By Ky Furneaux
Hike for Survival began as an overheard sentence, ended in the adventure of a lifetime, and somehow changed
my life in between.
When survival instructor Thomas Coyne mentioned he was planning a 100-mile trek across the Sierra Nevadas with his only tool a pocketknife, I immediately wanted to become involved.
I’d left a career as an outdoor guide to become a stunt artist, and eight years of city life had changed me. I’d gone from no mirrors and few showers to long hair and make-up sessions. I was never out of cell phone range and had slowly forgotten what it really felt like to be me.
When Thomas asked me if I was nervous or apprehensive, I was surprised. No, of course I wasn’t, it would be the adventure of a lifetime. We’d live like royalty off the fruit of the land.
How far could we push it? How extreme should it be? Did carrying coffee count as living off the land? We agreed that for the sense of achievement we hoped for, we had to do this as clean as possible. Decision made—no food, no water, no shelter, no sleeping bags or mats, and no way of making fire that didn’t involve friction and two sticks.
Weeks of preparation passed quickly and suddenly we were at the trailhead. I was ready and keen, fully fueled on a huge breakfast and large coffee.
It didn’t take long before doubts set in. The first day of trekking was all steep uphill. The elderberries, our staple and most delicious food, tasted bitter, so a few handfuls were all I could choke down. The woods were gorgeous but I hardly noticed. My legs were like lead and I was huffing and puffing. By nightfall we’d covered only three miles and I was exhausted.
Had I bitten off more than I could chew? What had I committed to? I knew I was too stubborn to ever press our GPS emergency button or admit defeat, but what toll would the trip take on me? Would I even survive it?
This feeling continued through days 2 and 3, and by then I could barely stay standing. My body was rapidly detoxing from my usual caffeine, sugar and additives, I was hungry all the time and the food we were harvesting, although abundant, just didn’t replace the calories we were using.
On day 4 we blamed the GPS for our losing the path for the umpteenth time, but looking back I wonder if our brains were just too foggy to interpret what the device was telling us. Even talking seemed to be too much effort. I called a break and sat down, leaning on my pack. I remember wanting to lie there forever and not walk another step.
But this was my turning point, the moment I faced my reality. I would never give up; I couldn’t. The hike was a dream, a goal, a huge analogy for life crammed into one special experience. I knew I could stand, I knew I could put one foot in front of another and I just had to keep doing that. We weren’t starving. The land was providing us with nutrients, no matter how bland or bitter tasting. Survival mode kicked in, I stood up, focused and got going.
By day 7 I had never felt better. My body was strong, my mind was clear and being in the mountains felt like a blessing. My body was still starving—consuming only 400 calories a day while burning 3000—but it had adjusted. There was just no point craving soy lattés and I knew how far I had to hike each day, so it made no sense to concentrate on being tired or sore. I had never pushed my body to this extreme before, but it rose to the challenge—a reward in itself.
I’ve been asked what I missed most out there and I am completely honest when I say “nothing.” We were sleeping on the dirt, but I slept well. We were living off the land, but I ate well. We were hiking for miles every day but I have never been in better shape. We were washing in streams but it was invigorating. I came alive and rediscovered my passion.
I’ve been back in the city a while now but try to hold on to the lessons learned and make sure I connect with my wandering outdoor soul when I can. But if asked what I miss about what I had on the hike, I truthfully reply “everything.”
For more about their adventure, read Thomas Coyne’s account of catching trout barehanded.
