Fire has consumed almost all of the supplies and equipment, and has driven the game out of the canyon. In order to survive the present and provision for the future the best option is to head northwest, to the even more remote Mill Creek Canyon. The terrain between the two creeks is rugged and the challenges are many, but along the path there is a sweet spot where a body can savor and reflect on one’s role in the fabric of nature.
Want to read the entire story? Paperback and Ebook are available on Amazon (cut and paste link into your browser) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RRGMQXH?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
To enhance your experience check out the Facebook Group: After the Virus - a Surviralist's Journal for graphic content and background information.
Fire has consumed almost all of the supplies and equipment, and has driven the game out of the canyon. In order to survive the present and provision for the future the best option is to head northwest, to the even more remote Mill Creek Canyon. The terrain between the two creeks is rugged and the challenges are many, but along the path there is a sweet spot where a body can savor and reflect on one’s role in the fabric of nature.
Want to read the entire story? Paperback and Ebook are available on Amazon (cut and paste link into your browser) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RRGMQXH?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
To enhance your experience check out the Facebook Group: After the Virus - a Surviralist's Journal for graphic content and background information.
After the Virus, season one episode 8
At the end of the last episode Will was sifting through the rubble of the devastating wildfire. The idea for the fire was probably unavoidable for me, as during the writing of the story the worst wildfire in a century roared through my neighboring community of Paradise California, claiming 85 lives and destroying a home I owned there. Since that time another catastrophic fire burned the nearby community of Berry Creek. It’s clear that fire was in the back of my mind as I wrote about the hot and dry summer landscape of Deer Creek Canyon, not 50 miles from Paradise. Unlike Paradise and Berry Creek the Episode 7 fire was in an unpopulated area.
Will tempted fate by trying to get to the cache with the fire approaching. Once the fire had passed Will searches for Hope … was she as lucky?
Hope was not around…I had not expected her to be. Most of our gear was burnt or singed, all of our meat and basketry was lost. Picking through the rubble I only found one of the guns, the .270, it was ruined, but none of the other guns were there. Hope had taken the guns! But had she been able to outrun the fire?
June 30
Packed all of our remaining possessions in my large backpack while Hope stuffed the small pack (that we virtually always carry) with the remaining items. Hiked all day across ridges and canyons and finally made it to Cave Spring, where we set up a temporary camp.
July 1
Although the night was warm we stayed cool near the seeping spring which trickled down the sheer, north-facing rock face next to us.
Unless one knew where to look (and few did) Cave Spring was hard to see from most directions, occupying a tall but shallow indentation facing Mill Creek canyon. We will stay here a few days, try to build up our stores, then seek a more permanent dwelling.
We had picked edibles all along our hike yesterday, but we’re feeling a little food deficient, so today we were intent on securing some more substantial nourishment. We set a number of snares near our campsite, then I took our only remaining rifle and Hope took the pistol to look for larger game.
Hiking through a mix of blue oak, dry grasses and chaparral, we both became aware of an increasing “hum”. Following our ears we came to a mostly dead, large oak with a cavernous canker, out of which buzzed a steady stream of honey bees.
Knowing that the tree must be full of honey, and that it would be a great source of energy and calories for us, we backed off to develop a strategy for how to get some without getting badly stung.
We decided that I would cover my skin as well as possible, which meant tucking pants into socks, shirts into pants, bandana over my face and going back to camp for the sleeping bag for extra protection.
The plan was further complicated by the need to create a smoky fire at the base of the tree and the fact that we had no matches left, meaning that we would need to collect a few materials to make a bow drill - different pieces of wood for the bow, the spindle, the hearth board, the hand piece and some tinder - we could use a boot lace for the bowstring.
I suited up, tied the sleeping bag around me and quietly approached the hive. The cavern ran from the base of the tree to where the hive was hidden inside the tree about five feet up. I set up my tinder inside the bottom of the cavern, with a pile of leaves and sticks next to it and a few larger pieces of both dry and green wood just outside - bees began bouncing off of me, warning me to keep away. Moving a little ways from the tree I began spinning the drill with the bow, eventually creating a little wisp of smoke. Within a minute I teased an ember out of the hole created at the edge of the hearth board and into a cup of fine dried grass I had formed. Puffing at the ember delicately, we watched it burst into flames in my hands. Hurrying to the cavern at the base of the tree I placed the burning cup into the larger tinder pile, and with bees now bombing me, placed the leaves and sticks on top of that. With the small fire firmly established I added the larger sticks, on top of which I added the green sticks and watched the heavy white smoke billow right up into the cavity. Brushing off as many bees as I could I was stung twice, once on my wrist and once on the small part of my face left uncovered. I pulled the sleeping bag tight around me for additional protection. I could hear Hope fretting and encouraging me to hurry from a distance.
Placing more leaves on the fire I blew on it to create more smoke. Although the buzzing continued and many of the bees flew away, the remaining bees became less active as the smoke provided the desired lethargy. I was stung once more on the neck, but now had a heavy plume of smoke calming the bees in the tree…it was now or never. Reaching up into the tree with my knife I cut around the large comb, hewing off a piece the size of a bread loaf. This size comb would produce more than enough honey to fill one of our two canteens, so brushing off the bees I ran quickly, got a hundred yards away from the hive before brushing off the remaining bees, throwing off the hot sleeping bag and enjoying Hope’s excited cheers!
We headed back to camp, chewing on honeycomb - wax and all! Squeezing the comb with our bare hands we quickly filled the canteen - this is energy we can use for days - and there was still more where that came from!
By the time we were done and had licked the honey off our fingers, hands and wrists, it was midday. Abandoning our hunting plans we went to check our snares and were happy to have caught a large woodrat. We spitted it over a small fire and had it for lunch.
We spent the heat of the afternoon knapping some stone arrow-points from some quartz that we had found, all the while reviewing many of the other skills I had taught her.
Near dusk we rechecked our snares and had one gray squirrel, which we spitted and split as we had the woodrat.
July 2
After having pine needle tea with honey we again headed out with our guns. It has been so long since we have seen anyone and we are so distant from any communities that I feel comfortable shooting as needed. This time we got lucky as we spotted a healthy doe, not ten minutes from camp. I used just one of my five remaining bullets to drop her - then we spent the entire day drying and smoking meat, the little bit of fat rendered for future use. With the heat, much of the meat is fully jerked by day's end. With no salt for the hide we use the late afternoon to thoroughly scrape the inside of the cape, then dig a pit which we fill with water from the spring to immerse the hide.
I am much relieved to again have a large supply of meat which will sustain us well for the foreseeable days.
To be certain that nothing steals the meat I keep as much of it as I can with me in my pack, Hope carries some, and the rest we hang from the cliff above us.
July 3
Today we found a large clump of Himalayan blackberries about 200 yards below the spring. We ate our fill then I took off my shirt and filled it with more berries which we add to our pantry.
Once at camp we squeezed many of them and poured the juice into a couple of our leftover tin cans. The resulting wad of crushed berries I lay on a large rock in the sun to dry.
By afternoon the crushed berries were completely dehydrated so Hope and I spent the entire afternoon combining the rendered deer fat with pulverized jerky and the berry pulp into slender sausages. I had kept the deer intestines moist specifically to stuff with this mixture. These pemmican sausages will keep for weeks if we keep them dry and out of the heat, and they provide terrific nourishment.
July 4
Assuming that I have the date correct - as I write this I am reminded of the Independence Day holiday, and how the country used to celebrate it and how our family used to watch the firework shows at the county fairgrounds.
Now I know the true meaning of “independence”, and also of dependence. For the last four months I have become completely independent of the collapsed society I left behind - and in the past week have been liberated of most of my manmade possessions. This pride in my ability to survive is bittersweet - the price of it was losing much of what I loved.
But I also learned dependence - dependence on every rock, plant and animal that surrounds me, sustains me. I am part of a complicated fabric that works together. Everything around me has a use, as a tool, as a weapon, as food, as security. What do I contribute to the fabric? The carbon dioxide I exhale is used by the trees to produce sugar and cellulose. My urine returns some minerals and moisture to the earth. My feces too provides nutrients. When I die, mammals, birds, insects and other organisms will derive sustenance from my carrion.
And then there is human dependence. I might have given up weeks ago if not for Hope - not only because she needs me, but because I need her.
Humans are social animals - Hope is my salvation.
Tonight we celebrated the Fourth of July by building a large fire among the rocks against the rock face and watching the shadows dance against the cliff.