"?T?h?i?s? ?m?i?g?h?t? ?b?e? ?a? ?b?i?t? ?o?f? ?a? ?p?r?o?b?l?e?m?.?"? The man held up his hand parallel to the horizon, squinting indirectly at the sun’s relation to it. "Hmmm, the number of hours left in the day are limiting any potential distance to cover on foot. Using this vantage point to map out basic local visible landmarks should be a given.” His hand rummaged inside the haversack, pulling out a leather-bound notebook which a pencil soon began writing in.
Quite mutters drifted through the air as the rough map began to take shape. In a corner written in small letters were the words “Rough depictions – not yet to scale”. First was the current hill with an approximation of its size. A little line showing the bearings most recently traveled stretched out from it with a small notation of the number of paces traveled. Bellow that a simple depiction of the compass rose and the words “Remains to be seen if there are local distortions in magnetic fields – Make frequent checks with compass”.
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A blank space followed, leading to a depiction of a lake off in the distance with a partially visible river flowing through it. “The river connecting to the lake should be a backstop,” he continued to pencil in details, “This hill can be marked as basecamp, with the ridgeline it’s a part of can be a good baseline. That saddle to the west seems like a good candidate for finding a creek.”
“There should be enough time to start setting up camp and still look for water if I???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????a??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????m?????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????q???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????u?????????????????????????????i????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????c????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????k?????????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????a?????????????????????????????????????????????????????b??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????o??????????????????????u????????????????????t???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????i???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????t????????????????????????????????????????????????????,??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????"??????????????????????????????????????the last words ended with a growl. However, instead of dwelling on that, it was decided to not waste daylight and get done what could be done. With a smoothness of motion often acquired with practice, the pack is removed from his shoulders, and rustled through to produce a carefully packed tarp tent. The canvas material flapped as the tent was pitched with a confident surety in his chosen location. Soon the man emerged from his new shelter, rolling his shoulders after stowing his pack within. He now held a red bandanna which he tied to the end of a simple pole he fashioned with the hatchet on his belt, before setting off towards the saddle he had sighted on.
Reaching the saddle, he firmly planted his poll into the ground, and began searching for any signs of water while keeping the red bandanna in sight. Fortune seemed to be in his favor in at least this, as he quickly found a draw leading to a small, but fast-moving stream. Next came a back track to retrieve vessels and to carry the water back to camp. Now came the time to use the tinder and kindling to carefully start a fire within a prepared ring of stones. Figuring that he might as well make use of the sunlight, a magnifying glass was used to start it. Once that got going, a small modest bake kettle had water set to boil within while provisions were prepped for a basic stew made from jerky and a few available root vegetables. Next to that sat a blue enameled coffee pot that the likes of which many a camper would recognize. Once the water was boiling, the pine needles gathered earlier were cut and steeped to make a simple “tea “within this typical camp feature.
Later, having finished his simple dinner, the man cleaned up after himself. He then sat by the fire sipping his pine needle tea from a mug. Shadows began to play about the trees, signs that the sun was setting. The wind blew softly around the side of the hill upon which the was camp was set, and some small contentment was felt. Things were going to be difficult in the coming days, but mindfulness of the current moment could help maintain sanity instead of a spiraling of anxiety. Now something else to ease the mind, turning this basic pole into a proper walking stick. The fire crackled, sending smoke into the air. A smile, the trees this wood came from did reach the sky, just not the way or form they had intended.
