“Well guys, I’m tired,” Steve says. “Let’s go to sleep.” Two hours have passed since the sun set over Boulder Mountain to the west. It’s a new moon, the forest is pitch black, and the trail is draped with rocks, logs and other debris. We’ve been headed east into the red-rock desert below. There are 11 of us in the group, out hiking with instructors from the Boulder Outdoor Survival School (BOSS). “Be careful with the barbed-wire fence on the right,” Steve, our lead instructor, says before disappearing into the night air.  On our left is a 35-degree hill. We’re on our own for the rest of the night. 

It’s the first night of a seven-day wilderness survival field course in Utah. We have no tents, no sleeping bags, no rain gear and no blankets. We haven’t eaten dinner and we won’t get any food for another day and night. We slowly move up the hill, trying to avoid rocks and other natural hazards. The group spreads out on the sloping ground. I find a spot on the high side of a large juniper that’s relatively flat and prevents me from slipping to the valley floor. Others lay down on the open slope, digging their feet into the ground to prevent from rolling down. We all curl into the fetal position and try to stay warm. 

BOSS is a wilderness school that offers courses like nothing you’ve done before. Sure, you may go hiking or backpacking frequently, but when was the last time you left the tent and sleeping bag at home? With all of the shabby-chic camping options in the world today—“Hike the Grand Canyon and then eat a four-star meal carried in by your own personal sherpa team!—BOSS stands out as the premier option for an authentic backcountry experience. You’ll struggle with hunger, the elements and your own fragile mental state, and if my group is any indication, you’ll love every minute of it.

On a BOSS course, you won’t get any four-star meals. Some days, you won’t get a meal at all. You’ll hike 10-plus miles in the searing heat, and on the lucky days you have some equipment, you’ll sleep wrapped in a wool blanket with an army-surplus raincoat for shelter. You’ll hike at night with no headlamp. You’ll hike in the day with no shade. When you finally get a cup of stewed lentils, you’ll think it came from the kitchen of a top chef.

On our second day out, a thunderstorm strikes our valley. We duck for cover under trees and rocks. We still haven’t reached our packs, which have been set out far ahead and contain our rain ponchos. Two hours later when the rain lifts, we’re soaked. Well, some of us are more soaked than others. There are no chalkboards or beforehand instructions at BOSS. The learning is experiential; every time we do something wrong, it’s a lesson. In this case: If you don’t have a rain jacket, make sure you can find a nice dry spot during a storm. No one’s upset; the jokes start flying as we come back together as a group.

The storm has put us a few hours behind to reaching our unknown destination, so we start hiking forced-march style. The sun goes down and we keep hiking up a mountain. If anything, we pick up the pace. We’re still drying off, though, so the intensity doesn’t bother me. But two hours later, the group is cold, hungry and starting to lose it. Most everyone is a little nauseous, and then people start throwing up. Since we haven’t eaten for more than 24 hours, I’m a little confused about how this works exactly, but I’ll spare you the details. We stop long enough for whoever just tossed his cookies to gather himself, and then we hit the trail again.

We don’t know where we’re going or how long we’ll be hiking. For all we know, we won’t stop walking until the sun comes up. But we keep going anyways, drawing on our mental and physical reserves. All I can see is Steve’s white cowboy hat floating in front of me. I’m on the edge of what I think I can take psychologically—the glowing white cowboy hat seems like some kind of hallucination—but then again, the main thing a person learns at BOSS is that what you think can take are very different.

The hike never seems to end. And then it starts raining. 

If you’ve ever wondered what you would do if you were out in the wilderness without all your fancy equipment, then a BOSS course might be just the thing you’re looking for. People have lived most of human history without tents, sleeping bags and lighters, and so can you…if you have the right knowledge.  After a BOSS trip, you’ll be able to start a fire with nothing more than a knife and a shoestring.  It’s not easy. You’ll struggle. But once you get the hang of it, you’ll have a reliable way to keep warm.

We live in a world of hyper-technology, where we’re tethered to cell phones and laptops. We leave our work computer screens to come home to our TV screens. You may not want to give up any of these things permanently, but a week without them can be as liberating as it gets. BOSS’ mission is “to show how ancient knowledge and wisdom still have a place in our modern daily lives.” When these ancient secrets reveal themselves to us, after two cold nights without them, it’s enough to make the hedge fund manager on my trip call a pile of dry leaves “the Ritz.” 

Individuals come to BOSS for many different reasons. Some are outdoor enthusiasts looking for a deeper wilderness experience. Others have never camped before and are drawn to the extreme physical nature of the experience, just as they have been drawn to triathlons, marathons and adventure races before. Some simply don’t know exactly what they’re getting into. And this attitude isn’t so bad. One of the major lessons you’ll learn on a BOSS course is to let go of all your expectations.  During the first stage of the course, you won’t be told what’s coming up. You’ll go to bed, as we did, in the middle of the night with no warning. You’ll hike an unknown number of miles and end up in an unknown place. This simulates, to some extent, what you might encounter in a real survival situation, where you probably will not know any of these things.

BOSS bills itself as a survival school, but it’s actually much more than that. Yes, after completing your 7-day, 14-day or 28-day course, you’ll be better prepared to make it through a real-life survival situation than you were before, but you’ll probably also approach your regular life in a new way and see what’s important and what isn’t. You’ll be pushed harder than you’ve ever been before. Plus, you’ll experience a psychological change that can’t be matched by your local 5K. BOSS advocates a “know more, carry less” philosophy that is just as valuable outside the wilderness as it is within it.

 

BOSS offers outdoor survival courses in Colorado, Utah and Mexico. Visit www.boss-inc.com for a complete schedule. 

 

Kyle Boelte frequently writes about the environment, social issues, and outdoor adventure. He's heading back to the Utah wilderness this spring.