A Week in the Woods (9 page)

In science class Mr. Maxwell shifted his pre-woods
lessons up into high gear. They studied different kinds of trees, different kinds of rock formations, and the way that ice and plants and time can turn rock into soil. They studied how different plants grow at different altitudes, about the way rain and melt water collect to form springs and streams, and about the kinds of animals that live in and around the White Mountains.

And for the first time science class had Mark's full attention. Mr. Maxwell was terrific. He knew all this material by heart, but more than that, he loved it. The first week of April flew by, and every day after school Mark went home and out into the woods or up onto the ridge and saw firsthand all the things Mr. Maxwell had talked about in class.

On Friday, April third, when he got home from school, Mark sat in the kitchen for a snack. After he'd eaten an orange and some Fig Newtons, he got up to take his milk glass to the sink. Anya smiled and said, “I am so happy when you take the time for your food.”

Mark said, “You're right, you know, about my needing food. I'm really growing, don't you think? And growing up, too.”

Anya nodded, and Mark went on. “You know what I found the other day? I found this place up on the hill in the woods. There's a big clearing, and the ground is mostly level, and it isn't even that wet, 'cause it's mostly moss and pine needles. Isn't that great?”

Cautiously Anya said, “Sounds very nice.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, “and the best part is that it's a perfect place to camp out. And I really want to. Tonight.”

Anya frowned. “You don't mean sleep out alone again?”

Mark nodded. “I know what I'm doing. And it's just right up that hill and into the woods a little way. It'll just be like sleeping out in the backyard.”

Anya shook her head. “Absolutely not. Your mother did not like you sleeping in the barn alone, and she said to me, ‘No more.' So the answer is no. Final.”

Anya wouldn't give in, so Mark settled for the next best thing. He asked Leon, and they camped out together. Which actually turned out to be great, because with a grown-up along, it was okay to build a campfire.

Out in the center of the clearing Leon showed him how to scrape out a fire pit with a hatchet and then line it with small rocks and ring it with bigger ones. Then they pulled down some deadwood, mostly pine, but also some maple and oak branches.

Mark took the hatchet and started to chop at the wood, but Leon said, “I show you a better way. First you break off all the small pieces—good for kindling.”

Mark watched as Leon took a pine bough about eight feet long and snapped off the smaller twigs until it was just the main branch, silvery gray and about as thick as a man's wrist.

“Then you find a big rock, like so. Now stand a little to that side and watch.”

The rock stuck out of the ground about two feet. Leon stood behind it and lifted the branch over his head. He brought it down sharply so that it struck the rock about eighteen inches from the end of the branch. There was a sharp
crack,
and the end of the branch snapped off cleanly and dropped to the ground. Raising the stick, Leon hit it again, and another piece cracked and dropped.
Crack, crack, crack,
and all that was left was a short piece in Leon's hand.

“Now you try.”

Mark picked out a limb, stripped off the twigs, and took a big swing. The branch bounced and stung his hands. Nothing broke off.

Leon chuckled and said, “Try it again, but this time don't hit so close to the end.”

Mark quickly got the feel of the process and cracked the branch up into usable firewood. And even though his hands hurt a little, he knew it had been a lot easier than the chopping would have been.

There was no rain in the forecast, the black flies and mosquitoes hadn't begun hatching yet, so they made their beds under the open sky, Leon on one side of the fire, Mark on the other.

Anya had thought they were crazy, but the two of them had insisted that they wanted to cook their own dinner over the campfire. As the sunset faded in the west, Mark and Leon feasted on charred hot dogs and
canned baked beans, washed down with lukewarm cans of Hawaiian Punch. They roasted about ten marshmallows apiece for dessert.

By the time the fire had burned down to embers, Mark was glad that Leon had come along. This was not like sleeping in the barn. The towering trees swayed and whispered in the breeze, and beyond the red glow of the coals all was darkness.

Both of them slid into their sleeping bags and for almost half an hour they talked back and forth across the dying fire. Then Leon yawned and said, “Time to sleep now. A peaceful rest to you.” And with that, he turned over onto his side and pulled his cap down to cover his eyes.

As quiet settled over the campsite, Mark felt like his ears were growing. He heard every tiny sound, every little stir and rustling in the underbrush. He felt completely surrounded by nature, but it didn't feel dangerous or frightening to him. It was simply unknown. It was like a big book that had been lying open in front of him all his life, and he'd been ignoring it. Not anymore. Now Mark was determined to read the whole thing. And he knew he was only on page one, maybe page two.

Lying on his back, breathing the cool pine-soaked air, Mark looked up at the circle of sky above the clearing. He had noticed the sky every cloudless night since they had moved to New Hampshire, but noticing the
sky is different from looking at it. And now Mark really looked.

As he stared upward he couldn't find any words for the way it made him feel. There was no end to these stars, and no beginning either. Beyond numbers, beyond distances, beyond ideas like “big” and “far.” Mark felt as if his mind was being pulled out and up, off into the hugeness of space.

Back on earth, Mark heard a sound from the other side of the fire pit. Leon had begun to snore softly, his breathing slow and deep. The rhythm was comforting, and after a long day it was all the lullaby Mark needed.

The world of camping gear was a revelation to Mark. After the computer in the family room had been linked up to the DSL connection, Mark discovered more than a dozen terrific stores on the web that specialized in getting people ready to deal with Mother Nature. Eastern Mountain Sports, Mountain Equipment Co-Op, L.L. Bean, Sierra Outfitters—the list went on and on.

Mark's favorite was REI—Recreational Equipment Incorporated. The REI Web site was organized by activities, and each category branched off into a tantalizing selection of gadgets and tools and necessities for enjoying time in the great outdoors. Tents, sleeping bags, rock climbing gear, mountain bikes, kayaks and canoes, camping stoves, knives, communication equipment, maps and direction finders, shoes and boots of every imaginable kind, sunglasses and binoculars, and an endless assortment of different kinds of special
outdoor clothing. The variety was overwhelming.

On Sunday morning when his mom called from London, Mark told her about how he had camped out with Leon Friday night. Then he said, “I really want to do a lot of overnight trips at camp this summer, maybe even do the ten-day mountain trip in Maine. I looked at the booklet from camp, and it says if you're twelve, it's all right—and I'll be twelve in June.”

“Well, we can certainly talk about that, Mark,” his mom said. Mark could tell she didn't like the idea. But she hadn't said no, so that was okay, and it was the perfect opening for what he really wanted to ask her.

Mark said, “Well, since I want to get into camping, I've been looking at some catalogs that have equipment and stuff. So would it be okay if I got some gear, just so I could be ready? In case I get to go on some overnights this summer?”

And just like he knew she would, his mom said, “Why, of course you may, dear. Get whatever you think you need. When I talk to Anya I'll ask her to let you use the American Express card. Just promise me you won't get anything that's dangerous, all right? No big knives . . . or axes—nothing like that, all right?”

Mark said, “Nothing like that, I promise. I just want to learn how to be a good camper, that's all.”

“Well, I think that's wonderful, dear.”

Late Sunday afternoon, Mark turned on the Mac. Then he opened up the browser and clicked on the REI Web site. And he realized he had a problem. His
problem was that he wanted everything. And thanks to his mom's credit card, he could actually afford everything. Well, not everything, but there were still way too many choices.

Mark had to decide what he really needed. So he opened a new window in the browser, clicked on a search engine, and typed in “camping essentials.” On the second page of listings, he found a web page put together by a guy from Wyoming who taught outdoor survival classes. He called himself “Mr. Survival.” He had organized his list of essential gear by looking at the greatest dangers people usually face if they get lost in the wilderness.

The first danger on his list was getting too cold—or too hot. So he had a section of information about clothing layers, and choosing the right socks and footwear. Mark felt proud that he'd already figured out those things on his own. Mr. Survival also recommended carrying a plastic “space blanket.” You could put the shiny side in to keep warm, or put the shiny side out to keep the sun off. It would also shed rain or snow.

Next on the danger list came thirst and hunger. He recommended carrying at least two water bottles and also having a way to purify more. Mr. Survival's personal favorite was a tiny bottle of liquid iodine drops. He wrote,

You can scoop water right out of a stream or even a puddle, add a few drops of iodine, wait ten minutes, and take a drink. It might taste bad, but
you won't get sick from germs or parasites, and most importantly, you won't get weak from dehydration or die of thirst.

About hunger, he said,

Even a day-hiker should carry five or six energy bars and two or three regular candy bars. A candy bar doesn't weigh much, and it might just give you that jolt of energy you need to get yourself up out of the ravine you fell into.

The list went on:

• Take at least two ways to make fire, plus a fire starter.

Best emergency fire maker: a magnesium block and a striker made from three inches of hacksaw blade. Direct a shower of sparks onto some scrapings from the block.

Best fire starter: cotton balls covered with petroleum jelly—ten will stuff into one plastic film container. If you don't have this, use finely shredded birch bark, dry grass, lint from your socks, or a candy bar wrapper.

• Take a compass, and know how to use it.

• Take a small waterproof flashlight or headlamp—and extra batteries.

• Take a pocketknife.

• Take a loud whistle, like a lifeguard's whistle, to help others find you if you get lost or separated.

• Take a dozen cloth-strip Band-Aids and a small roll of duct tape for cuts or foot blisters.

• Take a small magnifying glass for map reading or starting a fire.

• Take two zip-seal plastic bags for carrying water.

• Take a roll of dental floss or other strong, light cord—at least a hundred feet—and a strong sewing needle.

After reading what Mr. Survival had to say, Mark felt ready to start shopping. He clicked back to the REI Web site, and started filling his online shopping basket.

First he picked out a new sleeping bag. The one he'd been using had been to summer camp three times. It was plenty warm, but it weighed too much. The new bag Mark picked out was filled with goose down. It weighed less than three pounds and packed up into a thin, tight roll.

The next essential item was a pack—not a simple backpack, but a framepack. Mark had used one at camp last summer. It was called a framepack because it had a built-in frame of metal or fiberglass to keep it stiff and spread out the weight of a load in the best way possible. After reading the descriptions of about ten
different packs, Mark looked at a chart and picked the one that was best for a person of his height and weight.

From about twenty different kinds of flashlights, he picked a Mini-Maglite that used AA batteries. He also chose a headlamp, like a flashlight on a head strap. The one he picked had three different levels of brightness, and would run for anywhere from 12 to 150 hours on three AAA batteries.

The magnesium fire-starting bar seemed kind of silly to Mark. Why bother carrying that if you already have matches or a lighter? He flipped back to Mr. Survival's Web page and clicked on the link about fire making. And Mr. Survival made it simple:

Matches go bad or get wet, even the waterproof kind. Lighters rust or break or leak. Some magnesium scrapings and a shower of sparks from a bit of hacksaw blade will always work, no matter how long you've had them and no matter whether it's raining or snowing or ten below zero.

So Mark clicked on the magnesium fire block with the built-in striker bar and put it into his online shopping basket.

Even though Mark knew he wouldn't be allowed to use it by himself, he picked out a little gas-powered cooking stove anyway. And then he found a good compass, a pair of lightweight binoculars, and six pairs of
special “moisture wicking” hiking socks. Plus a dozen chocolate chip energy bars.

He looked at the boots, but the Italian hiking boots he had gotten before camp last summer still fit perfectly, and they were all broken in, too.

When Mark went to the page that showed the knives, he remembered what his mom had made him promise. She'd said no big knives or axes. But she hadn't said he couldn't get a
smaller
knife. After all, his dad had already given him a Swiss Army knife for Christmas two years ago. So Mark picked out a lightweight knife with a black plastic handle and a single blade that locked open. Definitely not a big knife.