For years, my “tracking” skills began and ended with pointing at a vague depression in the mud and declaring, with the confidence of a medieval cartographer, “Creature was here.” I...
My survival skills were honed in the urban jungle, where the most potent herb I foraged was the slightly-old-but-still-fine cilantro at the back of the fridge. So, when I decided...
Let’s get one thing straight: I am not what you’d call “handy in the wilderness.” My idea of “roughing it” usually involves a hotel where the minibar isn’t free. But...
I’m the guy who once tried to impress a date by building a debris hut in my suburban backyard. The relationship didn’last, but the concerned call from my neighbor to...
I am the person who, on my first solo camping trip, tried to impress a squirrel with my knife-throwing skills and ended up having a very serious, one-sided conversation with...
My first foray into “bushcraft navigation” involved confidently striding into a familiar woodland, only to experience the cold, sinking realization that every single tree had, in a breathtaking act of...
I was deep in the woods, feeling profoundly at one with nature. I’d built a shelter, foraged some questionable berries, and felt the primal urge to create. Not just a...
My first foray into “long-term wilderness living” lasted about 36 hours. I’d watched the documentaries, bought the tactical pants, and pictured myself as a stoic, beard-growing mountain philosopher. Reality? By...
Me, five years ago. Not in a cozy café, but perched on a lichen-covered boulder in the middle of a forest that had started to look suspiciously the same in...