I am an avid survivalist. My professional kinda promotes it. I was also raised near an Native American Reservation, so primitive survival has always fascinated me.
I have spent a week "snow camping" and living in a snow cave in -30 Degree temperatures. I trekked the jungles of Central America and ate a fer-de-lance snake. And I spent some time sleeping in a hammock in Thailand while elephants and numerous cats roamed the area.
So this weekend my copy of Survivorman Season One showed up and we sat down and watched a few episodes. Friday, the kids didn't have school so my son and I went for a Jeep ride up in a local Canyon. We found a campsite on top of this canyon which was situated at 7400 Feet Elevation. With Les Stroud's survival adventures still in my mind, I said to the family. "Let's Go Camping"
Needless to say it is January and the campsite was right on the snowline of the mountains but squeamish I am not.
So I threw my excited kids and reluctant wife into the family SUV and made our way up the mountain.
We set up camp and I built a nice big fire.
We dined on my secret campfire delicacy: Burgers, brauts and potatoes wrapped in tinfoil and cooked on a sizzling fire.
However, About 11:30PM, the temperature dropped and the novelty wore off. Notice the snow in the background of the picture.
The kids and my wife were cold so they went to sleep in the SUV, meanwhile, the family dog and I toughed it out in the tent and woke up to another big fire and a breakfast of eggs, sausage and bagels. Survivorman I was not, but a fun and cold time we did have.
Another memory for the scrap book.