I was standing in the desert, nearly naked. My eyes were closed, my feet sturdy on the ground. Moonlight abundantly rained on both the beautiful, barren land, and myself. I felt my body. I felt the desert. I felt alive.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the word “bushcraft” used but I do remember that I have never liked the term. Despite my negative feelings toward the phrase it seems to be the most popular and newest subset of the survival world. From Instagram hashtags, to TV shows, to outdoor suppliers, bushcraft keeps slapping me in the face and I hate it. What gives?