Hi, a little tale. My father was a great inspiration to me, and was my best mate, sadly he died due to complications from an operation when i was 12, i was of course devastated.
To the point. The following spring, i wanted to run away from home and live in the wild!
My mum, contacted a local Dartmoor farmer (who dad had done lots of business with) And organised for me to camp on his farm on my own for a week, to see if it would cure my urge to run away and possibly deal with my grief.
He said yes, my mum dropped me off, the farmer loaded my gear in his tractor, and showed me the ideal spot for my adventure.
I had a rucksack, sleeping bag,bright orange survival bag etc from Ten Tors practice, mum had packed tins of soup, beans, rice pudding etc, the farmer delivered an old digger bucket for my fire and a small amount of logs, to be going on with, the rest i had to forage.
Anyway, i had a great week, weather was kind, fire in the bucket was brilliant, and only about a mile away across the fields was a village shop (long gone) which was the only human contact i had for the week, to top up on beans and soup!
There were times during the week, i felt like walking back to the farmhouse, and saying "Would you ring my mum please, only i have had enough"
But stubborness and pride would not let me.
I can honestly say, it did me the power of good, also how unaware i was it was my first Bushcrafting experience.
Anyway, i rang the farmer a couple of weeks ago (85 now), reminded him of my trip, and asked if i could revisit the place, he said yes, so today i went back, my heart was pounding as he directed me to the spot, i mentioned the digger bucket to him, and he said " I think it's still up there boy"
After much searching, i found it up in the granite! A very moving moment. Took a few pics, spent some quality time with my thoughts, went back to the farmhouse, to say thankyou, and cheekily asked if i could buy the bucket, the reply was " I think you earned that one boy, so you can have it" I was so chuffed, now all i need is a pal to help me extracate it, and it will sit pride of place in my garden ( pics of a fire in it, will follow in a couple of weeks)
A very very good morning.
Thanks for looking.
Ivan...
To the point. The following spring, i wanted to run away from home and live in the wild!
My mum, contacted a local Dartmoor farmer (who dad had done lots of business with) And organised for me to camp on his farm on my own for a week, to see if it would cure my urge to run away and possibly deal with my grief.
He said yes, my mum dropped me off, the farmer loaded my gear in his tractor, and showed me the ideal spot for my adventure.
I had a rucksack, sleeping bag,bright orange survival bag etc from Ten Tors practice, mum had packed tins of soup, beans, rice pudding etc, the farmer delivered an old digger bucket for my fire and a small amount of logs, to be going on with, the rest i had to forage.
Anyway, i had a great week, weather was kind, fire in the bucket was brilliant, and only about a mile away across the fields was a village shop (long gone) which was the only human contact i had for the week, to top up on beans and soup!
There were times during the week, i felt like walking back to the farmhouse, and saying "Would you ring my mum please, only i have had enough"
But stubborness and pride would not let me.
I can honestly say, it did me the power of good, also how unaware i was it was my first Bushcrafting experience.
Anyway, i rang the farmer a couple of weeks ago (85 now), reminded him of my trip, and asked if i could revisit the place, he said yes, so today i went back, my heart was pounding as he directed me to the spot, i mentioned the digger bucket to him, and he said " I think it's still up there boy"
After much searching, i found it up in the granite! A very moving moment. Took a few pics, spent some quality time with my thoughts, went back to the farmhouse, to say thankyou, and cheekily asked if i could buy the bucket, the reply was " I think you earned that one boy, so you can have it" I was so chuffed, now all i need is a pal to help me extracate it, and it will sit pride of place in my garden ( pics of a fire in it, will follow in a couple of weeks)
A very very good morning.
Thanks for looking.
Ivan...
It sounds as though the old boy's a really decent sort 
