Plan the operation well in advance of the actual cut. Some companies will position motion detectors and video cameras along roads, bridges, and within the stand itself nearing the time of operations. Plan alternative means of access and avoid roads and peak forest-use seasons.
3) Have someone else purchase spikes, or devise a surrogate project like deck-building, retaining wall, or any reason why you would purchase spikes. Cut off the heads so they can’t be pulled out of the trees or use rebar cut in ten-inch lengths. Ceramic spikes are also becoming popular, as metal detectors can’t locate them.
4) Clean your work area thoroughly. A six-month investigation by state conservation officers and the FBI traced tree-spiking nails to Frank Ambrose, twenty-six, an affiliate of the ELF, through hardware store surveillance tapes. His car was also spotted near the forest at the time of the incident, and police found hammering and metal-cutting tools and cotton gloves with a residue similar to that from the spikes in Ambrose’s apartment.
5) Sink the nails past the bark line so that the protective sap layer covers the spike and is more difficult to extricate. Use tree-climbers (spiked foot harnesses used by arborists and linesmen) or a ladder to pound nails in at higher levels.
6) Always use gloves and leave no trace.
7) Carefully inform the authorities of the exact location of the spiked forest well in advance of any intrusive road building or logging.
Illegal trail building can do harm to the environment if not carefully executed. Mountain bike enthusiasts are notorious for building new trails on private or government lands and are often caught, punished accordingly, and the trails removed. These ventures are usually self-serving with no intent to help save an area from development. Well planned and conceived hiking trails, including water trails or canoe routes, work favourably in garnishing public support. However, a poorly constructed trail can have a rebound effect if improperly established. Portage trails need to be carefully scrutinized for historic or cultural importance and cleared accordingly. New hiking trails must also conform to the doctrines of sustainable trail-building techniques: avoiding fall-line or steep inclines where runoff may occur; avoiding cutting trees more than four inches in diameter; and avoiding sensitive flora and fauna. If an illegal trail conforms to proper trail construction methodology and there is no harm done to the ecological integrity, the local forestry office has less of a case against the perpetrator. Trail construction should be done in the off-season with the employment of hand tools only. On average, two seasoned trailbuilders can construct five hundred to a thousand metres of trail in a day’s work using nothing more than a Pulaski (a single-bit axe with an adze-shaped hoe extending from the back), loppers, and rake. The pay is lousy but the associated benefits are enormous.
River sculpture — the art of misfortune.
PART TWO
JOURNEY’S END:
SIX WAYS TO DIE ON THE TRAIL
One can survive everything, nowadays, except death, and live down everything except a good reputation.
— Oscar Wilde (1854–1900)
There are many more ways to live in the wilderness, comfortably and secure, than there are ways to die. The abruptness of tragedy along the trail compels us to be more wary. Wilderness is not the arena in which you always learn from your mistakes. And mistakes are not patented by the uninitiated or foolish alone; they are often perpetrated by seasoned adventurers who should know better. The section titled Journey’s End purposely extracts all that is good about the adventure; the intrinsic pristine beauty of the landscape, the friendly camaraderie, the experience, and replaces it with the unmasked realities of life along the trail. It is not with the intention of dissuading the adventure-seeker from embarking on a journey, but to make him aware of the ease in which misadventure may take hold if unprepared. Living comfortably and peacefully in the wilds depends on a reliance of accrued knowledge, accepting all and any possibilities, and being humble in the face of Nature.
What we don’t know will hurt us.
SIX
HYPOTHERMIA
Iron rusts from disuse; stagnant water loses its purity and in cold weather becomes frozen; even so does inaction sap the vigour of the mind.
— Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519)
You start to shiver, sporadically at first, but then uncontrollably. Hands become numb and it’s difficult to take the lens cap off your camera. Goosebumps form over your entire body it seems as your breathing becomes quick and shallow. Shivering is violent now and any movements are slow and laboured. You stumble and your hat falls off but you don’t pick it up. Lips are pale. Ears, fingers, and toes are turning blue. Suddenly you feel this warm sensation and the shivering stops but you have trouble speaking. Your hands remain limp at your sides but you stagger on. You forget where you are and where you are going. Exposed skin becomes blue and puffy. There is some comfort as you lie down on the wet ground. Breathing slows as you drift off. Half an hour later your heart stops.
Hypothermia can occur in the summer; most people don’t realize this. Parents watch as their children swim off the dock at the cottage. Within fifteen minutes their lips are blue and they’re shivering uncontrollably. They wrap towels around them and tell them to sit in the sun or put clothes on. What parents don’t know is that little Johnny’s core temperature has dropped two degrees Celsius, from the normal thirty-seven degrees down to thirty-five degrees. That doesn’t seem like much but when the body temperature drops below thirty degrees, all major organs fail and clinical death occurs.
Hypothermia, or what was once referred to as “exposure,” is the number one killer in the outdoor adventure trade. And it happens a lot, mostly because people are unprepared or inexperienced. The unprepared tend to die on the trail, whereas the inexperienced die in the water. Either way, death by hypothermia, in most cases, is preventable.
I have been close to death more times than I would like to admit to. And I have been so cold and wet and miserable and tired that all I wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. But my will and instinct to survive overrode any self-doubt and I managed to pull myself from the edge each time, perhaps a little smarter for the experience. And most of these affairs occurred when I was younger and I brandished an imperishable attitude. I fought Nature on my terms alone; it was a constant battle to survive because I had yet to learn how to live within the dictates of the natural world. It’s much different now, and as a wilderness guide I have the welfare of the client to consider … and the client constantly tests your ability to ameliorate situations.
One of the odd dichotomies about wilderness guiding is the tenets governing the well-being of the guide. The guide remains, at all times, stoic, gallant, and self-sacrificing, which is true to an extent. But there are times when the guide is vulnerable, mostly due to his or her actions while tending client needs. On whitewater river trips, particularly in the Far North where water and air temperatures often hover just above freezing, it is often difficult to remain dry. The guide is in and out of the water or weather constantly — dislodging canoes off rocks, fixing equipment, pitching camp — while relentlessly checking the well-being
