Eleven of us went on a survival trip with my dad and Gordy Newman to what we thought was going to be Bailey Pond. We hiked through the woods with our .22 rifles, BB guns, and just our clothes on our backs. From behind our camp on Sand Point Road, we hiked approximately North to the Bête Gris Road. We were able to follow logging roads from the past ages. By looking at the tree growth, we could tell where the road was. The old growth was taller and the more recent growth growing on the old road was much smaller. When we came out to the road, we walked a short distance East to a creek that flowed out of the hills. The dads thought that this was the way to Bailey Pond. We started up a creek eating berries and enjoying the hike. Everyone was fresh and ready to do this. As we ventured up the hill, one of the guys stepped on a hornet's nest in the ground and got stung pretty well. Onward we went, following the stream until we came to a series of beaver dams that resembled a lock-type system for the great lake freighters. We decided to stay next to one of them. A big lean-to was built, and we settled in for adventure.
Next, many of us were already hungry, so we took off in different directions in search of something to eat. Shortly, reports from .22 rifles were heard. Inquiring minds hollered out loud, “What did you get”? “I shot a frog, or I shot at a bird” was the reply. The shot frog was shown to others. It was mangled. The bird still lived. The dads told us to shoot next to the frog so it wouldn’t get destroyed. The concussion would kill it. All we could find to eat were plentiful frog legs, berries, and one Woodpecker. The breast of the bird wasn’t that big, but it sure tasted good. We ate the legs cooked over the fire on a stick. Some were skeptical about eating them but then with their hunger, they were convinced to try a taste. It didn’t take long for everyone to eat frog legs. We all thought they tasted like chicken. Many legs were consumed. In time you could tell when you didn’t have enough to eat. The fatigue started to set in. We were young ambitious boys consuming many calories with our ambitious hunt for food. When nightfall came, we had a roaring fire to sit around. We watched as Gordy and Dad boiled some water in a Band-Aid can so they could have their coffee. Boy, that smelled good. We all had a fitful night laying on the ground without blankets or sleeping bags. When we got up, almost everyone was pretty starved and looked defeated. At this point, we were too weak to hunt for something to eat.
Dad said it was time to go. We got our meager belongings ready and off we went. We ate more berries but some of the guys started puking them up right away. Their stomachs couldn’t handle the richness of the berries. Watching Dad monitoring us, I could tell that it was not serious but enough to pay attention to the weakest. We made it out to the road and lay down on the side of it, too tired and weak to go on. Dad said to stay put. He would go to get the International Scout. He walked back to the camp and came back shortly. It seemed to take him forever in our weakened state. I don’t remember if passing vehicles were wondering if we were all right or not. All of us just were sprawled all over the place. When we got back to the camp, Mom had a big pot of oatmeal ready. Dad told us all to eat slowly. He told us that our stomachs were not ready for a large amount of rich food yet. Well, we did but Reino didn’t, it all came out. After we ate, we all crawled into the bunkhouse and took a nap.
This was an eye-opener for all of us. We had to find our food, clean it, cook it, and eat it. It gave us a better idea of how the people survived off of hunting and foraging except we didn’t know anything about foraging. It also shows us how fortunate we are with all of today's modern amenities. With a place to lay our heads down in a comfortable bed, mom cooking a meal, wearing clean clothes, showers or a sauna, and transportation, we didn’t know how rough this trip would be, but we found out.