Jim Jacobs Scout 2026

Every single time I leave the house, put on my 18th-century clothes, strap a blanket to my back, and head out on the trail, I am opening myself up to have my gear and my knowledge critiqued. Not by you, the readers, or by my fellow companions, but by Mother Nature herself, and I can say from all my experiences that she’s the best critic and best teacher there is. She will give you a completely objective and unbiased look into your weak spots and where your knowledge, understanding, and preparations need to be expanded.

Our adventure began months ago as Jim and I started to plan where we might go. We chose to go back to the same area near Hoosier National Forest. We invited some folks, but in the end, four of us made the daring trip into the woods. Friday, Jim and Ty Payne met at the boat launch area, loaded the canoe with provisions, and made their way to the eventual campsite, an island in the middle of a wide creek that eventually feeds into a lake. This was further than we had gone before when it was just he and I. They made a good camp and waited for our arrival.

Azel arrived at my house Friday night, and we made all the last-minute preparations one makes: moccasin making, food preparations, and working out just the right way to carry the gear you’ve decided to take.

My gear list consisted of:

2 handkerchiefs
Jacket
2 shirts
Leggings (4 ties)
Breechclout (handkerchief)
Moccasins (1 tie)
Belt

Bedroll

• 2 blankets (tumpline)
• Blanket coat tied to bedroll
• Extra stockings, shirt, knit cap, spare moccasins
• Sewing kit

Gun (cow’s knee)
Tomahawk
Knife

Kettle (food sacks)

We left bright and early and arrived on site at around 10:15 a.m. We strapped our packs on and headed out for the nearly two-hour hike to our rendezvous with Jim. Along the way, we observed the beautiful landscape around us that Jim waxes poetically about in our conversations. We followed the trail until a familiar form emerged ahead of us, and we found the old Indian Trader, his eyes lighting up as we came closer. I called to him, “The Sachem of the Miami sends his greetings.” I had concocted this story that we were liaisons who had made contact with the Miami to open up trade and that we were to rendezvous with a Mr. Jacobs and guide him to the town of the Miami. It was just a small scenario to give us some purpose out there.

We hiked a bit further to the landing spot, where we loaded into the canoe and shoved off into open water towards the island camp. Ty was waiting on the bank, his red toque sticking out along the stark shoreline. He called to us, “Bonjour,” and we disembarked in the mud of the island’s edge while the orange leaf cover of the rocky bluff on the opposite bank caught the sun.

We quickly became acquainted with the worst bed of seed burs and stickers that this earth can produce, and we were much tormented by their presence on every surface of our clothing and blankets.

As we came into camp, we saw Jim and Ty’s work from the day before: the canvas tent cloth lashed to a fallen tree that had snapped about 6 feet up and lay over, creating the perfect ridgepole to lash a tarp to. The fire sat smoldering, and a large stack of dead wood had been gathered for the night ahead. We sat in camp and caught up with our friends, and as nightfall arrived, we ate a supper of buffalo meat and parched corn, unfurled our bedrolls, and began to settle in. I produced a deck of cards and dice, and we amused ourselves into the night with games of chance. I was lucky at cards and took most of our hands. Mr. Payne began to wonder whether a card or two had made their way up my blanket coat sleeve, but I assured him this was not the case.

We had a restless night as the coyotes howled and cackled over the ridge and beavers smacked their tails in the water around our island. I sat up against a tree and stoked the fire in between brief moments of sleep.

As morning came, I made some hoe cakes in the bottom of my kettle with bear grease. We then discussed our plans to embark, and after deciding, we took turns shooting at a joker from my card deck. Mr. Jacobs was the winner with the headshot.

This is the part where our adventure really took a turn and our odyssey began. Mr. Jacobs gave us the choice of being taken back to where we had met him and taking the road back to the original launch site, or he’d take us upstream to a spot where, with a bit of a jog through the woods, we’d make it to the road and shave a bit off our walk, a shortcut if you will. Well, shortcuts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, and shortly after we were dropped off, we began to suspect that Mr. Jacobs hadn’t dropped us where he maybe had intended to.

Our map told us, though, that it would be a longer hike through the woods, but we could still probably make it. Our journey began across the mucky ground, and as we walked, Azel lost his shoes in the mud. We came to a thick stand of short trees and scrub brush that became increasingly difficult to walk through. Our bedrolls caught on every imaginable snare, and the deer trails, while offering some guidance to our feet, were low beneath the brush, so we proceeded in some places almost bent in half, and the weight of our packs strained the lower back to its breaking point. As we stopped on the other side of this labyrinth, we began to realize that we were in fact going to have to cross water at some point. Ahead of us was more brush, but this time its thickness was coupled with deep mud that sank us to our ankles and higher. That simply was not going to be an option.

We made our way to the bank of the creek we knew Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Payne would be traveling back on. Upon arriving there, we fired several blanks in the air, hoping they would hear us and come to our aid so we could explain our dilemma and make a plan for someone to return with the canoe and rescue us. We heard absolutely no reply. We tried again. Nothing. So we decided to hike back across the spit of land to the opposite creek, whose crossing would lead us to the road. 

After a long debate, we decided we would ford the creek. We had no idea how deep it was in the center, and the temperature was a concern. We undid our bedrolls and used our tumplines to lash two dried-out pieces of wood together. We then lashed our bedrolls into a pile of clothing and blankets, stuffing our valuables into the center. Holding our guns above our heads, we pushed off into the cold water, taking special care to gently push the raft, which we named the “Desperation,” along through the water. Our feet began to sink into the mud, and I awaited the moment when there would be a steep drop-off, but fortunately the water only came to just above our waists. At one point, my blanket coat fell forward into the water, and we snatched it up quickly and continued.

We landed on the far side, having conquered the creek, and we smiled and laughed at our good fortune. The road wasn’t far now. As we took our time getting our gear reorganized and ready to go, I noticed something was missing: my shot pouch. I’m sad to report that it and all of its contents now lay at the bottom of the creek. I debated going back in for it, but I couldn’t really be sure where it was, and with the cold water and our distance from any help, I opted not to risk my health. It’s moments like that that teach you, and I will proceed with more caution when next I have to cross water. It’s also moments like that that remind me of the countless narratives and accounts that highlight the truth that most people on the frontier were learning as they went, too. The frontiersman of myth and the frontiersman of fact are very different things. The standouts of the 18th century stand out precisely because they were the exception and not the rule. For every Kasper Mansker or Daniel Boone, there were 50 guys just like the ones Cresswell finds himself with on his way to the Illinois country, totally inept and scared out of their minds at the first sign of Indians or some other trouble.

We made our way to the road, and as we traveled down it, we met Mr. Payne, who had been sent to find us. The trip tested our equipment and our fortitude, and that is always the goal. I look forward to the next time so I can make new mistakes and continue on the path of knowledge.

Printed Handkerchiefs, Womens silk bonnet and a small cuttoe or How do we interpret what we read into reality?

 Well, after a whirlwind of activity on the Facebook page, I'm ready to get back to something a bit more enjoyable than watching people fighting over documentation. To that end, I've been combing through the McCorkle store ledgers this week and saving a lot of interesting entries. You definitely see a common thread of items being purchased. But one thing I wanted to maybe illustrate in this post is how to arrive at an accurate look based on reading some of these written ledger accounts. It's one thing to read it, it's another thing to interpret with accuracy, or at least, as accurately as we can. Another thing to note is that McCorkle's store is on the edge of the Virginia frontier and many people heading into the backcountry stopped there for provisions. Keep that in mind as you imagine what the frontier looked like. 

    I decided I'd put together my own purchase from the store and then show how I arrive at what each item looks like and why I avoid certain other interpretations. All the items I've listed are actual items I've read in the ledgers 

    So, here is my McCorkle Store purchase - 

To 1 printed handkerchief 

To 4 Gun flints 

To 2 pints of rum 

To 1 womens silk bonnet  

To butcher knife 

To small cuttoe

    Some of these are self explanatory. Gun flints for instance allow basically zero room for variation. But what should a printed handkerchief look like? Or a woman's silk bonnet? And what is a cuttoe? 

    Let's start with the handkerchief. A common reenactorism is to simply cut a piece of plain colored linen or check linen out of a piece of fabric into a square and then tie it loosely around the neck. Can I prove that nobody ever did that? No. However, I can prove based on images and extant examples what people did do. Printed Handkerchiefs are bought by the hundreds in this ledger. It's one of single most frequent purchases. So, let's look at some images. 

Here's a store ledger saying that a John Newell, among other things, bought some printed handkerchiefs. 

 John Singleton Copley, 1778,
National Gallery of Art

 No I know what you're thinking. Well, these would have been worn by slightly upper class people. What about these poor backwoods folks. Surely they wouldn't have had something that fancy. Poor people wore them too. 

    So, what kinds of patterns do I avoid? Well, the most common ones I observe at events and such are patterns like this : 

I would avoid these as I've just never seen anything like it in a period image worn around the neck. Once again, can I prove it never happened? No. But why go with what I can't prove when I have 5 images directly above and many many more like it that show printed handkerchiefs. Now, there is mention in the ledger of check handkerchiefs. But 18th century check is very different from later versions. Here again, what does the historical record leave us. Here is a sample of some 18th century check material. 

     Now that we've got our handkerchief questions squared away, let's look at the next item. A Silk bonnet. Silk?! Awfully fancy for poor backwoods folks in western Virginia in 1774. One again, let's see what we can find out about silk bonnets. 

Here is in original silk bonnet in the collection of Colonial Williamsburg, the only extant one in existence from what I understand. 

One might look at this bonnet and think to themselves that this would be worn by some rich woman of the 18th century, but once again, these bonnets were very common among the laboring classes. 

 Once again, we've solved the this problem with combining multiple sources, from the written description from a ledger, and the painted and printed image. 

    The last mysterious item, is the cuttoe knife. And rather than rehash this topic, I'm going to link you to an article at the Of Sorts For Provincials Blog. 

Now that we've made sense of these items, I'd like to encourage you. I think the best thing we can do as reenactors and living historians is to leave behind the "could haves". Of course some weaver "could have" made a check of that style for a handkerchief. But I've never been able to find an example. Meanwhile there are literally hundreds of examples of printed handkerchiefs. So with something so common, why not just do that? 

 I hope this has been helpful in understanding some of the methods I and others use to arrive a conclusion. 

 If you'd like your own printed handkerchief, I'd recommend purchasing here : 

BURNLEY AND TROWBRIDGE 

For an affordable cuttoe, go here: 

SOUTH UNION MILLS 

The Raid on Bledsoe's Station - Impressions of the Middle Ground

      As we prepare for the September event at Bledsoe's Station, I get inquiring messages from folks wishing to attend and I've been giving some feedback on what we want to see at this event. I thought I might offer some thoughts to give folks an idea of what it is we are trying to achieve. 

    Unlike a lot of the events centered around the frontier forts, this event is not a market fair, or a 2 o'clock tactical with merchants and vendors. This is a semi immersive experience, and to that end it will not include many of the things folks are used to. Those who would like to attend need to follow the guidelines. Fortunately, we are more than willing to work with folks who are willing to work with us. I wanted to discuss the clothing and some of the rational behind our event standards. 

    In his History of Middle Tennessee, admittedly published long after the fact, Edward Albright writes the following about the middle ground in 1783 : 

Every kind of garment for the wear of med and boys was made of dressed skins.. We do not assert that they all wore such, and " nothing else." What we do mean, however, is, that no man was ashamed to wear leather breeches or a leather hunting-shirt or far cap. Most of them were very well contented to be thus clothed. Some were satisfied, or under necessity, of wholy dispensing with every article made of wool, cotton, or f a r . Like "the said Hood," they could say that "from tho skin out" ther were dressed in skin--moccasins, pants, shirts, cap, and gloves all of dressed or undressed skins. Almost out of the world, but "in the fashion."

In a rainy day, or an evening's recreation, the men assisted in " cutting out, in spinning the thread, and in sewing up garments." The process of making the thread or leather strings was often skilfully managed, in cutting a delicate thread or a stouter "whang." A shoemaker's awl was "the needle of that day." Men were usefal sewing-machines, and "the women loved to have it so." And thus men and women helped each other, clothed themselves comfortably and genteelly in the fashion, and were as useful and happy as happy could be. 

    I've highlighted a few key phrases. First, that he does not assert that they ALL wore leather and buckskin. But that many of them did. And the last phrase I have highlighted which is absolutely crucial to our understanding of what these garments may have looked like, "IN THE FASHION". What does this curious phrase mean? It means, that these garments weren't just crudely sewn together. It means that they tried their best to create garments based on what was fashionable at the time. A leather hunting shirt then would look not that much different from a linen hunting shirt in construction an design. Leather breeches look like their linen or wool counterpart, etc. 

    If we compare that with other information we have from actual period sources we can start to get a clearer picture. 

  The oft quoted description of a hunting shirt by Doddridge and Smythe are still the best out there: 

"There whole dress is very singular, and not very materially different from that of the Indians; being a hunting shirt, somewhat resembling a waggoner’s frock, ornamented with a great many fringes, tied around the middle with a broad belt, much decorated also…Their hunting or rifle shirts, they have also died in variety of colors, some yellow, others red, some brown, and many wear them quite white” (Smyth 179-180)

The hunting shirt was universally worn. This was a kind of loose frock, reaching halfway down the thighs, with large sleeves, open before, and so wide as to lap a foot or more when belted. The cape was large and sometimes handsomely fringed with a ravelled piece of cloth of a different color from that of the hunting shirt its self. The bosom of this dress served as a wallet to hold a chunk of bread, cakes, jerk, tow for wiping the barrel of the rifle, and any other necessary for hunter or warrior… The hunting shirt was generally made of linsey, sometimes of coarse linen, and few of dressed deerskins. These last being very cold and uncomfortable in wet weather. (doddridge 91)"

    So, here we have some great detailed descriptions and even a reference that sometimes they were made of deerskin. 

Let's now start to look at the extant record that exists, namely original garments and paintings and then we will take a lot at plausible recreations that would fit into the world of 1780s Colonial America. 

 

 

Photo by Neal Hurst 

    

    We can see common threads in all of these images and in this original. Capes, fringe...and a "fashion" begins to appear.

    As we look towards what a recreation of some of these silhouettes might look like, I think a common idea is that people preferred, generally speaking, to conform to the standards set by society. Cresswell upon returning to a more "civilized" area comments on how out of place he is in his ragged appearance and how the people are even distressed by his appearance. So, the common silhouette should be the goal of any impression, even in the backwoods. 

 Let's look at a few impressions that have opted for a leather hunting shirt since Albright has claimed that this was somewhat common in the middle ground during the year 1783. 

Micheal Agee, pictured above, is sporting a woolen waistcoat, fit correctly, a cocked hat, leather breeches and a leather hunting shirt made very much in keeping with what we see in the original images above. It's fit is that of a jacket "in the fashion". 

    Next, we see an impression from Anthony of the Deerskin Diary. He is sporting a look that is very consistent with Albright's description. Nearly head to toe in buckskins. But notice the details. We see a shirt that is cut very much "in the fashion", leggings that resemble what we see in period images of woolen leggings like this image of a Native American from the 1770s: 

   

Here we see some more impressions, three different looks that give you a variety. One has adopted some of the Indian dress, a breechclout and garters on his leggings, but is wearing a  hunting shirt and hat. The middle fellow has adopted the leggings, wears a pair of buckskins breeches, a dark colored hunting shirt and finger woven sash and moccasins. The other gentleman is still wearing his linen breeches, and aside from his hunting shirt, native strap and buck tail, wears nothing that would necessarily denote him as being on the frontier in our collective imagination of what a "frontiersman" would look like. 

    All of these approaches show you the variety of ways you can follow the historical record and create a correct silhouette while also expressing individual taste. I hope this gives everyone a good direction. 

 I would also like to direct you to an article Kobuck did over on his blog about common fashion. It has some excellent primary source material and will help fill in some blanks. You can read that HERE

 Here are some other excellent resources all collected in one place so you can read at your leisure filled with quotes and images from the period along with interpretations of them. 

GARTERS 

AN ARTICLE ON WHAT TO CARRY AT AN IMMERSION EVENT 

SOME THOUGHTS ON BREECHCLOUTS AND INDIAN DRESS 

COLORFUL CLOTHING 

QUOTES ON LEGGINGS 

KNAPSACKS 

HUNTING SHIRTS 

BEDROLLS AND WALLETS 

CLOTHING IN KENTUCKY 

MORE THOUGHTS ON CLOTHING IN THE BACKCOUNTRY 

Colorful Clothing in the Backcountry

 Putting yourself out on the internet comes with its drawbacks, but also gives you a sense of where people are and what they value, and largely the videos and blog posts are very well received. But for some, it's an opportunity to sort of politely and sometimes not so politely criticize and dismiss the notions of authenticity this blog promotes in favor of a more "common sense" approach suggesting that documentation is all well and good, but is found wanting once you get out and start doing stuff in the woods. Realizing that this sort of stuff just comes with the territory of being on the internet, I try to use these opportunities to simply let the historical record speak for itself and try to prove on some practical level that the things our forefathers wrote down and described actually work. 

    The "common sense" approach suggests that in the backcountry, ie Indian country, nobody would have been caught dead wearing anything bright or colorful because that would have made you stick out like a sore thumb and would have instantly gotten you killed. And to be sure, we have many references to dark colored clothing. Daniel Boone is described by a George Christian as having a black hunting shirt made of deerskin. Another description from McWorter described someone whose clothing was colored in the ooze made from the bark of the chestnut tree. So we have plenty of documentation for dark clothing, albeit where many of those folks who embrace that image of the frontier and adopt that manner of dress go wrong today is in the style and patterning. But we'll put a pin in that for now. 

    Our concern today is brightly colored clothing existing in the backcountry in the 18th century. 

    The first reference that comes to mind for me is Col Lewis, killed at the Battle of Point Pleasant in 1774. He was killed wearing a scarlet waistcoat and in one account is said to have made a very "visible target." Now, the common sense crowd reading this want to celebrate and send up a cheer and say "See, that is what we're talking about. That would get you killed." But, what this proves is that someone in the 18th century did in fact wear a bright colored coat in the woods against Native Americans in battle. I would suggest that what got him killed was that he was clearly important, not that he was sporting a bright color. But, let's find other examples that don't end in the person getting killed. 

"There whole dress is very singular, and not very materially different from that of the Indians; being a hunting shirt, somewhat resembling a waggoner’s frock, ornamented with a great many fringes, tied around the middle with a broad belt, much decorated also…Their hunting or rifle shirts, they have also died in variety of colors, some YELLOW, others RED, some brown, and many wear them quite WHITE." (Smyth 179-180)

    In the late 1770s, Benjamin Allen is captured by Natives and describes being given some clothing during his captivity. 

“They then brought me two calico hunting shirts, sort of RED…”

When he returned from captivity he describes clothing he received from a Col Baker.

"He gave me a BLUE hunting shirt and a new hat." 

Another description describes the "eccentric dress" of a "BLUE hunting shirt, trimmed with RED"

At the battle of Blue Licks, the entire company from Lexington were clad in red leggings. 

"...on the top of the hill, I fell in with a man who had RED leggings on, and I was told only the company from Lexington had on such leggings.” -Jacob Stevens

So here are just a handful of many examples of color on the frontier. But let's throw another element in here that might make us rethink the idea that staying hidden and not standing out was foremost on the mind of anyone living or working in the woods. Native Americans are described over and over as painting themselves RED. Yes, the very one that would supposedly kill you instantly for wearing bright colors were also brightly colored. 

"The party appeared next day painted RED and black, their heads covered all over with swan-down, and a tuft of long WHITE feathers fixt to the crown of their heads." -James Adair

The head, neck and breast, are painted with VERMILLION" - William Bartram 

“They were naked and painted RED and black, making a very frightful appearance” - John Rutherford “a journal of an Indian captivity during Pontiac’s rebellion in the year 1763

“The figure of the combatants all besmeared with RED and black paint, and covered with the blood of the slain, . . . “ -Jonathan Carver “travels 

This shows a variety of colors, RED leggings and breechclout as well as yellow face paint and  RED plumes. 

On a practical note, it has been pointed out to me that in color science as explained in art school we're taught that red and green are very similar on the light spectrum. And I can tell you, having done immersion events where I have faced natives in full red paint in the woods, they blend in surprisingly well and disappear in heavy foliage very quickly. 

Dark colors are great in the woods and can help you blend in. There is no doubt of that. Nobody would ever try to suggest differently. But, when we are trying to recreate the past, the important thing to do is what THEY did.  Certainly, if your personal preference is dark colors, by all means, we have documentation for that. But don't look at the guy in his blue hunting shirt and red leggings and say "they would have NEVER worn something that bright in the woods cause that would have gotten you killed," because we have documentation for that too. 

I want to thank Matthew Fennewald and Will Manire for helping me with the native quotations. 

Where have all the persona's gone?

Photo by Ethan Yazel

 It was Friday night at the immersion event. I was sitting with Jim Jacobs sharing a pipe when suddenly he says "I've been thinking about why an old man like me might be out here with you fellows. Let me run this by you and see what you think." And like a switch suddenly flipping on, I was no longer sitting next to Jim Jacobs the 21st century man, but Jim Jacobs the Indian Trader suddenly came effortlessly into view without pretense or blundering. He began to tell me a complete and detailed life story. 

In the late 1740s, James (Jim) was an assistant to a Mr. Crawford. He was sent eventually to the village of Pickawillany in the Ohio Country. This village belonged to the Miami and in 1749, George Croghan established a trading post alongside the village. In 1750, after the French placed a bounty for Croghans scalp, the Pennsylvania Provincial Council sent along some gifts to the village requesting to build a "strong house." William Trent describes the fort thus : 

Having obtained permission from the Indians, the English, in the fall of 1750, began the erection of a stockade, as a place of protection, in case of sudden attack, both for their persons and property. When the main building was completed, it was surrounded with a high wall of split logs, having three gateways. Within the inclosure the traders dug a well, which furnished an abundant supply of fresh water during the fall, winter, and spring, but failed in summer. At this time Pickawillany contained four hundred Indian families, and was the residence of the principal chief of the Miami Confederacy.  - William Trent, Journal of Captain William Trent from Logstown to Pickawillany, A.D. 1752

 

Trent later describes the storehouse : 

...ordinary log cabins, the trading being carried on below, while an "upper storey" or "loft" was used as a place to store away skins and combustible material ... The articles of traffic on the part of the whites were firearms, gunpowder, lead, ball, knives, rings, rum, medals, hatchets, flints, blades, cooking utensils, shirts and other articles of wearing apparel, tobacco pipes, paint, etc .... Some of the traders would run regular "caravans" of fifteen or twenty horses, making several trips during the year.

This persona of a trader has been Jims bread and butter since the 90s, when the longhunter craze was in full swing. Jim, being the discerning reenactor that he is, decided to dive head first into a less romantic impression without all the bluster and shrouded in so much mythology.  

    As I sat and listened to this story, I was taken back to a time in this hobby when the 'persona' was an all important aspect of what it meant to be a reenactor or a living historian. Not just knowing what year it is, but what happened to you as a person 5, 10 or 15 years prior. What lead you to this moment that you are portraying. This idea of having a backstory to go along with what you were doing. This idea was more than mere public engagement. Dare I say it, it was almost a kind of role-play. For many, aside from this hobby having a certain educational value where the public is concerned, there's an element of escapism, of trying to walk in the shoes of a person long gone in a time and place long gone simply for the curiosity and personal satisfaction. This play acting isn't just mere story telling or fantasy though. It's informed by the research one does about history. 

   This approach appears to be absent in the progressive wing of this hobby. It would seem  that those who revel in nailing an impression and showing up for a "living history" or who have multi impression disorder (I'm guilty of this), are not as interested in this mode of reenacting. They are excited to show up for the hardcore interp event, only to grab a pizza and pull the six pack from the cooler at 5 o'clock when the public is no longer there to observe them. In some ways I think they view their impression as just a notch on the impression belt. They showed up, had an experience, they've got the photos to prove it and they're on to the next impression to conquer. The people like Jim who have dedicated their entire reenacting career to one specific time and place complete with backstory and persona would appear to be a bit of a curiosity in todays hobby. The idea of getting in the zone, to have a time travel moment after the public leaves. Staying in it for the 48 hour duration of the weekend event. This type of thing was the norm when I was growing up in this hobby at places like Manskers Station, Martins Station, Caesars Creek and Fair at New Boston among others. Not that everyone was walking around talking in some fake accent as another person. But they knew something about the who, what, where, and why of their person in the context of the 18th century. 

    This approach also managed to find its way home. While most folks pack up their kit at the end of the weekend and only see it again at the next event, some folks integrate their reenacting and experimental archeology into their every day lives, maybe trying to garden in an 18th century manner, hunting of course, maybe learning a skill or trade of the era, and all of this contributing and even becoming part of, to use the current hip kid lingo, the "lore" of your chosen characters persona. 

    I wonder if this way of reenacting is destined to be a memory, or if there are those who don't wish to merely give an impression, but who wish to adopt a persona. 

    For more thoughts on this, I'd recommend Cathy Johnsons book "Who was I?"

"Nancy's Kindness to be remembered..." Two Days on the Kentucky with my wife Part 2 The Woods

 Friday morning it rained. We had spent a good portion of the day Thursday in preparation and as the dark clouds loomed overhead, we loaded the car and made the journey south towards Can-tuck-ee. 

    We arrived and began to pack our provisions, Eileen with her two blankets and wallet suspended from a leather tumpline, my provisions packed up in a buffalo robe and suspended from a woven tumpline. I definitely wished we'd had a packhorse. The buffalo robe really wasn't conducive for a long trek in the woods, and thankfully we weren't going that far, but I knew that the buffalo robe was needed if we were to have a chance at a semi comfortable sleep during the night. 

    After we got in our clothes and had our packs on, we were ready to step off into the woods and on to our adventure. We headed down the hill and made our way to the camp, the same spot that our hunting party camped nearly a year ago for our Immersion event. We decided to build a lean-to shelter, mostly as a wind break and in the event of rain, we could throw one of our blankets up over it and proved a little relief. I cut a pole and lashed it between two trees, lined up poles off the back and then covered it with green growth from around the area. Eileen set about gathering firewood and soon we had a shelter built a large pile of sticks. 

    We sat in our newly constructed house and talked about the plans for the rest of the day and the day after. The woods were quiet except for the sounds of birds and the occasional rustle of a squirrel just beyond our sight. With the looming clouds, we agreed that today we would simply tend camp and get ready for the night. Eileen got a fire going and we set about gathering even more fuel. I pulled out my journal and jotted down a few thoughts. 

    Theres something truly wonderful about unplugging for a bit, and spending good quality time together. We talked and laughed and just basked in each others presence. Then hunger began to set in, and we munched on some parched corn as dinner preparations began. I had decided to bring some soup fixings because of the cold weather, I thought it would help us to have something good and hot before turning in for the night. Bean and Barley soup was prepared in our trade kettle. I didn't love the results, but it was warm. We had some sourdough bread and that helped offset my distaste for the beans. 

   

    After supper, we settled in for what would end up being a long night. The cold from the ground was just too much with the rain that had proceeded it and no matter what we did, it felt like there was always a draft. The buffalo robe did its best, but we really needed more insulation underneath of us. I stayed up most of the night stoking the fire as big as I could get it, closing my eyes for a few minutes and then back to stoking. We didn't get to sleep until about five the next morning. Eileen suffered the most but she persevered. I gave her all three blankets, and sat near the fire with my blanket coat. 

    As the morning light sifted through the trees and fell upon our brush abode, we took courage. We had survived a miserable night and the new day offered warmth and a new set of adventures. I began to prepare breakfast in my frying pan. Potatoes, onions and salt pork fried in bear grease. It was a fine meal and an excellent way to get us energized for the day. 

    After we ate breakfast, we prepared for our hike to the river. We planned to try to catch some fish. We hiked down the hill and crossed the road following the trail that leads down to the river. It's a beautiful walk down there, especially of a morning. We saw some ducks along the way in the small lake that sits beside the river. 

    We arrived the bank of the river and found a spot that was close to the water. I began to make up a fishing line and prepare my pole. I haven't really done any 18th century angling, and so I wasn't sure how it was gonna work out. I saw a lot of fish activity, heard them splash, but I was ultimately unsuccessful. This is a skill that I really want to develop more in the future, so I'll be doing some deep dives. Eileen sat on the bank and did some sketching. 

    We eventually gave up on the fishing and began to make our way back up the hill towards camp. As we left the area, we heard a racket coming from the lake. We walked towards the bank and across the way we saw two dark figures that from the back, I mistook as beaver, but then suddenly one of them turned to the side and revealed it was in fact a pair of otters. They quickly ran towards the water and disappeared. With our sighting we were all smiles as we continued along the way, only to hear more of their sounds far on the other side of the water. We could make out their movements as the sun glistened on their fur and the water parted in their wake. They inched closer and closer back toward us, but we could only see one of them. Suddenly they moved up on to the bank and I said "Where is the other one?" Eileen said, "Umm, that is both of them. I think we interrupted something earlier." Sure enough, spring was definitely in the air. It was quite a thing to see. 

    We hiked up the hill and finally made it back to our lean-to, but not before an unfortunate injury occurred. Eileen stepped on a very sharp rock she didn't see which brought her full weight on it and took her to her knees and causing her to hit her hand hard on the other rocks. She was in a lot of pain and when we got her back to the shelter, her foot had already started to swell and show signs of bruising. After assessing her injury, we prepared to make lunch. I used a cornmeal/masa mixture and fried them up in bear grease in the frying pan. They turned out great and I ate my fill of them. The recipe that I used is : 

50/50 Cornmeal and Masa - 2 cups 

Salt 

A cup of water 

Bear Grease in the pan 

 I used my tin cup to measure out the cups, so whichever size you have should work. I made them in to small pancakes and fried them until darkened on either side.

    After lunch we decided to take a nap in the lean-to and catch up on some sleep we didn't get the night before. There's not much better than an afternoon nap in the woods. The sound of the breeze rustling the tree tops is a great sound to fall to sleep to. 

    After that we shot my smoothbore and then decided it was time to head back home. We packed up fairly quickly and slowly made our way back up the hill and out of the woods into the 21st century. 

    Some things I learned : 

-A Buffalo robe is only as good as the insulation underneath it. If the ground is wet and the temperatures drop, you'll still be cold. 

-I need to up my fishing game 

    I hope you enjoyed reading about this trip. Next up for us is the immersion event in a few weeks. Until then...