Wilderness Skills Schools, Part V:

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In addition to learning to read each other, we spend some time on maps and land navigation, my personal weak points. Once, as I was about to lead Deb's group across a bridge at Stough Creek, she asked me if I was sure we were still on course. The convenient bridge in front of me and the heavy pack on my back said "yes." But after a map check, I realized a walk across the bridge would take us in the wrong direction—180° wrong. Deb also pointed out that if we ever did become lost, we should survey our surroundings before checking our maps. If you do the opposite, "you can make yourself believe you're where you're supposed to be."

Rocky Mountain Ways

It's day nine, we're somewhere near Tayo Park, and I never thought I'd need a watch in the wilderness. But without one, it's hard to make it to class on time. And though the backdrop of horses grazing near a mountain lake may momentarily lull us into a sense of vacation, we quickly remember that NOLS is a school. So far, we've attended classes on camping, cooking, first aid, horsepacking, fly-fishing, rock climbing and knot tying. It's almost like life on campus here at Wind River U.

During our stay at Stough Creek Basin, I learn just how difficult it is to find a NOLS-approved campsite. It's no easy trick locating a camp that's off the main trail, relatively flat and dry, out of sight of other campers, and also far enough away from water sources and natural beauty spots (such as waterfalls) so that the ecology is not disturbed by our presence. What's more, you have to watch out for leaning deadfall ("widow-makers") or escarpments of loose rock. And while the Stough Creek Basin others the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen, it's composed of sloping terrains, loose rock and marshy campsites. It took us an hour and a half to find and stake out a claim.

After locating an appropriate area, each group of three or four tent/cook mates sets up its camp in three sections—sleeping quarters, a kitchen and bathroom (the same accommodations as my New York apartment, only more spacious).

Most of my free time here is spent in the kitchen. At 6:00 a.m. I'm parked near the stove, waiting for water to boil. After witnessing two cases of GI troubles during our first two days, we've learned to treat our water with respect and iodine. Or we boil it.

Once the water's boiled, we clean all utensils, enjoy a hot drink and prepare the morning menu. As far as breakfast goes, we've progressed from cold cereal to jazzed-up oatmeal to whole-wheat pancakes made from scratch. But it wasn't until Karen introduced our group to the smells and flavors of outdoor-baked cinnamon rolls that I began to really feel at home. Baking is the true test of the outdoor chef.

After breakfast, I enjoy watching people wander in for our group meetings in nothing more than long johns, sunglasses, baseball caps and hiking boots. It seems that fashion at 10,000 feet stresses function, not form. Though standard NOLS issue is restricted to earth tones (to lessen visual impact), we're not prevented from wearing more colorful combinations. I think a tent mate summed up our attitude best when he said, "I don't care what I look like. I'd wear a Donald Duck outfit as long as it was warm."

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