Emerging From the Immersion…
         by ian

When I first hiked out of the woods at the end of the Immersion, the coffee shop by the road seemed very foreign to me. After nights of wild greens and critter stews, I had no interest in the caffeine and sugary baked goods they offered. After living under the green canopy and falling asleep to the sound of the river, the painted walls and cash register ringing were abrasive to my senses. But after a few days back in more civilized environments, I found that driving a car and eating ice cream one again felt more normal than bathing in the creek and nibbling the ends of the hemlock branches. After I finish this article and do a little more binging on dumpstered crap, it’s back to the woods for me…

It’s been a week since the “Immersion”, a.k.a. two-week camping trip. On May 3, a dozen of us hiked three miles to an abandoned logging town in the Pisgah National Forest. A crumbling brick chimney, tagged concrete foundations, and random scraps of rusting metal gave the area a post-apocalyptic feel. We incorporated some of the ruins, like the metal grill for cooking, into the primitive skills and the civilized items we hiked in, affording a taste of what life may be like for many “after the crash.” The average group size was 10-12 people, while 25 people participated in the project overall, some staying the whole time and others just a night.

We set up camp on the top of a ridge, near the intersection of a major river and its tributary. Although a popular weekend hiking trail followed the tributary, and railroad tracks followed the larger river, the site was quite private. The eerie creaking of the train going by at night added to the new-world-in-the-ashes-of-the-old feeling. A spring-fed creek gave us delicious water straight from the ground, and plenty of downed trees provided wood for cooking fires and shelters. We had a large tarp-covered cooking area with a fire pit. People’s personal camps were spread around the area, and ranged from tents to debris huts that stayed dry during the hardest rain. Aside from a couple hours of rain altogether, the weather was very dry and comfortable during the nights and days. We even got to witness some nearby thunder and lighting. 

            The intersection of the rivers helped make it an ideal habitat for life. Signs of beavers, raccoons, deer, turkeys, ducks, geese, fish, groundhogs, turtles, and much more were abundant. There were a couple patches of nettles, as well as day lilies, cleavers, chickweed, lady’s thumb, spiderwort, mints, sochan, and many other edible greens. [note: There are these plants that look like they have strawberries, but aren’t actually strawberries. Some people say they’re edible, some say they’re not. I thought they were strawberries and ate a few. Well, I ate four handfuls, but I didn’t notice unpleasant effects.] There was river cane, introduced wysteria vine, tulip poplar trees, Japanese knotweed, sassafrass, and greenbriar. One person found a couple morel mushrooms. Sister (poison) ivy was also very abundant, a common reminder that we should tread lightly on this ground, for people have already damaged it.

Although many people ate the oatmeal, corn grits, and nuts that we hiked in, others tried to eat a wild-only diet. Home dried (roadkill) deer jerky and a couple roadkill critters from just before the trip started were hiked in, and some folks successfully experimented with non-primitive traps. The meat went into the wonderful evening stews, along with plenty of wild greens from the day’s foraging. Attempts at fishing with spears, nets, cages, and a tin-can reel that someone saw on the show Survivor didn’t yield too much; however, one person did find four good sized bass (they were thiiissss big) that had died after getting stuck in a shallow pool in the river. Some people did fasts of various sorts. Overall, the food was excellent, a mix of hiked in food and lots of wild meat and greens, with the occasional sweeter snack like ashcakes with berries and maple sugar.

            There were many projects going on during the two weeks. In addition to trapping, fishing, cooking and wild food gathering, people worked on their shelters, including a semi-permanent lean-to with a tulip-poplar bark roof. People also made many tulip-poplar baskets, including a workshop for five younger kids who came out for a couple days. The abundant (and tree strangling) wysteria was used for the lacing on the baskets. Using coals from the fire and straws made from rivercane, many people burned out chunks of wood to make bowls. Other activities included finger weaving, assembling bow-drill fire kits, making cordage, weaving baskets, working on hides, making knife sheaths, sharing dreams, and plant walks. Some people tried different diets, from three-day water-only fasts to only wild greens for a few days. Several people were dealing with different health issues and used the time to focus on getting healthy. Other people did a day or two of no talking. In a culture of over-consumption, over-stimulation and addiction, I found it very powerful how much not eating, not talking, or not feeling totally healthy can help me appreciate the food I do eat, the conversation I do have, and the healthy choices I can make.

            People generally worked in small groups and sometimes by themselves as they worked on projects or explored the area with plant and tree ID books. We generally gathered all together for dinner each night to cook, eat, talk about the things we were working on, and joke around. We had one talking circle, where the talking stick was passed at least three times and people voiced the concerns and excitements that were coming up during our time together.

            My main project was a three-day water only fast. Adding the days it took to ease into and out of it, it basically took the entire time we were out there. I found myself getting really weak and unmotivated, so some days I didn’t move more than was necessary to shit and drink water. I was hoping to cleanse some toxins from my body and just learn more about my relationship with food. I was also hoping to shit out black colloidal plaque that several people mentioned, but it didn’t happen for me. It felt good to challenge some of the anxieties I have about food. I’m glad I did the fast when I felt motivated to do so, but I wish I had had more energy to hike and swim and explore while I was out there. I sure do have a new appreciation for food. And I know that dumpstered gas-station pizza is probably not the healthiest food for my body, but there I was, cramming it into my mouth in a parking lot in Asheville two days after hiking out. Oh well, at least I know how much of a sugar/processed grain/cheese junky I really am, and understanding is the first step to making a change (right?).

            I did find the energy to burn out a bowl, which I found to be beautiful and functional, as well as very complimentary to my rivercane utensils. I was checking a fish net one morning, naked in the stream, and did have the opportunity to kill a sunfish. I stabbed it in the spinal cord and twisted and felt it’s last thrust of life fade away. I learned how to gut and cook a fish, and ate that sunfish for lunch. It was delicious and beautiful to have such a direct connection to my food and the world around me. I dealt with some depression during the two weeks, which may have been linked to my diet, maybe to something else. Feeling lonely and depressed in a very natural setting with very few of my regular comforts/distractions around, i.e. tobacco, beer, sugar, or unhealthy amounts of food, was a challenge for me. Being forced to just feel shitty and deal with that on my own and with the people around me helped me learn about my moods and how I can make healthier choices for myself.

One of the upsides to having no energy during my fast was that I just sat in one place for eight hours and watched the sun move in the sky- I felt my relationship with the woods changing. I was on a first name basis with many of the plants and other life forms around me, entities that for years I had been hiking quickly past and knew only as mere acquaintances. I had a heart-to-root talk with sister ivy, which in the past had given me some very itchy rashes. I recognized that sister ivy was evidence of a habitat disturbed by people, and so I promised to step lightly in the area and do my best to protect this and other areas from destructive people. In exchange, I requested that I please not be given a rash, at least for these two weeks. Well, I did my best to live lightly on the land, and I got no rash.

            After spending the winter reading books in the city, I had decided that I wanted to live totally primitive, whatever that means. After a couple weeks in the woods, I realized that living without phones and peanut butter was not something I wanted to do right now. The process of reconnecting to the natural world was going to be just that for me, a process. For the time being, I may eat shoplifted salmon and drive across the country to see friends. However, the Immersion project gave me tools and connections and inspiration to continue reconnecting with the uncivilized out there and inside me.

            It was great for me to live outside and build my relationships with the stinging nettles and the ash trees and the other new human friends I met during the Immersion. I would have liked to do more group work on interpersonal relationships and healing, but I did have several deep and meaningful conversations with people and the land. People were generally very motivated and helpful, sharing the different skills we had. It was great for me to be at the intersection of all these people on their own rewilding paths. People came from all over the country, from just down the road to Massachusetts to Oregon. Many people scattered after everyone had hiked out by May 15, but I know that I will keep up many of the relationships I built while at Runyon. And hopefully sister ivy and i will continue to communicate so beautifully.