After a while of thinking about this, I finally came up with one. I recently went on a backpacking trip in the Brooks Range of Alaska. I was good friends with two people; two more I had camped, skied, or hiked with a couple of times; and three I had never met at all.
All of us, except for one, was what I would consider a "backpacker" or "hiker" on some level. The one who was not was a "woodsman". He is what I consider to be the "Smart Person" of the group.
He is a logger in upstate NY. While virtually everyone of us had spent time time, a lot of time, in the backwoods of the Northeast, our bear encounters were minimal. Our experience in Alaska was virtually non-existant.
The Woodsman had been to Alaska hunting grizzly and caribou. He knew to tip the floatplane operator. He silently sat by while there was a debate about where to put the pepper spray. Then, after the decision (a very stupid one) was made to mount them on the BACK of the pack, so the person behind you could get to it easily, he interjected with "Your F-en stupid. If a bear comes charging you aren't going to have to time to call out and get some help. Keep it on your hipbelt like a pistol in it's holster". Aaah, yeah. That makes sense.
We were trying to figure out just exactly where we were after nine hours of hiking, and where our planned campsite was. Again, he sat silently aside with me (I already learned to latch onto him
) and when everyone decided where to go, he stood up, grabbed his map, and said "It's right over that ridge". We followed his advice, and there it was.
He is the one who fileted the fresh fish we caught. He is the one who carried the rifle, and knew of it's importance, but also knew how glad we all were that he didn't need to use it. He pointed out the sheep way the hell up on this ridge that just looked like white rocks to us. He read the weather better. He read the flora better. He identified all the various tracks we saw better.
While seven of us were decked out in Patagonia, REI, Mtn. Hardwear, and Marmot gear with Lowe's packs and fleece and gore-tex and polypro and nylon shells; he was there with his woolies, wool shirt, cabela's hat, suspenders, hunting boots, and the camo pack. He wore forest green, red/black checkered shirts, and camo all over. We were in red, orange, and blues.
I've been in the woods for almost 40 years, and I never learned so much as I did in those five nights.
