PREPARING FOR CAMPING TRIP
MANY people are so accustomed to have other people wait upon them that
they are absolutely funny when you meet them in the woods; when their
canoe runs its prow up upon the sandy beach and there is a portage to
make, such people stand helplessly around waiting for some red-capped
porter to come and take their baggage, but the only red caps in the
woods are the red-headed woodpeckers and they will see you in Germany
before they will help tote your duffel across the portage.
When one gets into the real woods, even if it is only in Maine,
Wisconsin, the Adirondacks, or the Southern pine forests, one soon
discovers that there are no drug stores around the corner, the doctor
is a long way off, the butcher, the baker, the candle-stick maker,
trolley cars, telephone and taxi cabs are not within reach, sight or
hearing; then a fellow begins to realize that it is "up to" himself to
tote his own luggage, to build his own fires, to make his own shelters,
and even to help put up the other fellows' tents, or to cook the meals.
Yes, and to wash the dishes, too!
One reason we outdoor people love the woods is that it develops
self-reliance and increases our self-respect by increasing our ability
to do things; we love the work, we love the hardship, we like to get
out of sight of the becapped maids, the butler and the smirking waiters
waiting for a tip, and for the same reason the real honest-to-goodness
American boys love a camp. Why bless your soul!--every one of them in
his inmost heart regrets that he did not live away back in the time
when the long-haired Wetzel, Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton roved the
woods, or at least back when Colonel Bill Cody, Buffalo Jones and
Yellowstone Kelly were dashing over the plains with General Miles,
General Bell and the picturesque blond, long-haired General Custer.
Sometimes the author is himself guilty of such wishes, and he used to
dream of those days when he was a barefooted boy. But, honest now, is
it not really too bad that there are no longer any hostile Indians? And
what a pity that improved firearms have made the big game so very shy
that it is afraid of a man with a gun!
But cheer up, the joy of camping is not altogether ruined, because we
do not have to fight all day to save our scalps from being exported, or
even because the grizzly bears refuse to chase us up a tree, and the
mountain lions or "painters" decline to drop from an overhanging limb
on our backs.
Remember that all things come to him who will but wait: that is, if he
works for these things while he is doing the waiting. The Chief has
spent his time and energy for the last thirty odd years hammering away
at two ideas: the big outdoors for the boys, and Americanism for all
the people. Thank the Lord, he has lived long enough to see the boys
stampede for the open and the people for Americanism.
Because of the stampede for the open, in which people of all ages have
joined, there are so many kinds of camps nowadays: scout camps, soldier
camps, training camps, recreation camps, girls' camps and boys' camps,
that it is somewhat difficult for a writer to tell what to do in order
to "Be Prepared." There are freight car side-track camps, gypsy wagon
camps, houseboat camps, old-fashioned camp-meeting camps and picnic
camps; the latter dot the shores of New Jersey, the lake sides at
Seattle, and their tents are mingled with big black boulders around
Spokane; you will find them on the shores of Devil's Lake, North
Dakota, and in the few groves that are back of Winnipeg, Manitoba.
But such camps have little attraction for the real hard-boiled camper,
and have no better claim to being the real thing than the more or
less grand palaces built in the woods, camouflaged outside with logs
or bark, and called "camps" by their untruthful owners; such people
belittle the name of camp and if they want to be honest they should
stick to the bungling bungalow--but wait a minute--even that is
far-fetched; the bungalow belongs in East India and looks as much like
one of these American houses as a corn-crib does like a church.
When we talk of camping we mean living under bark, brush or canvas in
the "howling wilderness," or as near a howling wilderness as our money
and time will permit us to reach; in other words, we want a camp in the
wildest place we can find, except when we go to our own scout camp, and
even then we like it better if it is located in a wild, romantic spot.
HOW TO GET READY FOR CAMP
There are some little personal things to which one should give one's
attention before starting on a long trip. If it is going to be a real
wild camping trip it is best to go to the barber shop and get a good
hair cut just before one starts. Also one should trim one's nails down
as close as comfort will allow. Long nails, if they are well manicured,
will do for the drawing room and for the office, but in camp they have
a habit of turning back (Fig. 232)--and gee willikens, how they hurt!
Or they will split down into the quick (Fig. 233) and that hurts some,
too! So trim them down snug and close; do it before you start packing
up your things, or you may hurt your fingers while packing. But even
before trimming your nails
GO TO YOUR DENTIST
And insist upon him making an examination of every tooth in your head;
a toothache is bad enough anywhere, goodness knows, but a toothache
away out in the woods with no help in sight will provoke a saint to
use expressions not allowed by the Scout Manual. The Chief knows what
he is talking about--he has been there! He once rode over Horse Plains
alongside of a friend who had a bad tooth, and the friend was a real
saint! His jaw was swelled out like a rubber balloon, but he did not
use one naughty word on the trip, notwithstanding every jolt of that
horse was like sticking a knife in him.
The writer could not help it; he was thoughtlessly cruel and he laughed
at his friend's lugubrious expression--Take heed, do not be as cruel as
was the writer, for sooner or later you will pay for such thoughtless
levity. It was only next season, away up in the mountains of the
British possessions on the Pacific Coast, that the friend's turn came
to laugh at the author as the latter nursed an ulcerated tooth. Wow!
Wow! Wow!
Well, never mind the details, they are too painful to talk about, but
remember the lesson that they teach--Go to the Dentist and get a clean
bill of health on the tooth question before you start for a lengthy
camp.
[Illustration: 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242,
243, 244
PERSONAL ITEMS
A BUCKSKIN'S POCKET]
A BUCKSKIN MAN'S POCKET
When we speak of his pocket that includes all of his clothes, because
on the inside of his coat, if he wears one, are stuck an array of
safety pins (Fig. 234), but usually the pins are fastened onto his
shirt. A safety pin is as useful to a man in camp as is a hairpin
to a woman, and a woman can camp with no other outfit but a box of
hairpins. One can use safety pins for clothespins when one's socks
are drying at night, one can use them to pin up the blankets and thus
make a sleeping-bag of them, or one can use them for the purpose
of temporarily mending rips and tears in one's clothes. These are
only a few of the uses of the safety pin on the trail. After one has
traveled with safety pins one comes to believe that they are almost
indispensable.
In one of the pockets there should be a lot of bachelor buttons, the
sort that you do not have to sew on to your clothes, but which fasten
with a snap, something like glove buttons. There should be a pocket
made in your shirt or vest to fit your notebook (Fig. 244), and a part
of it stitched up to hold a pencil and a toothbrush. Your mother can
do this at home for you before you leave. Then you should have a good
jack-knife; I always carry my jack-knife in my hip pocket. A pocket
compass, one that you have tested before starting on your trip, should
lodge comfortably in one of your pockets, and hitched in your belt
should be your noggin carved from a burl from a tree (Fig. 235); it
should be carried by slipping the toggle (Fig. 236) underneath the
belt. Also in the belt you should carry some whang strings (Fig. 237);
double the whang strings up so that the two ends come together, tuck
the loop through your belt until it comes out at the other side, then
put the two ends of the string through the loop and the whang strings
are fast but easily pulled out when needed; whang strings are the
same as belt lashings. A small whetstone (Fig. 238) can find a place
somewhere about your clothes, probably in the other hip pocket, and it
is most useful, not only with which to put an edge on your knife but
also on your axe.
Inside the sweat band of your hat, or around the crown on the outside
of your hat, carry a gut leader with medium-sized artificial flies
attached, and around your neck knot a big gaudy bandanna handkerchief
(Fig. 239); it is a most useful article; it can be used in which to
carry your game, food or duffel, or for warmth, or worn over the head
for protection from insects (Fig. 240). In the latter case put it on
your head under your hat and allow it to hang over your shoulders like
the havelock worn by the soldiers of '61.
Carry your belt axe thrust through your belt at your back (Fig. 241),
where it will be out of the way, not at your side as you do on parade.
No camper, be he hunter, fisherman, scout, naturalist, explorer,
prospector, soldier or lumberman, should go into the woods without a
notebook and hard lead pencil (Fig. 242). Remember that notes made
with a hard pencil will last longer than those made with ink, and be
readable as long as the paper lasts.
Every scientist and every surveyor knows this and it is only
tenderfeet, who use a soft pencil and fountain pen for making field
notes, because an upset canoe will blur all ink marks and the constant
rubbing of the pages of the book will smudge all soft pencil marks.
Therefore, have a pocket especially made (Fig. 244), so that your
notebook, pencil and fountain pen (Fig. 243), if you insist upon
including it--will fit snugly with no chance of dropping out; also
make a separate pocket for your toothbrush which should be kept in an
oil-skin bag (Fig. 243).
A piece of candle (Fig. 245) is not only a most convenient thing with
which to light a fire on a rainy day, but it has ofttimes proved a life
saver to Northern explorers benumbed with the cold.
It is a comparatively easy thing to light a candle under the shelter of
one's hat or coat, even in a driving rain. When one's fingers are numb
or even frosted, and with the candle flame one can start a life-saving
fire; so do not forget your candle stub as a part of your pocket outfit.
In the black fly belt it is wise to add a bottle of fly dope (Fig. 251)
to one's personal equipment. If you make your own fly dope have a slow
fire and allow to simmer over it
3 oz. pine tar
2 oz. castor oil
1 oz. pennyroyal
or heat 3 oz. of pine tar with two oz. of olive oil and then stir in 1
oz. of pennyroyal, 1 oz. of citronella, 1 oz. of creosote and 1 oz. of
camphor.
If you propose traveling where there are black flies and mosquitoes,
let your mother sew onto a pair of old kid gloves some chintz or calico
sleeves that will reach from your wrists to above your elbow (Fig.
246), cut the tips of the fingers off the gloves so that you may be
able to use your hands handily, and have an elastic in the top of the
sleeve to hold them onto your arm. Rigged thus, the black flies and
mosquitoes can only bite the ends of your fingers, and, sad to say,
they will soon find where the ends of the fingers are located.
A piece of cheese cloth, fitted over the hat to hang down over the
face, will protect that part of your anatomy from insects (Fig. 246),
but if they are not very bad use fly dope (Fig. 251), and add a bottle
of it to your pocket outfit. One doesn't look pretty when daubed up
with fly dope, but we are in the woods for sport and adventure and not
to look pretty. Our vanity case has no lip stick, rouge or face powder;
it only possesses a toothbrush and a bottle of fly dope.
Certain times of year, when one goes camping in the neighborhood of the
trout brooks, one needs to BE PREPARED, for one can catch more trout
and enjoy fishing better if protected against the attacks of the black
flies, mosquitoes, midges and "no-see-ums."
[Illustration: 245, 246, 246½, 247, 247A, 248, 249 (a, b), 250, 251]
Anything swung by a strap across one's shoulder will in time "cut" the
shoulders painfully unless they are protected by a pad (Fig. 246½). A
few yards of mosquito netting or cheese cloth occupies little space and
is of little weight, but is very useful as a protection at night. Bend
a wand (Fig. 247) into a hoop and bind the ends together (Fig. 247A),
with safety pins; pin this in the netting and suspend the net from its
center by a stick (Fig. 248).
The black fly, C (Fig. 249), is a very small hump-backed pest, the
young (larvæ) (Fig. 249a) live in cold, clear running water; Fig. 249b
is the cocoon.
There are many kinds of mosquitoes; all of them are Bolsheviks, and
with the black flies and other vermin they argue that since nature made
them with blood suckers and provided you with the sort of blood that
they like, they have an inherent right to suck your blood--and they do
it!
But some mosquitoes are regular Huns and professional germ carriers,
and besides annoying one they skillfully insert the germs of malaria
and yellow fever into one's system. The malaria mosquitoes are known as
anopheles. The highbrow name for the United States malaria distributor
is "Anopheles quadrimaculatus" (Fig. 250F). It is only the females that
you need fear; drone bees do not sting and buck mosquitoes do not bite.
Fig. 250d shows lower and upper side of the anopheles's egg. Fig. 250e
is the wiggler or larvæ of the anopheles; the anopheles likes to let
the blood run to its head, and any careful observer will know him at a
glance from his pose while resting (Fig. 250g).
Of course, you will not need fly dope on the picnic grounds, and you
will not need your pocket compass on the turnpike hike, and you will
not need your jack-knife with which to eat at the boarding house or
hotel, but we Boy Scouts are the real thing; we go to hotels and
boarding houses and picnics when we must, but not when we can find real
adventure in wilder places. We shout:
There is life in the roar of plunging streams,
There is joy in the campfire's blaze at night.
Hark! the elk bugles, the panther screams!
And the shaggy bison roll and fight.
Let your throbbing heart surge and bound,
List to the whoop of the painted Reds;
Pass the flapjacks merrily round
As the gray wolf howls in the river beds.
We weary of our cushions of rest;
God of our Fathers, give back our West.
What care we for luxury and ease?
Darn the tall houses, give us tall trees!
However crude these verses may be, the sentiment is all right. But may
be it will express our idea better if we do not attempt rhyme. Suppose
we try it this way--
Listen to the whistle of the marmots;
The hooting of the barred owl, the bugling of the elk!
The yap, yap, yap of the coyote, the wild laugh of the loon;
The dismal howl of the timber wolf,
The grunting of the bull moose, the roaring of the torrent,
And the crashing thunder of the avalanche!
Ah, that's the talk; these are the words and sounds that make the blood
in one's veins tingle like ginger ale. Why do all red-blooded men and
real American boys like to hear
The crunching of the dry snow;
The flap, flap, flap of snowshoes;
The clinking of the spurs and bits;
The creaking of the saddle leather;
The breathing of the bronco;
The babbling of the rivulet;
The whisper of the pines,
The twitter of the birds.
And the droning of bees.
Why? Because in these sounds we get the dampness of the moss, the
almond-like odor of twin flowers, the burning dryness of the sand, the
sting of the frost, the grit of the rocks and the tang of old mother
earth! They possess the magic power of suggestion. By simply repeating
these words we transport our souls to the wilderness, set our spirits
free, and we are once again what God made us; natural and normal boys,
listening to nature's great runes, odes, epics, lyrics, poems, ballads
and roundelays, as sung by God's own bards!
PACKING
When packing, remember that a partly filled bag (Fig. 252) is easy to
pack, easy to carry on one's shoulders; but a tightly filled bag (Fig.
253) is a nuisance on the trail. When
[Illustration: 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262,
263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271
MAKING A PACK]
MAKING A PACK
To ship as baggage, fold the blankets lengthwise (Fig. 254), place them
in the middle of your tarpaulin or floor cloth (Fig. 254); fold the
cover over (Fig. 255), then tuck in the ends and roll the package into
a bundle and cinch (Figs. 255 and 256). A
SLEEPING-BAG
Can be improvised from one's blankets by the use of safety pins (Fig.
257). A section of the bag (Fig. 258) shows how the blankets are
doubled. To make a
BACK PACK
Fold as in Fig. 259, then bend up the end as indicated by Figs. 260 and
261, fold again, Fig. 262, then fold in the two edges, Figs. 263 and
264, which show both sides of pack; bend over the top, Figs. 265 and
266, and strap ready to carry, Figs. 267 and 268. For a
BLANKET ROLL
Fold as in Fig. 269; bend in the ends and roll (Fig. 270). Strap or
lash the ends together (Fig. 271).