We're Not Gonna Take It

Chapter III: You're On Your Own

I was on my own. Truly, one hundred percent, on my own. It was time to see if I could actually carry out this insane, logical plan.

When I packed my bags, I had to find food that would pack well- I intend to hide out and camp in the woods, then travel though the few cities near the capital until I finally arrive. I figure I need to lay low for a bit, so that no one I know sees me and reports something to authorities.

From home, I had brought my backpack I used in (mandatory) military training "clubs," blankets, and the widest range of clothes I had- from shorts to winter coats. After I had figured that part out, I had gone into the poor section of town to buy equipment- so I didn't arise suspicion- and gotten an old tent that was probably used in some long-ago war, a set of a pot and bowls that fit inside each other, a sleeping bag, matches, some protein bars, and as many instant noodles as I could fit in the remaining space. It could be said that I could have packed less: it could also have been said that I was PREPARED.

In the coniferous forest I was hiking through, I found a small clearing with a running creek about 20 steps away, and plenty of small sticks for kindling. It was perfect spot to spend a night or two, drafting speeches and pamphlets, and writing out plans. Before I could do that however, I had to figure out how to do this whole "camping" thing.

My first problem was the tent. The tent in of itself was perfectly fine- the problem was that I had no clue how to set it up. The first ten times I tried I failed epically. Inside out, poles in the wrong spot, using the rain cover as the tent, putting the poles inside; I did everything wrong. After what must have been thirty painstakingly long minutes, the tent was finally up.

The next challenge was making a fire to boil water over, which I felt slightly more confident about- I had boiled water before. I gathered up as many tiny sticks as a could, made a triangle, and lit them ablaze. It took about ten matches just to get a tiny flame.

I was lucky that this summer was particularly dry; wet branches are exceedingly hard to lights on fire, and when lit produce smoke that would give my position away before I was even searched for. With the dry wood, I managed to get a large enough fire that I could begin to boil water.

I learned from military tactics that if water is boiled, it becomes potable. In the creek, there's undoubtably countless diseases and lead particles from long ago mines upstream, so boiling water is a necessity. I'm not entirely sure that boiling water removes lead, but considering I'm actively making plans to take down a totalitarian dictatorship with rather extreme censorship methods, I don't think it's a top priority currently.

I got a pot full of water from the stream, gingerly put it on the fire, careful not to spill any, and waited for the water to boil.

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I waited for the water to boil.

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And waited.

The water was boiling. I poured some of the boiling water in a bowl, and placed the noodles in the bowl. I continued to wait.

Three minutes, until the noodles were done.

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Two minutes, until the noodles were done.

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One minute, until the noodles were done.

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The noodles were done. They didn't taste that great, but it didn't matter; they were food, and by the time they were finally done and everything was set up, it must have been eleven o'clock at night.