"Tamer" - PART I

High clouds and fog blocked the Winter sun. A mist floated in the air. It was late in the day and somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun had already started its descent, not that it had risen very high anyway, given the season. These combined factors made for very dim conditions. A light rain began to fall, foretelling the advance of yet another in a daylong series of rolling cloudbursts. There was a fresh fragrance of sagebrush and damp wood floating in the air. Droplets splashed in the puddles alongside the dirt road and spattered on tree limbs, leaves and brush. The shower became heavier as a squall passed, building until it obscured all sight and sound with a thick curtain of silvery-gray rain.

In spite of the cold and damp, Tamer lay motionless in the vegetation alongside the road, wrapped in a surplus woodland camo poncho. Her pants from the knees down were soaked, but as cold as she was, she resisted an urge to shivver.  Water soaked the shredded-fabric wrapped barrel of the 10/22 and blurred the objective lens of the scope. Water dripped from the edge of the poncho hood into her eyes, but she dare not move to wipe it away. Danger was near, and I must be careful she thought. Within about five minutes the rain began to lighten as the squall passed over, and then all that remained were pops and plops as the deposited rainwater dripped from the soaked vegetation into puddles and upon the wet floor of the woods. Tamer was backed away from the road, perhaps five feet or so, tucked into some brush that closely matched her poncho's camo pattern and colors. It was a dark place that hid her well.  She heard a slight sound, held her breath, and waited.

Presently, a man came into view. The man who had been coming up the road from town behind her all morning. She'd first observed him from a place of concealment on a curve, while on a routine precautionary stop to take a knee, rest and glass her backtrail. She'd been surprised to see movement and focused up on a dark mass to find it was a man coming up from behind. She estimated the man was a mile or so behind. Watching him through field glasses, Tamer noted a slight limp and decided to assign the name "Gimpy" to her pursuer. She liked giving names to people based on some observable characteristic. The Native Americans had done it.  The Sioux War Chief, Crazy Horse was originally named "Curly" but was renamed following a vision he'd had. Geronimo's true name was "Goyarla", or "One who yawns". Beyond that, she was unable to discern any details of the traveler, and most importantly, whether he was armed...but that he was following her, well, that was a concern.

All morning, Tamer had hugged the cover along the right side the road. She rarely went into town, only when necessary to barter for some essential items, and less so lately.  Only a fool would walk in the center of a lane, in the open. Walking close to the cover gave her an option to hastily dive into brush and concealment if need be. She'd left only the faintest track that a careful observer, or experienced tracker, could follow. Finding another point to observe from, Tamer had noted Gimpy was moving slow and paying attention to the tracks on the ground. He was clearly following her track, but was savvy enough to pause and do a 360 from time-to-time. That didn't bode good intentions, and she hated having to look over her shoulder, so she decided to hole up and address this threat, hence the ambush she had set.

Now, as the man came abreast of her position, Tamer could see that Gimpy was indeed armed. He had a pump shotgun slung over his shoulder, muzzle down. The tip of a knife sheath protruded from beneath his waist-length jacket. But more importantly, he held a pistol, possibly a GLOCK, in his right hand. Gimpy scanned the vicinity slowly, and at one point looked to his left directly at Tamer's place of concealment, holding his gaze for a few seconds, but then passed it off. Tamer was careful not to stare at him and watched him with her peripheral vision lest he sense her presence. The ruse had worked; he'd been fooled by the false track Tamer had laid for another 100 meters, and then dropped into the cover on the opposite side of the road. She'd circled back to the selected ambush site. Being right-handed, Gimpy was obeying his nature and favoring the cover at the right side of the road, a big mistake. 

Keeping both eyes open, Tamer sighted through the scope, picking a spot on the side of Gimpy's head, an inch ahead of and an inch above the ear. This was the thinnest point of the skull and a large feeder artery ran beneath it. What damage the .22 subsonic didn't do to the artery, the broken fragments of bone would finish. Follow up rounds, if necessary, would be slammed into the spinal column at the back of the neck. Tamer waited until Gimpy was a couple of steps ahead of her position so she'd be at his back in a perfect position to murder him. Not wanting to startle him and elicit a response, Tamer challenged him in a very calm, flat, and just-audible voice. "Don't move."

Caught completely off guard, Gimpy jerked to a stop and remained absolutely motionless; he obviously knew he'd been had and was at a bad disadvantage with a threat in his blind spot. He was about 10 or so yards away and his head turned ever ao slightly to his left. Clearly he was trying to locate the voice. He said nothing. A long awkward silence of several seconds followed as neither moved or spoke. "Drop the gun", Tamer commanded, again in a calm voice, keeping her sights on Gimpy. Again she saw Gimpy's head twitch ever so imperceptibly as he strained to pinpoint Tamer's hiding spot. The man's body appeared to lose it's tension and the shoulders dropped a little, and Tamer knew what was coming.

Time seemed to stop and Tamer felt as if she was watching events unravel in slow-motion. Gimpy began to spin to his left, at the same time crouching and bringing up his hand that held the pistol. Before it was on target, 2 rounds had already left the barrel and flown wide, several feet from Tamer's hide. Another 2 rounds and he would be on target. Tamer had already adjusted and re-acquired her target, pressed the trigger and sent a single round downrange. The 40 grain lead hollow point slammed into Gimpy's temple and buried itself deep in his skull, disrupting his mental processes and seriously impeding his ability to function. He spun slowly, mouth agape, sinking first to his knees then landing on his rump. His arms flailed and the gun discharged once before falling free from his hand. Denied a nape-of-the-neck shot, Tamer realigned her sights and aimed for an eye socket. Two rounds, fired in quick order, sailed into the thin bone at the rear of the eye orbit. Bone and lead fragments exploded into the dura mater and entered the brain cavity.  Gimpy's mouth worked silently and his good eye became fixed and looked skyward as he slowly fell backwards. His feet kicked spasmodically a couple of times, and then he went still.

Tamer held her fire and remained still and watchful. Gimpy appeared deceased, but it was not unheard of for wounded men to regain conciousness and become a threat again.  She also needed to confirm no one else was in the vicinity. Tamer waited a full five minutes, looking and listening. Satisfied, she slowly got to her knees, covered Gimpy with her rifle, and then eased out of the brush. She stepped on the pistol, an old 1911, and married it to the ground with her booted foot as she studied Gimpy. He was a white man, maybe late 30's or even 40, and very dirty. He had shaggy black hair and a scraggly beard. He smelled badly and his clothes were tattered and mud-stained. His intact eye was lifeless and his chest was still. Tamer prodded him with her muzzle, but there was no reaction. He was dead. Good.

Satisfied, Tamer slung her rifle, recovered the 1911 and did a chamber check. It had a live round in the chamber, so she dropped the magazine, catching it as it fell free, worked the slide, ejected the round and locked the slide back. The barrel was free of debris and there were 3 rounds remaining in the magazine. She closed the slide, applied the safety, and tested the trigger. It appeared the safety was functioning. She then pressed on the cocked hammer with her thumb, but it remained cocked and didn't slip. Good, no worn sear notch to worry about. Pressing the muzzle, she tested the trigger and confirmed the disconnect safety was functioning. She deemed the pistol safe to use and reloaded it and stuck it in her waistband. It would be a nice barter item, or perhaps a keeper.

Retreating across the road, she waited several minutes while she looked in all directions to confirm no one was approaching. Awareness was critical to Survival and one could not afford to get sloppy, even for a second.

By now, some ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed, so she considered it safe to check Gimpy over. Tamer retrieved a stick from the edge of the trail and poked and prodded and lifted open pockets. Syringes for slamming bootleg crank were common and she did not wish to get poked and contract a disease. Tamer hit on a bulge in Gimpy's jacket. Using the stick, she drug a pouch from the pocket. It was an old SEAGRAMS velvet bag and was heavy, though small. Tamer had an idea what it contained, and she dumped it and confirmed her suspicions; gold teeth. The man had been murdering and mutilating his victims for gold crowns.  It was a sizable bag, worth a small fortune...or certain death for the person caught carrying it. 

Tamer weighed the bag in her hand and considered melting it down to render a block of gold, but decided against it. That much gold would elicit a lot of questions and the ending would be anything but good. She wound up her arm and cast the bag as far as she could into the dense underbrush on the hillside. Grabbing Gimpy by the ankles, she dragged him well back into the brush, then used her knife to cut some branches to cover the body. It was hard work and when done she staggered back to the roadway. She paused to rest for a moment and catch her breath.

Suddenly she felt very tired, and for the first time, the baby kicked.


TO BE CONTINUED......

Copyright © Manny Silva, 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Making char cloth with DURAFLAME fire starter

Learning is a process of ongoing experimentation...

A few weeks ago, a friend and I were browsing the Sporting Goods section at Walmart and I happened to spot DURAFLAME fire starters. These were individually wrapped 6 oz. blocks priced at about .89 cents. I've used Duraflame fireplace logs in the home, but had never really thought of them for field use camping. You've probably seen these...they are essentially a composite log made of sawdust mixed with some kind of proprietary waxy material, creating a long-lasting fireplace log.

I've used COGHLANS Tinder Sticks with good results. They are a similar composition and can ignited intact or can be shredded using a pocket knife to create a long burning tinder. I decided that I would pick one of the Duraflame starters up and add it to my fire bag. I like having a lot of options for getting a fire started. I've been out enough times to learn that not every thing works all the time.

Recently I started subscribing to Prepper Ralph a self-reliance YOUTUBE channel [prepperralph.com], and eventually joined his Facebook group the Black Crow Survivalists which describe themselves as "...Taking a look at the darker more grungy side of preparedness. Not for the faint of heart...". I like that. I'm not a prepper per se, but have never doubted that if [when] a disaster strikes, given desperate circumstances, the "Rule of Law" that governs society rapidly devolves into "The Law of the Jungle" [Look at footage of the Rodney King Riots or Hurricane Katrina looters if you doubt this]. 

Anyway, Ralph recently issued a challenge to the group to put up a video demonstrating fire making skills. I decided this was a good time to try out the Duraflame block and see how it worked. I also decided I would use the fire as an opportunity to make some fresh char cloth. Removing it from the package, I could see that it could easily be quartered and enough to place one in more than one trail bag or bugout kit, if you wished to do so. Using my Emerson's serrated edge, I scraped a pile of material from the block. Here is my video of the Duraflame fire:

 

Once the fire was established, I placed cotton material into a tin and began making char cloth. Making char cloth has been very hit & miss, at least for me. I have turned out great batches and completely CRAP batches. And I've had batches in which some of the char worked great and some not at all. But one thing I have learned is don't throw it out! Sometimes it won't take a spark from your striker but works just fine with a ferro rod.

The other thing is that it may not be your char at all, but the steel striker isn't tempered well and thus isn't producing a hot enough spark to ignite the char. Be careful before you plunk down cash for a custom forged striker and make sure it is made by a reputable smith. A file can sometimes be used, and I have had hit and miss luck with files...some throw sparks like crazy and others not so much...there seems to be a lot of variation in temper. Here is my video demonstrating the completed char cloth:

The striker in this kit is from a FIRE IN FIVE commercial kit I purchased when I first started learning this skill. The best char material I ever had came in the FIRE N FIVE kit, and was some kind of shredded cotton fabric and was just incredible. The originator of that kit BTW, was an old Navy veteran...I picked it up in the mid 90's at RAY'S BEAVER BAG, a muzzle-loading store on the Vegas strip. That gent that developed the FIRE IN FIVE has passed, but somebody still markets that kit, though I do not know if it is the same char fabric as before in the current kit.

Flint....folks, there is no Flint here in the USA...just Chert. Finding good Chert with a sharp edge is an essential, or pay money and by some nice shards of English flint. You can also knap the edge of Chert and restore a nice sharp edge. This is what Buckskinners that shoot flintlock rifles and muskets do...they just tune the rock up in the jaws of the lock...don't even remove it. Survival Preacher is up in Indiana and found what appears to be a big chunk of English Flint in his yard. I am guessing it might have been brought here for trade or to render into flints for rifle locks, and may be a couple of centuries old...there was some serious fighting up in that old Northwest Frontier country in the 1700's.

Something else to add to your fire bag or kit is a magnifying glass [burning lens]. I found a pair of broken binoculars on the side of the road and harvested the objective lenses and they are incredible....big, thick ground glass lens will cook anything. I've re-started charred campfire wood using the lens. Historical reenactor Keith Burgess has used lens to ignite tinder. Some Frontiersmen used brass tinder boxes with a burning lens set in the lid.

Historically accurate tinder box

One final suggestion for tinder....Bracket fungus [Horseshoe fungus]. This is a fungus that grows on Oaks. Once it establishes it can become very large with a very tough, hard exterior. You can scrape the interior material into a fluff and it'll catch a spark and smolder as an ember. Aboriginal peoples in the U.K. used it, striking flint and Magnetite [Pyrite] to create sparks and catch them on the fluff. They could also set the bracket fungus disk smoldering and carry it to take fire with them to their next camp.

Bracket Fungus

Fortunately, these days we have modern resources to make fire, but like the aboriginal peoples, we need to practice our skills and learn them well. In a modern survival situation, such as a lost hiker, making fire is critical to maintaining warmth to avoid hypothermia and signaling help. Experiment, Practice, LEARN.

Happy Hiking!

Goblin Ranger

[Bushcraft Woods Devil] 

Inexpensive does not necessarily mean "cheap"....

Sometime back, I purchased a UNITED CUTLERY M48 Apocalypse Fighter". This was an inexpensive knife, perhaps 10 dollars on closeout. It had a zombie green paracord wrap handle and came with a matching paracord bracelet. The knife itself measured roughly 12" overall, with a Tanto-styled blade about 6" in length. Weight was around 11 ounces. It came in a nylon belt sheath. I'll be honest; I bought it purely for the coolness factor...I liked it's looks and it made me happy. I should also tell you up front, these are discontinued and I see nothing similar on the United Cutlery webpage.

M48 Apocalypse Fighter 

The knife bumped around in my truck and other places for a couple of years. Eventually, the paracord wrapped handle came loose and then fell off altogether. It bumped around some more, still lacking a use or purpose. then a couple of weeks ago I decided to use it as a thrower. It actually performed quite well as a thrower. The squared off pommel kept catching my hand on release, so I re-profiled it on the bench grinder, giving it a round profile. Then, I snapped a half of an inch of the point off the blade. It was stuck in the throwing round and I flexed it and snapped it off clean. 

Using the bench grinder, I re-profiled the blade tip, giving it a hybrid Tanto-Drop Point profile. It would probably still stick on a throw, but I wasn't so sure.  BUT, I did feel that the blunted tip would make for some prying and batoning tasks, if necessary.

Re-Profiled Blade Tip

I see a lot of knives like this offered for little money, and wondered how they are used. My guess is they rarely see much use, probably purchased more as a back-up or for the occasional task like cutting rope or some such.

I decided to see if I could break it by batoning, so I decided to craft a handle for it so I could hold and use it with some degree of comfort. I split a piece of Sycamore limb and then fashioned it into handle scales, securing it to the knife tang with paracord. This was nice; hand-filling and comfortable. 

Re-Handling the M48 fighter

For the batoning test, I used seasoned, rock-hard Eucalyptus. This nasty wood has a twisting grain and often has knots running through it. Very hard to baton. I batoned steadily for a half an hour and produced a small mountain of kindling.

M48 delivers the goods!

Examination of the edge showed it to still be sharp and have no chips or deformations whatsoever.

Blade had no damage

What can we say then? Should one throw all caution to the wind and buy a cheap knife? No, most certainly not. Generally, it is wise to buy the best kit items you can afford. However, if you cannot afford much, buy what you can afford, and practice skills and learn on it while you save for something better. Also, we must realize that all knives, even the finest made, can be used wrongly and exceed their abilities and fail.

Finally, I am reminded of a famous firearms training center whose motto is "Any gun will do...if YOU will do!" The same could be said of blades. At the end of the day, quality aside, it is practice, knowledge, and skill that counts.

Happy Hiking!

GOBLIN RANGER

[Bushcraft Woods Devil]

COLD STEEL "Sport Series" Perfect Balance Thrower

Well, hello all! Its a new year and I apologize for being an absentee landlord the last few months. I had some medical issues in the second half of 2017, but am back and feeling much better.

Sooo, to start out 2018, I am experimenting with a COLD STEEL Throwing Knife. Specifically, the CS "Sport Series" Perfect Balance" Thrower. I have made 2 videos...a tabletop and a practical session:

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the videos!

Happy Hiking!

GOBLIN RANGER

[Bushcraft Woods Devil]

"Japanning" - How the Mountain Men made their tin ware rust-resistant!

In the 19th century, Mountain Men used tin ware for many purposes. Tinware bowls, plates, and storage boxes were inexpensive and commonly used. However, the brightly finished metal could rust if left untreated. So they adopted a method called Japanning. True Japanning is a process that dates to the 1600's in which lacquer, usually black, was layered on metal objects and each layer heat baked, thus creating a protective rust-proof coating, kind of like today's rust resistant enamels like RUSTOLEUM.

The Mountain Men didn't have access to lacquers, but they could fire darken the tin, giving it a protective patina. The brightly polished tin ware was placed into campfire flames and soon darkened. Sometimes it developed different iridescent hues of blue and gold, making for an attractive finish. The tin ware was wiped down with a grease and was fairly impervious to rust. Mountain Men didn't have a lot of money, so making gear last was crucial.  I would bet Horace Kephart and Nessmuk probably had used this technique or knew of it.

I often fire blue or Japan tin items, usually little storage tins I used for storing fatwood, char cloth, or a flint & steel kit. I especially like empty percussion cap tins and mini-altoids tins. These are great for making primitive/antiqued matchsafe's and for storing cotton impregnated with Vaseline for fire starter.  I'm going to post up some pics below and walk you through the process for creating your own antiqued ["Japanned"] tin goodies for camp and trail.

The first step is to acquire a tin object you wish to Japan. For this practice I will use this empty Saddle soap tin. This would be a great tin for a small fire making kit or to hold tools for a muzzleloading rifle:

The next step is to make a hot fire. I am using an old coffee can as a hobo stove and building up a hot fire:

The pieces of the tin are placed into the fire. This will burn off the paint and fire-color the bare metal:

After the paint has burned off, remove the pieces and cover with the hot coals until cooled:

Remove the pieces from the coals:

Using a coarse piece of cloth, scrub the ashes off of the tin. Use a stick to get into corners or for spots with hard ash caked on:

Finally, use lard, or grease and wipe down the tin. Wipe off the excess. You will now have a nicely antiqued, attractive tin to include in your trail kit or possible's bag:

 Happy Hiking!

GOBLIN RANGER
[Bushcraft Woods Devil]

Ozark Trail [Walmart] 12-in-1 multi-tool review

Part I - Nomenclature

Part 2 - Testing

Happy Hiking!

GOBLIN RANGER

[Bushcraft Woods Devil]

"The School of Hard Knocks"...a hike gone bad.

Some of the best lessons in life are the tough ones...."The School of Hard Knocks" as some folks call it. I had a hike yesterday that became dangerous, and I have been pondering it and thought I would share some learning points. To begin, here is what happened:

I had attended a public hike put on by a local organization. I was familiar with the trail, Reservoir Canyon, and have hiked it before. Last time was I think 2013, so I was 5 years younger. The group was good sized, maybe 18 people of varying ages, and it went well. We hiked, I don't know, maybe 2-2.5 miles to the Hermit's Cabin and the group took a break and some photos.

Lord's Candle - Yucca

'

I had noted an elderly couple that wasn't taking sufficient water. They had a pack with two 1 Liter bottles, one for each of them, in side pockets, no apparent bladder. They appeared to be struggling. It was a very warm day, and getting hotter. I would guess upper 80's at that time. When we got to the Hermit's Cabin I advised the hike leader of my observation and it seems the whole group was ready to go back down.

I was humping a 17# pack, 4 lbs. of which was water, and had a full hydration bladder in my pack when I started the hike. Halfway through, I still had a good amount in it and a quart USGI canteen reserve, but I was about to learn it wasn't going to be enough.

The hike leader decided it was too hot to do the loop and announced we'd be going back down the way we'd came, but that people were free to go on if they wished. I chatted up another hiker, an athletic younger male, and he seemed interested and had familiarity with the trail from having done some work on it. Three women indicated they wished to go along...a young woman in her 20's and 2 middle-aged women. We were agreed to do the full loop, which I think was 6 miles, not sure.

The hike leader queried us if everyone had or needed extra water. I felt I had enough for my needs but was unaware of the others water on hand.

We splintered off and kept going up the trail. It was going to top out at 1300', was steep inclined, rough, rock strewn, and sun exposed. It made for very hard hiking and I started pulling heavy on my bladder. I was completely surprised when it went dry well before the top.

At that time, the group had spread out. Two younger, fitter persons had gone on ahead. Another woman was between us and I was hiking with a trim, athletic, woman about my age, and she was a medical professional. It was taking forever to get to the top. I don't know, maybe she sensed I was struggling. It was then I realized I felt myself running out of blood sugar. I'd had a banana and a roll before the hike...not enough for the arduous hiking I was doing.

I tried to eat some power bars. I could barely eat them; my mouth was dry and I was mildly nauseous, but forced myself to keep chewing and they gave me a boost and I avoided blacking out, which was definitely coming on. I know this because it has happened to me twice before during hard exertion and I recognize it. Not diabetic...just not taking enough calories to sustain the activity.

The view from the top

We reached the top and enjoyed a small break and some cooler breezes for a little while. We started down and on the downhill, which was equally hot and rough, some of our group began to run out of water. I think the three women hikers only had small half liter bottles.

The water in my steel canteen had been heated by the sun and was like hot tea. One of the women, heavyset and middle-aged, kept asking me to share my water and I was shocked when she passed my canteen back empty...she'd drained it...I was now out of water with at least 2 miles of hard trail to go.

The last 1-2 miles was horrible. I was so dehydrated I had stopped sweating and was getting chills. I realized I was probably heading for heat exhaustion....all I could think of was GET TO THE CREEK! Just kept putting one foot IFO the other.

By this time, the medical woman and other man were up behind me...I caught glimpses of them for awhile and then never saw them again. The younger woman had run on ahead, and the other woman that had drained my canteen was somewhat behind me.

I literally had started to stumble and trip down the trail, Several times I had to negotiate tricky rocks and went slow because I knew I could get hurt if not very careful. Finally I broke into the canyon's Oak cover and could hear the stream in the distance and knew I was all right.

FRONTIER Survival Straw

When I got near the stream I dropped my pack, broke out the FRONTIER survival straw I carry and sat in the stream and began dumping water over my head. I cared not a whit about getting soaked. Then I started drinking through the survival straw until I was sick of water. It wouldn't fit my canteens small mouth, and I didn't have a cup, so I cupped my hand and drank from it.

After about 5-10 minutes I became aware the younger woman was sitting below the falls just watching me. She appeared amused and I have to admit, I probably was a funny sight sitting clothed in the stream dumping water on myself. More's the point, I was so confused my situational awareness had crapped out.

The woman that drained my canteen came in behind me and I think she might've drank from the stream, but not sure. The three of us waited at the falls but the other two of our group never showed. I had last seen them behind me, moving pretty slow. We waited for an hour but they never appeared. I was concerned but had seen both with cell phones and service was good so I was not too worried, knowing they could call for help.

I called a friend on the local Search & Rescue team and he notified the SAR on-call coordinator, who called me direct. I explained the circs and he said check the p-lot, thinking they might've skirted around us. We did and they were not there. I notified him and he suggested I call SLOSO Dispatch and they would do a call-out, and they could request a CHP fly-over. I said I would first call the hike leader whom I knew had a roster with phone numbers and could check on the overdue hikers.

Tough terrain

At that point, the bizarre happened and I dropped my cellphone and broke it when I needed it most. Unable to communicate, I went home and e-mailed the hike leader who responded and made contact with the 2 hikers and advised me they'd made it down the mountain safely, to my great relief.

This was the first time I've ever run completely out of water on a hike and it was a real horrible learning experience. Learning points?

1.) Eat sufficient calories before a hike; take additional calories along the trail...you are burning calories whether you feel it or not. You will when you "hit the wall" and by then it is too late.

2.) Don't underestimate heat. It can really sneak up and surprise you.

3.) Don't overestimate your abilities as a hiker. Nature is a bigger badass than you will ever be.

4.) Electrolyte beans would've been very handy to have. Pretty sure my heart was working harder pumping sludgy blood as my body robbed my bloodstream for water.

5.) Accept/realize bad things can happen even on a front country hike...you don't have to be in the sticks to become incapacitated

6.) Make sure the people you are hiking with have more than adequate water for their needs. I know the other male was providing water from his bladder and last I knew he was down to half a liter.

7.) Have names/phone numbers for the people you hike with; carry some 3x5 cards and distribute to all in case you get separated.

8.) Stay together as a group. Pretty sure if I was not thinking clearly, at least a couple of the others were struggling too.

9.) Listen to others. For just a moment, I'd pondered going down with the group. The hike leader made a good call and I should've deferred to his judgment.

Anyways, just a few thoughts, which I thought I'd pass on.

Happy Hiking!

GOBLIN RANGER
[Bushcraft Woods Devil]