How to Camp Out Part 11

CHAPTER XII.

"HOW TO DO IT."

The following advice by Rev. Edward Everett Hale is so good that I have appropriated it. You will find more good advice in the same book.[27]

"First, never walk before breakfast. If you like you may make two breakfasts, and take a mile or two between; but be sure to eat something before you are on the road.

"Second, do not walk much in the middle of the day. It is dusty and hot then; and the landscape has lost its special glory. By ten o'clock you ought to have found some camping-ground for the day,--a nice brook running through a grove; a place to draw, or paint, or tell stories, or read them or write them; a place to make waterfalls and dams, to sail chips, or build boats; a place to make a fire and a cup of tea for the oldsters.

Stay here till four in the afternoon, and then push on in the two or three hours which are left to the sleeping-place agreed upon. Four or five hours on the road is all you want in each day.

Even resolute idlers, as it is to be hoped you all are on such occasions, can get eight miles a day out of that; and that is enough for a true walking-party. Remember all along that you are not running a race with the railway-train. If you were, you would be beaten certainly; and the less you think you are, the better. You are travelling in a method of which the merit is that it is not fast, and that you see every separate detail of the glory of the world. What a fool you are, then, if you tire yourself to death, merely that you may say that you did in ten hours what the locomotive would gladly have finished in one, if by that effort you have lost exactly the enjoyment of nature and society that you started for!"

The advice to rest in the heat of the day is good for very hot weather; young people, however, are too impatient to follow it unless there is an apparent necessity. The feeling at twelve o'clock that you have yet to walk as far as you have come is not so pleasant as that of knowing you have all the afternoon for rest. For this reason nearly every one will finish the walk as soon as possible; still Mr. Hale's plan is a good one--the best for very hot weather.

STILL ANOTHER WAY TO TRAVEL.

Mr. Hale also tells an amusing story of his desire when young to sail down the Connecticut River; but he was dissuaded from doing so when the chance finally came, by people who thought the road was the only place to travel in. And now he is sorry he did not sail.

The reading of his story brings to mind a similar experience that I had when young, and it is now one of the keen regrets of my manhood, that I likewise was laughed out of a boyish plan that would have given me untold pleasure and profit had it been carried out. I loved to walk, and I wanted to see the towns within a circuit of twenty or thirty miles of home; but I could not afford to pay hotel-bills, and I was not strong enough to carry a camping-outfit. But I had an old cart, strong and large enough to hold all I should need. I could load it with the same food that I should eat if I staid at home; could wear my old clothes, take my oilcloth overcoat, an axe, frying-pan, pail, and a borrowed tent and poles; and I would learn the county by heart before vacation was over, and not cost my father a cent more than if I staid at home. Oh, why didn't I go! Simply because I was laughed out of it. I was told that people did not travel in that way; I should be arrested; the boys would hoot at and stone me; the men would set their dogs on me; I should be driven out of my camping-place; thieves would steal my seventy-five cent cart; dogs would eat up my stock of food; and the first man who overtook me would tell the people that a crazy boy from Portland was coming along the road dragging a baby-wagon, whereupon every woman would leave her kitchen, and every man his field, to see and laugh at me. But, above all, the thing would be known in our neighborhood, and the boys and girls would join in their abuse of the county explorer.

That was the end of it; the being made sport of by _my own friends_, and hearing the _small boys in our street_ sing out "How's your cart?" and to be known all through life perhaps as "_one-horse John_"--the punishment would be too severe.

But, my young friends, I made a great mistake; and I want to caution you _not_ to surrender to any such nonsense as I did. If you wish to go to sea in a skiff, it is well to give in to a fisherman's advice to stay at home, for he can a.s.sure you that winds and waves will be the death of you; but if you have a good hand-wagon, and are willing to stand a few taunts, by all means go on your walk, and pull your wagon after you. You will learn a lesson in independence that will be of value to you, if you learn nothing else.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] How to Do It. Published by Roberts Brothers, Boston.

CHAPTER XIII.

HYGIENIC NOTES.

[This chapter is taken in full from a work on ornithology, written by Dr. Coues of the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution. It is the advice of an accomplished naturalist and sportsman to his fellow-naturalists, but is equally adapted to the young camper. Hardly any one can write more understandingly on the subjects here presented than the doctor, who has had long experience with the army, both in the field and garrison, and is an enthusiastic student of natural history besides. The remarks upon alcoholic stimulants are especially recommended to the reader, coming as they do from an army officer, and not a temperance reformer.

Those who wish to become familiar with the details of bird-collecting will find a treasure in the doctor's book, "Field Ornithology, comprising a Manual of Instruction for procuring, preparing, and preserving Birds; and a check list of North American Birds. By Dr. Elliott Coues, U.S.A.

Salem: Naturalists' Agency."]

ACCIDENTS.

The secret of safe _climbing_ is never to relax one hold until another is secured; it is in spirit equally applicable to scrambling over rocks, a particularly difficult thing to do safely with a loaded gun. Test rotten, slippery, or otherwise suspicious holds, before trusting them.

In lifting the body up anywhere, keep the mouth shut, breathe through the nostrils, and go slowly.

In _swimming_ waste no strength unnecessarily in trying to stem a current; yield partly, and land obliquely lower down; if exhausted, float: the slightest motion of the hands will ordinarily keep the face above water; in any event keep your wits collected. In fording deeply, a heavy stone [in the hands, above water] will strengthen your position.

Never sail a boat experimentally: if you are no sailor, take one with you, or stay on land.

In crossing a high narrow foot-path, never look lower than your feet; the muscles will work true if not confused with faltering instructions from a giddy brain. On soft ground see what, if any thing, has preceded you; large hoof-marks generally mean that the way is safe: if none are found, inquire for yourself before going on. Quicksand is the most treacherous because far more dangerous than it looks; but I have seen a mule's ears finally disappear in genuine mud.

Cattle-paths, however erratic, commonly prove the surest way out of a difficult place, whether of uncertain footing or dense undergrowth.

"TAKING COLD."

This vague "household word" indicates one or more of a long varied train of unpleasant affections nearly always traceable to one or the other of only two causes,--_sudden change_ of temperature, and _unequal distribution_ of temperature. No extremes of heat or cold can alone affect this result: persons frozen to death do not "take cold" during the process. But if a part of the body be rapidly cooled, as by evaporation from a wet article of clothing, or by sitting in a draught of air, the rest of the body remaining at an ordinary temperature; or if the temperature of the whole be suddenly changed by going out into the cold, or especially by coming into a warm room,--there is much liability of trouble.

There is an old saying,--

"When the air comes through a hole, Say your prayers to save your soul."

And I should think almost any one could get a "cold" with a spoonful of water on the wrist held to a key-hole. Singular as it may seem, sudden warming when cold is more dangerous than the reverse: every one has noticed how soon the handkerchief is required on entering a heated room on a cold day. Frost-bite is an extreme ill.u.s.tration of this. As the Irishman said on picking himself up, it was not the fall, but stopping so quickly, that hurt him: it is not the lowering of the temperature to freezing point, but its subsequent elevation, that devitalizes the tissue. This is why rubbing with snow, or bathing in cold water, is required to restore safely a frozen part: the arrested circulation must be very gradually re-established, or inflammation, perhaps mortification, ensues.

General precautions against taking cold are almost self-evident in this light. There is ordinarily little if any danger to be apprehended from wet clothes, so long as exercise is kept up; for the "glow" about compensates for the extra cooling by evaporation. Nor is a complete drenching more likely to be injurious than wetting of one part. But never sit still wet, and in changing rub the body dry. There is a general tendency, springing from fatigue, indolence, or indifference, to neglect damp feet,--that is to say, to dry them by the fire; but this process is tedious and uncertain. I would say especially, "Off with muddy boots and sodden socks at once:" dry stockings and slippers after a hunt may make just the difference of your being able to go out again, or never. Take care never to check perspiration: during this process the body is in a somewhat critical condition, and the sudden arrest of the function may result disastrously, even fatally. One part of the business of perspiration is to equalize bodily temperature, and it must not be interfered with. The secret of much that is said about _bathing_ when heated lies here. A person overheated, panting it may be, with throbbing temples and a _dry_ skin, is in danger partly because the natural cooling by evaporation from the skin is denied; and this condition is sometimes not far from a "sunstroke." Under these circ.u.mstances, a person of fairly good const.i.tution may plunge into the water with impunity, even with benefit. But, if the body be already cooling by sweating, rapid abstraction of heat from the surface may cause internal congestion, never unattended with danger.

Drinking ice-water offers a somewhat parallel case; even on stopping to drink at the brook, when flushed with heat, it is well to bathe the face and hands first, and to taste the water before a full draught. It is a well-known excellent rule, not to bathe immediately after a full meal; because during digestion the organs concerned are comparatively engorged and any sudden disturbance of the circulation may be disastrous.

The imperative necessity of resisting drowsiness under extreme cold requires no comment.

In walking under a hot sun, the head may be sensibly protected by green leaves or gra.s.s in the hat; they may be advantageously moistened, but not enough to drip about the ears. Under such circ.u.mstances the slightest giddiness, dimness of sight, or confusion of ideas, should be taken as a warning of possible sunstroke, instantly demanding rest, and shelter if practicable.

HUNGER AND FATIGUE

are more closely related than they might seem to be: one is a sign that the fuel is out, and the other asks for it. Extreme fatigue, indeed, destroys appet.i.te: this simply means temporary incapacity for digestion.

But, even far short of this, food is more easily digested and better relished after a little preparation of the furnace. On coming home tired it is much better to make a leisurely and reasonably nice toilet, than to eat at once, or to lie still thinking how tired you are; after a change and a wash you feel like a "new man," and go to the table in capital state. Whatever dietetic irregularities a high state of civilization may demand or render practicable, a normally healthy person is inconvenienced almost as soon as his regular mealtime pa.s.ses without food; and few can work comfortably or profitably fasting over six or eight hours. Eat before starting; if for a day's tramp, take a lunch; the most frugal meal will appease if it do not satisfy hunger, and so postpone its urgency. As a small sc.r.a.p of practical wisdom, I would add, Keep the remnants of the lunch if there be any; for you cannot always be sure of getting in to supper.

STIMULATION.

When cold, fatigued, depressed in mind, and on other occasions, you may feel inclined to resort to artificial stimulus. Respecting this many-sided theme I have a few words to offer--of direct bearing on the collector's case. It should be clearly understood, in the first place, that a stimulant confers no strength whatever: it simply calls the powers that be into increased action, at their own expense. Seeking real strength in stimulus is as wise as an attempt to lift yourself up by your boot-straps. You may gather yourself to leap the ditch, and you clear it; but no such muscular energy can be sustained: exhaustion speedily renders further expenditure impossible. But now suppose a very powerful mental impression be made, say the circ.u.mstance of a succession of ditches in front, and a mad dog behind: if the stimulus of terror be sufficiently strong, you may leap on till you drop senseless. Alcoholic stimulus is a parallel case, and is not seldom pushed to the same extreme. Under its influence you never can tell when you _are_ tired; the expenditure goes on, indeed, with unnatural rapidity, only it is not felt at the time; but the upshot is, you have all the original fatigue to endure and to recover from, _plus_ the fatigue resulting from over-excitation of the system. Taken as a fortification against cold, alcohol is as unsatisfactory as a remedy for fatigue. Insensibility to cold does not imply protection. The fact is, the exposure is greater than before; the circulation and respiration being hurried, the waste is greater; and, as sound fuel cannot be immediately supplied, the temperature of the body is soon lowered. The transient warmth and glow over the system has both cold _and_ depression to endure. There is no use in borrowing from yourself, and fancying you are richer.

Secondly, the value of any stimulus (except in a few exigencies of disease or injury) is in proportion, not to the intensity, but to the equableness and durability, of its effect. This is one reason why tea, coffee, and articles of corresponding qualities, are preferable to alcoholic drinks: they work so smoothly that their effect is often unnoticed, and they "stay by" well. The friction of alcohol is tremendous in comparison. A gla.s.s of grog may help a veteran over the fence; but no one, young or old, can shoot all day on whiskey.

I have had so much experience in the use of tobacco as a mild stimulant, that I am probably no impartial judge of its merits. I will simply say, I do not use it in the field, because it indisposes to muscular activity, and favors reflection when observation is required; and because temporary abstinence provokes the morbid appet.i.te, and renders the weed more grateful afterwards.

Thirdly, undue excitation of any physical function is followed by a corresponding depression, on the simple principle that action and reaction are equal; and the balance of health turns too easily to be wilfully disturbed. Stimulation is a draft upon vital capital, when interest alone should suffice: it may be needed at times to bridge a chasm; but habitual living beyond vital income infallibly entails bankruptcy in health. The use of alcohol in health seems practically restricted to purposes of sensuous gratification on the part of those prepared to pay a round price for this luxury. The three golden rules here are,--Never drink before breakfast; never drink alone; and never drink bad liquor. Their observance may make even the abuse of alcohol tolerable. Serious objections, for a naturalist at least, are that science, viewed through a gla.s.s, seems distant and uncertain, while the joys of rum are immediate and unquestionable; and that intemperance, being an attempt to defy certain physical laws, is therefore eminently unscientific.

Besides the above good advice by Dr. Coues, the following may prove useful to the camper:--

Diarrhoea may result from overwork and gluttony combined, and from eating indigestible or uncooked food, and from imperfect protection of the stomach. "Remove the cause, and the effect will cease." A flannel bandage six to twelve inches wide, worn around the stomach, is good as a preventive and cure.