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Learning ancient survival skills… and why we’re glad we don’t actually live in the Stone Age.
The alarm went off at 6 a.m., and we groggily rolled out of bed. We were tired but excited, because today we were officially trading cozy beds for the great outdoors and something called “survival weekend.” What could possibly go wrong?
Our bags were packed, and we were ready to discover ancient skills that promised to push us out of our comfort zone and straight into the wilderness.
The First Step: A Solo Test Run by Dad
Months earlier, I wasn’t about to throw the whole family into a survival weekend without knowing what we were getting into. So we sent my husband. In December. To the mountains. Alone. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
He came back super enthusiastic.
“I learned how to splint a limb with sticks and rope, make fire, build a shelter, and we even practiced how to carry someone out of the woods in an emergency!”
With full confidence, he assured me, “The kids are going to love this.”
And just like that, we booked the next session.
April’s Snowy Survival Weekend
By April, it was time to jump in as a family. The forecast promised mild spring weather… but the mountains had other plans. A snowstorm rolled in just before we arrived, covering everything in a thick, white blanket.
So instead of the leafy debris shelter we’d imagined, we found ourselves building something far more… seasonal. At first, it just looked like a giant packed pile of snow and a whole lot of work. But after much packing, poking, and digging, it began to resemble a real igloo.
The kids threw themselves into the challenge, literally, at times, packing snow, sticking guide sticks into the outer wall to measure digging depth, and tunneling it out from the inside. My younger one was ready to move in. At least during the sunny part of the day.
Later, we turned the weekend into a kind of forest treasure hunt for the senses.
We tasted leaves that could be brewed into not-so-delicious teas, chewed on bitter willow bark (nature’s original aspirin), and stuck our noses against pine bark to catch the sweet, vanilla-like scent of high-altitude trees.
May the Forest Be With You
Encouraged by our snowy Ice Castle success in April, but still lacking the experience of building a real debris shelter, we returned in May for a full-on bushcraft weekend.
This time, the forest floor was scattered with dry leaves, fallen branches, and just the right amount of dirt. Perfect. Never thought I’d be so happy to see forest debris lying around. Our shelter was basically laying at our feet, waiting for us to assemble it, so assemble we did.
We also spent the day weaving rope out of plants, experimenting with primitive traps, and trying our hands at stone knapping.
And let me just say: I’m very glad my life doesn’t depend on these skills.
Shaping raw rocks into sharp tools is part patience, part luck, and part “try not to smash your fingers.” Somehow, we ended up with something vaguely blade-like, courtesy of sheer stubbornness… but mostly luck.
And honestly, after just a few hours of trying to survive like this, it’s easy to see why nobody in the Stone Age had a weight problem. If I had to live off my bushcraft skills alone, I’d be starving before sunset.
The Flame Awakens
And of course, then there was fire-making. Again.
We had tried it back in April, spent half a day collecting materials, and only my husband managed to get a flame (after 45 minutes of intense focus and increasingly desperate encouragement).
So this time around, we were the pros.
At least in theory.
We believed we could do this.
We were determined to do this.
We really, really wanted to do this.
But it was, without a doubt, a true test of patience.
First, we had to find the right materials: a straight stick for the drill, a sturdy baseboard, a bow, and some tinder. Everything had to be super dry. Then we set to work under the watchful eyes of our instructors — who, of course, made it all look effortless.
We were definitely more confident, more prepared… and still, ten failed attempts and a chorus of groans later, “This is impossible!” once again became the soundtrack of the hour.
And then… smoke. A tiny ember. And… a flame.
The kids cheered like they’d just invented fire, which, to be fair, they kind of had.
We all stood there, fully amazed, staring at what a little teamwork, a lot of persistence, and a few blistered hands could achieve.
It was a tiny flame, but a big, proud, story-worthy win.
Lesson learned: primitive fire-making builds character, endurance, and forearm strength.
Moral of the story: flint is for survival shows. Waterproof matches are for people who actually want to survive.
We Survived the Survival Weekend
We came out of the weekend a little dirtier, slightly blistered, and a whole lot more grateful for modern conveniences, like lighters, supermarkets, and roofs that don’t involve tree bark or digging.
But we also left with some legit skills and even better stories. I mean, we turned sticks into fire, leaves into shelter, and family outdoor time into actual memories.
Would I want to survive in the wild full-time? No thanks. I deeply enjoy and fully appreciate my comfy home. But would I do it again? Absolutely. Because learning how people once lived, and trying it even a little, is both fascinating and humbling, and really fun.
Your Family’s Adventure Awaits
If this story inspired you to reconnect with nature and learn survival skills with your loved ones, why not start planning your own adventure? If you’re in California, California Survival Training offers excellent courses to help you get started. Wherever you are, there’s a world of outdoor experiences waiting for your family to explore together!