This is funny. Kcaw would really be happier if I Googled info on Bundy and then made up an exact date, so the story seems more true? I'm not sure I can wrap my head around that. It is an interesting little story from my life that I've told many times before. I have no intention of embellishing it to make it better for some random.

I can honestly say that I've never had anyone want me to make up stuff so that a story seems more real, lol. I don't mind the skepticism, I'm pretty skeptical myself. But after I dismiss kcaw lightly in my own blog, his continuing to accuse me of lying for no other reason than to be mean are not the traits of a "good" guy. (as much as I respect your opinion, kioshk)

It's interesting to me that this story engenders such passion when it is far from the most bizarre incident in my life and probably not even in the top five. I suppose my saving grace for the "naysayers" is that the most amazing thing that I've ever experienced (and absolutely unbelievable) is well documented by photos, lol.

Oh well, that's the nature of this thing called the internet. I had a very difficult day yesterday, the dog hurt his foot again and this time they had to extract the claw. We both went through a lot of crying, but he's much better today without that injured nail.

I think the most frustrating thing for me is that I am dealing with the inability to do precisely what kcaw is accusing me of doing. I seem to be unable to write fiction. I posted a while back that, as the culminating event in my life, I was trying to write "The Great American Novel", a sort of Moby Dick goes to Woodstock, lol. I've got the Woodstock part down, (Yes, I was there, I'm in the pictures; I'm the one in the middle!) but the mystery part eludes me.

The saga continues...

when you were in the middle of that survival expedition, would you have paid $10,000 for a glass of ice cold lemonade?

i have a brilliant business idea i'm thinking about stealing.

I didn't accuse you of anything. It was just a few things seemed odd.

I'll quit. I didn't mean to offend you. I think you're taking it a little too personally.

My first post simply stated I was skeptical and your responses is basically "you are nothing"

cmon man!

Yeah kcraw's right this guy's talking ****



Jk, awesome stories. Keep them coming.

I do not want to be mean to you. I'm just trying to write little stories about my life and share them in my first blog. I am sorry if I came across too strong in my initial response to you; I was upset over the dog, tired and discouraged over your reaction. If it came across as taking things too "personal", well that's sort of the nature of a personal blog.

I was still drinking at the time I took this trip, so I think that I might have paid that much for a six pack at the time, lol.

Will do, I will continue tomorrow.

Look like this blog has a lot more mileage yet.

Great blog Tyler. It is funny how one can tell a lot about a person from as much as a handful of random posts, but even then this blog has still managed to surprise.

If you're struggling to write fiction just remember that whatever you write should be personal to you, deeply personal if you really want to strike gold. If you do it right, it may barely be fiction at all.

I think it would be kind of odd for someone to make up a story about their gender being mistaken. Also it doesn't really sound like the type of story you would just make up at the top of your head. As a result, I believe Tyler's story to be true. If it isn't true... great job at making it believable.

True or not true I don't mind, because it is lots of fun to read anyway. Can't wait for the next story.

This is that coming of age moment where all us young folk gather around the fire with our eyes wide-open eagerly anticipating old man Tyler's next story. We once viewed the elderly as nothing but a nuisance, now we're beginning to understand that their insights and expereinces are of great value. They were once (and in many ways still are) like us.

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We made little pots with the clay and heated them in the fire until they were able to hold water. We buried these level with the ground with about an inch of water and then stirred up the nearest ant hill. After about a half-hour, the pot would have a bunch of ants in them.

The ants could be poured out on a hot rock and after they were quickly cooked you could cull them by angling the rock to the side. Their bodies would roll down the rock into the pot and then they could be used for adding to other things. They had a sweet taste that was very unique, so they weren't hard to eat.

One time I turned over a rock and a small scorpion was under it. At first I was afraid, but then realized that it was going in the food pot with everything else. I'm normally afraid of large insects, but after awhile you get so used to living that close to nature you don't really care anymore. We would get ticks embedded in our skin and we would burn their rear ends with a stick until they let go. We were told that they could sit and wait for years before we passed by, but I don't know how true that is. A few of those were Rocky Mountain Spotted ticks, but we didn't have time to worry about that then.

We would walk many miles each day in constant search of water and food. We would crawl under a bush for the hottest part of the day and try to sleep, but usually I would just think until the sun passed over and we bagan walking again.

It was after the first week that the real torture began. I assume they waited until we felt trained in the physical act of survival enough to handle it, but the guides began messing with our minds.

They would say things like, "Oh, there probably won't be any water when we get to those rocks in the distance." Or, so and so isn't working very hard, they shouldn't be allowed to eat." The worst one was, "We aren't going to survive this, but we have no way to get out." Every day they would try to start fights among us or make us feel that we were dragging the group down. They would tell us that we were never going to find water again, even if we kept walking for days.

I realize now that this was survival training at it's most basic. The mind will give up and the will to live just goes away, long before you die. I hated this part of the training the most, I felt the only chance we had was working together positively.

The artist liked to sit around and talk while he watched the rest of us work, but he then expected to eat when everything was ready. One day, I told him that was not going to happen ever again and he tried to threaten me, it was then that my primal instinct kicked in. I got mad and told him that if he said another word to me I was going to kill him right there and eat him. I think I meant it at the time. He got a shocked look on his face, but he didn't say a word. He did start helping after that though and the others said they were happy to have the help.

He was the one that found the snails hidden in a stump shortly after that and probably saved us for another week, so he does get the credit for that. A whole bunch of them, enough to make several full meals. When the water in the pot came to a boil, you could see the fat rise to the surface. There is so little fat on anything in the desert, that I swear I could feel those calories rushing to my brain. Now that was a great meal.

Our guides kept telling us that the reason that we were on a forced march was that we needed to be in constant search for water. After about a week and a half of walking we started in to some low wooded hills. As we continued to climb, it did get cooler so the going became easier even though it was mostly up hill.

We had gone up and down the hills for about five hours when we came to a stream! It was the first real water that we had seen since the start of the trip. They told us to be careful and not get sick, but of course we all drank as much as we could. All along the banks there were gooseberry bushes so we started eating these as fast as we could. When we were full they began teaching us about mountain survival and how it was different from what we had gone through before. Water makes all the difference in the world.

Cattails are probably the best single source of food from plants. The roots can be mashed to make a doughy paste for baking, the young shoots can be eaten like asparagus and the yellow pollen on top makes a great flour that can be baked with the ants.

You can catch fish by building a willow screen and driving the fish down to it. By blocking the end that you come from, you can then just reach in and catch them, a much easier method than fishing for one at a time. Water meant mussels and other aquatic animals, but it also meant mammals coming to get a drink. We learned how to trap small animals using our twine and our wits. It seemed like the living things around water were less wary, so it took us much less time to catch them. I started to understand why the Native Americans who lived in the Pacific Northwest were so wealthy compared to their plains cousins, life was so much easier when food became plentiful.

People always ask me how I would survive if I was ever faced with the situation in real life. That's easy, I would never leave the first water I found. I would prepare to live there forever if need be, but I would stay by that stream. Our trainers did not feel the same way. After two days of mountain training, we walked back to the desert.

Would everyone have been okay with you killing and eating the artist? I would think that the typical stereotypical guide might stop you. However these guides seem to be a bit wild and kind of spooky. What do you think?

How would you go about eating the artist. Were you considering sharing him with the rest of the group, for yourself, or were you just mad and wanted to scare the **** out of him?

This story is really intriguing, can't wait for the next story post.

I must admit the conversation you had with Bundy and how the whole thing went down seemed a little "off" for some reason. Nevertheless I completely believe you and understand how it feels to have bizarre stories that you know are true but others are skeptical of. When I was 15 me and a group of friends saw a ufo and I'll never forget that night. I've told the story hundreds of times and most people either look at me like I'm crazy or assume I was on drugs.

that Bundy story was quite amazing. What was going through your mind when talking to him.. i mean 45min conversation with a man that was ready to murder you. Also at what point did you realize he wasn't going to kill you, and it was safe. (if any)

Thanks for this advice. In the past, the only writing I did was research oriented so it's odd to try anything else. Plus, I'm having a major problem thinking that I may have waited too long to begin doing anything new, age has not helped my mind, lol.

This is funny, because the same thing happened to my friends and I. We really thought that we were being chased by aliens. For us, it was probably a helicopter or something. (well, and it was the sixties so...)

No, we each maintained a certain amount of civilization even through it all. I was mad (and I definitely would have hit him), but I don't think I really would have eaten him, lol.

The others were glad that he started working, because there was always so much to do. The instructors knew that they had pushed a bit too hard, so they started talking about how the Native Americans valued their medicine men and philosophers. I do know that at the time I would have viewed myself at the age I am now as a complete waste of food.

Thanks Uno, I'm not sure I always feel I'm much help, except to the grandkids and that's usually money, lol. I tell people that I'm not forgetting anything, but the things that I do know are becoming less and less important, oh well. Life's funny and i certainly can't complain...


The main thing I remember was that I just had to get out of that sleeping bag. I've read about people trying to survive in bad situations using what they refer to later as the Stockholm Syndrome thinking, trying to bond with the person. I guess in a sense I did something like that. I didn't feel safe until I jumped up and grabbed the staff and I remember feeling a rush of relief.

I wasn't afraid outwardly even later, but it did get me in training and before that I would have been way too afraid to take Karate. After I started the classes, I never looked back.

is anyone else imagining tylertwo recounting these stories at a classy 70s party right before the orgy kicks off? standing drinking a cocktail in a carpeted conversation pit with long hair wearing a half-buttoned silk shirt and an amulet? I'm sure this happened.

Ask him for the waistcoat and tophat pic

Oh you guys. Posted before but...

Sorry no amulets, but I do have long hair now.

tyler, if you are struggling to get words on the page then read Vicki King's How To Write A Movie in 21 Days. It's geared towards screenplays but you can use the general idea for other forms too. It won't make your work good, but if you allow it to it can help you get things down on paper a lot faster. I did it when I was 17 and I wrote the first draft of a screenplay in 10 days (the book says 7, so really I failed!) and I was typically disappointed if I didn't hit about 1,000 words an hour.

Mental blocks are just that, purely mental. If someone says they don't know what to write I immediately call bull**** and tell them they're doing it wrong. We stop ourselves from writing for a myriad of reasons, most of which are simply borne out of over thinking it (as in, 'I can't write that, that sucks' or 'that doesn't make sense' or 'I hate myself, this is never going to be good' etc). That book helps you to stop thinking and start writing.

In a screenplay (and in my opinion pretty much anything written of significant length) nearly all the thinking should come before you start writing so that you know your story completely; you have the world, plot, characters, scenes/chapters etc all sorted and if anyone asks you any question about them you can answer (although be careful to use this stage as an excuse to not start writing) and so when you do write it should be easy. For example, Ferris Bueller was written in 6 days and barely changed from the first draft.

So:

1) Figure out the story you want to tell; what's personal to you.
2) Research and development: create your story; think about the world, characters etc. Use as many index cards, pieces of paper, whiteboards or whatever you need/want as necessary.
3) Stop thinking, start writing!
4) Start thinking again to fix your pile of **** (and let's face it, first drafts are nearly always bad).

Sorry for the derail.

I like imagining him as a kind of cross between Alexander Shulgin, Gandalf and The Most Interesting Man in the World sitting by the fire in his log cabin and puffing on his pipe, gazing past the camera into the distance before he starts his story.

Ted Bundy story was sick. Great thread tylertwo

I don't want to derail, but am very interested in what you saw. Feel free to post or pm me. I've seen a UFO as well, and I don't mean just something in the sky I couldn't identify. I mean something I couldn't even imagine what it might possibly be. Completely unexplainable.