The high Sonoran desert runs south from Utah into Arizona, a succession of rosy, sandstone canyons tapering off into a flat, sandy sea. Mountain lions live here, alongside bears, coyotes, and files of deer. Impact is supposed to shock your system into rough, desert awareness, at which point you set about learning rudimentary skills of the wild. We filled our shriveled bellies that second evening with a concoction of lentils and maize, cooked hobostyle, in blackened billycans. The next morning, Jill gave a lengthy disquisition on the bowdrill fire set.
Fire is at the center of the survival experience.
All campers are expected to master this primitive technique, which involves threading a wooden spindle through a taut bowstring, propping it up-right on a narrow board, then rubbing the bow back and forth, while squatting precariously on your haunches. When I blurted this out loud, other survivalists gave me stony, uncomprehending looks. You come a little unhinged out in the wild. You're supposed to. I whittled my fire tools with Ron, the securities wizard from Dallas.