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Into the woods No car, no phone, no flashlight—no problem, if you’re trained in wilderness survival BY HASTINGS HENSEL | PHOTOS BY ANDREW HAWORTH
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EVENING DEBRIEF Students and instructors at Trail Blazer Survival School gather around the fire pit to review the day’s lessons. Student Ricky Gardner (above) practices throwing a rabbit stake, a hand-carved hunting tool.
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SOUTH CAROLINA LIVING | MAY 2017 | SCLIVING.COOP
ust as the last daylight starts to fade in the west, I find myself alone in the woods. Falling back on my training, I force myself to slow down—to observe, to plan, to run through my mental checklist. First, I survey the area for a flat space between two trees. Next, I tie a taut line with parachute cord and set about pitching my lean-to tarp, hammered down by four wooden stakes I’ve carved with my knife. And then I go looking for a cedar tree. When I find one, I know to scrape its bark for fire tinder, which I spark with a small flintsparker called a ferro rod. The twigs hiss and crackle as I pile on the kindling, coaxing a small fire to life. So far, I am meeting the “survival equation.” I have shelter. I have fire. I have packed in my water, as well as some dehydrated food that I prepare and eat as the sun drops down and a thin sliver of moon rises in the south. Finally, I lie down beneath my tarp. But I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about something my instructor, Justin Williams,