Having been born in Chicago and raised in L.A., taking a short cut through an alley or across a vacant lot has always been my idea of hiking. And although I saw in “The Yearling” that even wise and noble Gregory Peck could find a good reason to shoot
a deer, “Bambi” convinced me that until one of those critters actually threatened to
destroy my family’s food supply, my policy would be to live and let live.
My attitude towards camping was equally level-headed. Just as I felt that any six
or eight-legged varmint that flew or crawled into our home was fair game, and was just
asking to be swatted or squashed, anybody who chose to venture into the wilderness had
no one but himself to blame if he got himself mauled or eaten. But you know how it is
with peer pressure when you’re fourteen and two of your friends, Steve and Barry, both
of whom had scouting experience, suggest venturing into the woods for a couple of
days of high adventure. Or, to be more exact, as it turned out, two days and two nights in
the bowels of hell.
Frankly, I don’t recall what I expected, but, for openers, I didn’t expect it to be as
sweltering as it was. Hot weather and no air-conditioning is not a good combination.
Air-conditioning, my favorite invention, by the way, is the one thing that truly separates
us from the lower forms of animal life, including the French.
One of the most vivid memories of that camping experience is that from the
moment that Steve’s mother dropped us off in the foothills all I wanted was a peach. I
had always liked peaches, but no more than apricots or plums. But over the next 48
hours, I craved a peach the way nobody before or since has craved anything. I remember
distinctly thinking I would gladly trade my entire baseball card collection for a single ripe
peach.
The only sustenance we had were packages of dehydrated food. I had never
before had experience with survivor fare. For those of you who have been spared, it is
powder to which you add water, thus turning it -- voila! -- into wet powder. The way you
distinguish one meal from another is quite simple: you read the label on the package.