I was an active Boy Scout from the time that I was old enough to join Cub Scouts. I know it is not very fashionable to be a scout now, but then, in a small town in Wyoming, it was what we did. I learned much that I still use today in terms of honesty, service, and truth. More importantly, I learned the skills of living in the wild. To this day I carry a pocket knife as a reminder of my preparedness, as well as two band aids in my wallet (I tell myself they are for others, but mostly I use them on myself when I get clumsy with my pocket knife.) To this day I know which plants to eat and which to avoid. I can make an herbal tea from pine needles or an extremely effective laxative from western yarrow, its effectiveness having been personally tested as the result of a youthful dare.

For the past few days we have been traveling. During that time, I have discovered that my survival skills are not nearly as effective as I had imagined.

I am on a diet. Everyone knows what that is like. Choices need to be made at every turn. Calories need to be counted and tracked. I have a daily goal of 1200 calories, certainly doable in the wild where the sheer exertion of gaining sustenance offsets the number of calories consumed. Not so, when flying, waiting in airport lounges (truly an oxymoron for what is more like the corral for cattle awaiting loading on a freight train), or navigating the streets of a strange city.

 

Food is abundant true, but the right food at the right time is difficult at best. The morning we left, Lyd and I shared an oat bran muffin (about 240 calories for my half), and a hot drink. Another hot drink and another half muffin (240 ca.) while we waited for the plane. An hour later, we had a layover in Seattle and, knowing that it would be a long time until the next meal in Arizona, we had a bowl of clam chowder at 10:30 in the morning, sort of a brunch. (290 ca. with those tiny oyster crackers tossed in because, diet or not, I’ve got to have crackers in my soup.)

So, it’s 11:00 in the morning and I’ve already had nearly 800 calories balanced by  60 calories in exercise. Borrowing an image from the EPA, my caloric footprint is huge and I’ve no way of buying calorie credits.

Squeezed into tiny seats, the seat in front of me inclined back into my personal space, I, like any animal in an untenable position sought distraction in a Toblerone bar (190) and some travel mix, which, meant for hikers and other outdoorsy folks, offered me fuel for energy I could not burn. Still, it was there, and I ate the crunchy little morsels of sugar coated almonds, (340, yes, I said 340 calories). Then the stewardess, or should I say flight attendant, brought around beverages and those little packages of biscotti. It would have been rude and perhaps have demeaned her offer to refuse. I was polite (120).

It was nearly 9:00PM by the time we found our way to a dinner plate. Our travels, and our survival thereof, deserved rewarding. We had steak (360) and shrimp (60), layered in onions and mushrooms, a cup of chili (220) and a huge dinner salad (180).

Too wired for immediate sleep, we read for a while before turning out the lights (popcorn at 120, M&M peanuts at 200 or so).

I chalked the day up to the vagaries of travel and the necessity to eat when I could as one never knows while traveling, whether the land will offer sustenance or not, and promised myself to do better the next day, though I had heard the local restaurant offered a pulled pork eggs benedict, smothered in sausage gravy that was to die for.

While living off the land, one takes food where it is found.

 

Postscript

Churros at the ball park. Damn (343).

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