A Primitive Quest

Several years ago, I was working for a primitive skills therapeutic program in Arizona and dating someone who is creative, fun, and passionate about primitive skills. I met him as "Nature Dave" and it later became "Cave Dave" when he lived in a cave in a canyon out west.



I'll never forget when I showed my family a Tom Brown book with a picture of a guy in a loincloth walking quietly to stalk some deer or rabbit or something. It showed how you can stalk animals. My boyfriend came with me to a potluck for Paterson Habitat for Humanity, and everyone seemed intrigued with him. Even years later, I couldn't walk into the Habitat office without someone laughingly asking (imagine strong New Jersey accent here), "So kd, how's your stalker?" (or, with the accent, staw ka)

While with this fella, I learned how to make a fire with a bowdrill, carve spoons and things with my knife, tan a deer hide, build shelter, and sit and observe... that focus that I'm studying this month, actually. I also lived in a cave for a little while when we weren't working on the trail. At times we'd stay in town with Nature Dave's best friend, but we were mostly on our own in the cave in the mountains. The cave was great, and I preferred the tall ceilings of our isolated "home" to the busy life in the city.

Because we didn't have a homebase in town that was our own, I craved a comfortable place to drink coffee, read The New York Times, and write. Luckily, in this stripmall heaven in Arizona, a Starbucks was a just a quick stalk up from the primitive skills organization's office. (We didn't really walk up the street like we were stalking... that would have been weird.)

I loved this place with its comfortable chairs, abundance, people watching, and, as I mentioned before, The New York Times (which probably cost $5 or something ridiculous). As much as I loved being minimalistic in nature at "work" and in the cave, my feeling in this Starbucks was my link to the quick, sarcastic, culture of my East Coast life. Nature Dave couldn't get over all of the names of the drinks; he thought it was funny and would always order some herbal tea while I'd go for a strong expresso drink.

.............................

Nature Dave emailed me after years of being out of touch. He has been working for a survival school, travelling all over western deserts (probably with just a knife and cup), and learning how to sail in California. He probably is sinewy, tan, dusty, and as handsome and young looking as any of the metrosexual friends that I hang out with in Asheville. (Although he probably doesn't dress as well as they do. No offense, Dave, your buckskins are probably "hip," too.) He wrote about a recent quest lately and I wanted to share his email. I think it's a noble quest. He calls it a "curse."

Here are his words:

At one point in my life I met a woman of infinite joy and comfort with the world. Her smile radiated and all who met her were taken to smile in her light. There was one subtle flaw with this person. One curse that was equally as infectious as her smile. This curse caught and spread to both my heart and soul. To this day no matter where I may go... whether I sail the reaches of San Fransico Bay or walk the deserts of Utah, I will always walk this earth in search of a Starbucks. Curses!

I hope he's getting a skinny double mocha latte no whip.