Survival Stories

Edward Scullywest Sept 27, 2004

Dear Peter,

It was nice to meet you at the Evergreen Sportsmen show. Thanks for the book. Here's my tale, I hope it's entertaining.

I went to the Rocky Mountain Elk seminar in Portland Oregon sometime in the early 1990's. I have always had an interest in survival and practice and teach various aspects of it over time. I saw Peter Kummerfeldt's seminar on survival. His ideas were useful and practical. I immediately purchased 5 orange bags, I could see their value in not only protection for sleeping, but in signaling as well.
Saturday morning, Sept 27, 2004, I climbed up a hill about 1.5 miles from my van to bow hunt for deer in the Okanagan area of Washington State. I couldn’t find the crossing I hoped to sit at, but when the sun came up there were deer all around. I stalked a few, decided not to take a shot and observed a couple of deer going down the side of a small gulley. It had a couple of big evergreens located within great shooting distance.

I tied my rope ladder to a bottom limb and climbed up to scope out a place to sit in the afternoon. I found an ideal set of limbs and started back down. I got on the ladder, but the knot holding it up slipped. Gravity did it’s wonderful work of accelerating falling objects to 35 feet per second squared and in the blink of an eye I was looking at the ground hanging from a limb. My first thought was, this is probably the end of my deer season this year. I wiggled my fingers and moved my head and didn't feel anything hurting that would indicate a neck or back injury. I climbed back up the tree with my arms to get a look at my right leg. It had gone between two branches on the way down and had stopped me from landing on the ground headfirst. But the big toe on my right foot was now pointed at my left ankle, almost 180 degrees in the wrong direction. It was 8 A.M.
My next step was to get down out of the tree with two arms and a left leg. I had lowered my bow and quiver down out of the tree on a 25 foot rope and swung it away from the tree trunk so I didn't hurt my gear or myself when I climbed down.

I splinted the right leg with two sticks and a rope and decided to try to get somebody’s attention with my whistle. After an hour I realized I needed to get myself back to my van.
I tried using a large stick and my bow to hop on one leg, but that didn’t work. I tried crawling but the bones were rubbing together which was causing some pain. I also speculated that four sharp bones grinding around the inside of my calf could not be very helpful in the overall recovery. I looked around and there was a four foot section of a 2x4. I put my leg on it and cut up my long underwear shirt into 2-inch strips to secure it to the board. I tried to not cut off circulation, but to get it so my ankle would not move around. I dug around in my pack for more materials and found my trail marking tape. It was just wide enough and elastic enough to stretch without pinching my leg. It was also fairly colorful. After this addition my right leg did not move at all.

To get to my car I started to crawl. Sitting upright I had to lift the board up, move it forward 4 inches, then scoot up with my left leg. I would go 25 feet, the length of my rope, then pull my backpack quiver and bow up to me, rest for a minute and proceed onward. I had on dark wool clothes. My pants are tough as iron, you can, and I have, wade through blackberry bushes as needed. This was handy when you are crawling. I crawled for 5 hours until I was on top of a small ridge where I could see some other hunters.

They were probably a half-mile away but I started blowing my whistle , three blasts at a time and waving my orange bag, which is always part of my survival kit. They thought I was just being a jerk and trying to scare the deer away. They looked through the binoculars and thought I was in a wheel chair. One of them started across the field toward me to see what I was up to. I scooted down into some shade.

Joe looked at my splinted leg and immediately sat down. He said I can’t help carry you out but we know some people up the road where we can call 911. I said that would be fine, I was a little tuckered out by now. He gave me a bottle of water, which tasted great then went back to his truck to tell the other two what was going on. He came back with another bottle of water and a candy bar, both of which were wonderful.

In the small world category Joe, and his hunting partners Carol and Frank, lived only a few miles from my house on the west side. They put my stuff in my van and drove it home. It’s hard to thank somebody enough for that kind of help.

The first volunteers were there in 10-15 minutes. The ambulance came. I was strapped to a backboard then the whole group carried me to the fence, lifted me into the air, and loaded me into a pickup and down to the ambulance. The medics said they couldn’t have done a better job of splinting so they left my leg alone. They said that orange bag was easy to spot, they saw it from over a mile away and drove right to the site. The EMT was amazed that I would crawl 5 hours to get out of the woods with a broken ankle and still haul all of my stuff out with me. I got myself in, I was going to get myself out if I could.

I went to North Valley hospital in Tonasket. They said we can’t fix that kind of a break, you’ll need to go to Brewster to see the orthopedic surgeon. Would you like some pain medication? 9 hours after I’d fallen, I said, well sure, that would be nice.

Somebody recently asked me if I'd ever thought I wasn't going to make it. To be honest, the thought had never crossed my mind. A couple of broken bones are inconvenient, even painful, but not life threatening. I didn't do anything I hadn't practiced, first aid and signaling, a hundred times before. I have decided that no deer is worth falling out of a tree. I hunt on the ground now.

Keep up the good work.

Thanks again, Edward Scullywest

Cathy Jacob – June 2005

This story was emailed to me several weeks after the incident occurred.

Dear Peter,

Sincerely, Catherine Jacobs

The following story was related to me in Portland, Oregon at the conclusion of a seminar I was giving at the Oregon Sportsmen’s Show.  The individual involved preferred to remain anonymous so I have used the name “Bob Jones.”

Twenty eight year old Bob Jones was hunting elk in Oregon.  Several feet of snow covered the ground and it was snowing lightly.  While walking along Bob tripped over an unseen log and fell headlong into the snow.  No injuries resulted.  Bob got up, brushed off the snow adhering to his clothing, cleaned the snow from his rifle barrel and scope then continued hunting. 

Several hours later heavy snow began to fall and Bob decided to return to his truck.  Reaching into his pocket for his GPS receiver he was horrified to find it gone.   Bob was depending on his GPS receiver to get him back to his vehicle.  Other than the clothing he was wearing he had no additional clothing.  Since he was confident in his ability to return to his truck he carried no survival equipment.  With heavy snow falling Bob began to walk hoping that the direction he had chosen would bring him back to his truck.  With every step he took his confidence ebbed away and he soon found himself running blindly through the forest in total panic. 

In total panic he raced along when suddenly a thought penetrated the panic that prompted him to ask “What would Peter do?”  Reflecting back on a seminar I had given several years previously that he had attended he remember my advice to people in this circumstance “Sit down.  Get off your feet.  You can’t walk if you’re sitting on your butt!”  Bob found a log and sat down.  Thinking back on the program he asked “OK. What would he do now?” “Have a drink of water.  Eat something.”   Bob drank some water and ate a candy bar.  As I had taught in that seminar and subsequently in many others, Bob sat there for thirty minutes allowing the adrenaline that had flooded through his system to subside and for his head to clear.  Thirty minutes later he drew a map in the snow at his feet and realized that he was running away from his truck – not towards it.  Picking a new heading he started towards the road and an hour later arrived at the road and shortly after that found his truck.

In Bob’s words “Had I not remembered what you taught me “Sit down, have a drink, stay there for thirty minutes I would not be alive to do to tell you this story.”

Roy L. Allen – Oct 2004

Sam and I went elk and deer hunting off the SW coast of Washington near the mouth of the Columbia River.  Sam borrowed his father-in-laws 20 foot cabin cruiser.  Our plan was to live off the boat and shuttle back and forth in my 10.5 foot long inflatable dory using oars.  The area surrounding the island is tidal mud flats that are exposed at low tide for a great distance from the island so to reach the island one had to be mindful of the tides and consult the tide book frequently. 

We arrived in the area about 3pm on the 9^th of September with a plan to stay five days.  The weather was “California” nice.  We moored the boat to a lone piling in the water about 200 yards from the shore.   When we awoke at 5am the next morning the boat had a side ways tilt to it and was not rocking to any waves.  Sure enough we were resting on the mud flats at low tide.  We had no way to get to the island until the tide returned to a sufficient depth for my inflatable dory to float.  Hunters are cautioned that it is too dangerous to walk across muddy tide flats.  Even if we had tried to walk ashore we would have been confronted with a 20 foot wide, waist deep slough to wade across.  We finally got ashore at about 10 am with the sun shining and the temperature about 70 degree plus. 

After hunting all day Sam and I met about 7pm on the bank above the dory.  The wind was way too strong to row against it to get back to the boat.  With daylight fading rapidly we started building an emergency shelter and collect some dry tinder and fuel for a warm fire.  Sam did not bring any rain gear with him ashore for the day had been so nice.  He did have a black trash bag that he put on over his camouflage tee shirt and under his leaf net camo jacket.  I had regular rain gear that I donned at the first drop of rain at 3:15pm.  We used the inflatable dory as the roof to our shelter.  I cut bows with my folding saw to enclose the back and sides.   We caught rainwater off the roof to fill our empty water bottles.  The tinder was too damp to get the fire started.  Sam asked if I had any fire starter.  I said no.  I said that I had made some tinder by saturating cotton balls with petroleum jelly which I had put in some plastic film cartons.  However I did not remember bringing any.  The I decided to look in the orange emergency kit bag that I had bought at one of the Hunter Sportsmen’s Show from Peter Kummerfeldt and OutdoorSafe, Inc.  Peter had demonstrated to my son and I how hot and long this cotton and petroleum jelly mixture would burn.  So when I got home I made some up to put in my hunting gear.  Sure enough I had put two of them in this orange bag!  So Sam “the master fire builder” went to work and with 1 and ½ plastic cartons worth of fire starter had a roaring fire going in the rain.

So Peter your petroleum jelly and cotton worked like a charm and we used the orange trash bags as our ground cloth.  However our shelter was on about a 2% grade that prevented us from sleeping stretched out parallel under the length of the inflatable boat as our roof and we would slide downhill off the slick plastic bag towards the fire.  Since we had rain gear and rubber boots to cover us from waist down, we slept with our lower torsos sticking out into the wind and rain.

With best regards – Roy 

P.S.  My order for additional plastic bags is attached.

Robert Jevons – 2005

I met Peter at the Wilderness Medical Society meeting in Aspen last summer.  The very next day I used the orange plastic bag shelter when caught in a sudden downpour on a hike up Castle Peak, Colorado.  THANKS - Bob

Duane Hockett  - February 2006

Dear Peter,

I went to one of your survival shows in Monroe, Washington and learned a lot of valuable things.  I put some cotton balls covered with Petroleum Jelly in a medicine bottle and put them in my hunting day pack.  While hunting elk in September archery season with my partner I sat in the bottom of a draw while he hunted the other side.  I wasn’t dressed for the cold (cold rain) and I was several miles from the truck, and wasn’t going to leave him there alone.  I did get wet and cold so the only way for me to build a fire was your method. I built a dandy fire and dried out and stayed warm for several hours until my partner arrived.  I would otherwise had a strong chance of being in bad shape.

I was so impressed with your fire starter method that I taught some Royal Ranger boys how to build a fire that way.  And to top it all of we took about eight boys on a five to seven mile overnight campout.  About an hour before we got to the campsite it started raining, we had to set up camp, build a fire, dry the boys out and cook them a meal before dark.  Let’s just say I used your talent and advice again and it works very well.  All I’ll say is forget all those other fire starter methods here in the northwest.  In my eyes your way is the only way period!

Thank you - Duane Hockett

Melissa Anderson  - July 2003

I was sharing the role of "camp cook" for a group of women on a horseback trail ride in the high country of Western Wyoming. The ages of the women ranged from 18 to 60. Unfortunately, the organizer and leader of the trip had not asked the women to fill out health forms. A major faux pas on his part.

About the time we hit 8,000 feet in altitude, the youngest of the group, an 18 year-old girl, began feeling ill.  When we reached 8,200 feet, she was in real trouble. The leader and organizer had, at this point, gone ahead of the group and was no where in sight. I got the girl off her horse and into the shade. She began having seizures and convulsions. One of the other ladies had brought a wool blanket with her and I  put that around the girl as she began going into shock.  She was, by this time, convulsing so hard I had to hold her to keep her from smashing her head into the ground and surrounding rocks.  Inbetween seizures she would vomit and cry. Most of the group went on ahead to try to find the leader.  Staying behind with me and the girl were two ladies that accompanied her on the trip and the outfitter who owned the horses.  I asked the ladies that came with the girl what kind of medicine the girl might be taking.  They told me she was taking medication for acne. I asked them to get me the PI (package insert) from her medication.  Under the listing of "brain damage" was all the symptoms the girl was experiencing. I read further to discover that this medication also caused swelling in the brain. I knew for certain that between the drug and the effects of  high altitude that she was in serious trouble.

It didn't take long to realize we needed to get this girl down out of these mountains.  Fortunately the outfitter had a satellite phone.  I told her to get me a helicopter NOW!  Once the call was made, I split the orange plastic bag I had gotten from Peter to make it larger.  I then sent the two ladies, that had come with the girl, out into the open with the bag and instructions to "shake it like a tablecloth." I knew that color plus movement increased the chances it would be seen. After what seemed like an eternity (but was only about 1 hour) we heard the helicopter. During the wait, the girl continued to have seizures and convulsions, worsening with each one. She no longer had lucid moments and could not speak. The only way she could communicate was with a flaccid squeeze of her hand. About the time we heard the helicopter's approach, she lost consciousness, quit breathing and her heart stopped.  I had to perform CPR. She responded.

We saw the helicopter circle the girls with the orange bag. They spotted us!

About the time the helicopter was landing, the girl went "out" again and again I had to perform CPR.  Thank the Lord she came back a second time.  But, her heart beat and breathing was so shallow and weak I knew if she went again, that would be it. She would not come back.

We were so far out in the back country that I am convinced had it not been for the EMTs in helicopter spotting the orange bag that they would not have reached us in time and without all the sound advice I have received from Peter over the years that this 18 year-old  girl would have died.

The girl made a full recovery and last I heard, is doing fine with no negative, long-term effects of her ordeal.

Thank you Peter for sharing all your great, life-saving knowledge.

 Melissa Anderson