I Survived the Sea

Today as I was going through papers and our mountains of stuff trying to figure out what to pack and what to keep, I stumbled upon an old story that I wrote back in college of one of my experiences  while commercial fishing near Kodiak Alaska, two summers before.  It happened just a little over a month before my 18^th birthday.

I hope you enjoy the story

 

August 10, 1988 dawned dark and foreboding on the rocky windblown shore of the pacific.  I woke from a restless night the wind beating the ramshackle plywood and canvas tent. Making it pop like a flag in the gale. 

I stumbled from my soggy sleeping bag and donned soggy salt encrusted cloths from the previous night on the water.  Looking out the tent door my gaze was met by the black green of an angry sea whipped into a fury by the gale.

Excitement and fear surged through me as I stood there transfixed at the door in the cold salty wind.  Slowly the realization dawned, through my sleep fogged mind, I would be out there in a small storm tossed skiff fighting those angry waves soon.  As my mind grappled with this realization there was another reality forcing itself upon me.  I had not eaten much since the start of my night shift picking nets the afternoon before.  I would have to get some grub before I braved that storm.

Pulling my coat tight around me I struggled into the full fury of the 80 mile an hour gusts.  Thirty feet away was my boss’s weather beaten cabin and food.

Opening the door the wind nearly blew me down as I stumbled into the cabin quickly shutting the door against the wind.  A meager breakfast of oatmeal mush, hot chocolate and dry bread were all that was to sustain me for the coming fight.

Nearly half starved from the long night of work and few hours of sleep I inhaled the meal and sat watching the angry sea. I sat spell bound as towering wave after towering wave exploded over the rock outcropping to which our fishing net was attached.

As I sat watching, out of the sheets of rain appeared our two other crewmen and my boss in the small wallowing skiff, struggling under the heavy load of the previous nights fish, that I had pulled from the nets. 

Watching the men and the boat fighting the mountainous sea and wind, I realized that they were running through the water were the net had been.  I watched as they probed the water with a pole searching for the net. Back and forth they fought through the waves searching for the net, torn loose from the rocks.

I watched as they found the end of the net and hauled the rope into the skiff.  They fastened it and turned the skiff around.

It was almost too much to ask of that poor little skiff so heavily loaded with fish now to drag a thousand feet of fish laden net through the storm.  But, there was no choice the net must be saved or our whole season could be lost if the net was ruined.  True to the nature of that little boat she fought her way valiantly against the tide.

 

I watched, nearly choking on my food, just as they reached the rock, a giant wave hurled them forward and dropped the fiercely on the jagged rocks. Struggling against the impact my boss grabbed the rope tied to the net and jumped for the rocks. In midair another wave engulfed the rocks and lifted the battered skiff back out to the relative safety of the sea.

Jolted into action I bolted for the door pulling on my slickers and boots as I went. I went through the door a piece of toast in one hand and pulling the second boot on with the other.  Blocked now from my view my boss was struggling amid water and waves cascading over the rocks.   Sprinting wildly across two hundred and fifty yards of windswept beach to the aid of my struggling boss I was soon scrambling over the seaweed encrusted rocks to the place where my boss was trying to secure the net. 

Thundering waves broke all around us it was hard to discern where sky ended and sea began.  Communicating audibly was impossible. The sound of your voice was whipped away by the wind and drowned by the thunder of the sea the instant it left your mouth.  I knew what had to be done. Grabbing the rope with both hands I pulled for all I was worth bringing enough slack to get the rope secured around the rocks well above the crashing surf.

Barely catching our breath we turned to see the rocks below us go bare for nearly twenty feet and a huge wall of water standing up behind the bare rock. It then exploded down upon the rock with a violent crash that was felt as much as heard, sending a cascade of water into the sky and completely drenching us. 

We sat there captivated by the awesomeness of the scene several waves came crashing in as we sat in wonder.  Then we realized that the net was tangled in the rocks below.  Without a second thought I scrambled down the rock, to the tangled rope.

Looking up I saw a giant wall of water standing above me.  I only had time to duck behind the rock and wildly grasp for the rope. 

The last thing I saw was a solid mass of green water come rushing around the rock.  There was no escape from the cold crushing grasp of the sea. 

For just an instant, through the wind, I heard the faint human voice of my boss as he yelled “NO! “ Then all was lost in the green, salty, rushing turmoil in which I was caught. There was no way out!

My head exploded to the surface I found myself being tossed with terrifying speed toward the rocks from which I had just been torn.   Again my boss screamed. “NO!” as I hit the rocks.  I clawed with every ounce of my strength to get a hand hold.  The waves tore me lose again, into the sea, to be tossed like a tiny rag doll. 

Once again the cruel waves pummeled me into the jagged rocks ripping my raingear and my hands to ribbons.   With bloody fingers I clawed more desperately for a hand hold not sure if I could last another wave.  Once more the waves engulfed me and I was in the grasp of the sea.  Again the rocks loomed up and I was battered by rocks and waves. This time I was able to dig my mangled fingers into the cracks in the rocks and drag myself through the surging tide. 

Two eager hands reached down I reached out and grabbed my bosses hands and we struggled up above the reach of the waves.  We collapsed onto the rocks sheltered from the wind two hundred feet from where I was washed from the rocks.

 

 

Into Uncertainty

Leaving the Northeast and looking toward Alaska and the wilderness is what consumes most of our time now.  Moving out of a spacious farmhouse, that we’d like to sell but haven’t yet, is mind boggling.  What do you do with all this stuff that we have accumulated? 

We are heading into uncertainty.  To no firm job, and a 30 year old 8 x 12 log cabin that needs major repairs.  Yet we still have to live here until the farm sells.  What do we pack and what do we leave unpacked to use?  Amazingly our five kids can’t wait for the adventure.

For one whole year we laid our farm in the hands of a popular farm realtor.  Not one soul did he bring to see our lovely little farm.  One family happened to see the listing on his website and came up to see us on their own.  They arrived out of the blue!  My house was a wreck.   But they were very impressed that our children were in the kitchen doing dishes.  I spent the next hour giving them a tour of the land and buildings.  They thanked me nicely and were gone.  They had to sell their own place first. 

Determined, we gathered up the videos and photos taken over the years here and created a YouTube tour of the farm.  We were thrilled that almost a 1000 people saw it.  Several people contacted us via email but again nothing panned out.

Plunging on ahead we contacted a friend and local realtor.  The broker was impressed with the homesteading possibilities of our 53 acre farm.  So many things are already set up.  Barns, storage, shop, root cellar/ walk in cooler, garden area, apples trees, raspberries are just a few things. He was eager to link to our website, blog, Youtube channel and Facebook pages.  Potential buyers could follow our story and begin to create one of their own by purchasing our farm.  As we forge ahead in this new path we hope the expanded exposure will bring a buyer so we can make summer plans. 

Back to the Farmer Markets we go if we are still here this summer.  But some of the markets need to be reserved by April 1st.  Will we know what is happening by then?  We are to the point where new displays are a must.  Ideas for the new displays are rolling around in our minds.  It is a definite go ahead to make them as they will be useful in Alaska.

How do you take five kids, two dogs and two parents across the country, feeding and housing them with a very limited budget?  Add in that we have numerous food sensitivities and eating requirements that don’t allow us to eat out.  Everything must be prepared from scratch with hard to find ingredients. Of course that’s a no brainer.  Get an RV.  Oh wait……any RV that we can afford always has major issues, most of which are mold.  Our family has serious health issues with mold.  Scratch that idea.  Anyway, where we want to go exploring once we hit Alaska would probably tear up an RV!  Then we discovered people are remodeling buses into mini homes.  What a great idea!  The ideal solution for us.  Lots of room, a serious undercarriage that will handle most back roads and relatively inexpensive.

 I was planning to rebuild an old farm trailer to be road worthy.  It would enable us to carry more of our stuff when we moved.   Crunching the numbers to make it happen, I found that it would seriously remove too much cash from the tiny budget.  We would just have to toss more stuff and make do with the bus.

Now I am spending time each day on craigslist, eBay and auctions international looking at used school buses.   

Our next task is to figure out how we are going to support ourselves now that we are transitioning from a commercial farm to living in the wilderness.   Building on our experiences, skills and knowledge base we are working on several diverse income streams.  

Rhonda is drawing from her experience on the farm.  She has been making cheese, soap, baking for farmers markets and running a farm kitchen, cooking with the raw ingredients produced on the farm for 20 years. 

Several books are in the works they will tap her knowledge to bring tips and recipes to those wanting to gain an understanding of farmstead skills.   These books will be designed to help those wanting to get started baking for farmers markets, making cheese, or running a farm kitchen using farm produce.   Insights for those already living on a farm or small acreage, and wanting to produce more of their own products will fill the pages of these books.

Sharing Children’s stories and the adventures of the many wonderful farm animals that have shared our lives is another exciting opportunity to bring together Rhonda’s love of art and storytelling.

I am working on compiling the stories and adventures of my life and love of the wilderness.  I will also be chronicling our move into the wilderness.  Providing inspiration and practical insight for others dreaming about or planning to move to the wilderness is a passion of mine. 

There are also plans in the works for developing a manual for moving into the wild.  Filled with stories of people who have made the move successfully.  Gaining insights from each story to inspire and guide others craving for the freedom and peace of a life in the wilderness.

Soap making and Salve making will continue.  Building on both of our lifelong fascinations with herbs, wild edibles and their medicinal uses, we will be bringing more natural products to the public.   Wandering through the forest gathering each season, the bounty the wilderness provides, has been a dream of ours for many years.

Gathering from the forest natural materials for handcrafted items like baskets, bowls and other useful household utensils will round out our plans.

 

Family Winter Trip

My brother and I jumped off the three-wheeler, rushing to check on our little brother.  He jumped out of the weeds with a smile on his face! He thought it was a great ride.

Now to tackle the job of untangling ropes and reloading the trailer.  We tipped the trailer back onto its wheels, gathered all the scattered load and began reloading.   We lifted the plywood and coolers back into place and tied them down again as securely as possible.  My brother jumped back on top of the load and we all headed off down the trail again. 

Two or three miles later the rough trail had loosened the load and the whole routine was repeated. It would continue to be repeated every few miles for the rest of the trip. 

Gayland's Hill was soon upon us. I had been dreading the hill the whole way.   I knew we would never make it past the spring in the middle of the incline.

Fortunately the creek was low this time and we splashed across with no problems. My dad started up the hill with the four wheeler pulling for all it was worth.  He hit the mud of the spring and the machine began to spin and lost momentum. 

My brother and I had parked the three wheeler at the bottom of the hill.  We had developed the habit of making sure the machine in front had made the top of the hill before we tried to go up it with the second machine.   (Another lesson learned the hard way! it’s no fun having two machines stuck on a narrow trail on a steep hill!)   Knowing my dad would likely not make it up the hill with this big load we were already walking up the hill.  We began to run but it was too late.  We pushed for all we were worth but it would go nowhere.  There was only one solution now.

There on the side of the hill we started unloading the trailer, splitting the load into three manageable chunks. We stacked the heavy plywood on the upside of the hill.

It needed to be out of the way so we could get past with the four wheeler on our return trip.  

We had to go clear to the bottom of the hill each time to turn around. 

Three trips up and down the hill, we once again reloaded the trailer and started off on the last leg of the journey. Only about 5 more miles and this load would finally be at the cabin!

During this trip to the cabin we were hoping to get the last joists set and the floor on so that we could begin building the walls. 

 

We accomplish our goal.  Our trip back to town was much lighter with no problems!

It was fall and time for school.  My dad was back working long hours so we had to wait until Christmas break for our next trip.  Two whole weeks in the wilderness!  We  would be able to get a lot done in that time!

Carefully we packed the tools and supplies we would need for two weeks in the bush.  By this time we had two snow machines and two sleds so we could haul the whole family for the trip out to the cabin.  

We loaded up the truck and trailer with the machines sleds and equipment the night before so we would be ready to get an early start on the long dark drive to Talkeetna were the trail begins. 

Leaving several hours before sunrise, our goal was to to get started on the trail before sunrise so  we would have all the day light possible for traveling. 

We knew we would have a long trip ahead of us.  The sleds were heavily loaded for our extended stay.

Arriving at the trailhead, here is the typical process is for getting ready to head out:  

first you unload all the equipment that had been packed in and around the sleds and machines and pile it on the ground, second unload the machines and sleds.

Thirdly, it is time to sort the load into piles. One pile for stuff you will need on the trail before you reach the cabin. Another for the stuff you might need before you reach the cabin. The last pile for stuff you know there is no way you would need before you got to the cabin.  Then you look it all over and try to figure out how in the world it is all going to fit!  

We then lay a large tarp in the bottom of the sled with all the sides hanging out over the edges of the sled to form a sort of bag.  After that you start putting the stuff you won't need during the trip, on the bottom and the things you might need on the top. 

 

Once you get those two piles evenly distributed between sleds it’s time to pull all the sides of the tarp up and over the load and tuck them in tightly so the whole load is covered.   When you are traveling on the trails in the winter the machines kick up a lot of  snow spray and very soon everything is covered with a layer of snow.  The tarp keeps it all dry and clean.

 

Tying down the load is a very important part of the process.  You begin by lacing the ropes back and forth over the load cinching it down as you go to keep it all tight. 

 

The trail is so bumpy and rough that the loads will shift even when they are tied tightly.  If they are tied loosely you wont make it far at all before your load is all over the trail! 

 

When every thing else is tied tightly in place you pick up the trail essentials and tie them to the top of the load where they are easily accessed without uniting the whole load.    The sleds resembled a dog sled only made from metal with a platform to stand on behind the load.

This trip was different than the last one with our family.  It was winter this time and the snow was deep. It was piled up next to the trail like a high white wall.

We left the parking lot and town behind, the snowmachine engines popped along and the sled runners squeaked as they carried us into the frozen white landscape and away from the hustle and bustle of town. 

My heart was light as we set out on this  new adventure!  I was eager to see what was around the next bend and a anxious to leave behind the troubles and complexities  of life in towns and cities.  

On we traveled my dad often turning and looking back to make sure all was ok. Several times he stopped and everyone checked their faces and ears for frost bite.  The dogs were trailing behind and Moose especially, was in sheer ecstasy to be out on a beautiful day,  running to his hearts content. 

 

 

THE FIRST FAMILY TRIP TO THE CABIN

 

As we pulled away from the stream I was pretty sure Moose would take to the water.  He may have been a big wimp but I was convinced he would not be left behind! He was a much bigger, stronger dog than his mother! He just needed to have a little more motivation.

We started up the long, winding hill.  As the trail wends its way up to higher country there are open places you can look down to see the stream.  I looked back just in time to see him plunge into the river with great determined leaps! He was NOT going to be left out there in the woods, alone!  Before we made the top of the hill he had caught up and was in his usual place right behind the machine.

 At the top of the hill we stopped to give him a rest.   I petted him all over, telling him he was a good dog and I was glad that he joined us.

The rest of the journey was accomplished with no more great obstacles.  The few remaining creeks, though flooded, were all small enough that we were able to drive through them easily.  The water was deep and we were soaked again with each crossing.  Though cold and soaked to the skin, by the time we made it to town, we were grateful for the safe trip.  Soon we would be home where a hot meal, dry cloths and warm bed were waiting. 

I was bringing another valuable lesson back home with me from the wilderness.   Many times in our lives we come against obstacles that seem insurmountable with no solution. But if we don't give up and we persevere through the pain and discomfort we will make it through.   We really can accomplish more than we think we can, when we have to!

This lesson would be reinforced again and again on our trips into the wilderness and mountains.  A lesson that would give me strength to face the challenges, that unknown to me at that time, lay ahead.

Back at home, all I could think about was going back out to the cabin.  Nothing else could quite compare with the excitement, adventure and peace of the wilderness.  It was a place I truly felt at home, a place where I was measured by how I faced the challenges, not by the cloths I wore, or the music I listened to, or whether I was part of the cool crowd or not.

If you are patient and willing to learn, the wilderness has a vast store of riches for those who care to discover them.  If someone is arrogant and unbendable unwilling to learn, the treasures of the wilderness will never be found.

Finally the day arrived in late summer, we were once again on our way!  This time the whole family was coming and we had 3 full sized 4 x 8 sheets of ¾ plywood strapped flat to the top of the trailer for the floor of the cabin.   We had to tie them down flat on top of the trailer since they were longer and wider than the trailer and they would not fit any other way.  We topped the load with two coolers of food and the ever present chainsaws, ropes, come-along and other tools that might be needed on the trail.

 Approaching the railroad bridge, our first challenge of the trip became obvious.   The walkway on the side of the railroad bridge that is for pedestrians and machine use is 46 inches wide, plywood is 48 inches wide, there was no way those boards were going through that way. My dad decided that taking the trailer up on the railroad tracks and pushing it across where the trains run was the best solution. 

 I could not believe that my dad would decide to take the trailer across the train side of the bridge!  I was terrified a train would come as we were half way across the 400 foot long bridge.  There had been people on three-wheelers and snow machines killed riding down the middle of the tracks and not able to get out of the way in time. 

 We wrestled the trailer up on the railroad tracks and began the task of pushing it across the bridge, my dad pulling from the front and my brother and I pushing as hard as we could. 

 Looking across the more than 400 feet of bridge and expecting a train to roar down the track at any moment we started off, pushing for all we were worth.

 Every minute seemed an eternity! Finally, we made the end of the bridge it had been the longest 400 hundred feet of my life.  Enormous relief flooded through me as we pulled the trailer from the tracks.  We sat down with a sigh of relief. 

We caught our breath and recovered our nerves. Then we walked back across the bridge to drive the machines across, hitch up and continue our trip.

 My mom and dad on the four-wheeler, my youngest brother on the top of the trailer sitting on the cooler, and my middle brother and I on the three- wheeler.  The dogs were running behind. 

All was right with my world once again I was headed back into the wilderness to spend several days working on the cabin and exploring the country nearby.

As we continued on into the bush we realized that that big load of plywood high up on the top of the trailer was going to be a problem! It was constantly shifting and there was no good way to tie it on tight enough. The constant bumping and bouncing would loosen the ropes and soon the ply wood would begin to shift. 

Scrambling up the next hill, just ahead, we could see the trail tilted precariously. As the trailer bumped behind the four wheeler it caught the edge of the trail, flipping over.  My youngest brother went flying into the underbrush, coolers crashed to the muddy trail, and the three heavy sheets of plywood spread out like a deck of cards.  My Dad felt the load lighten and stopped.  Was my little brother hurt?

Battling the River

 Standing there on the bank of the creek, I looked down into that cold dark water.  The four-wheeler was buried with only the handle bars breaking the surface.  My heart sank.  Would it ever start?  Was the engine completely ruined? How would we get home now?

 I learned a very important lesson of living in the wilderness that day.  When you are in a tight spot and it looks like you won’t make it through, don’t worry about the things you can’t change and do what you can, even if it doesn’t seem to help the really big problem. 

My dad told me we needed to get the trailer unhooked. We could not pull them both out of the river hooked together.  He plunged in once again to the frigid water, groping up to his shoulder among the submerged branches to find the tongue of the trailer.  Finding it, he tightly tied a rope around it and then to the brush.  Now soaked to his shoulders in the icy stream he had the trailer secured and he could unhook it from the four-wheeler. It would now stay put while we battled with the stream to pull the four-wheeler up onto the bank.

Next we untied the rocks on the four-wheeler and dumped them into the creek.  The four-wheeler then began to float just slightly.  We pulled on the rope, still tied to the front.  There was no way we could overcome the power of the water without help.

We stopped to catch our breath and warm up a bit.  My dad decided we would try and use the three wheeler.  I untied the end of the rope from the tree and tied it around the axle of the three wheeler.  Once I had the rope tied and my dad was ready, I started the machine and slowly began to pull the four-wheeler up out of the water and then up the steep bank out of the creek. 

I was relieved.  We were able to get it up. One hurdle overcome!  Still, I had a nagging worry, would the machine start?  Was the engine ruined?  I asked my dad if he thought it would start. He said, “Well….. Let’s just let it sit and dry out and not worry too much about it right now. We need to focus on getting the trailer up out of the creek.”

 I looked down the bank at the alder brush whipping back and forth in the current.  The trailer was still tied to the bushes floating there like a boat.  Much of our gear and supplies were packed in water tight plastic buckets which provided floatation along with the wood and the balloon tires on the trailer. 

Now we just had to get it up onto the bank and out of the creek.  Overcoming the strength of the current without being swept down the creek along with the trailer would be our biggest challenge.  

 Once again we took the end of the rope that had been attached to the four-wheeler and plunged into the belly deep water fighting the current and brush. Making our way to the floating trailer, we tied the long rope to the tongue. We then stretched the rope up and around a tree, then to the three wheeler, pulling it as tight as possible.  I started the machine and pulled it forward to take out more slack. 

Now the rope tied to the brush was loose and my dad could reach down and untie that. With the machine I held pressure against the rope feathering the throttle so I did not pull too much until it was untied.  As soon as he yelled, I began slowly and carefully to pull forward. He guided the trailer along to keep it out of the brush. Slowly we were able to pull it up and out of the raging water to dry ground.

Another job accomplished!  We collapsed on the machines exhausted and tired but relieved to be out of the river!   As we looked across the stream our hearts sank we could see on the other side the shotgun leaning against a log and our two dogs, Moose and Babe, pacing the water’s edge.

The dogs were unwilling to cross the river and sat barking their dismay.  Someone had to go get the shotgun. I volunteered to be the one to cross back over yet again and to see if I could get the dogs to cross.  There was no way I could ever carry them across. 

Moose, my dog, was a husky, hybrid wolf, chow cross and his mother was a chow husky, neither one very small!  So once again I plunged in and waded the river.  When I reached the other side I slipped the shotgun over my shoulder and grabbed Moose and shoved him into the deep water. He swam a bit and turned around and came back to the shore.

Then I shoved his mother Babe into the stream, she took off swimming for the other side for all she was worth.  The current swept her downstream several hundred feet around the bend in the river.  Soon she appeared from the underbrush wet but no worse for the experience.

I grabbed Moose and drug him out again as far as I could, he just turned around and once again headed back to shore.  I decided I would just have to leave him.  He would have to figure out his own way across.

I plunged in to the bitter cold water once again. The repeated dousing chilled me deeper, nearly taking my breath away. The cold of the repeated crossings was seeping into my body making me more uncoordinated as I struggled across.  I staggered up out of the creek, I could hear Moose barking and see him pacing up and down the far side. He would just have to make it on his own. There was no other way.  I would be risking my own life, being swept down the river if I were to try and carry him across. 

Now the time had arrived, the moment of truth, would the four-wheeler start? The trailer was hitched and we were ready to go, if only it would start.   My dad turned on the key and the green light came on. Then he hit the starter switch and it cranked over a few times. Then it roared to life, oh what a relief!    I was very much looking forward to a warm meal and some dry cloths!   

Poor Moose was still stranded on the other side.   All we could do was leave him.

A River to Cross

 

We finished tidying up our camp.  Packing the remaining food we would leave in plastic buckets, we then pulled them high up into the tree out of the way of the bears.  The fire put out and everything in order, we started for home. 

 As we left the forest still dripped from the days of rain.  Crossing the first creek that flows out of the base of the beaver pond showed no hint of the high water that was ahead.  We continued down the trail another half mile.  The first realization that we were in for some high water was soon forced upon us.

Arriving at the second creek, Ellen's creek, we saw a stream normally only a few inches deep now a raging torrent. It was running through the brush on both sides of the creek.  We stopped, checked the stream then plunged into the freezing current. 

 The water rose above the tires and the machine began slipping downstream. The current was sweeping me away.  As the tires continued to churn they were able to make contact with the bed of the creek.  I was able to make it up and out of the current.   I wondered what the streams ahead would be like.

We came to Gayland’s hill, the steepest, longest muddiest hill of the whole trail.  The hill drops to the canyon below, nearly 200 feet.  Narrow and slanting outward the trail continues dropping where, at halfway a spring flows out of the mountain right in the middle of the trail.  A constant wet spot in the trail makes going up or down a chore! 

 Approaching the hill we found it muddier then ever and slowly began the descent.   We crept downward inch by inch, desperately trying to prepare for the corner and the narrowest part of the trail. We didn’t want to risk rolling off the edge of the trail and sliding down over the edge of the trail.

From far below, the roar of the raging river hit our ears.  I knew for sure that we were in trouble! Would we be stranded on this side?   Stopping at the edge of the once docile creek, I could see that it was running far too fast and deep to ride the machines across.

 We sat there for a minute in silence.   My dad decided that he would wade through a way to judge the depth of the creek.   The now wild current rushed up, grabbing dangerously at his now soaked coat, pulling at his feet, trying to knock him down.

Digging through our gear tied to the four wheeler we found the rope we always carried. I tied one end to my dad and he waded across the treacherous stream. Once across he yelled over the chaos of the raging torrent and told me to tie the end of the rope to the front of the three wheeler and push it into the stream.  Soon the three wheeler was completely floating and I was struggling against the current.  As we pulled and pushed the machine across the rushing creek, the current dragged us slowly downstream. 

Once on the other side, we started the machine and drove it up the bank to high ground.  We had made it successfully across with the first and easiest machine.  The four wheeler with the trailer would require different technique.

 We coiled up our rope and prepared to cross back over the icy raging stream.  Plunging into water up to our stomachs we carefully worked our way across the stream.

My dad explained to me how we would attempt to make the crossing.  First we would pile as many big rocks as we could on the front and back racks of the four-wheeler. Tying them into place, we hoped would keep it from being washed downstream

This time, I would wade across the icy stream with one end of the rope.  The other would be tied to the front of the four-wheeler, just like we had done with the three wheeler.   Then riding the machine my dad would hit the stream as fast as he could go and get as far across as possible. 

 Rocks were everywhere and it wasn’t long before we had the four-wheeler stacked with several hundred pounds and securely tied in place.  Ready to go once again, I had to brave the freezing torrent.  I had now been wet for over an hour and had crossed the 40 F stream twice.  Plunging in once more I headed slowly across.

Safely back across I secured the end of the rope to a nearby tree wrapping around several times, preparing to take up the slack as fast as possible. My dad hollered above the roar of the river to see if I was ready.  I nodded that I was. He started the machine and as he hit the water I began to take up the slack, running to keep the rope tight.  

I watched as the machine went deeper and deeper, soon the water was up to the seat and the trailer was floating, pulling the back of the machine down the river.  My dad and the machine were struggling against the deep current.  Then he hit the deep hole near the far side of the stream the machine plunged deeper, water covering the fenders and seat.  Now only the tops of the rocks and the handlebars were still above water.

 The machine drowned and died. I quickly wrapped the rope around the tree a couple more times and tied it off so that the machine would not float down the creek any farther. 

We were miles from town and the huge four wheeler was dead in the water.

Why Wool?

You’ve heard the advertisements, “Cotton the fabric of our lives.” But if you’ve ever spent any time with an avid hiker, or read a good outdoor living book you have surely also heard that “Cotton Kills.” As with most things you will find about the wilderness, the things you think and do back in the modern world won’t work long for you out here. So here is a little introduction to “Wool, the fabric of your Wilderness life.” So much of living in the forest centers around your fire, it’s the natural place to start.

No other cloth is as naturally flame resistant as wool. When exposed to fire, it just smolders and extinguishes itself as soon as the flame is removed. Although wool can burn under intense heat it is considered flame retardant up to 1112 Fahrenheit. That's why fire fighters wore wool uniforms and airlines use wool fabric on their seats as artificial fibers will melt and stick to skin. This has been an important consideration for me, as I spent countless cold winter nights sleeping as close to the campfire as I could possibly get.  I now have many tiny holes burnt through my wool blanket, but I never had to worry about waking up with my blanket ablaze.

I’ve used my blanket as a makeshift leanto, a dry pad to sit down in the wet snow and I’ve wrapped up in it to wait out a sudden driving rainstorm under a tree. Wool has the unique ability to be both water repellant as well as wicking moisture vapors away from your body helping to keep you warm. You see, wool has a waxy coating that beads up the water and tends to run much of it off. This coating isn’t removed by washing. At the same time the core of the fiber allows vapors to pass through, and away from you. Wool always absorbs moisture from the side of greatest humidity and releases it to the drier side creating balance. This characteristic makes wool warm in the winter and cool in the summer. As you perspire it keeps a layer of dry air next to the skin and helps to hold in body heat. If you were to fall in a stream and saturate your wool, Very interestingly the hydrogen bond of H2O is broken in a chemical reaction within the wool molecules. It will actually generate heat; increasing your chances of avoiding hypothermia! But because the air pockets caused by the crimp in the wool fiber allows moisture to evaporate from your skin, you don't overheat when you sweat. In fact wool doesn’t feel damp to the touch until it is saturated with more than 30% of its own weight and even when moderately damp, the insulating air pockets are still intact. The same wool worn for centuries by the Bedouin tribes of the desert will keep you warm in the cold; it is a great temperature regulator.

Wool fibers can be bent 30,000 times before breaking. By comparison, a cotton fiber will break after just 3,000 times. Wool also can be stretched to 1/3 of its length dry and 1/2 wet and it will spring back to its natural size and shape. It is also abrasion resistant, and naturally UV protected while cotton and synthetics break down quickly as you wear them in the sun.  Wool can be a better and longer lasting investment for your wilderness clothing. No synthetic yet has been able to combine all of these characteristics.

Some other considerations to someone who spends much of their time in the mud and dampness of the outdoors is that wool is mildew resistant, stain resistant, and diminishes body odor. The natural wicking that we talked about prevents much of any possible problems, but wool also has anti-microbial properties and a neutrally charged surface that makes it hard for bacteria to survive on, whereas cotton and synthetics are positively charged and will attract bacteria. Studies show that bacterial colonies are common in cotton sheets while not present on wool blankets subjected to the same environmental conditions in hospitals. The thin waxy coating that makes wool water resistant makes wool very hard to stain and easy to just brush the mud off once your clothes have dried. This is also why dyeing wool is an art in itself. In the wilderness where washing clothes can be complicated and time consuming, often just a good airing out and brushing off will freshen up wool.

And as you probably know, wool is in excellent insulator layer. It has one of the highest insulation to weight ratios of any natural or man-made material, and now new spinning techniques are producing wool fabrics that are 30% lighter than was possible before.

As an example, sheep wool has been used for house insulation and has an R-value of 3.5 to 3.8 per inch of material thickness which is 0.3 to 0.6 points higher than glasswool, cellulose, and mineral wool. The crimp of the fiber also allows the wool to retain its structure and overall thickness instead of breaking down and settling like many other insulating materials. As a carpenter it is common for me to open up a wall to find a gap of 6 inches to a foot or more where blown in insulation was used and settled over time, so sheep’s wool could help significantly with preventing heat loss and

 efficiency if it were used.

If you enjoy nature it is interesting that wool can help you in several ways if you want to get close to wildlife. “They can hear you twice, see you once, but if they smell you, they’re gone.” Minimizing human odor is key to seeing animals, and there’s no fabric better than wool. Wool absorbs 30% of its weight in moisture transporting the moisture away from the skin and completely through the fabric. Nylon absorbs only 4.5% and polyester just  .4%. With these moisture remains creating bacteria and the result is odor.

Many animals eyes are much different than ours, they see different colors and also Ultraviolet light that we can’t see. Wool absorbs light while synthetics reflect it and create a bright UV shine. Even wool blends with as little as 10% synthetic materials reflect light making you more visible. 100% wool has no reflection, and a knap that absorbs sunlight making you blend in better with natural backgrounds. And lastly, wool doesn’t flap in the wind or make a sound as you move through the forest.