“Along the creek banks, there will be a level area with many fallen trees.” This was what we were looking for and hiking towards all day—the campsite our itinerary described. After backpacking a solid five hours, we came upon a vast opening in the trees where we would set up camp.
Ivy and kudzu carpeted the floor, while the decaying smell of trees and mushrooms tickled our noses. This was the first night we would camp together as the Black Bears (or Black Beauties as we, an all girl group, would later rename ourselves). This was the first night many of us would have camped at all. As the dark cumulonimbus clouds that had been following us all day began to hint of their existence, it was bound to be a night of many more firsts.
We circled up as Katie, the trek leader, gave us a quick overview of how we would spend the rest of the remaining hours of daylight. Our goal was to gather water from the creek in dromedaries to be sterilized, prepare the tarp-tents we would sleep under, throw a bear bag for our food, and finally get the Whisper Lite stoves set up to cook dinner. It was almost as if she was speaking a different language to most of us. Even so, we all shared a curiosity and thirst for adventure. We came to The Outdoor Academy, an experiential semester school for 10th graders, for the same reasons—a refreshing change and a taste of what the outdoors really had to offer.
“Hey! We should make a campfire,” I suggested. “How fun would that be?! We could cook the food over it and everything!”
There was some “oooing” and “ahhing” along with a couple whoops of enthusiasm as we contemplated the idea of constructing our own fire. Though the idea seemed like an exciting one, Katie was quick to point out it was not particularly practical. The wood around us was too damp and soggy; sticks would bend instead of snap when we tried to break them.
We leapt to work just as soon as Arrington, the other trek leader, called “Break!” It was as if the thunderclouds were listening to us because right on cue, rain came pouring down from those ominous clouds above.
There was no doubt we were all exhausted from the day’s previous events. Hiking four miles of the hilly Blue Ridge Mountains was not something many of us were used to, and our bodies could feel it. Still, our activity setting up camp resembled a scene you might encounter in the heart of a busy ant farm. There was much to be done despite the rain’s downpour, and we were all getting hungry for that bean burrito dinner the veterans had been talking about since lunch. Everyone had a job that they were doing with fervor. I was amazed that we had been complete strangers just the day before and now were working like cogs in a wheel. We were keen on helping each other build a camp that would withstand the storm through the night.
We raised the tarps in no time at all; our triple-hitch knots and handmade wooden stakes seemed to be all it took to create a sufficient shelter to sleep under.
“Who needs zippered tents and metal stakes when a layer of plastic and some sticks will do the same job?” KC said approvingly, as we stood back and observed our handiwork. All one needs in the wilderness is a little ingenuity and a bit of patience.
By this time, the rain was pounding onto our heads, soaking us through to the bone. The ground was springy and sponge-like as it absorbed all the water it could handle. The trees around were singing in the glorious shower they had been waiting for since morning, and the rain just kept on coming, filling any dry crevice it could find.
“Gather round, y’all. We’re going to show you how to assemble these handy dandy stoves,” said Katie. She began fiddling around with the different parts of the Whisper Lite, showing us how to attach the gas pump and fuel bottle just so. “Once you’ve got everything connected, it’s pretty easy to get it lit.” The reassurance in her voice made us a tad less skeptical as we watched her piece together the metal parts and gas can we had been told was a stove.
Katie sat there going through the motions she was describing to us. Once she got to the part that she described as “pretty easy,” we all thought we were home free—beans and rice never sounded so good!
“Why isn’t anything happening?” Anna asked. “I’m pretty sure flames should start comin’ out of that thing soon or somethin’.” We all laughed as she tried to lighten the mood. The stoves were looking more and more like scrap metal as they refused to cooperate.
It took multiple more desperate and failed attempts from Katie and Arrington to convince them our stoves were useless; someone had forgotten to double check them before we left. The group’s morale lowered a level as we came to the realization that we could not use half of the food we brought, much less enjoy a warm meal that night or for the rest of our trek.
“Well, turns out we’re going to be making a fire anyways, girls,” Katie said.
It took us a few seconds to realize she was serious. A fire in the rain, what was she thinking? The wood was way too damp to burn, didn’t she know that?
As if she had heard our skeptical thoughts, she prompted us to follow her into the woods where she identified a patch of hemlock trees. Their baby branches were so thin that they would dry out quick enough to catch on fire. As Katie and Arrington went back to get the fire pit ready, the eight of us left were on hands and knees, feverishly stripping small sticks from the trunks of those generous hemlock.
It took a good ten minutes for us to retrieve a satiable amount of twigs for Katie to start the fire—the first fire any of us had tried to build in the conditions then upon us.
As wisps of smoke began streaming up to the sky, Katie urgently called out, “Hurry, we need more hemlock twigs, sticks the size of Q-Tips, branches the size of pens, and as much dry wood you can possibly find. This is the most crucial time— go!”
Again, the eight of us dispersed rapidly into the surrounding forest, looking for dry timber. At different intervals, we would come running back with our findings.
The adrenaline pumping through our veins turned the minutes and hours we had been working into seconds as we ceaselessly continued.
When the first worthy flames began appearing, some of us joined the lightheaded Katie and Arrington on hands and knees, feeding brief puffs of oxygen into the heart of the blaze. Ash and smoke filled our lungs and coated our faces, but our determination prevailed as the fire kept growing. Blow, inhale, blow, inhale, add some twigs, blow, inhale. When someone had to drop out and take a break, there was another willing body there to take her place.
Almost two hours after we had begun, a raging fire erupted before us. Again, I was inspired by the feat we had accomplished only twenty-four hours after meeting each other. The fire would eventually cook us the most satisfying and deserved meal of our lives. We all agreed the burnt bits on the bottom added a little texture, and it was most definitely supposed to be that way.
