GIRL SCOUT AND BUSHCRAFT | SACRED HEART SCHOOL-ATENEO DE CEBU

DAYS AFTER GUIDING ADVENTURE bloggers on one major segment of the Cebu Highlands Trail, I am invited before a Girl Scout gathering at Camp Marina, Capitol Site, Cebu City on March 3, 2018. It is organized by the Senior Planning Board of the Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu GSP Council. I will be talking about Introduction to Bushcraft to both junior high and senior high students.

SHS-Ateneo is one of the premier schools in Cebu. I know some people who have graduated from this school and they had created an impact on the fields where they focused their energies on. It is a fact that many of them became somebody in business and society, became great entrepreneurs and innovators, and some became captains of their industries.

I am fortunate enough to mentor a few of their alumni in my yearly Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp and am most happy to have them embrace the forgotten art of bushcraft which rural guys excel at. These few seek challenges outside of their usual realms. They are prepared, to a certain extent, any SHTF scenario and I have confidence in their abilities to survive and overcome adversities and disasters.

It is really an honor for me to be invited to talk before the SHS-Ateneo GSP Council and I thank Ms. Ann Castañares for this. I came fully prepared so I could leave an impact upon our youths. Coming with me is one of my underlings, Jenmar de Leon. He has just taken a board examination for teachers. This would be a good exposure for him once he passes that exam and gets his teaching license.

But what really is bushcraft? For starters, bushcraft is a term coined by an Australian, presumably, to describe his activity which really is similar to the ones done in other places and it is known there as woodcraft, fieldcraft, woodlore or primitive-living skills. It is a lifestyle and it is a hobby, depending on which side of the place you are. Actually, it is a way of life for the indigenous people so they could survive on their harsh environments.

What was a way of life for natives was adopted by outsiders (foreigners) in order for them also to survive and make a living in the same environments. These are the hunters, explorers, travellers and homesteaders. Civilization improved the way of life for all people through the years yet there are still spots of wilderness left which bushcraft is still useful. In fact, it is still useful in modern day-to-day living, even in urban areas. 

Modern native peoples here, now collectively known as Filipinos, forgot about bushcraft because living now is not that challenging anymore. These are the people who lived in urban centers and those who populate most of the coastlines and where roads exist. The frontcountry. These are the places where people mostly travel, make a living and engage in recreational activities.

The backcountry are the places where people practice bushcraft in all their lives. On these places, solitary houses exist, so far away from their next neighbors. Many of these are homesteads. They carved the wilderness into farms for their main source of food and to hunt the forests for protein and herbs. They have adapted with their environment well and learned primitive living skills by studying the habits of nature closely.

The only tool that they relied so much for their survival is the blade. They took care of this vital equipment and, from this same equipment, they manufacture other tools sourced from nature designed to do other tasks and chop wood for firewood. They have mastered the making of fire with just one matchstick to light a tinder bundle. To save matches, they keep the embers always burning.

Because they are closer to nature, they know the qualities of all plants found in forests and jungles and that made a big difference in how they treat themselves when ill. Plant identification and foraging is the most important of all skills in bushcraft. You cannot move your way around harsh environments without knowledge of plants. These same plants lead them to their best food: meat from animals.

It was an opportunity for me to demonstrate knife safety to the Girl Scout without the necessity of them holding one. These are sheltered kids who grew up in a politically-correct home environment. Their parents always has the last say on what to watch and surf in the internet and what company of friends or individuals that they should be with. Knives are the last things they would touch unless it is used to harness cooking skills.

With adult supervision. Maybe. But they are just too many and I only have Jenmar and me to look after them if we go through a knife dexterity session. The demonstration would suffice, repeating it twice or thrice for emphasis and memory retention. With the same knife, I let them crowd around me in a circle and showed them how to make an improvised pot made from a bamboo pole.

I also showed them how a thick stick could accomplish the task of making a bamboo pot easier for the knife. I am showing to them another tool to pair with my knife. What it lacked now is something to cook and a fire. Fire is another thing that is off-limits to these kids at home. It needed close adult supervision when striking a match and a lighter or turning the knob of a gas stove in kitchen or home premises.

But, today, they do not need any. They would ignite fire from a ferrocerium rod. It is the first time that they see one and everyone’s attention where now on me when they saw sparks of flame streaking down the ground when I scratched steel on a rod that got caught by a downy material which burst into a flame. Slowly repeating my demonstration, sparks get caught by the same material.

Distributing four sets of ferro rod and the downy material among the girls, the covered stage soon became a workshop of sparks and smoke. For a full 20 minutes, the ferro rod sets changed hands in tight circles, providing the girls a personal experience of non-conventional way of making a fire. Gaining knowledge from this, the girls appreciate better how fire works and how it is done safely.

 

Since it is an afternoon affair, my presentation ended at 15:00. Jenmar and I were recognized by the SHS-Ateneo GSP Council with certificates of appreciation for our wholehearted commitment and judicious efforts to introduce their wards towards bushcraft. It was a very productive afternoon and, for my part, it warmed my heart to be closer with these future leaders. I just wish that we have more time.

Document done in LibreOffice 5.3 Writer

INSIDE THE TOP 40: The Best Third-World Country Bushcraft Blogger

WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE IS THE MOST underrated and the most misunderstood blog in the Philippines. Its chosen niche, which is bushcraft and survival, ran contrary to the wants of a typical modern Filipino male who would rather swoon on romantic fantasies, K-Pop and smartphones and sweat only when he is on a selfie tour. Cannot blame them. Climate change is just too harsh on skin with glutathione, is it not?

I do have a readership following in my own country. I did not know that until Warrior Pilgrimage made it to as far as Finalist in the Bloggys 2015 Philippine Blogging Awards and a share of the limelight during the awarding ceremony that was held at SMX Aura, Taguig City last November 2015. In fact, it even snared the People’s Choice Badge for Sports and Recreation despite it having no domain name, being on a platform provided free by Blogger.

Warrior Pilgrimage arrived there because its owner worked very hard to write and post quality contents four times a month, fifty times a year for eight years. Warrior Pilgrimage is now TEN YEARS, EIGHT MONTHS and 518 ARTICLES old as of this writing. Phenomenal is it not? I just wished I received a regular chain of checks from Google Ads for my effort but I never had one since Day One. But it is not what kept me going. I have an obligation with my readers and I only give the best.

Recently, Warrior Pilgrimage is in another spotlight. This time, it is listed as one of the TOP 40 BUSHCRAFT BLOGS in the world, compiled by Feedspot, a content reader and compiler that helps you keep track of all your favorite blogs, news sites, YouTube channels and RSS feeds. You can even submit your personal blog or one that is endeared to you and Feedspot would automatically sort it out for you according to its niche.

Someone must have submitted my blog URL long ago and, whoever you are, THANK YOU! I am at No. 31 which is fair enough. The Top 40 is dominated by blogs and websites which originate from the United Kingdom, the USA and Australia, countries where bushcraft and survival are very popular. Perhaps, I made it to the list because I used the English language as my medium of presentation. Or perhaps not at all.

The list shows the name of the blogs, countries of origin, short descriptions, the websites, posting consistency, year started, Facebook fans and Twitter followers. I am honored to be in this list considering that I am the only Filipino, the only Asian and the only one from a third-world country to be grouped with such heavyweights like Ray Mears Woodlore Bushcraft, Bushcraft USA and the Jack Mountain Bushcraft School. I cannot help it but exult in my selection in the Top 40.

This recognition came at a time after Warrior Pilgrimage celebrated its 10th year as a blog which – THIS – is its crowning glory. Nevertheless, it also came in a time where my passion for writing is threatened by limited opportunity due to my outdoor pursuits, which need more of my time, as well as another diversion: writing three books simultaneously. Such recognition do not come every day and my countrymen are happy with the list and they appreciate my blog even more. Thank you Feedspot.

Document done LibreOffice 5.3 Writer

BUSHCRAFT WITH DOLPO KIDS IN BLUEWATER MARIBAGO

SURVIVAL, TO A CHILD’S EYE, IS A WORLD that is associated with home entertainment. This genre is the most popular staple in reality TV shows. It is remote and the audience does not really experience the austere conditions and hardships that the show would like to impart, never mind that it is scripted and in a controlled environment, complete with support crews, like a medical team and a safety staff.

But the real world of survival is not even that close as those shown on TV. There are no drama. No dialogues. There is only torment. Anger. Uncertainty. Silence amid the turmoil of the world and the inner you. Perhaps, tinkering with an acceptance of an unacceptable fate. Survivors go past those stage and they live. Some live but their souls got lost along the way.

On a lesser note, BUSHCRAFT, an old-world way of adapting into the wilderness to carve out a livelihood or a calling, is fast becoming a recreational outdoors activity. Although a close cousin to survival, the term is still alien to the majority of the population in the Philippines, much more so with the young generation. It uses more brains than brawn, and a tool which, in this case, is the knife.

Bushcraft and Survival are my expertise and I am usually called on to teach these things to individuals or by organizations. It is not unusual for me to find minors in my trainings. In fact, I encourage parents to expose their children to be out of doors all the time and make themselves more useful and productive, instead of being wired to electronic gadgets and the power cable. Would handling a knife be a part of that? A parent may ask. 

 

You know, it would be absurd to expose a child near a knife, much more so encourage them to touch it. You are right. No sane and responsible parent would allow their son or daughter tinker with any sharp-edged instrument and, in most homes, it is tucked away from their reach. But I have seen sheltered kids feeling lost or scared or outright careless when they happen to come into possession of a knife. It is scary indeed if they hurt themselves or their playmates.

Could we do something about that knife thing? No. I cannot teach bushcraft with plastic knives and a make-believe world. I love to train them the real thing. Develop their confidence and make them responsible adults someday; expose them to the joys of the real outdoors; stimulate their senses; and work their creativity juices to a high gear. They do not stare at a knife. They use it with their hands with adult supervision, of course.

There was a time when a knife was given as a gift. It was the happiest moment in a boy’s life, for, in his eyes, he is accepted as an adult. It happened because the giver knows the recipient is ripe enough how to use, keep and care of the knife. It is a rite of passage. It is not anymore. We live in a different world with changing values. The old ways are discarded for something politically correct, metrosexual and superficial

You simply cannot earn your first knife if your hands are soft and lazy. A child must be taught how to use the knife as a tool and he practices it on his spare time until such time his confidence would increase his level of skill. In much the same way, a child skilled in making a fire prepares himself or herself to the business of simple life skills of cooking and eating. The child becomes self-reliant and how self-reliance is now a rare commodity, is it not? 

 

In the backcountry, kids use bigger blades as if these were light and small and carve things from nature. They have developed great dexterity through constant use and they have formed their own values with these tools. I had been exposed myself to working with bigger blades when I was young because there is work to be done and, ironically, I grew up in a big city. Adults would guide me and encourage me as painful blisters marked my palms.

You might wonder why I and those mountain kids still have complete digits after using much more formidable blades, almost all of the time unsupervised by adults? The secret to that is education. I would not allow a minor, not even an adult, to touch a knife without being educated in knife safety. They cannot proceed on the next instructions without that. For this particular education, I have raised it into an art, as a necessity, to remove accidents. 

One day I was called by the staff of Bluewater Maribago Beach Resort, located in Lapulapu City, Cebu, to introduce kids to a day of bushcraft and survival. These kids belonged to the Dolpo Kids Club and their age range are from 7 to 14. Fourteen girls and boys showed up on March 25, 2017, and all were accompanied by either parents or minders. I have worked before with kids in a corporate setting like the City Sports Club Cebu last November 2016 and I know how to proceed with my program.

Since I would be working with kids, I brought my protegees, the couple Mark and Mirasol Lepon of the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. Both had taken the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp in 2015 that I organize annually and are active bushcraft practitioners. Both are working full time in health lifestyle counselling under Herbalife. They are some of my best people and I am confident they could fulfill their tasks easily. 

 

I brought only a cache of small knives, purposely unsharpened, as a safety measure. They are a William Rodgers, a Fame Kitchener, a Condor Bushlore, a Mora Companion, a Knifemaker Camper, two Seseblade Sinalung, a Seseblade Matavia, a Victorinox SAK Ranger, a Victorinox SAK Trailmaster and a Browning linerlock. Since this is not an all-knife show, I pitched in my Fire Kit and my spools of cords for the different aspects of a bushcraft activity.

It was my first time to visit Bluewater Maribago Beach Resort and I was impressed by the staff, the service, the food and the neat paths to the beachfront. It is in a hidden cove among many resorts that line the Hilutungan Channel. What caught my attention is a huge strangling fig that seem to be the center that held together all what is aesthetic of this prestigious resort. I was amazed that it was preserved by management inspite that it is on prime space good for more expansion.

Kids, when they get bored, do not have a flexible attention span. You have to engage them where they are most interested. Making fire would be a good start. These kids do not have the opportunity to experience making a fire. They have adults to do that for them. It is much safe for a home that kids are kept away from safety matches, butane lighters, electric and LPG stoves. However, curiosity would kill the cat.

Kids, being kids, are bound to be tempted to touch these things that are off limits for them and that is when things go wrong. Teach them why is that and expose them how to make one. With a ferrocerium rod. They see these things on TV and probably got amazed why a mere spark from those produce fires? After a short but practical lecture on fire safety, the kids got their wish producing tiny meteor showers on soft downy material and small wood shavings.

 

After an hour of smoke and heat and slaked wonder, we observed an hour of noonbreak but, once it was over, the fire sessions continue on their own instance. I would rather have the course of their learning dictated by their own unhindered progress. When they reached a point that they have had enough, I turned their attention to MarK and Mirasol. Right then and there, they witnessed how a fire is made by rubbing two pieces of bamboo. It raised their astonishment a higher notch.

From there, I produced a short piece of bamboo pole, opened it with a knife and place it above the fire made by friction method. I poured water into the hole and then rice. They were amazed to see these novel sights. How in the world could people cook rice in bamboos? They know only that metal pots and earthenware do that function. I assured them that it is for real but we all would have to wait for the result.

While the waiting would have a big effect on their attention span, I showed them three bamboo poles, bound a cord on one end and spread the poles on the sandy ground. I placed a cheap laminated nylon sheet over it and it becomes an instant shelter. Their satisfaction rose higher now and I directed them to a row of hedge where Mark have set up a couple of different snares.

To entertain them, I imitated a monkey and a hen, activating the two crude machines as my hand got caught on each of the looped cords, eliciting laughter. Catching better their attention now, I proceed to the serious business of survival tool making. There are no short cuts to there as a knife would have to be used. That is where my knife safety session is introduced. Repeating where it is most crucial and visually showing how a knife should be held and the proper execution of knife functions. Safety first.

Grouping them according to age, they formed a circle sitting on the ground, hand them the materials and a knife each. They baton, chop, shave and whittle bamboos to their desired shapes. Mark and Mirasol helped me supervise their progress. The kids were having fun and their parents joined and helped their kids. They saw their kids developed confidence with handling and working with a knife as minutes wore on.

You do not learn these things inside a classroom nor appreciate it much from watching online videos and survival TV. The real stuff is better, right where the action is. It was a beautiful scene, child and parent working to produce their best hand-made spoons. The kids showed off their creations proudly and nobody got nicked by a knife. Education is the key. The day’s session ended after that and they get to taste the rice perfectly cooked in bamboo.

My appearance to teach Introduction to Bushcraft and Survival to the Dolpo Kids Club in Bluewater Maribago Beach Resort would not have been possible without the participation and cooperation of Bluewater Resorts, thru Mr. Erik Monsanto and his assistant, Ms. Fresha Endico; the recommendation of Mr. Gian Carlo of Adrenaline Romance; and the support of Mark and Mirasol Lepon of the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild.

Likewise, to my sponsors who provided me the wares to share my skills and knowledge and  in my adventures like AJF Knives of Liloan, Seseblades of Pangasinan, the Knifemaker of Mandaue City, Pacing’s House of Barbecue of Navotas City, Alan Poole of the United Kingdom, Markus Immer of Switzerland, Derek’s Classic Blade Exchange of Iloilo City, and Jerome Tibon of Lapulapu City. Thank you all.

The significance of the ancient strangling fig only tells me that Bluewater Maribago Beach Resort is a green resort. They saw the connection between the environment and their business better than the rest crowding every inch of coastal beaches in Lapulapu City. They do not have to modify the skyline and the land features and create a make-believe environment. They work around it and blend with the surroundings.

They have my greatest respect and I highly recommend Bluewater Maribago Beach Resort or any of their facilities to friends and strangers. It is good to know that we have a green resort in Mactan Island.

Document done in LibreOffice 5.3 Writer

PINOYAPACHE GOES TO MASINLOC

I FOUND MYSELF STILL awake at midnight in Baguio City. After emptying the last ounces of the last big bottle of Red Horse Extra Strong Beer, me and Michael Schwarz decide to say goodbye to Gary, our host here in the City of Pines. I am tired and sleepy but tried not to think about it. In a little while, we would be in the bus terminal hoping to find brief solace on a trip for Olongapo City.

It is now March 13, 2017 and Micheal has plans for this day and the next few days after that and I will be his guest in his playground somewhere in Zambales. We found a 01:45 bus and, immediately, the soft-cushioned seat of the Victory Liner gave me an idea of what will be my Dreamland Ride hereon. Sleeping while sitting jolt you a few times to consciousness and mild confusion. Curtained windows gave you imaginary privacy.

The bus arrive at 05:45 in Olongapo. We took a hasty breakfast in a fastfood chain and returned to the same bus, which would go north to Pangasinan. By 06:30, we are on the road again. We passed by the last town of Bataan and we are now in Zambales. Never been here before but, new places to see and experience, somehow remove the cobwebs of dull attention that sleepiness impose.

Tired as I was, I could feel the adrenaline rising as sure as the heat rises in rhythm with the orbit of the sun. Outside glare from gaps between curtains began to harass my droopy eyes trying to retrieve what was once known as sleep, even in its imaginary state. After about two hours we stop at a terminal in Botolan and transfer to another bus bound for Masinloc. After a short wait, we left and there is no turning back to sleep.

At Masinloc, we set foot on the town square. It is 10:30. We waited for Jed, an outdoor accomplice of Michael, who arrived a few minutes later. Across us is the Masinloc Mall and the police station and a street going to the public market. We need to buy food ingredients for our meals that would nourish us in the mountains. We will navigate the tight spaces and lanes with our big bags. It becomes an acquired skill when our police deny safekeeping bags while doing our marketing.

From the market, we transferred to the village of Sta. Rita by tricycle. Waiting there is Pips, the last member of Michael’s triumvirate of “lazy campers”. Yes, Pedro, they have a Facebook group called Lazy Campers Bushcraft. They are serious outdoorsmen and they are equally serious in introducing dirt time in Luzon. Recreational bushcraft is more enjoyable than racing with the sun and counting peaks. Like me, these guys practice Zen regularly in the outdoors.

Michael the Prussian Drillmaster is the ringleader. He is a free spirit of the woods and had found his specialty: sharpening edges. He cannot imagine hiking the mountains without his Granfors and his cache of sharp tools. His passion always clashed with the mainstream and he hates sheep. His radical ideas and the dose of temper he dealt with those that do not agree with him somehow got tamed by his girlfriend and a little bit with my guidance.

Jed is a natural bushman. Originally from Cebu, he adapted well with his new home in Zambales. Shy, silent and strong, he could do things on his own and has enough imagination to turn a bland day into an exciting one. Pips is another natural bushman. He is a pure Zambaleño and is a volunteer ecoguide and responder when requested. Influenced by Michael, Pips developed a skill in making bolos on his DIY forge.

I am the pampered guest who is about to witness their playground in the coming days. I need to stretch my time so I could be in another outdoor activity in Antipolo City on March 17 and the trip to Zambales is most welcome. After securing our food good for “one month”, we rode another tricycle and arrive in another village of Bunga. From the community, we hiked for about two kilometers to a campsite in Bunga Creek.

I analyzed the stream’s highest waterline and we choose a campsite on a higher ground. We placed our campfire instead among the rocks near the water’s edge. Under the shade from the fiery sun, the best thing to do is boil water for coffee and talk about things to do for the rest of the day. While the residents of Luzon cooked rice, I, the Visayan, cooked milled corn. Jed almost cried seeing my milled corn since he had not eaten that for ten years! I gave him the ones I cooked and more of that good for ten meals.

Pips and Michael cooked our main fare, a native chicken adobo. Yes, we dined like royalty. After dinner, Michael, Jed and Pips scoured the stream for something edible. I joined them with my generic LED headlamp sputtering to stay bright. I was not successful but the trio got two small shrimps the size of a small finger and promptly dispatch it on an ember. The humidity was so pressing hours before, so I decide to cool down and bathe on a chute of rock where water runs swift and massage your flesh vigorously. 

I slept and shared space under a Deer Creek canvass shelter with Michael. I brought my Therm-a-Rest sleeping pad for this occasion. It was a gift by Michael so it would give me comfort and blissful sleep during my 27-day Thruhike of Cebu early this year which it did. He is happy to know that and I laid it side by side with his own but differently designed Therm-a-Rest. Michael lent me his power storage battery so I could pump direct current into my Cherry Mobile U2. The night was cool and it aided a good night’s sleep.

The second day, March 14, saw Jed cooking his milled corn breakfast paired with egg omelet. Yes we have ours too but with rice. I ran out of water and I used my Lifestraw to suck water from the stream. We start breaking camp. Michael has other plans. When we were all packed, we collect litters left by picnicking locals into our garbage bag. It is Michael’s gesture in paying back a nearby community which uses this stream as their water and food source.

We returned to Sta. Rita riding on an empty three-wheeled hog carrier and crossed a bigger river. After a very soothing cold Red Horse, we proceed to the town center to eat lunch in one of its food stands while waiting for a public jitney that would take us to another location. You get to know the place, they say, when you visit the market or eat their food. I have seen the market yesterday and it is more of the same with other places. One food gets my interest. It has an ingredient from a tree. Perfect!

At 14:00, we leave Masinloc for the hills where I know not. The old jitney brought my eyes to view a beautiful meandering river filled with emerald water and dotted with rocky and sandy beds and embankments. It has beautiful forests all over the river dominated by casuarina trees (Local name: agoho, maribuhok). The tree sometimes get mistaken as a pine tree since it has needles instead of broad leaves and has small pine cones for fruit. It is a hardwood variety though.

After an hour, we arrive at an abandoned mining complex. Used to be operated by Benguet Consolidated Mining Corp., it had seen better days. It even has a small airstrip. Along one side are heavy equipment and machinery parked and stacked neatly. Dilapidated buildings that used to energize this big mine loomed from afar with their smokestacks. A detachment of security guards still manned the facility. A gate ushers us inside and we were required to register our names and purpose. Then the jitney proceed to the township.

Rows of well-kept staff houses are still used as homes by former employees and their families. There are two public schools – one for elementary and one for secondary, a basketball court, a huge Catholic chapel, a couple of convenience stores, a refreshment parlor and an empty community center which may have hosted noisy parties and discos when the mine was at its peak and very profitable. Now, it is almost a ghost town save for the schools which still accept students.

The jitney brought us to an explosives dump. We are on our own now, Michael, Jed, Pips and me. We walk towards that beautiful river in the waning afternoon light. Greeting me is a silent amusement park and empty resort cottages which could have been full during the height of the mine’s productivity. Upstream of me is a span that used to be a low hanging bridge. Steel and cables are twisted beyond repair. A great flood could only cause that and we are just in a tributary.

We cross this stream along a causeway to another bank where the bigger Lawis River is found. We settled on a point where the two streams meet. The river is free flowing and the water is crystal clear that I could see pebbles on its bottom. Sometimes, I could see flashes of silver indicating fish. The beach is sandy and clean and strewn with pebbles. I could just lay flat a ground tarp and Therm-a-Rest and slept under the stars but the sight of that hanging bridge gave me a cold sweat.

I choose a high deck with a roof. The floor is wood and it is empty save for two sets of bench and seats. I would settle here for the night. Brought out my tools, a headlamp, pots, instant coffee and the Swiss Army emergency burner after I had placed the ground tarp and the Therm-a-Rest over it. Prepared also a small lantern and place it for easy access when darkness comes. I go down to the campsite, foraged dry grass and twigs, and started a fire inside my burner. Coffee first for me.

Tempted by the cool water of the river as against the humid air that begins to be felt in the low afternoon, I swam into its depths. I stayed long enough until I felt my body in a shivering stage. Going back to the fireplace, Pips had started a fire on wood supplied by Michael the Prussian. These are dry casuarina wood cut neatly by Michael’s shark-toothed camp saw. Meanwhile, Jed had just butchered two live fowls and start dressing it.

I cooked the rest of our day’s rice in my pot. We have clean piped water provided free from the resort’s reservoir. I believe we will enjoy another feast fit for the royalty in a short while. One free-rein chicken is cooked as soup which we will dine on tonight while the other one is preserved for tomorrow’s meal. The place is deserted and very silent. I just love the ambiance. In the waning light, our campfire emerged as a source for company. 

I woke up very early on the third day, March 15, and it is silent. No voices from the trio. I went down the stairs to and investigate last night’s campfire. The ground is cold. A snore emanated from one of the tents. Bored, I go back to my Therm-a-Rest and chase more sleep. I woke up again just when sunrise had crested over the mountain across me and flood my eyes with golden sunshine. Made some noise chopping wood with my small Knifemaker Camp Knife.

Made another small fire inside the burner for another day of coffee. The camp starts to stir. Two zippers made their long arching runs and out came Pips and then Jed. Michael do not need any. He loves old camp setups like the heavy Deer Creek canvass sheet. All the air in the world. Varmints too. A good fire emerged spurred on by the heat-efficient casuarina. Rice, coffee, sliced gumbo adobo and leftover chicken from last night.

We break camp and followed a path up a slope. It used to be a road but nature reclaimed it. Vegetation is different here. There are fruit-bearing trees, stringy bamboos, grass and more indigenous vegetation. Beside this old road is a raised concrete trough that transfers running water down to the old township. A juvenile monitor lizard escaped as potential food using the trough, nimbly flowing with the swift current.

Rusting sluice valves are placed along the paths of small streams that run down the mountain, crossing the road, and into the main river. These may have been part of a flood control system used by the mine company, diverting excess water to where it is most needed. Michael wanted Jed to cook the preserved chicken wrapped in leaves so I foraged the broad leaves of a parasol-leaf tree (binunga).

I see traces of a horse leaving a shod hoof print on mud that hardened with its signatory droppings. Walking on a warm morning is eased by shady areas and a constant flow of breeze. We may have walked four kilometers and we stopped beside a cashew tree. Not that it is shady, but because it had dropped plenty of ripened fruits on the ground. Jed collect the fruits on the ground and removed the exposed seed from the yellow flesh. He crushed the flesh and a fluid is directed into his mouth. I did the same.

I see recent animal traces which could only be made by a wild boar. The cashew had been its food source. Nice to learn more wildlife habits. Michael saw a good campground across us on a distant riverbank shore and how he wished to be there if only there is a path. It is indeed a perfect place to camp. It is just a matter of finding a path down to the stream from where we stood which is just too steep. I analyzed the terrain and it is an obstacle.

It did not turn out difficult for me though. I did not even exert enough effort. When I saw a bare patch of ground under thick vegetation, I followed it and discovered a staircase hewn out from the bare face of solid rock. When presence of people began to disappear, wildlife used the path down frequently to the stream else vegetation would have been parted. You would not know the presence of this staircase if you do not know traditional navigation.

I went back up and called the trio. Excitement are written all over their faces. There is a wide ledge of solid rock and it have not had a visit of man for so many years. What I found are recent droppings of a happy leopard cat (melò) which may have all this territory to himself and a shrub which bore black berry-like fruit. I followed the invisible paw prints on rock, mere scratches that you can see in a different angle, and it went into a small hole among a jumble of rocks. The awful smell defines its lair.

As I was doing my small discoveries of wildlife, the three found a good place to cross across the wide stream. They were now considering making a camp underneath a copse of casuarinas but I found the ground too soggy. They are on the path of a small stream! I passed by them and drop my bag on the actual place from where I first saw it from across the stream, before I discovered that stairway. It is a raised sandy area and shaded by broad-leafed trees.

The river is so beautiful and clean. Rocks are sun bleached and plenty. Wherever you view it, downstream or upstream, you cannot believe that this is in the Philippines. The former mine administrators rehabilitated and designed a first-world country landscape when they started to stop operations. Casuarina trees project a false pine forest to a naive visitor and it is nice to gaze at. In between these are other trees native to Luzon. I wished they had also planted bamboos.

There is a natural hedge of katmon aso on one side of our camp while a fallen log protected us on the other side. There is a lone tree growing at the edge where sand meets slope and supplied us the shade. Near the log is a ditch that had been carved by running water as it made its way down to the river’s edge. Michael pitched his canvass shelter on the raised sand and I assisted him. The canvass shelter, even if it is dark blue, is a natural.

Jed retrieved yesterday’s dressed chicken and prepared it for cooking. He wrapped it with several layers of binunga leaves and tied it with natural fibers. Then he dug a hole on the ground, placed the wrapped chicken inside and covered the hole with sand. Jed and Pips made a fire over it after we found enough dry firewood. With the same fire, we cooked rice and part of the marinated pork which Pips cooked in oil and will become our spartan meal.

Michael, meanwhile, prepared a tripod. He would use it as a platform to dry the rest of the marinated pork by exposure to the sun and by radiated heat from the campfire. I watched the trio and, at the same time, suggest them with wrong ideas to mislead them. It is cool under the shade while a few meters away, on the bare sand, it is very warm. Over that bare stretch is emerald water, as inviting as ever. I will have that after my tummy gets filled.   

The log, with its dead branches pointing to the skies, are full of cicadas. The same with the green branches drooping to the ground from live trees. These underground residents have reached the end of their 17-year cycle and would soon be mummified to where they were last found. Michael claimed the coolness of the water while Jed and Pips focused their attention on their own shelters. We let the embers burn and fed with a few firewood.

I did a little exploration upstream and found a lot of wildlife activity. Plenty of paw prints on the sand, from a gang of monkeys and individual leopard cats. One even left urine and stained a rock. My tracking skills followed an invisible path which bound from stone to stone and clung on to a low branch which it used to go over thick grass to a rock on a slope. The branch is smoothed by many claws and the debris fell to a bleached rock. 

  

I went back to the camp fully satisfied with my discoveries but a small stream nearby snared my attention. I go up several small levels of rocks and discovered boar droppings, a week old. I go back when the stream becomes difficult to navigate but the stream would satisfy our water needs should we run out of our supply. Jed and Pips had already joined Michael in the water and are frolicking like children. I took a bathe after they were done.

The disappearing light of the day turned our attention to the campfire. We fed it with more wood and cooked rice and milled corn. We retrieved the dried meat and cooked it in saucy adobo. A full bottle of local brandy fueled the campfire stories. The full moon shone at its brightest and the riverscape is a beautiful sight to behold. On the river’s edge, I expected nocturnal creatures to thrive but I was disappointed. There is something wrong.

 

On our last day, March 16, I would find out why the river is devoid of other life except a few fish. I saw a school of six fish the size of a child’s palm on the stream’s transparently clear water. Why only fish and just a few? I go back upstream carrying both my AJF Gahum and Mora Companion on my belt. I need to explore more. I got past the stained rock and I am now scrambling over obstacles, stepping over gaps and cross dry watercourses choked with rocks.

Squeezing past a notch, I saw a fruit bat clinging to a wall of rock, its back facing the early sunrise. It had not noticed me and that is strange. It should have flown away but it had not. I looked closely and it is emaciated. Blood dripped from its snout. It is dead. What caused it? Disease? Perhaps. Some parts of the stream, where it is deeper and still, there is presence of algae. The river is healthy and free-flowing yet it had lacked something that may contribute to a healthy ecosystem.

Or there is something that hindered it. Heavy metal? The upper slopes were mined years ago. Who knows what did the miners used to separate the minerals from the rest of the ores. This place is rich in chrome, copper, nickel and gold. It had been extensively mined until such time all the rich veins had been exhausted or that the drop in prices does not justify anymore the expensive maintenance and operation of the mining complex. But they left the land recovering.

I retraced my path and stumbled and fell. Just a split second before I hit ground, I maneuvered my body so my back would take the impact. I fell on a rock and it did not hurt. I listened to my body for a full thirty seconds and I noticed pain on both my shins. Of course, I snagged on a rock and it scratched my shins. Feeling a bit dazed, I stood up and started. Suddenly a snake that I had not noticed came alive just a meter away from me and made its escape. I gave chase with camera but lost it when it swam effortlessly in the stream, crossing on the other side.

When I returned I had a cup of coffee and talked about my encounter with a dead bat and a strange snake. Rice is halfway through its course and everyone waited when it would be cooked. Remember, we buried a full chicken underneath the fireplace. How does it appear and taste takes up space in our thoughts. Finally, the embers are cleared and the chicken wrapped in leaves is retrieved. Who wants sandy chicken?

Document done in LibreOffice 5.3 Writer

BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN XLI: Common Sense

WHEN I CONDUCT OUTDOOR CLASSES involving fewer than seven persons or if I find a few participants who are not athletic enough to withstand the rigors of my best campsites, I turn to the ones that I had chosen before as best for these conditions. Usually, it is either at Camp Xi or on the original site of Camp Damazo where the first Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp was held. Whichever, both are in Cebu and are in proximity to streams where the things needed to run a bushcraft camp are found.

Camps intended for bushcraft are not your ordinary tent-city-camps which you most likely see in massed-climbing-crazy-Philippine-mountains. There is a wide chasm in its choice of location, its design and purpose, its appearance and its occupants. There is no comparison and yet it shares its calling in the outdoors. Mountains bring in people and it is mystery to most because of our human instinct for novelty which satisfies the senses and the feelings and converts it to a rewarding experience.

Rewarding is deemed subjective depending on which ground you are setting afoot. In bushcraft, it is primeval in nature because there never is or was a bald and bland moment. Bushcraft would never use a bald camp nor it is tethered to an inorganic and alien ideology. It relishes at its absence and the want of it, simply because it knows the psychological restraints this Western idea is being imposed on people and their organizations by individuals who knows no better, stunting creative growth by the blind subservience of it.

There is nothing spectacular in bushcraft camps for it lay hidden in forests or what we call as places below treeline. I do not want high exposed places nor would I want a sea of clouds for it is immaterial and just a girl-thing. It is just a fantasy created by tour organizers to make quick money from star-struck tourists and gullible campers looking for romantic flings. Living for the day is the evil thereof and I look forward instead to tomorrow and the days after that which only bushcraft can answer.

I cannot understand why people love to camp on lake beds but I can understand a very few intelligent ones of why they do not. It is beyond necessity and comfort and conventionally-acquired mindsets because it is just common sense. It is not learned in universities and in Google. It is learned by looking but not looking. By looking at places where no one takes a second look. In bushcraft, you can see these small discoveries because you do not stand out. You can learn these things and it becomes a passion.

Little by little, bushcraft is now the haunt of people who, in their better days, chased their passions of peaks, adventures and romance. They were part of that mainstream crowd who flocked the mountains in every chance possible when massed-climbing was then acceptable as it is still now and glorified even more. Why the change of heart? Simple. They have ended their search. It was with them all the time when they were looking for it. It is called Common Sense.

Common sense is not common anymore. You hear of people burning their expensive tents and their eyebrows by cooking inside it. Why? They were camping on bald peaks and it was so windy, so foggy, so rainy and so cold outside and the only sensible place to keep away from those was inside the tent. Then you hear stories of grass fires on campsites. What happened? A smart guy wanted to show off his Boy Scout campfire skills on the wrong place: a bald peak where the wind always lay supreme.

You have these same people walking in one single line following their leader walking on mud and slipping all the time. On the other hand, local people walked on drier ground beside the trail, amused and entertained at their sight, but could not grasp somehow the idea of walking in mud is a hobby. It does not make sense, is it not? Common sense always disappear when obsession and arrogance of interpreting something you cannot fathom (yes, ignorance too) take hold of you.

The surest way to have common sense is when you get married and start a family that all assumptions of your “greatness” are thrown asunder. Take it from me. I have seen them all and they disappeared from the scene forever. What is left of them is that wishful thought of a second coming which they loved to let people know in Facebook. When would that be when you are a potato couch in your profile pictures? You are already an organizer’s nightmare. You have earned enough of common sense, so do not waste it at your one last shot of “greatness”.

As hard as it may seem for a second coming, however, there are a few places in the outdoors where it can become a reality. One of these is glamour camping. You do not have to walk far because you use an SUV. Set up your ancient tent and relive your glory days with your own kind. In the long run, however, it does not make sense. It overshoots the expenses that you have had when you were still lean and strong and free-spending and people for company are getting less and less. And you are still a potato couch in your pictures!

Bushcraft is easy on these kind of people. It does not force you to walk far and it does not drain your pocket. It does not need a lot of people for company. You can be an island of your own, contrary to that cliché of “no man is an island”. You tend to shy away from these colorful-clothed adrenaline-loving folks as you begin to patronize your own favorite places which you kept secret. You can do your own thing far from prying eyes of these naysayers who do not know anything about outdoors common sense.

I brought three guys for a three-day learning camp at the old Camp Damazo last November 12, 2016. Two of them had left their mark in the outdoors as part of that mainstream outdoor culture. They simply have outgrown it and diverted their passions instead to the unspoiled ground called bushcraft. They will cover new ground and programmed their time to attend the BASIC WILDERNESS SURVIVAL COURSE. Few people could appreciate what is bushcraft and their idea of it are narrowed down either on Bear Grylls or with the Aetas which is not even near enough.

It was a short early morning walk to a man-made forest where even old men could thrive. There is a trail that led to a small stream then downstream to the campsite. We claimed the old camp as ours and set up our shelters. A single tent appeared on the widest ground courtesy of Vlad Lumbab, who will share space with his office crew, Michael Sacristan. Another Michael (Schwarz), of German ancestry and an active outdoorsman, set up his wonderful-looking chocolate hammock with matching canopy between two teak trees.

I claimed my own spot in between two trunks for my rust-colored hammock and a light gray canopy. Immediately after that, we start a fire to acquire woodsmoke on our bodies and clothes and to smoke out varmints away. It was very trying on wood that was found half dry but, nevertheless, we did produce its assuring presence. Boiling water for coffee is the first order of the day and with that coffee you can organize things better like starting the first chapter, which is Introduction to Survival.

Everything has its place in the wilderness and in the human psyche once you get past the hurdles of the initial impact or shock. The brain, the nerve center and the processor of all thoughts relating to your appreciation of life, will be harder to please than you would have expected it to be. It would be like installing an anti-virus software into an affected CPU without reformatting its system. The psychology of surviving depends upon your choice of location, your common sense and, take note, oxygen intake.

If you can perceive better than what your panic-induced thoughts dictate you then you are on your way to a better standing. Stay still, close your eyes and breathe deeply, and think! Your first and foremost priority would be water and water is indispensable on that very moment and wherever you may be. Water is oil to a machinery and that is the first of the four hypothetical tanks that you should immediately refill. It is also the first in the hierarchy of needs in a survival situation.

The second need is shelter where you have to take rest and conserve your waning energy, comfortable and safe enough from exposure to wind-chill, rain, wildlife and opportunistic humans. If you have a temporary refuge, nutrition would be your next need and the second hypothetical tank to top off. Food is your source of energy and, probably, will provide you sugar, which is hard to find in the wilderness unless you have good background in plants, and fat which is almost absent in the tropics. Both sugar and fat are what consist of the remaining two hypothetical tanks to fill in.

The hierarchy of needs does not have to follow a prescribed set as long as water is on top of the tier and warmth should also be there after either shelter or food or before each or both. Warmth from a fire during a cold night or from direct sunlight after a downpour are very reassuring and heralds the rising of a confidence to survive and the appreciation of life. Your last need which will complement all your needs during survival is security. Failing to secure one or two needs would bring you back to square one. Living for the day is the evil thereof. Prepare for tomorrow and the days after.

Preparation is part of survival even when it is still not happening. One of the things that a lot of hikers fail to appreciate is a survival kit. To them it is additional weight. They threw caution and good common sense to the wind because it challenges them or they know none. They believe that it will not happen to them because they had carefully planned their trip and studied the weather forecasts. What they do not know is they are in an environment which is difficult to comprehend with an erratic weather system that can not be predicted!

Of course, having a survival kit can not change the conditions of mountains and weather but you would cringe at the thought of having none when you find yourself lost in the dark, hungry and dumb! A survival kit at your reach is better than having none. Now, what consists a survival kit? In this chapter I discuss a subject matter which I have had talked many times to a lot of outdoor clubs and individuals – Customizing Your Survival Kit.

Actually, one can be purchased commercially that is designed for those who wanted to have all they need in a small tin box. It is compact, light and does not take space but despite its contents, you wished it was big enough to fit in with extra food and first aid items. Customizing your survival kit is the best approach and it is easy. Design it to the environment where you are going to and to the type of activity you are participating in. Personal preference is your guide. Redundancy works here like torches and fire tools.

After the two chapters we take a break to prepare food for lunch. The fire had died down and, once again, we revived the campfire which is not always that easy in a very humid environment. But by our own efforts, we were able to give life to one and the participants proceed on the business of cooking their meals. Vlad uses his “fire basket” and it is a very efficient equipment, much like a hobo stove, but square and collapsible. I use my simple folding trivet to hold the pot above the flame instead of a traditional trio of stones.

Rain comes and I hit a dead end. I let the participants take their siesta. The humidity is really oppressive and, besides, there is not much you can do when drops of rain fall down on you and on paper. Not a good time to induce their attention for another lecture. It is really uncomfortable and I have experienced this so many times. Fortunately for me, this was not scheduled for two short days. If it were, I would be stressed out.

An hour of siesta was good and ripe for the resumption of our journey. Water Sanitation and Rehydration takes the next chapter and then navigates to the next which is Knife Care and Safety. Another vital item that people do not always entertain of bringing is the knife. In bushcraft, each individual carries at least three different blades for different kinds of work. A knife is a tool and as long as you do not grow a good set of titanium teeth and fingernails you would need it. If you do carry a knife, you will have to learn all things about the knife, ethics and the law regulating knife carry.

I decide to reschedule the brief chapter of Cold Weather Mechanisms and Heat Retention today instead of tomorrow. We have a lot of things to do tomorrow and also I need us to work on our fire while there is still daylight. That means we have to forage dry firewood which would be rare after that downpour. Satisfied with the stride of five chapters, I call it a day and pursue our bigger tasks for the rest of the day.

When we had eaten dinner, it was time for a Campfire Yarns and Storytelling. The fire burned as it is fed from time to time. The night is cold and the reflection of a rising moon, almost at its full strength, begins to be felt on the sky. Frogs compete with the usual night sounds as the flame flickered and hissed as drops of dew fell from a leaf. A flask of local brandy provided the fuel and as soon as it ran its course it was already half past ten.

The second day (November 13) promises to be a better one. The skies are clear and we will have company. After groping with the business of coaxing a fire to life, drinking coffee becomes part of this ritual. A light breakfast followed and then the chapter on Traditional Land Navigation. Early travellers used the streams as routes and why cannot modern men do the same? On this same manner, they have utilized celestial bodies like the sun, moon and the stars, seriously analyzing terrain and shadows before proceeding, and marking many references.

Company came in the form of the great guys from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild who arrived in the middle of the first lecture for the day. Led by Jhurds Neo and Aljew Frasco, I could not have been more proud. These guys showed that Cebu’s bushcraft community is active and thriving. They had with them guests, some future enthusiasts perhaps, exposing them to the brand of outdoors which this guild is very well versed at.

Next chapter is Foraging and Plant ID. Foraging covers hunting and trapping. A simple bamboo tube perfectly placed can trap a creature on land or in water. Snares are more complex as it employ a spring-and-trigger mechanism activated by the prey. All of these do not work if you do not know how to outwit or lure prey. Identifying a plant for its nutritional value is easy but it is best you suspect each plant. Soon we will be foraging bamboo on another location and I would identify for them wild plants that they need to evade or love.

This hike is part of that chapter. It is now near noon but we will forego of lunch. Fasting to imitate the pangs of hunger is part of psyching up to the real thing. Walking hungry and uncomfortable in an environment where you have no total control of by its unfamiliarity and by adherence to a set of protocols imposed can be very daunting. We arrive at the site where bamboos grow and taught them the finer art of bushcraft with regards to cutting and harvesting, and how to dispose the unused part so it can be used next time.

From this activity, the chapter on Survival Tool Making begins and then Firecraft. Tools made from nature come in handy as it extends the life of your knife with the manufacture of digging sticks, trapping applications, fire-making implements and eating utensils. The Philippines is blessed to have so much bamboo and making a cooking vessel from these to cook something is just natural. We have readied a pot employing my Trailhawk system and another pot system popularized by the Aetas made by the German Michael.

Firecraft is just perfect for this moment. It had not rained and the air is almost dry but I have to digest to them what is this thing called the fire triangle, a tinder, a kindling, and where are the best firewood foraged? On purpose, I let them experience starting a fire with firewood instinctively sourced from where they saw it, mostly from the ground. Unknown to them, good firewood are found where their eyes have missed. A fire would later erupt with none of the difficulties encountered the past one and 1/2 days.

Firecraft lessons navigated from the ferro rod set to the flint-and-steel and to the two friction methods that I often taught – the one employing dry bamboos and the bowdrill. We have not had success with the drill but it smoked with burnt odor and so were lots of sweat. The bamboo snared us great success instead and a wide smile for everyone. After this, we begun the cooking of rice inside the two bamboos and readied for Nocturnal Hunting.

The stream is empty of crabs. We were in a wrong occasion. The moon is at its brightest! I have noticed it last night. I searched for tree snails and I found none either. There is the warty toad that the German found but I would not bet on that as food. Retreating to the camp, we subsist on leftover food from last night. The good thing is the guys from Camp Red had left us enough spirits before they said goodbye for another round of Campfire Yarns and Storytelling. We observe taps at exactly twelve midnight.

The last day – November 14 – promises another good day and the campfire is revived for the last time for coffee. One more chapter to talk about – Outdoors Common Sense – and this is taken as an excerpt from my still-unfinished book ETHICAL BUSHCRAFT. It instills the simple truths of “Blend, Adapt and Improvise”. It zooms in on the choice of colors for clothes and shelter, trail ethics, campsite locations and campfire size, and how you act in case of wildlife encounters which in bushcraft are frequent.

After breaking camp at nine we go back to where we were two days ago. From there, we hired motorcycles to bring us back to Guadalupe and partake of brunch at my favorite spot after every outdoor stint. Vlad and his sidekick, Michael, got each a Seseblade Sinalung knife courtesy of Dr. Arvin Sese, while the German Michael gets a Camp Red patch and a soap-sized beeswax courtesy of Warrior Pilgrimage. Most of all, I am happy to hand them the certificates, which described the sum of good outdoors common sense learned in three days.

Document done in LibreOffice 5.2 Writer