It was my first camping trip as a Boy Scout, and already my life was in danger. For some reason, our scoutmaster had arranged for us to go camping — in tents — in the middle of winter. Our survival skills would be put to the test, and the discomfort we’d endure would, as they say, “build character”.
We inspected the tents and other equipment we’d take to the woods, and listened to words of caution. The biggest danger to survival — and the one easiest to underestimate, we were told — is hypothermia. “Make sure you sleep with a hat on,” Mr. Mackowiak, the troop’s elder statesman, warned us. “Thirty percent of your body heat is lost through your head.”
We arrived in the forest after dark and pitched our tents in the snow. It was indeed a cold night. An hour before sunrise, the thermometer next to my hat-covered head read 20 °F (–7 °C). Mr. Mackowiak’s own expectations had been trumped. “There’s ice in our cups!” he exclaimed over and over.
The things we learned
To a kid like myself from the city and suburbs, this was a whole new experience. From that February morning at age 11 to the summer I turned 18, weekend camping trips taught me a lot. You’d think there wouldn’t be much to do in the woods, but the other Scouts and I always found educational ways to pass the time.
We encountered animals — raccoons, mostly — and read their tracks. We learned to keep our environmental footprint as small as possible. We worked a lot with compasses; “orienteering” was its own discipline, and rightly so. We discovered how easy it is to walk in circles in the woods, Blair Witch-style, when you think you’re walking in a straight line.
We learned to use knives, matches — and rifles — safely. Cooking on wood fires led to some, well, interesting results. And making those fires was an art unto itself; it’s not as easy as it looks. We’d spend countless hours comparing, testing and perfecting our pyrotechnic strategies.
Staying warm was paramount. As Mr. Mackowiak said, 70 percent of your body heat is lost through your head.
In between structured activities, we’d engage in myth-busting. Does moss grow only on the north side of trees? No, we found. Can you focus the sun through a pair of glasses to set things on fire? Sometimes. Can you condense water from the air on a hot day? Surprisingly, yes.
An advanced class taught me some further skills: how to find natural shelter, dismember small animals, and know which forest plants are edible and which are poisonous.
Put to the test
Naturally, all of this knowledge had to be tested at some point. To join the exclusive order of the most capable Scouts, you must prove that you can spend the night outdoors alone — after making a fire in the dark. You’re given only two matches — two, because the first one always breaks, but only two, because in a real survival situation you might be down to your last two matches.
It was common for kids to smuggle in food and matches, but I believed in the principle of the thing. The first match broke as I tried to light it. I was more careful with the second one. Everything depended on it. I focused my energy and found myself holding a beautiful, small flame that I shielded from the wind as I guided it to a small pile of leaves and straw.
Mr. Mackowiak, who had passed away a year or two before, would have been proud. I could almost hear his voice reminding me to keep my hat on: “Ninety percent of your body heat…”
So when people ask me, “What did you do in the Boy Scouts?” I tell them, “Lots of things.” Mainly, though, I tell them, “I survived.”
Language note: “Keep your hat on!” also means “Stay calm or patient.”
