98.6 Degrees: The Art of Keeping Your Ass Alive

by Cody Lundin

  Warning! Check out any bottle of iodine at the neighborhood pharmacy and you’ll spy a cute little skull and crossbones with the word “poison” written underneath. Telling the pharmacist what you wish to do with the tiny bottle will cause them to look at you funny and call store security. Truth be known, in the early 1900s, iodine was used to disinfect entire town water supplies. The Navy has performed gnarly, multi-month studies on unknowing ship-bound sailors in which extreme amounts of iodine were added to the ship’s drinking water. So far, there have been no two-headed babies. Prisons, as well, have performed their patriotic duty by secretly experimenting on hundreds of inmates with no problems being reported. Regardless, iodine is recommended for short-term use only, no longer than 30 days. This is not a problem in the realm of our 3-day survival scenario. Do not use iodine if you are pregnant, have a known allergy to iodine, or suffer from a thyroid problem.

  One condom (nonlubricated):

  The private, passionate, pleasures

  of purchasing pompously portly prophylactics.

  Water is a biological necessity down to the cellular level. It is not an optional item. In dry environments around the world, collapsible containers provide greater carrying capacity without the bulk of the container when not needed. Even in moist climates it’s nice to have the option of transporting more of the wet stuff. An extra container allows for disinfecting greater quantities of water, permits “muddy” water to settle, limits frequent runs to the creek, and enables you to bask in the fact that you have a surplus of one of the survival world’s most precious items. Heavy-duty, collapsible containers can be used as pillows or added ground insulation.

  Although you should pack stronger collapsible water containers when possible, the humble condom does have its attributes. While offering reasonable protection from getting or giving the disease of the week, the condom does double-duty by saving your life in a far more unconventional fashion when it’s used as an emergency water carrier. The best part about having a condom in your backcountry kit, whether you’re male or female, is purchasing the little booger. Finally, men of all ages and backgrounds and the women who have suffered can say, with no uncertainty and in complete honesty, “I want the biggest, strongest condom you’ve got ... nonlubricated, please.” You’ll be the envy of all your friends.

  A condom containing a gallon of water is about the size of a volleyball. This extra gallon might grant you another day of life or more. I’ve filled condoms up to the size of watermelons, but if you so much as look at them wrong, they’ll burst. Transport them hobo-style inside an extra bandana, shirtsleeve, or large sock, but use caution. As tough as condoms are, they’re temperamental and can rupture at the most compromising times (as so many intimate couples can attest).

  The trick to filling a condom is velocity. Filling one under a kitchen faucet is no problem due to the force of the water. But go to a static water source like a puddle or pond and it’s another animal altogether. Unless the neck of the condom is sufficiently stretched out, the memory of the contracting rubber simply forces added water back out the mouth. Pre-stretching the neck before attempting to fill the beast increases your odds for success.

  To fill, hold the condom’s mouth open as wide as practical without destroying it. Using a brisk scooping motion, force as much water into the mouth as you can while trying not to drag the condom along the bottom of the water source. Another method is to hold the mouth open with one hand. This allows the other hand to use an improvised container, such as a hat or shoe, to pour water from a height, thereby producing water velocity to stretch the rubber. Once you’ve obtained a “globe” of water hanging from the stretched neck, you’re free from fighting the self-emptying action of the little guy. Fun, isn’t it? While using condoms containing spermicide and bizarre lubricants is doable in a pinch, it will cause even your closest friendships to suffer.

  Like everything else in survival land, filling a condom is best practiced beforehand. Add it to your next party festivities, instead of bobbing for apples, for unique, good old-fashioned fun. Condoms can be purchased at a multitude of locations, including the truck-stop bathroom of your choice. Buy one with a brightly colored wrapper and replace it yearly. I have not yet tried a glow-in-the-dark model, but it may have some nighttime signaling advantages.

  Regular space blanket

  (bronze and silver sided):

  How to use that shiny thing you’ve

  had in the bottom of your pack since ‘87.

  Space blankets are not truly blankets, as they have no dead-air space. They do, however, excel at reflecting radiant energy or heat from long-and short-wave radiation. Composed of aluminum-coated mylar plastic, the small, extremely shiny version supposedly reflects up to 80 percent of your body heat.

  Space blankets have the power to reflect a fire’s warmth toward you or blistering desert sun away from you, thus helping to regulate body temperature in virtually all climates. While not without its faults, this fact is a dream come true for the survival student.

  In the cold, the easiest way to use one is to simply wrap it around your body, focusing on the core area. Reduce your body’s surface area and increase its volume by huddling, thereby decreasing heat loss while preventing conduction from the ground. Use extreme caution, as space blankets don’t breathe and are notorious vapor barriers. While they feel warm at first, over time trapped water vapor builds up on the inside of the blanket, which in turn soaks into clothing, destroying its insulating properties and hastening hypothermia. Hanging out the next night wearing ice, replacing what used to be dry insulation, is far from fun. Take great care to vent excess body moisture and avoid breathing into the blanket, as the breath gives off loads of water vapor.

  In contrast, when it’s hot enough to boil your brains, creatively pitched blankets function as a barrier against solar rays, producing lifesaving shade that reflects the sun’s damaging short-wave radiation.

  I’ve experimented with scads of shelters built with these blankets. Some failed miserably while others worked great. When used as a reflector in combination with shelter and fire, space blankets kick butt. Suspend the blanket in whatever shape works so that you’re sandwiched between it and the fire. The following story illustrates their usefulness.

  During a winter-survival course in the Arizona high country, my students built two lean-to shelters with a fire in between. The shelters were made with downed timber, plastic, duct tape, and space blankets. That night, as the majority of us slept, the student on fire duty made the mistake of adding pitch wood to the blaze. This resin-saturated wood, common in dead conifer trees, burns like crazy and puts out an incredible amount of heat.

  Before we hit the sack, I put up two thermometers. One hung from a fir tree several yards from camp, while the other was placed inside one of the shelters. The outside thermometer registered a nippy 15°F (-9°C). The one inside the shelter read a bone-melting 120°F (49°C)! Because of the increased heat from the burning pitch wood, students inside had stripped off all their clothing and their heads were sticking out from under the plastic to escape the oppressive temperature. The mistaken use of pitch wood nearly caused students to become hyperthermic during a winter-survival course. Such is the power of reflected and trapped radiation.

  In full sun, space blankets make great signaling devices. While facing rescuers, unwrap the blanket and slowly flap it like you’re shaking dust from of an old rug. This rolling motion creates a large surface area of reflective “movement and contrast” and looks like hundreds of tiny mirrors. Spend a few extra bucks and buy a blanket with a bronze-colored side, as it’s much more visible when signaling on snow or large bodies of water.

  Space blankets are not without sin, one of which is the extreme noise they create, especially in the wind. I don’t dare break one out when I lecture or I have to yell over the racket while it’s passed around the room. This is a small factor in a life-threatening situation, but keep it in mind so the noise doesn’t drive you nuts. The aluminum c
oating is extremely thin and wears off easily. As soon as it’s gone, your blanket no longer reflects heat and vaguely resembles the substance your cotton candy was wrapped in at the state fair. Even so, you’ll still have a wind- and waterproof barrier, provided you don’t rip it. Space blankets are as flimsy as our current civil liberties and tear quickly if manhandled. You can make grommets on the spot by duct taping the corners and attaching safety pins. Space blankets are also too small. If manufacturers would add a few more inches to each side, I might be able to use the damn thing without having to take a Yoga class beforehand.

  All cons aside, this handy piece of gear reflects radiant heat, is lightweight, compact, easily accessible, cheap, and has multiple uses. Once opened, you’ll need a Ph.D. in folding to get it back to its original size, so buy two, one to experiment with and the other to pack for the backcountry.

  One roll of dental floss:

  Four out of five dentists agree that you can easily

  afford this tiny but tough lightweight cord.

  Dental floss is “rip-your-head-off” strong, easily available, cheap, small, lightweight, and multipurpose. I preach the merits of cordage later in the book, so I’ll skip it here. Remove the actual spool of floss from its plastic container, which is bulky and serves little purpose other than what it was intended for. Take the spool, typically only the size of a quarter yet composed of 100 feet of fiber, and cover it a few times with plastic wrap or the corner of a baggie to keep it clean. Grit and dust act like tiny knives and over time abrade the fibers in the cord, creating a weaker product. I carry good old-fashioned unwaxed floss. Get creative to fill your needs, as there are a lot of varieties on the market. Stay away from scented, minty assortments as they might attract unwanted fauna.

  Colored surveyor’s tape (3 or 4 feet):

  An opportunity to play Hansel

  and Gretel without the mess.

  Rolls of survey tape are available from your local hardware store. This nonsticky, stretchy, plastic tape comes in a variety of obnoxious colors that are perfect for visibility. It’s widely used by Forest Service personnel and backcountry workers, so choose a color that’s not commonly used in your area, as trees and bushes flagged with the same color of tape can cause confusion for rescuers. (This is the only reason I carry the orange variety over the yellow or other colors available.) Even so, UV rays from the sun wreak havoc on the tape, and break it down; thus it’s not too difficult for searchers to discern fresh stuff from the older one hanging in the bush. If you write a note explaining your situation upon the tape itself and which direction you’re headed, there will be even less confusion.

  The rolls are quite large, so take a few feet off the mother roll and wrap it upon itself to form a little oval. The reason I carry survey tape is the “bread crumb” factor. If you need to proceed in a certain direction for whatever reason and find your way back, you can take small pieces of tape and pierce them at eye level upon objects ranging from saguaro cactus to spruce boughs.

  To use, affix the first piece of tape at eye level upon the object of your choice, then proceed in your chosen direction of travel, turning ever so often to view the piece you last posted. When you’re far enough away from the last piece, but can still see it, pick another tree, bush, stump, or rock pile and flag it. Make certain you can still witness the last piece of tape you used in the distance. Proceed in this manner, leapfrogging along, putting up new tape while still keeping within eye contact of the other. Don’t make the distance between the pieces too far apart, as it’s not hard to screw up and lose the last one, especially in dense brush or lighting changes caused by sun movement.

  Using tape at eye level makes it easier to find. Even if a piece is temporarily lost on your return trip, a lot of up and down searching is eliminated, as you’ve put the tape on a specific plane in relation to your vision. Being able to proceed in a certain direction of travel and safely find your way back is an asset to any outdoor traveler. Using tape in questionable scenarios beforehand might prevent you from getting lost in the first place. Survey tape also doubles as weak cordage. With knowledge of the reverse-wrap, two-ply-cord method, it can be transformed into very strong cord. In another book, perhaps.

  Pea-less, brightly colored plastic whistle:

  When being a blow hard pays off.

  Carry several ways to signal for rescue. Putting all of your eggs into one basket, like being at the mercy of direct sunlight with a signal mirror, can be frustrating at best and deadly at worst.

  The ear-shattering decibels a whistle creates attract attention from a good distance while saving energy, body moisture, and your voice, and can be used to signal for help in any environment, in the midst of any temperature, elevation, or weather pattern. Although mountainous terrain, heavy woods, or even particulate matter in the air will muffle some of the whistle’s punch, it is far more potent a sound signal than your screeching voice. People who have attended a heavy-metal concert know that they must carefully plan out their screaming or their vocal chords will become as impotent as a one-legged dog before three songs have passed.

  Purchase a well-designed whistle that is plastic, pea-less, and painfully prominent in regard to its coloration. Plastic has less of a tendency to freeze to your lips during extreme cold weather, is lighter to carry, and is easy to find in traumatically bright, fluorescent colors. Older whistles relying on a cork or plastic “pea” whipping around a sound chamber to produce noise can become water logged or freeze in place due to condensation in the breath. The chamber of a pea-less whistle is often flat so it takes up less space in your pack or on your survival necklace.

  Sounds in groups of three are universally accepted as a sign of distress. Blow the whistle three times, yet pause a second between each blast. Sound waves distort over distance and rough terrain so three whistle blasts made in rapid succession can give the illusion of sounding like one.

  Failure to give kids signal whistles in the backcountry along with strict parental instruction on how and when to use them in an emergency has no doubt contributed to the needless deaths of dozens of youngsters.

  Paraffin-coated, strike-anywhere kitchen

  matches in a brightly colored match safe:

  The art of getting hot and bothered without striking out.

  The humble match is one of the most awesome inventions ever to grace planet Earth. Nearly every survival kit I’ve seen or heard about, regardless of the variables imposed on it by its creator, has packed within its depths this simple yet effective tool.

  In northern California during the early 1900s, a starving man was caught stealing from a rural slaughterhouse. He appeared to be an American Indian, as he spoke neither English nor Spanish, but none of the local Indians who came to speak with him could understand his language. Big-city anthropologists were summoned to his jail cell and it didn’t take them long to realize this was no ordinary guy. A few years earlier, the man had been living in the remote California foothills with members of his tribe, a tribe that had no contact with white people. He called himself “Ishi” and was reportedly the last “wild” American Indian found in the continental United States.

  One of the visiting anthropologists ended up taking him to the Bay area to live. Imagine for a moment being jerked from a Stone Age lifestyle to find yourself plopped down in the middle of a city. Even in the early 1900s, the Bay area was a bustling metropolis featuring high-rise buildings and cable cars. Several months into city life, someone asked Ishi what impressed him most about modern civilization. Of all the in-vogue wonders he’d experienced, from central heating to running water to the current transit of the day, he simply replied, “matches.” Ishi thought they were truly magical, an amazing invention, and after all these years, he’s still right.

  In 1680 an Englishman named Robert Boyle, undoubtedly the father of pyromania, discovered that phosphorus and sulfur would burst into flame instantly if rubbed together, uncovering the principle that would ultimately lead to the modern match. A century-an
d-a half later in 1827, English pharmacist John Walker produced his “sulphuretted peroxide strikables,” massive, three-foot-long sticks that would be the predecessors of today’s matches. In 1836, the first phosphorous matches were patented in the good old USA and were called, of all things, “locofocos.”

  Early matches didn’t catch on with the general populace because they were incredibly unstable and tended to explode when struck. Improvements were made, yet still the invention didn’t catch on. The match finally came into style in America at the end of World War I with the return of our nation’s soldiers. It seems they had been using them for months to light cigarettes while fighting from their trenches. I guess an exploding match is nothing in comparison to being shelled and shot at day and night. It’s interesting to note that just a few years ago, wooden matches were slightly thicker than they are today, thereby providing more heat for the user. This fact of the incredible shrinking match is yet another testament to the phrase, “They just don’t make’em like they used to.”

  Strike-anywhere matches are not the same as “safety,” or strike-on-the-box matches. You can tell the difference by looking at the colors of the match heads. A safety head is only one color, but a strike-anywhere match is two colors: one for the phosphorus and one for the oxidizing agent. This colored tip is highly susceptible to friction and allows you to strike the match on bizarre surfaces such as zippers, fingernails, or rocks in the backcountry. They come in two sizes—one wimpy and pathetic, the other robust and virile. A box of the robust type are individually larger than most any other match on the market and retail for less than two bucks at most grocery stores. They’re cheap, widely available (for the time being), may be struck on a thousand surfaces, and can be souped up with candle wax for field use.