Image: Mark Haddon
I went on a bushcraft beginners weekend a few weeks ago. Lots of reasons why: rage against the dying of the light; a wish to break out of a comfortable and much-too-sedentary routine; finding London noisy, dirty, claustrophobic and too urban. Enough anyway to feel that I needed something entirely different, natural, unfamiliar, both as a goal and a challenge. A bushcraft weekend, run by Woodland Ways in their Haddon Hall woodland in Derbyshire, was the eventual decision, one received with enthusiasm by my daughter (who lives a shortish drive from Haddon Hall) and a mix of “are you mad?” bewilderment and hilarity by my wife.
The weekend certainly gave me just what I needed – two nights’
sleeping out, fresh air, hard work practising new skills and techniques, lots
of instruction and information, and a friendly group with a shared interest in trying
bushcraft out for real rather than watching someone else do it on YouTube.
However you take in information, there’s no substitute for actually doing the
things you’re learning. I came away knackered and invigorated, determined to do
more of the same, which I guess is the whole idea of basic introductory courses
such as this one. I certainly felt I’d had my money’s-worth.
Course dates were 1st to 3rd of
October. But not three full days, unfortunately, not really even two. The
course began at 19.00 on the Friday (it was basically after dark by the time
we’d all arrived and set out from the assembly point) and ended at midday on
the Sunday. Into that time a lot of activity is packed, for sure, and
there are probably many sound reasons why it’s difficult to start earlier on
the Friday or leave later on the Sunday, but I’d suggest that a full 48 hours
would just feel more like a proper “weekend”.
The dates coincided with the worst of the petrol shortage in
London, and with little fuel left in the car’s tank and nowhere nearby to top
up I decided that the wisest course was to take the train to Chesterfield where
daughter and boyfriend would pick me up and get me to the weekend assembly
point. What this meant was that rather than just carrying a pack a short walk
from the car to the WW site in the woods I would have to lug the pack the whole
journey, so keeping the weight down mattered. And it meant I’d have to pack
just what I would need, and not bring a car boot full of “just in case” or Plan
B extras that I could swap out or add once I arrived. And given a weather
forecast of heavy rain for the Saturday, keeping everything dry would be
important.
The group was fourteen people, twelve men and two women, a
thoroughly nice bunch. Some had come as singletons, others as pairs. I suspect
I was the oldest by a margin; I’d hate to guess at anyone else’s age.. There
were three instructors, Richard, Mark and Asa, sharing the various tasks
between them.
After a walk to the main site, Friday evening was spent on
general introductions to each other and the course; scoping out the site layout;
pairing up for sharing a tarp for that night; preparing wood pigeon for dinner;
and a demonstration of how to build the shelters we would spend Saturday night
in. Then dinner itself (pigeon stir-fry which was delicious), general chat,
unpacking sleeping bags and crashing out for the night.
Day 2 was breakfast (porridge); shelter building in pairs (this
was hard work! took most of the morning); a knifework session on how to split/cut/clean
the sticks we’d later use to hold our trout to the fire; a session on filleting
the trout and then cooking it over the fire for lunch. Then rain; foraging;
direction-finding; preparing rabbit for dinner; fire-starting; and a session on
knives (types, uses and maintenance) and UK knife law. And finally getting
ourselves sorted out for a night in our DIY shelters.
Day 3 was a breakfast class on how to make damper bread; deconstructing
the shelters (more hard work); locating and purifying water; and finally
trapping techniques and UK law on that. Then back to the assembly point and
farewells.
It’s an intense, challenging, eye-opening couple of days, packed
with interest, and weather-wise you realise that whatever nature throws your
way you have to take it and make the most of it on a weekend like this. It’s a
great and rewarding feeling to look back and say “I did that”, to try new
things, experience new sensations, to know you’ve gained a load of practical
new bushcraft skills and knowledge - even built and slept in a shelter that
kept the rain out - and experienced all that the course has to offer (bar
preparing the rabbit – my hands were just too cold!).
Woodland Ways do make it all pretty simple. It’s fun and
fulfilling. The food is good and there’s lots of it. You won’t need to buy or bring
any specialised kit, just what’s on their checklist. And the instructors know
their stuff. You don’t have to be Tarzan. If it’s something you’re interested
in doing, even in your seventies or maybe beyond, you won’t regret giving it a
go.
So besides all the various skills, here are some of the
things I learned about going on a bushcraft weekend.
On this course a lot of learning and new experience is
crammed into a short time, and it’s a real challenge to keep track of it all if
you plan on taking it seriously. Taking notes is difficult when you’re closely concentrating
on what an instructor is doing or trying to do it yourself, or when it’s dark, pouring
with rain or cold enough to want to keep your hands in your pockets. There
aren’t that many opportunities for processing what you’ve just learned – it’s straight
onto the next activity. I wrote down some notes after the course was over of points
I didn’t want to forget, but wished I’d used some of the late-night sessions round
the fire to take more notes at the time while stuff was fresh in my mind.
And if weather permits and your batteries last, take pictures!
On the first evening you’re invited to pair up if you
haven’t come as a twosome. Which is practical (the option to stay as a
singleton is offered, but given the limited number of tarps obviously not encouraged)
but if you’re not used to sharing a double shelter you may find it cramps your
movement more than you expect. For example I found my (essential luxury)
inflatable mat stole too much floor space in the shelter Rory and I built;
room, especially foot-room, is at a real premium down at the sharp end – build bigger
than you think you’ll need! Only shelter building was demonstrated and tarps
for the first night were already set up when we arrived. In one way this was very
welcome (slightly drier ground under them), but a quick demo of the final tarp
going up would have been useful. If only to try it out I’d have also liked to
see a hammock being slung.
As said, heavy rain was forecast for the Saturday and for
once the BBC was right; we got it in full, from late morning through till
around midnight. Check the weather for your weekend. It makes a huge difference
to what you should bring (such as outer layers that really are waterproof, a
groundsheet, and so on) and so how heavy your pack will be, and what you should
be prepared for (damp everything). Rain and damp are bushcraft facts of life in
the UK and there’s a lot to learn about how they change things: for example,
how impractical or much more difficult many fire-lighting techniques (such as a
bow-drill) are unless you have proper shelter from the wet and thoroughly dry
materials to work with. How damp a sleeping bag can get just from being left
unpacked. And also recognising the core attitude you have to bring to bushcraft
(deal with what’s there), for example, the value of keeping a fire/ember going
in wet/damp conditions – overnight or when away from site – and the skill of fire-pit
building.
I did a fair amount of walking in preparation for the
weekend but in the event most of the time was spent close to the main site rather than trekking through woodland. What failed this old man were my knees. I hadn’t appreciated the
amount of time I’d spend down at ground level kneeling, crouching, scrambling
and crawling. There was lots of it – food preparation, fire-making,
shelter-building, foraging, living and bedding down under a tarp. By day 3 the knees were gone. Fitness is one thing, flexibility another, and you’ll probably benefit more from the latter. A gardening-type
foam kneeling pad could be useful but either you’ll be carrying it around a lot,
or it’s going to be nowhere at hand when you most want it. From now on I’ll be
doing a lot more squats and knee-press exercising to get myself in better shape
knee-wise.
The other thing is hands. Apart from helping deal with the cold
and wet, a pair of tough gloves is essential for shelter making. Branches have
to be snapped to size, bracken is rough on your hands, and collecting damp leaf
mould or pine branches is much better done with gloves on. Leather gloves may
get damp, but it’s possible to dry them out over the fire.
I found my pill regime hard to keep to. As were other
everyday things like brushing teeth, taking a dump, etc. There’s just so much stuff
going on from start to finish that normal routines can easily be forgotten. If
you’re on any critical medication I’d keep your must-take pills somewhere you
positively won’t overlook them, like in your coffee mug.
On which note, it helps to have your pack well organised. There's a fair amount of "for our next activity you'll need this..." which sent us regularly scampering off to tarps/shelters to retrieve things like first aid kits or water bottles from wherever we'd stashed them.
Facilities are one basic crapper in a raised shed a short
walk from the main site, down which used paper must not be put – it goes into an
old cake tin. The instruction given was then to burn the used paper, but the
roll supplied was so damp it would barely catch alight, let alone flame, so a
lot of matches got used to inadequate effect. I realise now I could have put
some (alcohol-based) hand sanitiser on the paper as an accelerant (and very
possibly burned the whole structure down!). Bring your own toilet paper as WW
advise, keep it dry and use that instead of any provided. I made a loo pouch
out of an old pencil case with paper, matches, lighter and hand sanitiser, so I
could just grab that and go (so to speak). The advice given not to look down while
in residence was spot on!
There’s a very distinct pungent, slightly acidic scent to
the woodland floor mulch, which you’ll spend quite a time kneeling on, and even
gathering up for shelter-building. It soaks in everywhere when it’s damp, particularly
into trousers. Woodsmoke from the camp fire also gets into all your clothes. Be
aware of how rich you’ll smell when you get home! If you’re anything like me,
you’ll want a really hot bath or shower anyway, but have the washing machine on
standby too…
What I brought, and how it performed.
For clothing I wore a lightish Tornado waterproof jacket by
Peter Storm, Fjallraven Vidda Pro trousers, an old Regatta fleece pullover, a
cotton shirt, an ancient M&S wicking long-sleeve vest, BAM bamboo (good
anti-microbial properties) trunks, thick wool socks and Keen Targhee 2 walking boots.
In the backpack was a Mil-tec poncho as SHTF back-up, a pair of old leather insulated gloves, waterproof over-trousers (which certainly did come in very handy) a spare pair of
pants and socks, a merino wool base layer and a set of thermals just in case.
Note: WW recommend you don't bring expensive outer stuff because of the risk of sparks from the camp fire burning holes in it. This really does happen to synthetics; one of the group, Kelly, had a hole the size of a halfpenny burned through her jacket by a spark.
Not quite how I planned it, but as it happened I wore the
same clothes all through the weekend, just stripping off a couple of outer layers before getting into the sleeping bag. The Peter Storm jacket stood
up well to the rain but when the outer shell finally got wetted out it was quite cold to wear. The Fjallraven
trousers – one of the two big items I bought specially for the weekend – were
excellent, really tough and cleverly thought out with heaps of pockets, and should serve
me for years. Expensive but recommended. Headwear of choice day and night was a wool beanie.
The Keen Targhee boots are comfortable and waterproof but not very warm, and
the soles were slippy in the wet and leafy conditions – muddy slopes were a real problem.
On several uphill occasions I found myself sliding gracefully back downhill on
all fours and several other times losing my footing going downhill. In dry weather
most types of boot should be fine, I reckon. I'll be looking for a pair of cheap old army boots over the winter.
The backpack was the other main item I bought for the
weekend. I already had an old Savotta 323 rucksack which claims to be
50 litres in size, but really is more like 35 at most. It’s also got simple leather
shoulder straps and no waistbelt, so not the greatest for lugging any great
weight, and I just couldn’t get everything into it either. My other backpack was
a very heavy Osprey 65 litre travel pack (doubling as a wheeled pull-along),
which would have been way too much. So I bought a Savotta Jaakari medium
backpack being sold off cheap because it was an old model, complete with 3
useful Molle pouches making around 40 litres in all, and this proved exactly
what was needed. Very tough, lots of water resistance and easy to carry, while
the pockets made it simple to organise stuff.
My sleeping bag was a four-year-old Mountain Hardwear
Hyperlamina Spark, synthetic fill rated to 0degC, which is very light and packs down really
small. Given the expected rain (and a lack of confidence in my ability to
create a rainproof shelter!) I also brought a waterproof Snugpak bivvy bag. Sleeping mat, which I can't do without, was a Robens Highcore 80 with an R value of 2.4. All of these worked really
well together, and there was no damp/condensation inside the sleeping bag at all in the mornings. For summer and dry nights I’d probably bring a cooler sleeping bag and
leave the Snugpak behind.
The WW kit list mentioned the option of a folding seat but in the
end I left mine behind, mainly because of size and weight – the pack was already
getting too full and hefty. I’d considered it because of the luxury of having a backrest
to lean on after a long day. In the event I didn’t find any need for it at all,
there would have been almost nowhere to fit it around the camp fire, and having
your own seat isn’t very “groupish”. What I do wish I’d brought is a pillow –
my rolled-up-clothes-inside-drybag alternative was not that great.
Our first aid kits had to be with us for all the organised knife
work sessions. I have a slim Adventure Medical .5 kit with a few extra contents
(such as burn gel) and it slips very easily into a trouser leg pocket. For
future courses I’ll just carry the kit with me all the time, and hand gel as well. I think the course could
maybe have done with a bit of basic “what if..” instruction on first aid for cuts
rather than just “how to avoid..”. The risk
of a tick bite is probably quite low but they are there in the ferns, and deer
are present in the woodland, so it’s not something to take too lightly. Tick removal
tools are very cheap, and I’d advise everybody to pack one in their FAK and
understand how to use it, if only for the peace of mind. There are also plenty
of non-DEET insect repellents available which deter ticks. There weren’t many
midges or mosquitoes but I was glad to have packed Smidge repellent.
I took a couple of light sources. Most useful was my old and
rather heavy Ever Ready head torch for evening walks, talks and mealtimes as
well as checking inside shelters, moving around camp, and illuminating the
fire-making demonstration in the gathering gloom. I had a rechargeable LED Lenser
lantern, the tiny ML-4 model, which was handy for the night inside the shelter,
not least as it retained a luminous glow after being switched off so was easy
to locate in the dark. Spare batteries are essential, especially for shorter
days and longer evenings, don’t forget them. Top tip: standardise on one
battery type as far as practical (btw 3 spare AAA batteries fit neatly inside a
TicTac box, 6 into an old 35mm film container).
That's it!
Now, if only I can still remember all this by next Spring!
