty low snag zip baffle

 

The real test was yet to come, a dramatic drop in temperature over the weekend and snow forecast for the Saturday night and throughout Sunday. My weekend away in the woods was destined to be a cold and busy one; pre-season training for the keen team of Wilderness Survival Skills instructors and assistants. I’d definitely be in need of a good nights kip. Luckily, our base camp in the woods is reachable by 4x4 and as we had a fair bit to unload, we drove right on in. This came with the added bonus of being able to carry my US army cot bed the short distance to my usual tarp spot, not really an option when hiking but a very welcome addition when vehicle mounted. As the sleet was already hanging in the air I slung the Rig 7 tarp up first, between two trees in an open fronted lean to plus porch configuration to provide a dry working space underneath. This little spot is my leafy bedsit for at least a couple of nights every week from spring through until autumn and occasionally much longer when courses run back to back. Having a proper bed is essential for remaining on top form when teaching day after day but I do sometimes miss the simplicity of rolling out my thermal mat straight on the deck and bedding down amongst the leaves. This chilly weekend was definitely not one of those times! As part of my tarp based sleeping system, I usually carry an extra large ‘hunka’ breathable bivi bag to protect my sleeping bag when sleeping on the forest floor or if the weather is particularly cold and wet. This extra protection from the wind chill and additional layer to trap warm air normally increases the comfort temperature rating of any sleeping bag so to give the Skyehigh a proper test, I decided not to use it. As always, I prepared my sleeping kit but left it packed in it’s stuff sack until bedtime to avoid it absorbing any moisture from the damp evening air.

It was a very cold night, but not for me!!

 

Weirdly I was really getting quite excited about hitting the sack that night. As the rest of the team gradually started to flake, I banked the fire up for the night, switched out the lantern and slunk away through the frosty leaves by the light of my head torch until the beam picked up my reflective guy lines through the trees. The Skyehigh bag lofted up nicely with a few wafts, just as it had done at home. I took a deep breath and stripped down to thermals; my mid layers making a warm pillow, trousers tucked away in the sleeping bag compression sack and boots arranged one inside the other, to keep out the creepy crawlies. Despite it being bloomin’ freezing I warmed up extremely quick once zipped up inside the bag, much quicker than my other synthetic fill bags. I just about had time to switch off my head torch before dropping off to sleep, cosier than I’d been for a long time.

So how did the Skyehigh 800 four season bag perform on it’s first winter trip out to the woods? The proof is most definitely in the pudding as they say and I think the fact that I slept right through until morning (and nearly missed a cooked breakfast) despite the temperature dropping further in the night and snow arriving with a vengeance in the early hours, goes to show that this is an extremely warm and comfortable sleeping bag. In fact, without a shadow of doubt, I would say that for it’s size and weight when packed, this is easily the warmest, most comfortable sleeping bag I’ve had so far. I would imagine, the Skyehigh 600, being a three season bag would cope with the majority of weather conditions encountered by the average outdoors person camping from spring through to late autumn and with the addition of a hunka bivi bag would make a very small, lightweight but warm sleeping system for all but the coldest UK weather if you like travelling light. Also, not mentioned yet but definitely of importance to most people looking to buy a good sleeping bag, the price is outstanding for a bag of this quality. But best of all…not a single hint of cabbage!

 

For more details of the superb range of Skyehigh sleeping bags and all other Alpkit products just click on this link

A Week in the Wilds part 1

This article was originally intended for a magazine but when I started writing about my experiences of living wild for a week with extremely limited equipment, I realised it was going to be a lengthy tome. Too big for the magazine (apparently...) I've decided to publish the first part here so that the all important fine detail can remain intact.

If you enjoy spending time outdoors practicing bushcraft skills (and let's face it, why would you be reading this blog if you didn't..) then I hope you find it useful, perhaps even entertaining. Pull up a log, here we go:

 

The first time I felt the need to test my skill in the art of survival I was a feisty teenager of around fifteen. Having already spent a couple of years of camping out and practicing jungle survival techniques in the Sussex countryside I decided one frosty February weekend to spend two days and a night in the woods with just what I could fit in my pockets. With the help of a fortuitous natural shelter, a small campfire, a foil blanket and a reputation to uphold I shivered the night away whilst watching my best mate (the self-appointed safety officer) snoring loudly in his sleeping bag just a few feet from me. That chilly night, I learnt a lot about the realities of struggling through just one difficult and ill-equipped night outdoors, but also a whole load more about myself and my own abilities. I used that experience as a bench mark for a long time after. It gave me a point of reference on several occasions in subsequent years where I found myself outdoors all night in the dead of winter, with no sleeping bag and no option but to dig into my reserves and make the best of my situation until morning. Without that point of reference I could easily have let panic overwhelm me but being able to draw on such a valuable life experience gave me confidence and a presence of mind that would otherwise have been difficult to attain.

Self-imposed challenges such as this are useful to gauge progress, test theories and ‘top up’ the self-confidence fuel tanks every once and a while. However, it’s important to point out here that most challenges involving survival training come with a high potential of risk and injury. You MUST take steps to minimize this potential and learn your valuable life lessons without risking the life you are ultimately trying to preserve. Take along a fully equipped snoring friend just in case!

Skip forward twenty five years to an autumnal week last year and the latest in a long line of progress gauging challenges. Myself and several like-minded students of the craft stood in a Dorset woodland ready to spend a week alone, in the woods with very little equipment and no resources other than those which could be gleaned from the wild. Shelter, warmth, water and food, all essential to life, were to be produced almost entirely (with the exception of meat, more on this later) from natural resources found at our location. Additionally, we were to carry out these ambitious requirements with relative ease, so as to allow us time to begin improving our situation by making primitive hunting weapons, working on traditional crafts and processing wild foods. Working as a group, this would’ve been hard enough but through some bizarre and twisted logic we chose to go it alone. Not only would this increase the physical workload but for some, would prove to be a sizeable mental barrier to work through.

We chose a mixed woodland for the challenge. Moss covered uneven ground played host to a plantation of spruce, interspersed with hardwoods such as the occasional oak, hazel, birch or holly. As the land sloped gradually down-hill, obvious patches of potentially damp ground were indicated by the presence of pendulous sedge and thick moss. Eventually this led into a small stream which snaked along the woodland margin. Patchy hazel coppice sprung from the stream bank with occasional much larger alder trees stretching out their gnarly toes into the water. Further back into the woods an area of steep ground rose out from the trees to form a plateau covered in young ash and birch. The surrounding countryside was comprised of previously grazed and fallow fields hiding a series of small ponds with cattail and goat willow bordering the muddy waters edge.

Our well stocked pond larder

 

Our kit list for the week was to be minimal; each person took only a small belt knife, folding pruning type saw, one stainless steel cooking pot, a tightly woven cloth bag to filter water, three metres of parachute cord and six brass wire snares. Due to the solo nature of our challenge, we also took a few safety items each; a small first aid kit, a head torch, a whistle and a reliable method of communication (mobile phone, not to be used for ordering up pizza!). Cameras and journals were taken to record events although these items, along with our safety kit were not allowed to be used to assist our self-imposed plight (so no battery and wire wool fires or tinder bundles made from the pages of our journals). Clothing worn had to be natural fibres, wool, cotton and even animal hides in one case. Goretex waterproofs and insulated down jackets were to be left back at camp for emergencies only. The reasoning behind this decision was that without high-tech modern weatherproof clothing systems we would HAVE to make a fire to keep warm at night and our beds and shelters would NEED to be effective by last light of our first day in the field. When fully encased in Goretex and goose down it’s perfectly possible to curl up under a bush and shiver away the night time hours until first light appears; not really the object of the exercise, which was to utilise natural resources for shelter, warmth and comfort.

The only kit taken:  knife, folding saw, 3m cord, billycan, filter bag, snares

 

The last item we would take out into the field was a modest quantity of wild game, our only food for the week. Whilst it may seem a bit of a ‘cheat’ to include a quantity of wild game meat on the packing list for a minimalist week in the woods, it’s worth remembering that this was intended to be a ‘wilderness living’ exercise, not a ‘survival exercise’. The theory being that, to truly live wild from the land requires, in most cases the trapping and hunting of wild game and/or the catching of fish. Exceptions to this rule would depend on specific environments and seasonality. The need for wild meat isn’t just about nutrition and maintaining a balanced diet (as I’m sure many people will argue that at the right time of year and in the right location suitable plant proteins and fats can be found) but about daily calorie expenditure when living and working hard outdoors and the effective replacement of those calories from the wild. It’s also important to remember the valuable resources that wild game provides the ‘hunter gatherer’ such as furs, hides, bones, antlers, sinew, feathers and the effectiveness of a plant based alternative in comparison.

So what about setting out traps or hunting during our week in the wild? In my own experience, survival type courses that involve trapping, fishing or hunting for food in the UK are always hampered by the legality of using improvised or primitive techniques to procure wild game. These laws are quite rightly put in place to protect our wildlife from inefficient, potentially cruel and even sometimes over effective methods of capture, especially by those who may not fully understand or respect the moral, ethical or long term implications of their actions. Obviously, because we are taking part in a training exercise and not a life or death situation, we must abide by the law and so the scenario, whilst still a useful experience, becomes a bit unrealistic in many cases. Basically for long term wilderness living, if we were surrounded by deer and could equip ourselves with the hunting gear required to take them, we would definitely have been eating venison! Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand that in a real ‘living from the land’ situation pretty much everything that flies, crawls or swims is fair game no matter how small or skinny but one important aim of this experiment was to prioritize efficiency with a view to long term survival. Additionally, we weren’t hiding from an imaginary enemy, having to fight our way back to civilisation or spending the whole time attempting to get rescued. This was just us, an extremely limited amount of tools and equipment and a week living in the woods to test our knowledge of natural resources, bush craft and how best to apply them to provide a comfortable and fulfilling existence. Think Robinson Crusoe rather than Bravo Two Zero! We did, however take a handful of brass wire rabbit snares which are perfectly legal to use with the landowners permission. These allowed us the chance to top up on our wild protein supply without breaking any laws.

To further justify the wild meat head start, every person agreed to meet up at a pre-arranged location on the third day, with a primitive projectile weapon they had made from scratch that week. Not only that but they would have to prove they could hit a target from a suitable stalking distance using their hand-made hunting weapon. This would go some way to ticking the box concerning one viable method of obtaining wild meat without breaking any laws or unnecessarily injuring the local wildlife. Admittedly, hunting large game with flint tipped museum pieces successfully would almost definitely require an additional investment of energy and polished hunting, stalking and tracking skills as well as the ability to create an effective hunting weapon and a good aim but by having the last two covered, we felt like we had reached an acceptable compromise. With venison being such a lean meat, gathering and processing energy rich foods from the wild would still be an essential part of the challenge if we were to prove we could live comfortably rather than just sit it out waiting to be rescued.

So, sparsely kitted out but fully equipped with knowledge and brimming over with ideas we set off at the crack of dawn to find a place to call home for the week. I settled on a sheltered location surrounded by immature spruce, much of it dead standing. The living trees provided some overhead cover and sturdy, conveniently spaced upright posts for my shelter. The standing dead wood became building materials, kindling and fire wood. The ground was level in places and soft with existing ditches to act as drainage channels if it rained hard. I was also within five minutes walk of the stream and had clocked a large, fallen oak tree close by which would give me excellent slow burning fuel wood to keep me warm through the night. I couldn’t see any of the others from my spot, or even hear them; there was a mild sense of loneliness mixed with total, uninterrupted focus on myself and my own plans. The latter was such a rare luxury that I didn’t mind at all about the lonely bit.

The proposed shelter site and gathered fire making sticks

My advice to anyone in most hypothetical survival type situations in a temperate climate such as ours here in the UK (after removing yourself from immediate danger, composing yourself and hatching a sensible plan) is to invest your energies initially in finding or providing shelter, protection from the elements. An unexpected situation such as the one imagined would more than likely carry with it several limiting factors such as a possible sustained injury or an injured member of the party. Also, nightfall would probably be fast approaching (who realises they’re going to be stuck out in the open all night at nine o clock in the morning?), stress levels most likely very high, resources would be limited and weather potentially inclement. For those who haven’t had extensive practice, lighting a fire in these conditions might be virtually impossible so providing effective shelter would often be the most achievable aid to survival. Reducing heat loss and minimizing exposure to the elements would increase your chances of surviving the night and hopefully enable you to continue improving your situation or call for help the following day.

Our self-imposed situation was a little different. We were in good health and had the whole day ahead of us. The challenge lay in not just surviving the night but being pretty comfortable and re-charging our batteries for the week ahead despite the lack of a sleeping bag, mattress and tent. From hard won experience, I knew how much effort would be needed to produce fire from the natural environment with nothing but a knife, folding saw and a three metre length of cord. I also knew how that extreme effort compared to the energy expended in getting a quick and effective shelter up, especially having deliberately chosen a site with most of my building materials close to hand and easy to harvest. So for this particular exercise, I prioritised the lighting of a fire ahead of building my shelter. You can make do with a slightly rubbish shelter but fire is either achieved…or it isn’t. I just didn’t fancy building my shelter first only to find that I was too low on energy to create fire. That would mean a cold, sleepless night with no sustaining food and no safe drinking water. After that medley of misery, the chances of then being able to achieve fire the next day would be slim to say the least. A week in the woods in autumn without warm kit, sleeping equipment AND no fire would not just be a thoroughly miserable experience but potentially life threatening too.

Carved bow drill components, gathered and made on site

 

Clematis bark tinder bundle and prepared kindling

 When faced with a situation such as this, the tiniest detail becomes vitally important. You must also put maximum effort into every task. Cutting corners could mean having to start again at the beginning and all the while precious energy is wasted. So, I opted for the bow drill as my most achievable fire lighting option (I could’ve tried striking sharp flint against the spine of my carbon steel knife to create sparks but such a method requires carefully prepared, absolutely bone dry, fine tinder and the rainy build up had dampened much of the fine tinder in the woods). A nice section of dry, dead wood ivy would become my hearth, a dead hazel stem would make a perfect drill while green hazel would be fine for my bow and hard ash for my bearing block. The hanging, shredded bark from a wild clematis vine became my tinder bundle and although ever so slightly damp, dried out sufficiently as I roughly scrunched it to soften the fibres. A ‘fluffier’ tinder bundle would accept the heat from my ember more readily. Birch and spruce twigs in big bundles made fantastic kindling and all my fuel wood, gradually increasing in thickness, lay poised and ready for action. With the various components carved, gathered and prepared I took a deep breath and started bowing, slowly at first to increase the heat where the drill met the hearth. As the resulting smoke thickened and an encouraging pile of blackened wood dust filled the notch, I picked up the pace until I felt certain the wood dust had begun to smoulder. It had, but only just. The worlds tiniest ember was tipped into my carefully prepared tinder and coaxed into life with a few gentle puffs.

A not particularly big bow drill ember

Disaster! The ember vanished leaving a slightly warm tinder bundle and nothing else. At this point it would be very easy to feel beaten or start to doubt your own credentials but at the point of apparent failure, the value of practice and the self-confidence gained through previous successes provides a much needed kick up the bum. I calmly re-adjusted the set, finely tuned the areas where I thought I might’ve made mistakes (I had cut my notch too soon and as a result the drill had wandered slightly off centre allowing the wood dust or ‘char’ to cool), had a breather and got back on the horse. This time it was all or nothing! I span the hazel drill back and forth with increasing intensity until my muscles succumbed to lactic acid build up and stopped working effectively. The fine tuning and extra effort did the trick and I shakily tipped the much larger glowing ember into my pre-heated tinder, carefully blowing to introduce more oxygen into the mix. Smoke became flame and flame became fire and my warmth and comfort was guaranteed…as long as I kept the fire going all week.

Flame at last! Warmth and comfort guaranteed

 

By now, I was just on the precipice of low energy levels due to having worked hard to achieve fire while taking on no food and water. I made a quick trip to the stream to collect water for a drink. Good old fashioned water would help stave hunger pangs, ensure I stayed hydrated and help metabolize any stored energy in my body. To ensure I didn’t take on any unseen nasties I first ran the water through my filter bag and then suspended it over the fire in my billycan to boil. While mooching around down at the stream, due to the low water levels I noticed that the bank was pretty much all clay and just the right consistency to be very easily scooped up as a tacky great lump and carried back to camp for some mid-week wild pottery antics. An old half brick found en route might serve as temper if crushed up so I also grabbed a harder looking rock to act as a suitable hammer stone. With the theme of the week being all about coping just fine with very little I was constantly mindful of how relatively fortunate we were to have items such as a metal pot for cooking food and boiling water, so with this in mind I considered my options if, even these few essential tools weren’t available. Clay could easily become any number of useful cooking pots and eating utensils given enough time and the right skill set. We were extremely lucky hunter gatherers!

Filtering stream water through a Milbank bag

I now had what remained of the daylight (around five hours) to build shelter, make a bed for the night, gather a tonne of fuel wood and butcher my muntjac deer into jerky. When looking into solo natural shelter designs, especially with limited tools and equipment, it’s important to run through a mental check list before you begin building. What building materials are realistically available? What am I sheltering from? How long have I got before nightfall? Am I in perfect health and fully fit? How long am I likely to be here? Do I need a fire for warmth? Am I capable of lighting a fire (last two boxes ticked – yeeha!). To build a fully enclosed, all singing, all dancing cabin with fire included would be too time and resource consuming for me on my own. I settled on a Lean To design, a classic survival cold weather shelter. Although very open at the front and seemingly chilly, a Lean To allows the use of a whopping great monster fire in front of it to warm the occupant. It’s extremely quick to build, relatively easy to waterproof due to it’s steep roof pitch and can be added to and improved as the days go on without having to strip it out and start again. I had a good idea of which direction the prevailing wind came from by observing the smoke rising from my campfire and also taking an average of which direction any downed trees were pointing along with the natural lean of any exposed vegetation.

Lean to shelter ridge and rafters fixed in place

 

After carefully choosing two conveniently spaced, strong trees aligned so that the prevailing wind would hit the back of my Lean to (although also slightly side on to carry billowing smoke away) I wedged a strong ridge pole in place and lashed it firmly with twisted green hazel withy’s. The copious amounts of young, dead standing trees quickly became rafters after I did my best angry bear impression to push them over. Twiggy brash wood followed to close the gaps and as the evening drew in, piles of leaf mulch from the surrounding ditches and hollows were added to become a thick thatch. I saved the green hazel brash from any green rods cut to provide a thickness of leaves over the moss which was to be my bed. With my homemade wool hoody laid down on top it looked inviting enough to down tools and catch some Z’s right there and then. My thoughts turned to the rapidly dropping evening temperatures and while I still had daylight to play with, I gathered as much solid, seasoned oak firewood as I could to see me through the night. In failing light and with a slight cold breeze picking up, I hastily propped up a log pile wall on the far side of the fire place to cut down wind and bounce radiating heat right back at me. As a last minute insurance policy I grabbed armfuls of dry kindling and tucked them away under the lee of my shelter just in case the fire died down to embers in the night…which of course it did. As night fell and my world was reduced to the circumference of the campfire’s glow, I set about butchering my venison as best I could. The tender fillets were sliced thinly and pushed onto green hazel skewers along with any good rib meat (most of the front end was lost due to the stalker seemingly using a rocket propelled grenade to cull my muntjac). Some fillet kebabs found their way onto the fire to be barbequed for dinner. The haunches and jerked fillet meat skewers were all suspended high over the campfire to dry slowly and benefit from the preservative and insect repelling qualities of the oaky smoke. I sat back on my mossy bed, the walls of my shelter illuminated softly by the fire and a warm sense of satisfaction of a job well done. With a barbequed meal of venison warming me from the inside I prepared for sleep and as I took one last sip of stinking boiled stream water I vowed that my first job in the morning would be to find some mint leaves to make tea with.

Laying on a brash wood matrix to close up the gaps

 

My first night went relatively well. I slept in cycles where I fell asleep, lovely and warm to the glow of a well-stocked fire and awoke cold after around three hours, looking through bleary eyes at nothing but glowing embers and charred log ends surrounding the fire place. I would plonk a good handful of dry kindling on the embers, re-shuffle the charred logs to form a jenga style stack above the kindling and finish off with a couple of new logs on top. Bingo! The fire would roar back to life almost immediately and within a couple of minutes I’d be cosy enough to drift off again. This routine continued all week with the only change being a gradual lengthening of my sleep cycles; a good thing because I ultimately got a bit more sleep but a bad thing because the fire died right down a couple of times, requiring some frantic tinder gathering and much blowing. If improvisation has been the only available fire lighting option available then you NEVER let the fire go out.

The following morning and breakfast on the go

Dawn arrived and with it came an immense feeling of satisfaction at having not only survived the experience but having been relatively comfortable too. I had a quick breakfast of skewered venison and some nearby blackberries washed down with a glug of boiled stream water (really did need that mint!) and gathered my kit to go foraging. With all my immediate survival essentials taken care of I had the rest of the week to experiment with wild foods, make a deadly hunting weapon and craft myself some bushcrafty house warming gifts.

In part two I’ll talk through each of the above in detail but in the meantime, get out there and practice!

For part 2 click here