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How To Lose 30 Pounds In 10 Days With Sensei’s Island Diet

How To Lose 30 Pounds In 10 Days With Sensei's Island Diet

I recently went on a bike ride through downtown Cambridge and Boston with my friend Rob who is what you'd call an "urban forager." Rob knows his local trees better than anyone I know. As we stopped to take breaks along our route, Rob was constantly pointing out city trees that produced local nuts, berries, fruits, and even coffee substitutes. Some of these trees had been planted by "guerrilla foragers," meaning savvy individuals who had taken it upon themselves to plant these trees in the cities as a source of food.

I couldn't help but think of the news I had read that morning about the war in Ukraine.

In the news piece, they discussed how residents were forced to cut down local trees in the cities to make cooking fires, and their food supply had been cut off with only a few days remaining.

It made me wonder— did they have local urban trees that they knew about that were sources of food?

Were there similar guerrilla foragers who had planted edible urban forests?

Were they forced to burn trees that supplied food?

I thought about how trees represent "survival" in some cultures, meaning that they can provide shelter, fire fuel, water (sap, rain-drip, and healthy groundwater), and food. It's no wonder that the proverbial Tree of Life is ubiquitous on many continents.

I also couldn't help but think about how here in North America, all major cities depend on transporting food from remote regions, and that major cities like New York and Los Angeles have only 4-7 days of food on the shelves to supply the population if transportation resources are cut off. This was a topic of a recent ninja blog.

But on this cold winter bike ride with Rob, my mind also wandered to the warmer climes where many people this time of year venture to escape the cold. When I thought of both survival food and warm tropical islands, the first thing that came to mind was the story that Dai Shihan Mark Roemke told me about the food on his island survival trip.

So, I'll let Sensei Roemke tell you the tale first hand...

A couple years ago I went on an island survival trip with Tom McElroy. This was a group survival trip to the island of  St. Croix. Before heading into the bush for our survival scenario, the instructors taught us local ways to make fire, how to identify edible plants, ways to make hunting tools, and how to construct a shelter using local materials. When we arrived at our location, the first thing that we did was focus on making our shelter because, if you have a shelter, you feel comfortable, which is key, especially with a group.

After we completed our preliminary training, we drove to a remote part of the island, then hiked several miles to our camp spot. Of the basic needs of survival: shelter, water, fire, and food, water was the one essential item that we brought with us to the site due to a lack of local fresh water.  It became very apparent early on that you need calories to have energy to simply walk around, to travel to the beach to gather food, to gather almonds, to crack almond nuts and process the seeds, and to gather sea parsley. It was really important to carefully choose the actions you would do each day because your mind doesn't work as well when you are extremely hungry. For example, if you think that you are just going to go hunt after a few days without food, you quickly learn that it is much harder than you think just to perform the basic physical motions.

By the end of the ten day trip I had lost over 30 pounds. I learned that every day when you wake up, the primary thing that you think about is this— where am I going to get food?

This thinking takes over everything else. All other concerns pale in comparison to finding food. It is key to know your local edible foods. It's paramount to know what plants are poisonous. Above all, you need to learn when and where to gather wild edibles and how to process them.


Back on my bike in Boston, I started thinking about sticks. When I lived in Hawaii, there was a local "pig dog" that was semi-feral that occasionally roamed the dirt road that crisscrossed the native forest on the way to my home outside of Volcano Village. When I rode my bike home, the hound often lay in wait and would chase me at full speed while snapping at my heels. As a kid I remembered my dad, who lived his whole life with one dog or another, telling me, "every dog knows what a stick means." By this, he meant that some were "fetchers" but other aggressive types knew that it wasn't a good idea to mess with someone wielding a big stick. He didn't mean that you should hit the animal, but instead, all you needed to do was to raise the stick above your head and the animal would back off.

With this in mind I picked up a large ohia tree branch as I biked home one day. Just like clockwork, as I rounded a corner by an old abandoned barn, here came the snarling pig dog. As he approached my heels I raised my large stick overhead and snarled back. What happened next was somewhat of a blur. In raising my stick quickly, I instantly disrupted my steering balance and went head-first over my handlebars. I remember watching the dog run away as the world turned upside down, followed by a crash into a nearby koa tree. I remember lying on my back, looking up at a slowly spinning front wheel. The dog's face looked down at me curiously, tail wagging. I threw the stick across the field and he ran off to fetch it. We were buddies after that day.

As I hobbled home that day, I thought about sticks. I had just returned from a wilderness survival course in New Jersey. On the last day at that course, I asked the instructor, "what would be the first thing you'd do in a survival situation?" Without hesitation he looked me squarely and said...

"Get a stick!"

He went on to describe all the many uses of a stick in the wilderness— from making shelter, to tools, to fire, and especially for getting food.

Which brings me to today's training video. In the video below, Sensei Roemke demonstrates two ways of using a "throwing stick." This might be a scenario for self defense, or for getting food, such as knocking those island almonds out of a tree.

If you are someone who works with kids, check out our Ninja Mentor Lesson Plans. We have a specific plan that details how to teach the throwing stick skill below to youth.




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Asking for Fire

Asking for fire

What are the essentials for "survival?" In our recent posts we covered shelter and water. Now for one of our Here's one of my favorite fire skill memories...

I'll never forget one of the most intense hours of my life.

“One hour to start the fire. The clock starts in three, two, one...go!” the instructor yelled to the 120 students.

Our group had ten students. Immediately, a frantic energy rippled across the landscape. The challenge for each group was to make a fire using only materials from the surrounding forest within one hour.  I felt the jittery nerves pulsing through my group, as the crowd quickly dispersed in random directions.

“Wait, I have some intel that will help us!” I called to our group, just as they began to scatter to the forest.

Everyone had ample forewarning of this challenge, a year to be precise. In the prerequisite workshop at the Tracker School the previous summer, we learned how to make fire by friction with a bow drill kit. I remember being the very last person to leave the camp at the end of the week. Most students had succeeded in making their fires by the end of the workshop. As hard as I tried all week with my kit, I couldn’t get it to produce a coal. As my spindle loudly screeched on my fire board as I struggled one last time to get a coal, I could hear the other participant cars driving away.

“Ken, time to pack it up. Gotta go.” The instructor stood over me, looked at his watch, then turned and walked away.

“Just one more try, please,” I begged.

In a billow of smoke, spindle squeals, and frustration, I quit. I was exhausted. I had burned eight holes already through my fire board, to no avail. I had busted blisters, bloody scraped knuckles, and rope burns. I was exhausted. I gave up. The instructor was right, time to go. As the cloud of smoke dissipated, I noticed something. There was a faint wisp that continued to drift quietly up from my tiny ash pile in the notch of my fire board! I blew gently on this. A red glow appeared from deep within the dark brown ashes.  My first coal! I put it into my tinder bundle that had patiently awaited a coal for days. I gave a few blows and it erupted in flame. When this happened during the training week, people cheered and gave high fives. I was all alone in my celebration. I just sat down and smiled as I watched the small bundle burn down to ashes.

Fast forward one year. I was living in Hawaii and preparing to return for the next class of survival skills training— the “advanced camp”. I had heard rumors about the “one-hour fire challenge” that happened at this next training. My friend, Tonnie, a fellow biologist I worked with on the island, attended this same training the year prior. Like most groups who had been given this one-hour challenge, her group had failed to get a fire within the time limit.

“Tonnie, got any tips?” I asked her. After the previous class of failing, or rather flailing to get a coal, I wanted an edge up on this next fire challenge. I had spent the entire year since my initial class, exploring the types of wood available in an island forest and practiced my bow drill skills intently every few days.

“Yes!” she immediately answered. “Ask for fire!”

“What?!” I didn't understand.

Ask for fire. Ask the forest to provide what you need. Invite the fire to come to your group. Envision the warmth before you even make the fire,” she said.

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Whatever works for you or the people in your group. You'll figure it out,” she said.


As our group paused in the center of the  growing frenzy of the one-hour challenge, they slowly approached me.

“I have a really good tip for this one-hour fire challenge,” I explained. “We need to ask for fire.”

As our circle of ten came in close, I explained to them what Tonnie had told me. We collectively took a deep inhale and exhale, and sank into a quiet space as a group. Around us, the rest of the class madly scampered in all directions, diving into bushes, climbing trees, running away down trails. It appeared as if we were wasting valuable time. As the clock ticked away, we stood in silence. Then, one by one, we each asked for fire in our own unique way, either silently, or out loud. We envisioned the feeling of the warmth and glow of our tiny, yet to be seen flame.

As we finished our request, I had a flash of a stone in my mind’s eye.

“I’ll go for a stone to cut the fire board notch,” I said.

“I’ll go for the cordage,” someone else replied.

“We will go for the spindle,” another pair answered.

“Tinder bundle, we are on it!” a husband and wife said with raised hands.

“I'll go for the bow,” another said.

“We’ll get the handhold,” the last pair said.

A stone. Which directions should I go for a stone? I slowly turned a circle. As I rotated to the East, I felt pulled in this direction. I was a marathon runner at the time. I had jogged on the trails out from camp every morning. I was excited about this. I wanted to run. I took off immediately down the sandy trail heading out of camp.

I had learned a different kind of running at this camp. It was a silent form of running. Instead of launching your body with each step, crashing down on your heels with each pump of your legs, this was a gentle movement. In this technique, your feet lead, and you land on the ball of your feet. It’s an ancient form of running based on barefoot running. It was also a form of running where your head didn’t bounce up and down, but instead stayed level as you looked toward the horizon. Twenty years later, when I met Dai Shihan Mark Roemke, I learned a similar technique, called silent ninja running.

At the course, we also learned to use peripheral or “wide angle vision” in order to expand our visual awareness. We also learned techniques for quieting the chatter of our mind in order to sink into a place of mental stillness and awareness in nature.

I layered all of these techniques as I sank into a quiet jogging rhythm. My mind and body dissolved into a moving meditation. I don’t know how far or long I traveled. I wasn’t wearing a watch. I knew, however, that at one point I snapped out of my quiet mind, realizing that I was a long distance from the camp. Precious time was running out. Still, I had found no stone. This landscape was mostly a sandy terrain, remnants from an ancient ocean that had once covered the area. Thus, everywhere I looked, I only saw sand, or an occasional sandstone, which was too brittle for cutting wood. I panicked. Was I going to fail? Maybe I should just run back. I was on the verge of giving up when I passed  a small side trail.

The sensation I experienced when I passed this trail reminded me of  water skiing as a youth and being whipped around a corner as the boat turned and tugged on my rope. This little side trail tugged at me. Go this way, was the sensation, so I made a quick right turn. And there it was! A beautiful wedge shaped metamorphic stone  in the middle of the trail. I grabbed it, and shifted into high gear for a sprint back to camp.

“Five minutes left!” bellowed the instructor as I entered the large clearing of the main camp. The scene was much different upon my return. Groups huddled all around the forest clearing, with some students darting back and forth in desperate searches for materials. My group was in the center of it all, looking dejected. They had given up.

As I approached them I noticed that they had a perfect tinder bundle made of an abandoned bird nest. There was a beautiful bow with three feet of cordage tied to it laying next to the tinder bundle. Nearby was a piece of wood that someone found with a divot in the center for the spindle. The spindle lay on the ground by the fire board. I learned later that everyone in our group had similar serendipitous experiences to mine in finding their fire kit components.

Everyone slouched in silence. There were broken fragments of a stone on the ground which had crumbled in an attempt at making a notch with a soft stone in my absence. The fire board had a burned circle from the spindle with ash scattered around the burn mark. To get a coal with a bowdrill, you need a triangular notch carved in the board to catch the ash, which heats as it falls into the notch and turns to a coal. Without a proper notch, this attempt was doomed.

“Hey, look what I found!” I said, as I showed them the stone. Instantly the mood shifted. I gave my stone to a teammate, who began carving the notch.

“Four minutes left!”

Everyone in our group saw the problem developing. My stone was way to big. The wedge of the stone would create a gap in the wood far too large to hold the spindle. So close. At least we made a valiant effort.

The person carving the wood with my stone handed it back to me. "Dang! Sooo close!" she said, handing me the stone.

“Three minutes!”

Oh well, at least we tried,  I thought as I tossed the stone a few feet away. That’s when it happened. As the stone hit the ground, it landed on a rock that was buried just beneath the sand, splitting the wedge perfectly in half.

“Oh my god!” one of my teammates exclaimed, and raced over to grab the smaller stone. “Look at this! It's perfect!”.

She started carving the notch again. It made the precise wedge cut needed into the center of the fire board. We now had all of the components assembled for the fire kit.

“Who wants to give the bowdrill kit a try?” someone asked. We looked around the circle at each other.

“I’ve been practicing a lot this past year. I can try if no one else wants to,” said one member.

“Yes, go for it!” was the resounding response from the group.

He wrapped the spindle with the cordage, tucked the tinder under the fire board notch, placed the spindle on the fire board, and added the handhold on top. He started bowing quickly.

“Wait,” someone in our group said. “Remember to ask.”

We all paused in silence, and again felt our collective gratitude for fire.

“Two minutes left!!!!”

Our team member began pushing and pulling the bow back and forth. Smoke erupted from the base of the spindle. As a gray cloud rose from our fire board, something strange happened. I noticed a sound behind me. A quiet began to envelop our surroundings. I heard the soft patter of approaching feet all around us. Other groups, realizing that they were not going to succeed in getting fire, slowly put down their kits when they smelled our smoke. They followed their noses toward our group. When I looked up from the smoke of our fire board, a hundred people surrounded our team as we crouched around our fire-maker.

“One minute!!!”

Our fire-maker stopped bowing. There was a collective gasp from the crowd when they saw a small red coal in the notch of the fire board.

He carefully removed the fire board, picked up tinder bundle, and began to blow.

“Thirty seconds!!”

He held the tinder bundle slightly skyward so that the gentle breeze blowing through the forest could help coax the coal to flame. He continued blowing.

“Ten, nine,...”

I’ll never forget the next moment. As the tinder bundle burst into flame, all one hundred plus participants and instructors burst into a triumphant cheer. People all around were jumping up and down, high-fiving, shouting “Yes! Yes! Yes!!” Some of our group members were crying. The beauty of the collective celebration of that moment is something I will never forget. I felt I had been transported thousands of years back, to when someone in my ancestry made fire for the group in a moment of need. It wasn't a celebration for a team's victory, but a celebration of nature providing fire, as it has gifted us for so long.

If you'd like to learn how to make a bow drill fire kit, check out the tutorial video below. One of the most valuable things I have learned from making many bowdrill fire kits over the years is the connection they create to the landscape around me. It's a great opportunity to explore the forests, to learn the trees, grasses, stones, birds, and much, much more. If you have kids, making a bow drill fire with them is nothing short of magical. And, when you feel ready for a ninja challenge, get your stopwatch out, put away your knives, grab some friends, and set the timer to one hour. Oh...and don't forget to ask.

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Shelter is at the core of what gives us a sense of safety, security, confidence, and protection. It is central to the mindset of perseverance, which is one translation of the Japanese term "nin", as in ninja. Imagine if you will a disruptive scenario...

Picture an extreme weather event that suddenly sweeps through your home area. Let's say a hurricane or flood (or both) destroys your home. Beyond surviving the immediate event, a common reaction is the extreme emotional disruption caused by loss of a home. I'm sure you've seen this so many times in the news in recent years.

"We lost everything!" the voices say through tears on the news.

This scene unfortunately is playing out more and more each year with the changes occurring in our climate. It's a subject we covered in a recent blog, where we also discussed the value of the art of the ninja in dealing with this uncertain future.

But if you could put yourselves in these shoes, and imagine how you could prepare, adapt, and react, what would you do? As a former college athlete, our coach would routinely have us envision each race start to finish, so that when we actually competed, we had already been there. We had already achieved success in our minds. In Sensei Roemke's zoom classes, I often find myself training alone, having to imagine an invisible attacker. I find this often more valuable than training with a real partner as it develops my envisioning muscle. As a musician, I used to practice scales and songs with my hands invisibly on my desk in grade school algebra class.

My point is that practicing skills physically and mentally is key to developing the mindset when the skills are really needed.

In the survival skills teaching circles, some refer to a "sacred order" of survival skills: shelter, water, fire, food.

There's lots of debate though about what is the first thing you should approach. Typically the landscape dictates which should come first. For example, if the temperature is sub-zero with a windchill, you might need to focus on fire. If you were lost in a desert environment, you likely would want to focus on water as a top priority. We interviewed survival skills specialist Tom McElroy for a ninja blog. I like his approach in one of his training videos where he sets up a water drip catchment system (from wild grape vines!) and then sets to work on a debris shelter. By time the shelter is done, he's thirsty. And guess what...there's a full bark container of fresh water waiting.

My personal preference for the "sacred order" starts with attitude, or perseverance. In general though, the idea of shelter-first is often a worthy consideration. The thinking behind this is that you can survive for days to weeks without food. You can survive a handful of days without water (depending on the climate and landscape), but you can die of exposure within hours without adequate shelter.

I remember learning this lesson many years ago when living in Hawaii. I was surfing at a river mouth north of Hilo on the Big Island. There had been a recent storm and lots of cold fresh water was rushing into the small bay where I waited for waves. Within a very short time my whole body was shaking and my fingernails were purple. I kept thinking, "How is this possible? I'm in Hawaii?!" When I tried to unlock my truck later, my hands were shaking so hard that I had a very difficult time getting the key in the slot. As I warmed up with the heater cranking in the front of the truck, I thought about how fast my body can lose heat, even in Hawaii.

Learning to make a debris shelter changed my perspective on how to connect to a landscape, and what I truly needed to survive and be happy. I first learned this skill at a Tom Brown Tracker School course in California. We didn't actually build shelters at the course, but were instructed in the basic technique. The mission was to return to our home turf and try building one. If we returned for the follow-up course, then we would build and sleep in our shelters for an entire week.

I returned to Hawaii. The location where I opted to try this skill was a friend's property in a native koa forest at an elevation of 4500' on the side of Mauna Loa.It is a wet place. I mean, really wet. It gets over 150 inches of rain some years. I knew it would be a challenge to stay dry and warm (the temperature dipped into the 40's at night).

Despite lots of lush vegetation, the Hawaiian upper elevation wet forest did not provide the most ideal material in the form of debris on the ground. Plant material quickly decomposes under such wet conditions. I remember making an extremely leaky, damp, cold shelter that just wasn't going to work for the night.

I ended up sleeping under a tarp.

I was hungry too because my attempts to find wild edibles were dismal. There are few native plants at that elevation that are sufficient for the human digestive system. I remember falling asleep, hungry, under my tarp wondering how the native Hawaiians made shelter at these elevations in the past. My answer would come a few years later. But that's another story about water and shelter. I'll save that one for later.

I returned to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey the following year, excited to build a debris shelter at the follow-up survival training course at the Tracker School. It was October and there were dry leaves everywhere! I worked on my shelter for 2-3 days in between lectures and other skills workshops. By time I was done, I had a giant mound of leaves and sticks about five feet high. I had made a door to keep the wind and rain out. I had even woven a reed mat as a sleeping pad. Thinking that the sound of the dawn chorus of birds would wake me, which usually happened in my tent, I went to sleep the first night without setting an alarm. My shelter was so soundproof that the next morning when I crawled out, I realized that I had not only missed breakfast, but the first lecture.

On the third night a huge storm hit. I could faintly detect the sound of thunder from inside my shelter. There was a torrential downpour as well, yet I stayed dry and warm. I didn't need a sleeping bag because of the warmth of all of the leaves.

On the fifth night I decided to sleep in my adjacent tent for comparison. The tent flapped all night long. I remember looking at the thin nylon walls, seeing my breath, and feeling so cold in my sleeping bag. I returned to my debris shelter for the rest of the week and slept happily.

Sleeping in that debris shelter changed the way I viewed my camping relation to the outdoors. I felt the confidence that I didn't need a sleeping bag or tent, and if needed, I could make a comfortable shelter with just the materials from the forest around me. But most important for me was the deep sense of connection and gratitude– the feeling that the Earth provided me everything I needed for shelter.

Not only was it a really fun, engaging activity of building this structure alone in the forest, but it instilled a deep sense of confidence within me that I liken to the positive attitude that martial arts training teaches. The feeling being– that if the proverbial dooky of doom really hit the fan, and I found myself in a desperate situation without shelter, I knew that I could at a bare minimum build a shelter from the landscape, and be engaged in doing so as a challenge instead of succumbing to panic.

Unless I was at 4500' on Mauna Loa. Then, I'd need another technique. But I digress again...

Since then, I have taught this skill countless times to youth and adults. It's amazing to watch kids build shelters. Go into any forest that abuts a neighborhood and you are likely to encounter piles of ramshackle sticks leaning against trees, a result of local kid's innate drive to build shelters in the forest. There's something deeply embedded within us that resonates with this skill.

At a Wilderness First Responder course, I remember an instructor discussing the idea that a lost child has a better chance of survival than an adult because most young kids have an instinct to seek shelter under bushes or leaves, whereas many adults panic and die of exposure.

One of our favorite ways to introduce the basics of making a debris shelter is to create a "head shelter." This is a small scale version that incorporates all the essential components of a debris shelter: ridge pole, ribs, lattice, and debris. It's basically big enough to stick your head into.

But, to make it a little more challenging, we throw in the "water test." What?!

The goal is to make a head shelter with enough debris that when a full water bottle is poured over the top, that the person's head inside the shelter stays dry. Or, if you are really brave...go for a gallon jug of water.

Once this shelter is learned, it's simply a matter of scaling up the size to fit an entire body.

This is a great one to do with a pack of ninja kids in the backyard. They especially enjoy pouring the water over the adult shelters.

We also talk about disappearing the shelters when done using them, to return the landscape to its prior condition. A good, sneaky ninja leaves no trace. But sometimes we have used these shelters to stash our dry fire wood on the periphery of our "ninja camps."

Below is a tutorial video showing one way to make the head shelters.

Because we are ninjas, we of course go hiking in the forest and use our hand-made hanbos for the ridge pole. Ninja secret– a full length rokushaku bo makes and awesome full size ridge pole for a debris shelter. But, if you find yourself in the forest without your hanbo or rokushaku bo, a tree branch will work.

Good luck with your head shelter!


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Ninja Rainbow Unicorns of the Apocalypse

Brace yourself ninjas. I'm about to bum you out. But if you stick with me, there's rainbow unicorns at the end. I promise.

Chi, sui, ka, fu, and ku. These form the foundation for the San Shin or Gokui kata forms that Dai Shihan Mark Roemke teaches during his NTTV Live classes. These represent the elements of Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Void. We also use these elements as the thematic modules for our NiN or Ninjas in Nature training.

There is a another lens to view these elements as we humans collectively head into an uncertain planetary future with the growing disruptions of the climate.

Chi- the Earth, or the ground beneath our feet in many places, is drying due to drought, deforestation and desertification. It is also eroding at alarming rates due to industrial agriculture.

Sui- the waters are rising in the ocean as the glaciers melt, and the rains fall with unseasonable force and frequency.

Ka- wildfires are becoming more frequent, intense, and devastating. I write this after a recent unseasonably late December wildfire tore through the Boulder, Colorado area.

Fu- the winds from hurricanes and tornadoes are occurring more frequently, with higher intensity, and longer seasonal duration.

But what of ku, the void? The mystery of the unknown is what lies before us all with our collective future on this planet.

But I don't mean to fill you with doom and gloom in describing this. I don't have to. There's plenty of others doing this for me. Sadly, the news is saturated daily with stories of the above elements gone haywire. It's hard for me to personally keep track of all the climate related disasters in this past year. But this is old news.

Doom and gloom. I know. But hang in there ninjas. I hear the hooves of unicorns approaching...

I've been closely following the climate science for decades, since my work in the wildlife conservation field began over thirty years ago. I worked with critically endangered birds in Hawaii for many years. Hawaii was and unfortunately still is considered "the endangered species capital of the United States." We are in the midst of what is now considered the 6th great mass extinction event in the history of our planet. The last mass extinction event occurred at the end of the cretaceous period when a meteor took out the dinosaurs, and we all know how that turned out. For decades scientists have been raising red flags regarding the effects of climate change. While strides have been made in developing some green technologies, and some conservation efforts have succeeded, the unfortunate truth is that trends continue, and the intensity of the elements continues to amplify.

More recently, there is a new lexicon that has entered the climate change discussion from scientists, policy makers, and the public at large. These discussions include terms such as "tipping point," "the end of growth," "overreach," "collapsology," and even "the extinction of the human species." Many believe we have already passed the tipping point at which we can no longer hold back the devastation and disruption with increasing climate change. This discussion is supported by the fact that increasing average global temperature is no longer a linear progression with CO2 in the atmosphere. In other words, even if we could reverse, or remove the additional CO2 that began increasing with the industrial revolution, the climate would still continue to warm. This non-linear increase is due to things such as reduced solar reflection by snow in the polar regions, increased methane from melting permafrost in the arctic, subsurface oceanic methane release, and changes in the oceanic conveyor belt, to mention a few. There is a very real possibility that we have set things in motion that cannot be stopped at this point.

We are also on course for the end of growth, meaning when the growth of civilization collides with the end of finite resources, in other words the "collapse of civilization." This is predicted to occur around 2040. Interestingly, this is almost the exact time at which human fertility is predicted to reach zero, due to the presence of toxic chemicals to which we are all exposed. We will more or less cease to be able to reproduce as a species by this date. Recent studies are also showing that climate change is effecting the health of fetuses, babies and and infants globally while increased fossil fuel burning is lowering women's fertility. Not far behind this timeline is soil depletion by modern agricultural techniques. The UN estimates that all viable topsoil for farming will be depleted in 53 years if no changes are made in practices. Or looking at it another way, we have only 53 annual harvests remaining.

Have I totally bummed you out yet? Don't forget..rainbow unicorns.

A 2018 article  published by Jem Bendell entitled "Deep Adaptation: a map for navigating climate tragedy," quickly became a global phenomenon, with millions of downloads. It went viral. It sparked a new global movement and a subsequent book that was recently published. The idea behind deep adaptation states that while we need to continue to do everything we can to mitigate the effects of climate change, we need to prepare economically, culturally, socially, and psychologically for collapse. Further, while no one knows exactly what collapse will look like, we need to begin having these important discussions now, even as we are seeing increasing disruptions, so that we minimize the ultimate effects of the change that is coming during our lifetimes.

How prepared are we currently for an economic and ecological societal collapse? More than 95% of the food coming into the major cities in our country arrives by long-distance trucking. If this ceased, it is estimated that New York would have a four day supply of food. Los Angeles would have three days of food. In 1880, 50% of Americans were farmers. Today, that number is less than 2%. In 1945, Americans grew 40% of their food in backyard gardens. That number is now less than 0.1%. This is homeland insecurity. I wonder how many Americans today can identify a single wild edible plant? How many know the ubiquitous edible "weeds" in their yards, that they kill with glyphosate herbicides at the cost to their own fertility and health? As I look out my kitchen window during the winter, I ask myself— how can I expand and grow more? What new wild edibles can I learn and find in the nearby forests?

These realizations, however, have given me an awakened perspective on the value and role of the art of the ninja when faced with the possibility of collapse. If you examine historical examples of societal collapse, wars or social unrest typically precede or follow the downfall of civilizations. While actually having to defend yourself or others when faced with unrest might be a real matter worthy of discussion, there is a deeper value that I find in the art. The essence of perseverance, or the meaning of "nin," is at the heart of what motivates me daily when I wake. What am I going to do today, to take a necessary step towards adapting to the unknown that lies on the horizon? I have been teaching survival skills for years. Beyond shelter, water, fire, and food, we teach that attitude is the most important survival skill. If you give up, and admit defeat in the face of doom, then you most likely will fail. Remembering to embody the spirit of "nin" is thus essential to survival.

I have also realized that a valuable skill of the art of ninjutsu is being able to adapt to any situation. When training with Sensei Roemke, he is always throwing challenges at us that are outside the box, that cause us to think differently and adapt. I remember during one of my first classes, after I was feeling confident with all my forward, backwards, and sideways rolls, he suddenly threw a curve ball at us. He took every weapon off of the wall and scattered them all over the floor. Rokushaku bos, hanbos, bokken, kyoketsu shoges and more covered the majority of the mat. "Okay, everyone, zenpo kaiten naname, forward rolls, over the mat! Ready go!"  I'll never forget that lesson. I had to adapt the basics to an unexpected, seemingly impossible challenge.

I posed this question to Dai Shihan Mark Roemke regarding this topic: How does the art of the ninja relate to an uncertain future of disruption on our planet? Here is his response.

"The meaning of perseverance is to adapt or overcome. In our uncertain present and future, people need to learn to adapt. One way to persevere is to find a positive inner mindset. One of the key lessons that I have learned from Hatsumi Sensei, is to have a positive mental attitude. I have also learned this from my military and survival skills training. Your mind is so much stronger than your body. Your body will try to quit before your mind does. If you have fortitude, strong will, and perseverance, then you can adapt to any situation. Perseverance means to adapt in many ways— physically, mentally, and spiritually. This is a skill that modern ninjas have, that many people in our world lack. Most people will just give up in a challenging situation. The mindset of the ninja is to keep moving forward and thriving."

Beyond my garden, I think about my own kids and the youth I have encountered with the programs I teach. I realize that to simply hope that our governments and corporations can figure out a solution to climate change while continuing "business as usual" is not only foolish, but does an extreme disservice to the youth of today and the future generations. If I make it to 2045, I'll be firmly in my elder years. My kids, grandkids, or great grandkids (if there are still enough viable sperm and eggs by then) will be the ones facing the brunt of this trajectory. There's a song that I love that has the words that speak to this:

"The Earth is not given to us by our parents. It is loaned to us by our children's children." - Wookiefoot

These recent reports and projections were a real wake up call for me. I used to believe that even though I was trying to do what I could in this lifetime to make a positive change regarding the health of the planet, that the ultimate disruptions were far off on the horizon. There was still plenty of time. I no longer think that way, and I also realize that this ignorance is a form of denial.

I also have a new perspective on the large volume of skills that we have put together for youth with our Ninjas in Nature program. I used to view them primarily as a means to help someone connect deeply to nature, while building powerful self sufficiency, awareness, and self confidence through the martial arts skills. Connect someone deeply to nature, and they will want to save it was once the standard mantra. The end result was a truly happy and whole being, with a desire to preserve nature, and still is. Unfortunately, the pragmatist and former Boys Scout in me remembers the old motto: "be prepared." How to prepare for an uncertain future, with no template from history to go by, is at the core of this challenge for me.

But now I see these skills as essential tools for adapting to the unknown change and disruptions to be faced by the inhabitants of our planet. It's not just the confidence of knowing how to find and process acorns as a vital protein source should the shipping trucks cease to show up, or how to make a fire by friction if the electricity goes down. It's about how to tap into the spirit of perseverance.

I've learned a lot by watching how youth in our nature program learn to adapt to challenges that nature throws unexpectedly at them. When they have been stung multiple times by an angry horde of wasps, and know how to find the nearby plantain remedy; when they have been covered head to toe in mud camouflage while crawling on their belly for hours in a forest at night; when they have found the glowing ember under their spindle with blistered, cold hands in a snowstorm when they needed a fire— in those moments I have witnessed something. I have seen that they knew discomfort and the unknown intimately. They knew failure. They knew perseverance. But above all, they knew the joy of what it meant to be truly alive and grateful for each day, and to be present in a moment in time. This mindset is the gift we can strive to pass on to our kids and future generations as we head into one of the greatest challenges our species has ever faced. Moreover, they are the skills that our ancestors depended upon and passed down to us. To me, passing down these important martial arts and survival skills are the essence of "nin" or being a ninja.

But I promised rainbow unicorns...

Over 98% of all life that has ever lived on this planet has gone extinct. Think about that. The deck was stacked against us as a species long before we ever appeared on this planet. There have been five major extinction events in the history of planet Earth, and we likely are driving the current extinction bus blindly towards the precipice of the sixth. Still, after every major extinction event, something more beautiful evolved in the aftermath. Dinosaurs and ferns were pretty cool, but the mammals and flowering plants that followed were much more beautiful. I know. I'm a biased mammal. Still, I think the photographers and landscape artists are on my side. While this may sound like a nihilistic doomsday perspective, I find solace in stepping back to look at the wide angle vision, long view of our human time on Earth, and our collective connection to the mystery that holds this tapestry together. There is a beauty to this mystery that we are part of. One definition that I heard recently for "love" is a state of consciousness that is an awareness of beauty. I love the mystery.

Even with the long view odds stacked against us, and the short term prospects appearing a bit daunting for our survival, I'm an optimist. There's an opportunity here. Our old operating system of resource extraction for a distraction economy to produce giant piles of things in landfills that, in the end, have little meaning or value, has run its course. We have an opportunity to change the way we operate externally as humans who have been given the responsibility of stewarding this planet. But we also have an inner opportunity. We have an opportunity to evolve the way we think, act, and focus our internal and external energies as beings on this planet.

Chi, sui, ka, fu, ku. These energetic elements are within each of us. If we can bring these inner elements into alignment, our outer world, and all of its elements that are showing signs of dis-ease, just might find alignment. And if we don't pull this one off? Well...humans are beautiful. But you know, rainbow unicorns just might evolve after this sixth wave passes. And we all know...they're pretty awesome.

Check out the video below where Dai Shihan Mark Roemke demonstrates a technique to practice the elemental forms of Chi, Sui, Ka, Fu, and Ku from the San Shin or Gokui no Kata.

San Shin No Kata

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A Pandemic, A Pond, and Perseverance

In a recent post by Dai Shihan Mark Roemke, he told the story of going to the island of St. Croix for five days of testing survival skills. He ended that post with this nugget of wisdom...

"It’s good to sometimes be uncomfortable in situations that you might not think you could ever endure."

This statement made me think of the local twenty-six acre pond in my neighborhood.

But before I proceed further, first...The Dunker’s Disclaimer

Most written material you encounter about swimming in cold water comes with big disclaimers, in big red bold font, advising of the hazards if you are not careful. I have been teaching wild edible plant classes for years. Likewise, most edible plant books come with similar disclaimers saying to read the material, but don’t go out there and eat wild plants willy nilly. These cautions considered, there is something worth claiming in these experiences. Within the content is an invitation for a life-enhancing experience, but only if you proceed safely, do your research diligently, share your experience with a buddy, and possibly with consultation of a physician. My friend Duncan in the story below happens to work in the healthcare profession, so I had a slight advantage. I consider myself a strong swimmer, so add one more advantage.

So, enjoy the story for what it is, a story and not a how-to guide. But if you want a swim buddy...I’m easy to find.


Since I was five years old, I've been a creature of the water. Competitive swimming was my life from this young age through college. After college, I "retired" to surfing when I moved to Hawaii and then California. I have stayed wet whenever possible over much of my life. I’m lucky to have lived in South Kona, Hawaii where I could snorkel daily with green sea turtles and swim at night with manta rays and bioluminescence. I've swum through rapids of the Grand Canyon and dunked at the base of pure spring desert waterfalls where you could drink the water while submerged. In Alaska I swam in cold rivers sourced from glacial melt (I didn't last long in those cold waters).

None of these experiences however, could compare to the connection I've had with our local pond over the past twelve months. The onset of Covid over a year ago resulted in the local indoor swimming pool shutting down. Little did I realize that this would change my life and more specifically my relation to water.

70's Fahrenheit— In early June last year, my friend Duncan called me on the phone. "Ken, I'd like to work on my crawl stroke. Since you used to coach swimming, could you give me some pointers?" Duncan showed up the next morning, and we started swimming across the pond. I gave him some pointers. The water was a comfortable temperature, in the mid-seventies. We started swimming three times a week at 7 am. Dawn patrol fishermen dotted the shore, and occasional morning swimmers roamed the periphery. After two and a half years living by the pond, I hadn't "trained" by doing long distance swimming in these waters. I usually ventured down daily to romp in the pond with family and friends. For some reason I had been in a rut. I believed the indoor pool was for "training" and outdoors was for fun and play. That was about to change.

The water was relatively clear and warm. Being a faster swimmer, I swam ahead of Duncan and then floated on my back to watch ospreys, hawks, kingfishers or eagles while he caught up. I was starting to like this routine.

80's— As late summer approached, the water warmed. Occasionally you could see a thin film along the surface. Pollen or algae? Hard to tell. The temperature was warm enough to heat my core and face to an almost uncomfortable level during peak exertion. Duncan was getting faster. He had outfitted himself with fins, and we now kept a similar pace. He started arriving with printed Google maps showing the distance we had covered previously, and a route we could take from beach to beach to fence and back that equaled a mile. The sunfish roamed the shore’s edge and would nibble our toes if we lingered near too long in the calf-deep water of the pond’s edge. My favorite mornings were swimming through a low layer of warm mist in the rain.

70's— As summer drew to a close, the swimming crowds thinned in the morning as virtual or hybrid schooling kicked in due to the pandemic. Duncan continued to arrive at my house on his bike by 7 am three times a week. It was nice feeling the shift back to a more comfortable water temperature. We could swim a little harder without overheating. The die hard morning swimmers still arrived, and you could see their brightly colored floats trailing behind them as they traversed the pond. The early fall bird migrations were beginning. When I did backstroke, I watched geese fly over in "V" formation, while I oriented myself to the cardinal directions. "Let's see, which way is north?" I would think. Some flocks were already beginning their southward journeys.

60's— I remember thinking at the pond one morning..."Where did all the swimmers go?"  Getting in the water in the morning was starting to feel a bit jolting to my body. When I surfed in California, the ocean water was usually between 55-60 degrees Fahrenheit year round. During the early New England fall, the kids and I had continued surfing in New Hampshire, Boston, and Rhode Island. We had been tracking the local ocean temperature at those locations. The pond temperature felt like it was in the same range. Being curious as to the daily pond temperature, I went to the local hardware store and bought a cheap thermometer. It confirmed that the temperature was in the 60’s. The morning swims felt so refreshing. The hot cup of coffee upon returning home after swims tasted better as I hugged it to my chest for warmth.

50's— "That's it. I'm done. Too cold!" said Duncan one morning after making it to the first dock buoy then quickly retreating to the shore. Now what? I went online that day and found a used cold water triathlon wetsuit. The online ads all had the same description— "Used twice to train, then once for the race." It showed up in the mail two days later. I was back in the water feeling super floaty and warm in my new suit. This is awesome, I thought— now I can swim through winter! Maybe. There was the complication of ice. Try as I might, I couldn't convince Duncan to get a wetsuit to join me. So, I borrowed my wife's pink flotation buoy for my safety comfort companion and I kept going. I was expecting the water clarity to improve, but the opposite happened. The water became cloudy. There were days when the multi-colored fall leaves sank below the surface creating a mosaic of oak, pine and maple leaves in suspension as they slowly descended to the bottom. It was beautiful to swim through.

40's— I kept swimming several times a week in my wetsuit. And then I saw the documentary My Octopus Teacher. In the movie, Craig Foster mentioned that he swam everyday for a year in the South African coastal waters. He said the water was around 5 degrees Celsius year round. I was a big fan of his work and had seen all of his previous documentaries. I pulled up the conversion table. 5 Celsius = 41 Fahrenheit. Craig swam in the movie with only a mask, snorkel, fins, a neoprene hoodie, and shorts. The previous winter I had taken a Wim Hof cold training course and had spent 15 minutes up to my neck in the water on the edge of the pond on a sunny January morning. My January dunk the previous winter was a glimpse into this cold water experience.

I froze the frame on the documentary so I could see the brand of neoprene hoodie that Craig wore. I placed my order. A few days later, I put my wetsuit back in the storage box and stood on the edge of the pond in my swim shorts, a new 5 mm thick hoodie, and a pink buoy belt around my waist. I looked kinda goofy, but I didn’t care. There was no one around anyway. The temperature had just dropped recently to 49 Fahrenheit. I dove in.The shock was immediate, but with a warm brain and no "ice cream headaches," I swam. I could feel a shift in my core. My muscles in my arms tightened and felt a bit numb. My pace slowed. I only swam for about five minutes. When I emerged on the shore my legs, arms, and torso were pink, but I felt so good. I'm pretty sure this feeling could be attributed to the endorphin rush that accompanies cold water immersion. The few remaining fall fishermen I encountered in the weeks that followed would occasionally make funny comments when I swam by their boats. But I kept swimming. I was hooked.

30's — Occasionally I coerced my daughter Phoebe to be my "copilot" and accompany me on my swims. She homeschools, and at the time was taking a class across the pond at a local teacher's house. I'd swim with her to class while she paddled the kayak. After dropping her off, I tied a strap around my waist and pulled the kayak back. Later in the afternoon I would reverse the process.

The first day it snowed while I was swimming in the pond, Phoebe joined me, paddling the kayak. She wore her favorite rainbow colored snow jacket. The water was warmer than the air, so it actually felt more comfortable to be in the water than standing on shore in the snow. Some winter days though, when the wind blew, and the snow was on the ground, it was really hard to get out of the water (or into the water). One windy winter day my fingers were so cold that I couldn't get my socks on when I emerged. Attempting to insert a wet foot into a fuzzy snow boot resulted in a wardrobe malfunction, and I had to hobble home trying to push my skateboard while wearing floppy boots. It didn't work well.

Freeze-Up— When the ice first appeared, for a limited time I could break through the thin layer and make a short channel for swimming if I wore my neoprene gloves to keep the ice from cutting my hands. I started researching the effects of cold on the body, so I could understand more about what was happening to my brain and body. I learned about the safety precautions and the benefits to my immune system, brown fat, and mental well being. I joined several cold water swim forums and learned tips to be safe. I never ventured far from shore. I only swam for the recommended time based on the water temperature. As the pond approached the freezing point, the feeling of swimming in water in the 30's was intense and edgy. I would only swim for a couple minutes before retreating to my towel.

Eventually the thick ice came, and the swimming halted. I read Norwegian ice swimming forums where they debated the best chainsaw or axe for cutting holes through thick ice. I missed the routine and the feeling of my weekly swims. I looked for a few windows, when I wouldn't disturb the ice fishing or skaters. I cut a small hole a few times in the thick ice with my maul, just big enough for a shallow stationary dunk.

Break-Up— As spring approached, the ice began to thaw around the edges and I resumed short dunks and then longer forays. One day as the ice retreated, I donned my wetsuit, hoodie, and gloves and called on my kayak copilot. Being someone who studies "survival" skills, I wanted to have a gauge for how thin ice needed to be to fall through, and what it would feel like to break through thin ice. With Phoebe as my backup, I swam to the edge of the remaining ice sheet and scrambled onto the ice. I jumped up and down until it cracked and I fell through. I did this repeatedly and practiced scrambling out onto thin ice after falling through. I appreciated my wetsuit and my copilot. I learned a lot that day about ice dynamics and how to practice pulling myself out should I ever need the skill. I had so much fun that a few days later I tried it again, but the warming conditions had changed so rapidly that I could no longer scramble onto the ice. Instead, it broke under my arms as I swam. I’d have to wait until next winter to try again.

40's— I remember one day years ago, after surfing the winter Santa Cruz waves, when I had an extremely difficult time getting my car key into the lock because my hands were shaking so violently. This past  winter, after I walked home from swimming in the cold water of the pond, when I reached my driveway, the cold core shivers would begin. I did some research.

"After drop", also known as peripheral vasoconstriction, is what happens after you leave cold water. When your body is exposed to cold, it cleverly closes down the circulation in your limbs in order to keep the core and its vital organs warm. When you get out of the water and put warm clothes on, the body reverses the process. The warm circulation returns to the limbs, but this time the cold blood of the limbs returns to the core body and your core temperature will actually drop. So you start shivering. I'd make my coffee with shivering hands and then sit on a couch wrapped in a wool blanket until the shivering subsided while I read a book.

Soon, flocks of migratory merganser ducks arrived. They would spend parts of their days resting on the shrinking patch of floating pond ice. Within a week of their arrival, their icy resting spot disappeared. I slowly started venturing further from shore as the days grew longer and my arms could tolerate warmer water.

50's — The swallows arrived as the water temperature warmed. The dawn chorus of the local birds was finished by the time I arrived for morning spring swims. I started calling Duncan again. I coerced him to try my wetsuit. He reluctantly showed up one morning, borrowed my suit and joined me once again. He soon bought a matching neoprene hoodie. It was good to have a swim buddy again. The water was the clearest it had been all year. It was amazing to swim over the deepest holes of the kettle pond and see the bottom. The bald eagle and the osprey returned, as did the fishermen. The bass started reappearing in small groups from the depths. The clear water wouldn’t last long. With the spring bloom, the pollen soon clouded the water followed by cottonwood fluff on the surface. By 7:15 when we'd hit the water, the sun was well above the trees. I sneezed often from the pollen on the walk home.

60’s— As I write, the after drops are diminishing and all but gone. Parts of the surface water on the south facing shore are hitting the 60’s. Duncan purchased his own second-hand wetsuit, "Used twice to train, then once for the race,” so I’ll hopefully have a swimming buddy as fall returns next time with its chill. The water has warmed past the “brain freeze point.” Tomorrow morning I'll ditch the hoodie. As Duncan and I continue swimming the pond perimeter, we have come full circle in the seasons of the pond. As summer approaches, I am melancholy for the slowly fading cold water.

The temperature cycle is a personality of the pond that will depart but return, as it has for millennia. I’ll continue returning too, but these cycles of the pond will far outlast my human form. Still, for my short time here, I am changed by its waters. I am so grateful for this pond and what it has taught me this past year. While the pandemic raged and worry abounded, I have been able to find windows of hope in the chilly waters. I called my dunks my "sanity swims" even though some people shook their heads and called me crazy. I get stuck in my mind more than I would like. I fret about the past and worry about the future. At times the pandemic amplified this. While some days I was hesitant to venture into the cold water, I welcomed each opportunity to swim, because the pond gifted me moments to truly be present.

It's really hard to describe the sensation of the deep cold swims. The moment I plunged into the cold water, my lungs reflexively gasped, but then, after the first initial strokes, I was just there. Sometimes it was a detached feeling, as if I were an observer watching my arms move through the air and water. Other times I was lost in the experience, as I gazed at the patterns of rocks, stumps, leaves, and fish below me. My favorite moments happened at the end of the swims, when I rolled over, grabbed my buoy and just floated— I lost the boundary between my form and the water, watched the clouds drift, felt my heartbeat in my chest, and was glad to be alive for another day.


Nin means "to persevere." We'll let you in on a big secret for how to persevere in nature. It's called a sit spot. This is a place that you visit to observe the natural landscape as many times weekly as possible. I once trained at a Wilderness First Responder course. In this intensive training, the instructor made a side comment that stuck with me. She said that people who spend regular time outdoors visiting nature statistically have a better chance for surviving a wilderness survival situation.

Why? It's all about attitude.

People who adopt a sit spot and visit the location repeatedly, year-round, rain or shine, wind or snow, become comfortable being uncomfortable in nature. They also learn to be present in nature, which helps shift your attitude when faced with challenges. Finding a sit spot that you can visit year round is a doorway to developing a present mindset. I've spent a couple decades, from Alaska, to Hawaii, to California, and now to New England visiting and keeping journals of my local sit spots. My year round pond experience was an extension of my backdoor sit spot.

Remember, the most important thing about a sit spot is that it needs to be convenient, otherwise you will never make it there.

What do you do when you get there? Turn off your phone. Observe. "Lose your mind and find your senses," as some say. Ask questions. Breathe. Connect. Tune in to the birds. Just be. If you really want to take a deep sit spot dive, check out our interview with Josh Lane. He's a sit spot Jedi.

Check out the video below where we introduce some perspectives on finding a sit spot.


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Sensei’s Island Survival Story

I once asked the Grandmaster of ninjutsu, Hatsumi Sensei, "When do we learn the survival techniques like building survival shelters, making fire, fishing line and cordage, trapping animals, hunting and other survival skills?"

He told me that he was never taught those by his teacher, Takamatsu Sensei. He said that he primarily taught the skills pertaining to being on the mats and doing the waza in the scrolls. He said that the survival skills I was seeking were being done by many really good people on the planet, and that I should find those teachers.

My searching led me to a world renowned survival instructor who actually lived in the same town as me. His name is Tom McElroy. We interviewed Tom in a recent post. If you haven’t read it, his stories have some real gems of wisdom. He’s been all over the planet seeking the ways to survive from the landscape around him.

When Tom taught a survival skills workshop for Pathways Dojo, he mentioned that he had an opening on an island trip where they were going to learn how to survive in a warm tropical island setting on the island of St. Croix. He invited me to go. I jumped at the opportunity.

A few months later I flew to St. Croix. The first thing that hits you when you step off the plane is the heat and the humidity.

It was really amazing. I learned so many new skills. The survival part of the trip was really challenging, but what I really enjoyed most was the pre-survival trip training session where we learned and practiced skills for several days before heading into "survival mode" for five days.

We focused on learning the local plants on the island. Our days were packed with intensive training that lasted all day- from  morning until we went to bed at night. What was really cool was that we learned all of the native species of trees, the wild animals that lived on the island, and how to identify the local hazards.

There were all sorts of stinging and biting creatures that you needed to be aware of. We also learned safety protocols for what to do if somebody was hurt, such as how to treat a broken arm.

When our front-end training was complete, the day arrived for us to head out on the actual survival trip.

We climbed into trucks and drove a long way down a remote island road. The pavement turned into a dirt road. The dirt road turned into a rough trail of bushes and grass. Eventually we left the trucks and headed out on foot with our backpacks. In our packs we brought a few of the handmade items from our previous class. These included items such as cordage made from snake grass, and calabash bowls for eating. What we didn’t bring was food.

Full disclaimer…I love my morning coffee, and I’m what you’d call a “foodie,” so I knew this was going to be a challenge.

We spent the first day hiking to our base camp location. The first thing we did as a group was to set up a large group shelter. We cut grass and made thatching for the roof of the shelter, which when finished would sleep the ten of us participating in this training. Then we prepped an area out for a central cooking fire. For food that day we caught fish and gathered local plants. I was exhausted by the end of the first day. I crashed and immediately went to sleep that first night.

There were so many cool adventures that happened in the days that followed. What happens on a survival trip is that you go back to basics where every day you get up and you think about getting enough water and food. As the days pass.. day four, day five, day six… you realize how you are hungry all the time and how hard it is to find enough food. This is especially challenging when you're with many people and need to feed everybody.

On that trip, I lost about 35 pounds. On our last day we had to hike uphill out of the valley where we had our camp, and then five miles to the cars. I was exhausted on our hike back to the road. It felt like a rite of passage. It was tough. It wasn’t comfortable. Still it was an amazing experience.

That experience taught me that as a human being, we have an innate drive for survival, like wild animals do. I realized that I could connect with this feeling. I learned that when you need to access this part of yourself, you can tap into it in order to survive. It’s a true feeling of perseverance, the meaning of “nin” of ninja.

There’s much more to this story, which I will share in future posts. I hope this story helps inspire people to go into nature and push yourself occasionally. It’s good to sometimes be uncomfortable in situations that you might not think you could ever endure.

Give it a try. I guarantee you’ll have an amazing experience.


Fire is an essential skill when in a survival situation. You need it for purifying water, cooking food, heat, light, tool making, and more. Odds are you wouldn't survive long without fire. As Sensei Roemke mentioned above, it was one of the first things they focused on when they made their survival camp.

If you have downloaded our FREE Fire Skills videos, we have a bonus fire training below for you. It's one thing to make a bow drill kit. It's a whole different skill to learn how to use it correctly in order to get a fire. There's a lot to body positioning, angling, distancing, and timing.

Sounds kinda like a familiar martial arts style that we study. Hmmmmm....

In the video below we break down some helpful techniques for using a bow drill. Get these skills down, and you'll soon be cooking your own tasty survival island meal.

This video is Part 2 of a series on tips for making fire with a bow drill. To see Part 1, check out the Tom McElroy post.

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Global Survival Savvy with Tom McElroy

Over twenty years ago I met a young instructor at the world-renowned Tracker School, run by Tom Brown Jr. He was teaching bow and arrow making, among other skills. I was blown away by his attention to detail and craftsmanship. In a subsequent course, the "scout class," all students, myself included, made "scout pits" which were hidden, subterranean sleeping shelters that we slept in during the week-long course. This young instructor was also teaching at that class, however, I learned that he had taken the subterranean sleeping shelter to another level. At the time, he was living in an underground hogan shelter that he built, complete with a fire chimney that exited secretly through an old hollow stump on the surface.

That young instructor was Tom McElroy. Since that time in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, Tom has ventured around the globe, from the Amazon to Australia, to New Guinea, to remote tropical islands and beyond. Each of his explorations is fueled by a curiosity to learn from nature and to share this information with others.

Today we interview Tom to get a teaser-sampler of  the wisdom behind some of his experiences. Tom has taught everyone, ranging from children to hunters, to outdoor enthusiasts, and even elite military groups such as Seal Team Six. He has consulted for numerous news programs, Hollywood movies, and was featured on the Discovery Channel. He holds a BA degree in Anthropology and Geography from Rutgers University and a Masters in International Policy related to Indigenous Peoples from the University of Connecticut. At the age of 18, he spent an entire year living completely off the land. During that time, he built and lived in a shelter made from the land, made fire by friction, purified water naturally, hunted, fished and gathered all of his own food.

Tom takes wilderness living skills to the level of a true artist. You can see this for yourself in the detail of his handmade tools. His tools are not only functional, but beautiful. This is evident in the pictures of his handicraft included in the interview below. Pathways Dojo has been fortunate to have Tom guest instruct at some of our events.

Here's Sensei to tell you a little about his connection with Tom...

Tom and I actually live in the same town of Santa Cruz, California. I first heard of Tom through local friends. I met him when we did a podcast interview of him at his house several years ago. We discussed how survival skills and ninjutsu go together. Little did I know that I would be going to one of his island survival courses a few years later. More on that adventure in an upcoming post. That first experience with Tom would lead me to some really fun adventures in nature. I'm really excited that we get to work with Tom. He's an amazing survival skills instructor and is very tuned in to the natural world.


Here's our recent interview with Tom...

Pathways: You have traveled all over the world to learn and teach survival skills. Is there one place/experience that stands out that was extremely challenging? What did you do to overcome that challenge?

Tom: I really believe that the only way that someone can easily survive off the land is if they have a deep knowledge of place, meaning they have an intimate knowledge of the terrain, edible and medicinal plants, animal behavior, weather patterns, density of wood, strongest fibers for rope...etc.  While indigenous people are the only masters of survival, you still couldn't take an Inuit person and drop them in the Amazon and expect that they would thrive. Some skills might transfer, but it would still be a struggle to adapt and relearn what you need from the foreign landscape. It's always a challenge entering an unfamiliar place to attempt to survive. The second I walk into a survival situation I have to try to soak up a lot about what is useful to me in that area--playing catch up with what I should already know.

I would say, one of the biggest challenges would be in the Amazon jungle where everything is out to get you.  There are spikes on half the trees, mosquitoes spreading malaria, poisonous spiders, and snakes lurking under every fallen log.  These are things I can’t plan for, and sometimes it's just luck that has kept me safe from total catastrophe

Pathways: What was the biggest hazard you have encountered?

Tom: I have to admit, with all the chances I have taken, I've been pretty lucky.  I try to stay very safe in survival and am hyper-vigilant of anything that can hurt me.  In my first full-survival situation I remember breaking firewood and cutting my finger fairly deep when I broke a stick in half.  I still have a scar from that. Every time I see it, I think about how the smallest mistakes in survival can lead to big consequences.  In Papua new Guinea I saw how tiny cuts would get infected and turn black in a day.  That is probably the most common issue that people overlook.  Infection is not as much a part of our modern world, but in survival, it's one of the biggest threats to your life.

Another experience stands out. While staying with a tribe in the Amazon, a hunter named Nanto and I wandered too far into an "undiscovered" tribe's territory in the jungle. They are a very hostile group. Many intruders into their territory have been found dead with a spear in them. One day, we were out blow-gunning birds and came upon Puma tracks on a tree. Nanto mentioned that the shaman had told him that he needed to be wary of Puma as they were a sign that he was in danger. Soon after that, we came across two spears crossed in an 'X' across the trail. Essentially this was our one warning that this one tribe, the Taegeri, were watching and they were telling us that we had gone too far. If we went any further, that would have been the end. Nanto was pretty shaken up when he saw that, which made me literally shake. Luckily we took the warning, turned around, and quickly headed back to his village.

Pathways: Is there a favorite/memorable shelter experience that you have had?

Tom: One of my favorite shelters I have ever lived in was one that was a completely underground hogan.  To get into the shelter you would lift a small oak bush to reveal a door, then climb down a ladder into the shelter.  One could walk directly over it and not know it was there. I even had a “chimney” going into a hollow tree stump to dissipate the smoke so you wouldn't notice it.

Pathways: What's one of the tastiest wild meals that you have eaten?

Tom: In my island survival class we get pretty into creating amazing meals while in a full-survival situation.  We caught spiny lobster and crab and made coconut cream bisque with Mango dessert.  After 4 days in survival, that may be the best thing I have ever tasted.

Pathways: Do you have a memorable/favorite fire-making experience?

Tom: After 25 years since making my first friction fire, I still get a huge kick out of it.  When I lived in the woods at age 18 for a year, I wouldn't allow myself to have any fire unless I got it with a hand drill or bow-drill.  After consistently getting friction fire for 6 months, one day it just stopped working.  I still don’t understand why, but I could not get a friction fire for about 5 days.  This was in the middle of December, so you can imagine how difficult it was to not have light or warmth in my shelter, warm food and all the things I was taking for granted.  After 5 days, to finally get that back was incredible.  I was so grateful then and still feel grateful even today when I get a fire.

Pathways: What about a memorable water gathering or landscape/water experience?

Tom: One time I drank from what I thought was a clean spring when running with the Tarahumara tribe in Copper Canyon in Mexico.  It kicked in after my trip, but I felt like my insides were on fire for a few days.

Pathways: Do you have a memorable tracking experience?

Tom: I once was called in to track a tiger that escaped from a pen in New Jersey.  It was wandering around the woods and people’s backyards.  After tracking cats with prints the size of quarters, it was incredible to track one with prints the size of dinner plates.

Pathways: When you are preparing to go to a new place to enter into a survival living mode, do you have a routine for preparation, such as researching maps, local indigenous practices, hazards, or practicing techniques at home before you go?

Tom: I try to pour myself into every book of that area to learn about plant life.  Then I try to see what indigenous people of that area do/did.  I think through all the potential problems I could face and try to play it all out in my head beforehand.  Of course there are always surprises, and I only find a few of the  hundreds of plants I have studied.  But, I do plan for how to provide the basics of Shelter, Water, Fire, Food.  After that, I just try to get creative based on what I discover in real-time.

Pathways: Shelter, water, fire, food...every landscape/ecosystem is different. Still, are there common themes to your approach to these needs that pertain to most/all landscapes you encounter?

Tom: One thing I try to emphasize with my classes is that it's the principles of survival that are the most important to learn.  For example, when trying to stay warm, in a deciduous forest you would use the principle of insulation with light, fluffy material, like piled leaves, to trap dead air space around your body.  I then ask my students, using the same principles, how would you create insulation if trapped in your car in a blizzard.  By wrapping yourself in the car seat foam, you can also trap dead air space around your body and stay warm.  Totally different situation, different “shelter”, but the same principles.

Pathways: You write that you came to the realization that "experiencing survival-living changes the way people approach their entire lives." How have you seen this in others and in yourself?  

Tom: I feel really fortunate to have spent a year living off the land when I was 18.  That entire year I spent about $300-$400 in total.  What this has gifted me is the ability to know that no matter what happens in my life, I can always go back to that forest and do that again.  Because of this, I felt free to take chances on pursuing my passions rather than always playing it safe.  I always had an answer to the big “what if things fall apart?” question.  I think this gives people confidence to live in less fear, even if they never actually use it. Knowing you can survive off the land gives you a confidence that even the wealthiest person does not have.

Pathways: If someone is new to survival skills, or lives in an urban area, what is a good way to begin practicing the skills?

Tom: Nature is everywhere.  The amount of interesting wild edible plants found in abandoned lots could keep you busy studying for years.  I grew up near a lot of woods, but still spent most of my initial learning stages making friction fires in my basement, or setting box-traps for pets.  While it's good to get into the forest so that you're comfortable with it, it’s very possible to practice a lot of these skills at home.

Pathways: Why would learning survival skills benefit someone who studies the art of the ninjutsu?

Tom: In one of my classes, there was a Master Chief from the Navy Seals.  He was built like a Greek God and probably one of the scariest people I could ever meet.  He had been in the Seals for more than 20 years, and I can't imagine the talents he possessed.  During one class on tanning deer hides, my co-instructor had everyone make small leather bags of the buckskin.  She taught everyone how to sew various stitches and at some point this Navy Seal called me over asking me how to do a ‘whip-stitch’.  I told him that for a guy as tough as he was, I found it funny he was asking me how to sew a tiny little leather pouch to go around his neck.  Surely this was beneath him at this point.  He then looked at me and commented that being a warrior was about collecting as many skills as possible, and the only way he rose to the top of the Seal program was because he never stopped learning, and finding new things to learn.


To learn more about Tom and to attend one of his upcoming courses, you can checkout his website which also has a treasure trove of tutorial videos. Tom travels the globe teaching and has upcoming courses in the near future that we highly recommend.

As Tom mentioned above, fire by friction is a skill that is a lifelong learning journey. It always has something to teach. Making a bow drill fire kit is a great way to enter this learning journey. Check out the free video tutorial access on our website for making a bow drill fire kit.

But, once you make a bow drill kit, you are only halfway there. There are a lot of small details that are very important to consider when using a bow drill kit. If you know some of these tips, your chances of a successful fire are much greater. This could save your life one day.

In the video below, we go through the next step...some helpful tips for using your bow drill kit that will help you be successful in making fire.

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Decoding Nature’s Secrets

In our last post, we interviewed renowned tracker and naturalist Jon Young who introduced the world of bird language to Sensei Roemke. Bird language reveals how listening to birds can teach us the art of invisibility on a landscape. In this post we interview Dan Gardoqui who specializes in teaching people how to get close to animals.
Sensei Roemke also shares one of our favorite meditation exercises for quieting the mind, which is key to getting close to wild animals.
Over thirty years ago, one of Jon's first students was a young guy named Dan Gardoqui.  Today Dan is one of the preeminent trackers, naturalists, and mentors of nature connection in North America. He co-founded and was Executive Director for the White Pines Program in Maine. He lives in Maine today where he runs Lead With Nature which offers consulting, coaching, online training, and more for those wishing to tap into a deeper awareness of nature. Dan teaches how to use tracking, bird language, and an ecological awareness approach in order to help people get closer to wildlife by "decoding nature's language."
We recently sat down with Dan to get a glimpse under his cranial hood, learn his approach to getting closer to wildlife (including humans), and how this can help us as ninjas.
Pathways: You use a term called "Ecological Awareness." How do you define this and how do you use it to get closer to animals?
Dan: To me it is knowledge of place. It's understanding landscapes, habitats, the animals that inhabit them. For instance, if my goal is to get closer to a moose in the fall, I am going to go to a place on the landscape where I am most likely to find them. So I have to understand what moose are eating, what they are thinking, what they are doing biologically that time of year which is their rut. Or after their rut when they are done breeding, I need to know if they are likely to be alone, or in pairs, or in bachelor groups. If they are in their thicker winter fur and it's a warmer day, they are going to be seeking out cooler and moister areas, so I'm going to have to think about microhabitats. I'm going to have to think about the cool pockets on the landscape. Ecological awareness flows with the rhythms of nature and is about understanding the natural history of animals and how habitats are preferential or not to different animals.
Pathways: In your work you refer to helper species and allies. What are they and how do they help you get closer to animals?
Dan: This one is fun. "Helper" is a bit biased. It implies that the animals have the intention of being helpful to humans, and they may actually. I'm not sure we can say they definitely do or definitely don't. Some of the most well known examples are of ravens. There are many stories about these birds and how they sometimes act as guides to help people or other animals find certain things on a landscape, such as carcasses or prey species. If you pay attention to some basics of how ravens communicate, and if you are open to the fact that you are in communication with them, because frankly we all are in communication with the animals in one way or another whether we are conscious of it or not, then they can truly help you with some of your goals. The flip side of this relationship is that the ravens also get a benefit. For instance, if you are a hunter, and the ravens are helping you find your prey, after you successfully get that animal, you may leave parts of that animal behind after you process it. Then, the ravens will benefit from this food. There are other examples of this such as the honey guides in Africa.
Pathways: If I live in a city or don't have a lot of experience in nature practicing these techniques, what is a good skill to begin with?
Dan: Listening, sitting still and giving your attention to the more-than-human world. It's important to pay attention to humans as well. Knowing our human behaviors and patterns is really helpful and wise when we want to stay safe and alert. But, also start to pay attention to everything else. It can be pigeons, crows, rats, squirrels, little sparrows. Start to give your attention to things that are not human and be open to a fact that they are speaking a language that we can understand. Just start being curious, ask questions, and develop relationships with them. The more you spend time in the same place, quietly listening and observing and being open, chances are those individuals are going to get used to you being there. When you give them your attention and respect, they are probably going to do the same for you. Start by just listening, watching, and giving them space. Say you are walking down a sidewalk, and there's a pigeon in front of you feeding on the sidewalk, just slow down and go around it. If you start to give birds a little more space and respect, it changes the dynamics, and it changes the way you see the world.
How does quieting the mind relate to getting close to animals? What is a technique that you use for this?
Dan: This is what I was just talking about. Doing the quiet sits and giving birds your attention and respect for example. Doing this just helps us get out of our own little bubble of thoughts, emotions, and things that might cause disturbance around us. If you think of yourself as moving through a pond, when the mind is quiet, the ripples you cause and the way you move is much smoother, so there are many less ripples or disturbances. When the mind is busy, we tend to cause quite a wake, ahead and behind us. This tends to push things away from us. Many species are very sensitive to our thoughts and emotions, and where we are in our heads, including our own species. It's easy to tell if your family or friends are in a tough space or not. So it's silly to think that wildlife can't detect this as well. Whatever helps you to get to this calm mental space, be it yoga, breathing exercises, or meditation, it's going to help you be more "invisible" in the forest. But it's not really being invisible to me because that means we are trying to hide from something. To me it's more about having integrity with the vibe of a forest or nature. It's not thinking that our human existence is the most important thing. It's just being open to all the other things that exist around us.
You use movement, camouflage and stealth as a method for getting closer to animals. What are some of your preferred techniques in this area?
Dan: This is a big one. You need to spend a lot of time outside in nature to get to understand the baseline of those places before you decide the techniques you are going to use to blend in with that place. For instance, the pace that you would move in a busy city street in rush hour in order to blend in better be pretty quick. Whereas the pace you are going to use in a quieter rural wild area will probably be a bit slower. So getting to know the baseline of a place and how to blend in with that baseline and how to be invisible, that's part of the stealth and camouflage. So you really need to know a place. Camouflage is not just about colors and patterns. It's about our energy and speed, our body movements, and where we put our eyes. There's all sorts of little tricks in there.
You teach people to "decode nature's language" in order to get closer to wild animals. Do you have a favorite or recent short story about doing this?
Dan: I have lots of great failures. It's really hard to do sometimes. I think that's really important to know. You shouldn't just walk out the door and think, "I'm going to take you to the bobcat licking her paws with her babies next to her." That almost never happens to me. That's because there is an early warning system in the wild that is used by every animal that is paying attention. Every animal that is awake and alert is warning each other when there is trouble coming. So that's part of the decoding- being aware that early warnings exist. The second part is tuning into it and getting to understand it by practicing and testing it out. The third part is being able to manipulate this system. It's like hacking the system and using it to your advantage.
An example of this happened last fall when I was turkey hunting in the woods behind my place. I am an avid birder and conservationist, but I also hunt birds. On this day, I approached an area pretty quickly where I thought there might be a flock of turkeys. One technique for hunting turkeys is to bust up a flock and then camouflage yourself and hide, then try to call them back. Often it's successful. On this day, I tried this and it didn't work. This group was a bunch of male Tom turkeys. They didn't separate, but instead stayed together. So I tried tracking them and that wasn't working. So I decided to do some predictive tracking. I imagined where they would move. I visualized in my mind's eye the landscape- all the slopes, wet spots, dark spots, spots for feeding, and hiding. I thought of the direction they took off in. So I sneaked quietly away from my spot and I listened to the birds. I listened to what was the baseline with the birds. I listened for alarms. I was able to move quietly without scaring any birds. I moved around birds that were feeding so as not to spook them because the turkeys would key in on this. Eventually I moved across the landscape at a very, very slow stalking pace while listening, breathing, and waiting. Then I repeated the process- stalking, listening, breathing, waiting. I noticed some chickadees doing their typical calls and songs. But then I noticed that they suddenly stopped. Without even thinking, this made me realize that the turkeys were nearby. I quickly raised my weapon and waited. About ten seconds later I saw a large gobbler walk by about ten yards from me. He seemed a bit nervous which made me wonder if he also heard the chickadees stop singing. When the chickadees stopped their singing, this was a slight change in the baseline. This was a moment of decoding nature's language for me. It doesn't always go this way. But this time I was able to intercept this animal.
I just had some pulled turkey leg sliders with some friends the other day.
Dan mentions that meditation can help build integrity with the vibe of nature. In the video below, Sensei Roemke shares a meditation technique that will help quiet your mind in nature and help to close the gap between you and the animals around you.
If you want to learn more, check out Dan's programs at Lead With Nature.
If you enjoyed this post, you can subscribe to get the latest from our Ninja Blog or you can train live online with us with our PNT or NTTV Live training programs.
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How to save your life with some really hot rocks

Most people have heard of the four basics needs for survival: shelter, fire, water, and food.  Let's zero in on one of them...water.

I remember one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had with fresh water in the wilderness. I was about a week into a rafting trip down the Grand Canyon. One day of the trip, we went for a five mile hike up into the desert canyon. The temperature was over 110 degrees F. The dry desert landscape showed little sign of fresh water. That changed as we rounded a bend in the trail that put us at the base of a 500 foot high red wall limestone rock face. Hundreds of feet above us an enormous spring roared out of the rock wall face from a cave, landing in a large pool at the bottom of the cliff. It was the only time in my life that I have ever swam and drank the water at the same time. I can still hear the roar of the water fall. The dramatic contrast with the parched landscape surrounding this spring highlighted the value of this amazing resource.

As summer approaches, much of the northern hemisphere starts to dry out, shifting the water dynamic. Depending on the landscape, you only have a few days that you can survive without water. Less than 1% of the Earth's water is suitable for drinking. Over 3.6 million people die every year from diseases from drinking unsafe drinking water. Unless you find a spring where the water is coming directly from the ground, it is generally not safe to drink directly from most streams, lakes, ponds, or rivers. You have to purify the water.

One way to purify water is by boiling it. One way to boil water in a wilderness situation is by doing a rock boil. In this method, you heat stones in a fire, then after brushing the ashes off of them, you drop them into your container of water. You need to make sure these stones aren't "wet" stones, meaning that they aren't gathered from places like streams, or from underwater. Wet stones can be like a sponge and explode when heated.

Check out this short demonstration video where we show how to boil water with rocks.

Rock Boil

It might just save your life some day.

Keep training!

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