I am approaching the start of the Texas Perimeter Hike much more rapidly than I thought possible. I have scheduled a late August 2009 start, so I have approximately three months until I start walking.
After many conversations, I am committed to walking as close the perimeter as possible, along public roads and along land on which I have gotten permission to hike. The idea of walking along the exact edge of the state has been tantalizing but unrealistic given the thousands of landowners along the perimeter and the security of the US-Mexico border. I want a successful and enjoyable trip, an interesting tale to tell, and the trust and support of my fellow Texans, for without their participation, this trip would lessen greatly in significance.
In BOSS news, I regret to report that I did not receive the aforementioned scholarship (from the last post). In lieu of that, I have worked out an agreeable deal with BOSS so that I can still participate in the mid-July to early August program. As of three weeks ago, I am signed up to do a 28-Day Field Course.
Exactly what I have signed up for will be revealed day by day. As relates to the Texas Perimeter Hike, I am most interested in the physical challenges presented by BOSS. For over 40 years, the instructors of BOSS have been committed to teaching a true hands-on outdoor survival experience, and it all started with the 28-Day Field Course.
Of course, it is a little shocking to go through the paperwork. I had to have a physician give me a physical and fill out three sheets of paperwork. Here are some samples of what was included:
“On some courses, students may hike as much as 30 miles in a day, over rugged and difficult terrain, and at altitudes that may reach 11,000 feet above sea level. On some courses, students may go up to 4 days without food. Students may have very limited access to water and can become dehydrated.”
This first excerpt is just a primer. There’s about half a sheet of reading in Font 10 before a physician is required to write down even the basics of the physical. The first page is meant to be a speed bump, a written reminder that the physician needs to slow down and really make sure that he stands behind his observations.
“Food packs carried on most BOSS courses consist of simple food rations, usually between 1000-1500 calories/day.”
I hiked the
“Does this person appear healthy and fit enough to hike an average of 15-20 miles a day, with little to no food for up 4 days and very limited access to water?”
I love this question. Is any ordinary physician really qualified to answer it? I suppose that’s why BOSS uses the word “appear.” A person can “appear” to be able to do quite a lot of things, but if they’re not, well, the doc can still maintain that they “appeared” fine. I found Dr. William Snider at the county clinic, and I could see his face contort just a touch as he glanced through the paperwork. He was friendly about the whole thing and endorsed me in so far as I “appeared” capable and enthusiastic.
Then I had to fill out a Participant Agreement form, which is part of a nine-page application. Again, there is much to be read in Font 10.
There are a few words which jump out again and again, namely “risks,” “injury,” and “death.” A quick count reveals the frequency of each word and their variations:
Risks = 16 times
Injury = 11 times
Death = 4 times
“Extreme” and “severe” get mentioned a few times, twice followed by the word “death.” In other words, this is a serious course with serious potential drawbacks.
It gets better:
“Participants may be injured or caused to become ill by natural hazards and elements, including: falling rocks and trees, flash floods (including in slot canyons), lightning, extreme heat and cold, stinging and biting wild and other animals and insects, toxic plants, hanta virus,
Bubonic plague? I suppose I might also face the risk of being lanced by a roaming knight. As it turns out, vermin still harbor the plague in the deserts of the southwest, so I could in fact come down with a case of the bubonic plague sniffles. If I fall dead and there are fleas on me, don’t get too close.
The central paragraph with the above sentence is about five times as long with all kinds of injuries, illnesses, and other potential setbacks, including death which is admittedly less of a setback and more of a permanent position. It’s much of what you might expect, heat exposure, dehydration, hypothermia, aches and pains. I didn’t get this much detail in my application to be a Peace Corps volunteer in
Rereading the application, I stumble upon this line, which is a gem of an introduction:
“I understand that BOSS does not want to frighten me or reduce my enthusiasm for this activity, but believes it is important for me to know in advance what to expect and to be informed of the inherent risks.”
I know I’d say pretty much the same thing if I was about to lead people through plague territory.
Contrary to the instincts of self-preservation, the paperwork has heightened my enthusiasm for the course. I said as much on my application: “I want to learn to endure the physical challenges of your course as preparation for this endeavor. Traditional skills and an acceptance of the natural world are applicable to my personal philosophy about how best to interact with the outdoors… I am excited about relearning how to live.”
Perhaps even more indicative of my mood is something I wrote in my journal about mankind’s history of difficult decisions, in light of my upcoming Texas Perimeter Hike:
“It must have been an uncomfortable burden, looking across a vast and empty ocean, then a wide and foreign land. Their history is my history. I could choose a safer path; it is open to me. But I reach instead for an uncompromising hardship, back to a time when such a decision was commonplace, so difficult were the lives people led.”
This notion is a driving force behind my BOSS enrollment and the Texas Perimeter Hike. It is perhaps best summed up by the last two lines of the same journal entry:
“I do not want facility. I want sweat.”
Until next time, adventurers.
