So this was my idea. Hey, maybe I could be the next Survivorman! I could teach myself to survive in the wilderness and then make an awesome show based on my efforts. Wouldn't that be cool? Except I don't really like camping, and I tend to get irritable when the creepy crawlies refuse to respect my personal space. But whatever. Those are obstacles that can be overcome, right?

Chapter One in any survival manual is always the making of fire, so I figured I'd start there. I snagged Nick's old Boy Scout handbook and got to work. Tools needed: fireboard, bow, stick, shoelace, tinder, and some sort of rock thingie to place atop the stick so that your hands don't get rubbed raw.

Here's the stuff.

And here it is all prepared.

So I followed the instructions. I used the stick and the bow.

I kept it up for a long time...twisting...twisting...twisting some more, until I began to hear the sweet chorus of angels in my ear, alerting me to my impending loss of sanity. And yet, the result was the same. The stick and fireboard were slightly warmer, but nowhere near the smoldering coals they needed to be.

Alas, I was driven to do what anyone would have done in my place.

So the lesson I learned was this. Fire-making—with sticks at least—is for people who have nothing else scheduled for the remainder of their lives. If you believe in reincarnation, that's a bonus, because it might take more than one lifetime to get it done.

Oh yeah, and I have four chigger bites to show for my time spent communing with the wilderness. Thanks so much, Mother Nature. I'm a big fan of yours, too.