It was decided that in the spirit of Survivor Man and Man vs Wild, me and a couple buddies would go off on an adventure into the wilderness. We traveled with very little, just a back pack.
We did a little research and found an area up American Fork Canyon that would be suitable for our trip. The deal was that we wouldn't take any food or shelter with us. We would fish, hunt, build a refuge for ourselves.
And so It began. We found a place to park and started up a trail. Then we left that trail and wandered into the wild. We had a good idea of where we were going...or at least were we needed to be. Through some seriously rough terrain we scaled the mountain side. Legs getting scratched, losing our footing, braking branches, we climbed. It was very frontiersman of us. After over an hour of hiking we came to our first lake.
we began construction.
We butchered the first fish but got the knack of it and ate. We settled in for what would be, for me at least, a rough night of little to no sleep. The ground is not comfortable, especially for side sleepers like me. I tossed and turned and it was terrible.
Once daylight came we decided to pack up and head up a few miles to the next lake. No of us knew how hard it was going to be...especially me. On an empty stomach, little rest, and 8000 feet up I found about that my body wasn't prepared for the hike. *Foreshadowing*
At the beginning of the trail, things were fine. It was gorgeous.
My body had BONKED. I leaned on a rock, wiped out physically and mentally. I could lift a foot. I closed my eyes and waited, hoped my body would recuperate so I could reach the top. About 10-15 minutes into my resting, I opened my eyes and saw a ground squirrel. The only thing I could think of was, "We need to eat that."
I pulled out my gun, cocked it back and click. nothing. Dud bullet.
Ejected that bullet and got the next one in the chamber pulled the trigger and click. NOTHING! Another dud!
At this point I'm hoping the little bugger sits around for a 10 more second while I try for a 3rd time. Click. BOOM! HIT! Its squirming around and get up to it, writhing in wiggling almost falling off the cliff. I pull out my knife and I stabbed it in the throat.
Meanwhile Kyle and Taylor had been up top scouting the area looking for shelter, fishing the lake and seeing how viable the new spot would be. They heard the shot and figured it was a "come rescue me" shot. I see them at the top of the ridge and I have the squirrel in my hand and I yell, "I killed this!"
They replied with, "There aren't any fish in this lake." There wasn't a good place to build a shelter either. At 8800 feet up the trees were scarce and the lake was simply just made of mountain snow run off.
With that news we decided we should head back to our old camp site and regroup. But first I was still delirious and unable to function properly. The kill had made things brighten up but I was down for the count. Suddenly I remembered that Kyle said he had a baggie of trail mix. SALVATION!
We were all pretty worn out and destitute at this point. We each ate a couple handfuls of trail mix which tasted glorious! I drank some water, got my wits about me and we started down the trail we had just hiked up.
The next morning we packed up our gear and decided to head out. We followed a trail that looked like it would get us back to where we needed to be. It didn't. We had to back track up a dirt road to another trail that took us to the right place.
The after effects were mainly scratched legs and arms. It was a fun and trying experience.