Trail Cooking [antikvár]

PrefaccThere is an old saying that an army travels on its stomach, and I will verify it is true.I can remember my infantry training days at Fort Dix, New Jersey, the weekly 10-mile hikes with rifles and full field packs, and the bivouacs we pitched in the woods. Mostly I remember the strenuous exercise in all extremes of weather summer heat in excess of 100° and winter cold in the teens. Move often than not we were a bedraggled-looking lot, either soaking wet, covered with mud, on the brink of heat prostration, or close to frostbite.Despite such adverse conditions we nevertheless were able to complete our assignments in good health, if not always good spirits. And if any single explanation can be attributed to that success, I'll rate the mess tent at the very top of the list.Of course, the grub wasn't fancy, but it was nutritious and geared to the high energy levels we required. And that combination was far more responsible for keeping us going than our army vvoolies or barking drill sergeants.Since those army days, fifteen years have passed and I'm reminded of another maxim, about history repeating itself. I find myself again taking 10-mile hikes with a rifle and a full pack on my back, living in a small tent, and engaging in strenuous activities in all kinds of weather. I may be tracking a whitetail buck, or stalking a wild sheep with a telephoto lens, or searching for a remote alpine lake where wild trout have never seen an angler's lure. The nice thing about these trips is there's no chow line. Instead, I fend for myself by practicing the art of trail cooking.Trail cooking is neither mysterious nor difficult to master.