Wild Women – Page 8 – Karen's New York Love Affair

How Monkey Valley got its name

Where are the monkeys?

Monkey Valley is a place where you can reconnect with nature, both outer and inner. For many years I operated a retreat centre here, offering programs to support this process of reconnection, such as vision fast retreats and medicine wheel teachings.

Monkey Valley is located in the wilderness of beautiful British Columbia. The property encompasses 160 acres of wild forested land, with a varied terrain of hills and meadows, and a silvery creek meandering through the valley. In the summertime you can hike or reflect quietly amid the abundance of birds, wild flowers, and woodland creatures. In winter the land is snow-clad, providing beautiful, pristine cross-country skiing and snowshoeing.

Hidden in the northern foothills of the Cascade mountain range, between Merritt and Princeton, close to Missezula Lake and the Kentucky-Alleyne Provincial Park, the elevation at Monkey Valley is about 3,300 feet (1,100 metres). Aspen, lodgepole pine, fir, and ponderosa pine grace the hillsides.

There are no monkeys at Monkey Valley, but guests have glimpsed moose, deer, beaver, coyotes, foxes, yellow-bellied marmots, grouse, red-tailed hawks, great horned owls, and many other birds and small woodland creatures.

I’m Karen, steward of the land and director of the retreat centre. I fell in love with this land before I even saw it, when a realtor showed me pictures and described the wildness of it. When I first saw it I knew I wanted to create a retreat centre here, so that others could come enjoy the amazing untamed beauty of this place.

My partner at the time, Hugh, helped me install solar power and hot water. It took us two years to do this, and during this time we travelled back and forth from Vancouver with my cat, Monkey.

One evening Monkey went missing. We had to get back to the city the next day, and couldn’t find Monkey anywhere. Sadly, we left without him. To our great surprise, when we returned two weeks later, Monkey emerged from under the porch, looking sleek and well-fed.

This might seem like no big deal, but for the first seven years of his life Monkey was strictly an indoor cat. To survive by catching his own food for two weeks (and to avoid being killed by coyotes or great horned owls) was an amazing feat for a city-slicker cat. This was a remarkable demonstration of how we are hard-coded to be part of the natural world, even though we may grow up in cities and know little of nature’s ways. We named Monkey Valley in his honour.

Whether or not the new owners of Monkey Valley operate a retreat centre, or even keep the name, I know you will enjoy many adventures on this beautiful land.

This entry was first published July 20, 2008. I’ve made a few edits and moved it to the first page to help potential buyers know a bit of the history of the place.

Monkey Valley is a self-sufficient, off-grid home and 160 acres. It is probably the most unique solar-powered home for sale in BC right now. It is a very private property located in the wilderness near Aspen Grove, BC, between Merritt and Princeton. The closest lakes are Kentucky Lake, Alleyne Lake, Loon Lake, and Missezula Lake. In fact, if you follow Shrimpton Creek south from the property line, Missezula Lake is less than a mile away. This very private property offers a sustainable, green home and acreage that you can live in year-round, or use as a vacation or recreational property. It is also an ideal investment property, as the land only increases in value and it is extremely rare to find such a private, pristine property so close to Vancouver and Kelowna. Rural land for sale is common enough, but to find a quarter section of fully fenced ranch land with no neighbouring properties is very unusual. The fencing, 5,000-square-foot barn, year-round creek, and grassland make it an ideal horse property. This remote acreage also has timber that can be logged, and it is surrounded by crown timber land. The 3-bedroom house is one-of-a-kind, blending an old-fashioned log cabin with a modern addition that offers all the comforts of solar power, cell phone service, and internet. The home, barn, and outbuildings are clad in country-style board-and-batten of Princeton fir. If you’re looking for creek-front real estate, you’ll love this home that’s more peaceful than most waterfront properties. Sound carries over water, so if you share a lake with neighbours, it’s never fully peaceful and quiet. This ecoproperty is the only land for sale near the Kentucky-Alleyne Provincial Park, and it is fully accessible for RVs. This could be a holiday property for a group of families who enjoy RVing in the wilderness. This unique character property is located at the north end of the Cascades foothills, in the Thompson-Nicola Regional District.

Starting the vision fast – setting up base camp

Finally, I am ready to continue with the story of my first vision fast, which I started telling you about in February 2011! Last time I wrote of this epic journey, I recounted some of the details of the road trip from BC to Colorado, and the week I spent at Naropa with my ecopsychology classmates, doing classwork and making final preparations for the vision fast. Our two vision fast guides, John Boyer and Nancy Jane, visited us at Naropa to answer our questions in preparation for the trip. I remember sitting around a table in the cafeteria with about 12 of my classmates, trying to get a sense of the two guides and whether I would like them and could trust them. My biggest fear that day was that the sleeping bag I bought for the trip, rated to -10° Celsius, might not be warm enough! We also had a lot of questions about the wild animals that might be roaming around our fasting place in the red desert of Wyoming.

In the early morning hours of June 18, 2005, I dreamt that I was with my classmates and we had to go through a lake to get where we were going, but I didn’t want to get wet. I found a way to get across the lake without getting wet. The lake symbolized the unconscious, dark, scary places. In the dream I managed to continue the journey without facing those dark scary places. Nothing to fear but fear itself—hah! I was afraid of everything, as I soon found out. There is no way to continue the authentic journey without looking into those scary places.

On June 20, we set out in a convoy of 4WD vehicles, to make the 5- to 6-hour journey from Boulder, Colorado to the vision fast spot in Wyoming. John Boyer had a ranch in Wyoming, and had brought many fasters to this place, which he had wandered through many times when he was a boy. I was one of the drivers, and I recall how anxious I felt because of the speed of the convoy—my little yellow Tracker wasn’t as stable at 80 MPH as some of the other cars. I was afraid of car accidents and the fast drivers that whizzed past us, their wind causing the Tracker to rock and slew. I grew more anxious, and another student took over the driving for me. The last hour or so of the trip was on unmarked dirt roads, with various turns from one unmarked road to another, and I was worried that if I had to drive out on my own I would never find my way! It didn’t occur to me to make notes of the way so that I would be able to drive out.

Finally we came to our final destination, with the cars all pulled up in a row, a short distance from the basecamp, which had a firepit and a level place for the kitchen equipment to be set up. The basecamp was on a clifftop overlooking a vista of desert canyons with vast open spaces beyond. It was beautiful and strange—the landscape unlike anything I had ever seen before. But I loved the openness and stark beauty. After a brief orientation and discussion of latrine procedures, we began to make camp. Some people helped set up the kitchen, and we were given time to scout around for a nearby spot to set up our tarps for the night. We would be spending 3 days in basecamp before going out on our solos. OMG, we were here and this was really happening!

The search for a sleeping spot was my first attempt at looking for perfection. I wanted it to be really special. Most of the students were sleeping out in the open near the parked cars, but I wanted to be protected in case of rain, and I didn’t want to sleep with the others. I ended up finding a cave that was a 5- to 10-minute walk from the campfire. It seemed really special to me, to have found a cave, and John Boyer said no one else had ever slept there; he hadn’t known there was a cave close by. He cooked dinner for us all, using two frying pans over the campfire. I was totally impressed! We scraped our dishes clean with sand, and as the sky grew dark, we headed off to our sleeping spots.

I loved making my cave home, setting out my journal and flashlight, getting cozy in the sleeping bag. It was almost the summer solstice, and the days were at their longest, so it was about 11 PM by the time I was settled in my bag and writing my thoughts from the day. As I reflected on the fear I had felt during the drive, I was also aware of much earlier fears from childhood. These were impacting the present. I was afraid of not being completely autonomous, of having to go along with the group and not being safe. The fear had been so strong I almost didn’t want to go on the vision fast. I felt huge anger and hatred arise, and under it was sadness. Even now, here in the cave, I didn’t feel completely safe. I wanted to be in the cave, but I was afraid and didn’t trust that it would be okay. It might cave in on top of me. If there was rain, the path of the water might wash me out. We had been taught by John and Nancy Jane that the spirits of the land were called the grandmothers and grandfathers. I asked the grandmothers and grandfathers to protect me. To be continued…

Touchiness – in more ways than one

To touch or not to touch

I recently had the great good fortune to attend a Judith Hanson Lasater workshop on the sacroiliac joint. Judith is a world-renowned yoga teacher and author of numerous books, including one of my faves, Yoga Abs: Moving from Your Core. I was surprised to arrive at the training site and discover more than 50 teacher-students in the room. I shouldn’t have been surprised, as Judith is a wonderful teacher and obviously many of the yoga teachers and serious yoga students in Vancouver would want to come to learn from her.

I learned some fascinating information about our natural spinal alignment and how that impacts the most basic poses such as Mountain pose. I will write about that later. What I would like to discuss today is the respect with which Judith created a safe space for her students. Although we were all experienced yoga practitioners, and many of us were teachers, Judith did not make any assumptions about touching each other. She created a ground rule about asking for permission to touch, and she followed this rule herself every time she demonstrated a principle of alignment or subtle adjustment on a student. Similarly, she coached us to ask for permission to touch our partner when we worked in pairs. It seems very obvious to me that this is a foundation for creating safety in a classroom. I was very happy to see that one of the foremost teachers in the North American yoga community promotes this basic courtesy.

In several recent Yoga Outreach trainings that I attended, including their foundational teacher training and a course on teaching trauma-sensitive yoga, the YO teachers explained that when working with students in the populations that Yoga Outreach teaches, touch is rarely appropriate. Many of the students in Yoga Outreach classes in prisons, mental health facilities, women’s shelters, addiction treatment centres, and so on, have experienced physical trauma in their lives, such as physical or sexual abuse. When someone’s boundaries have been trespassed in this way, it can be difficult to say no to touch, even when gently asked by a caring yoga teacher. This is one of the reasons that touch is not advised. Another reason is that any kind of touch can inadvertently re-traumatize a student. Even a word or tone of voice can be re-traumatizing to someone who has experienced abuse or other forms of trauma.

Even in a mainstream yoga class, it is usual, though not universal, for teachers to request permission to touch before they make an adjustment. Often they will make a statement at the beginning of class about the possibility of touching, and ask students to indicate if they are not comfortable with this.

I must be like one of those people who are allergic to cats, whom the cats love to come and rub up against. I don’t feel comfortable receiving physical adjustments in a yoga class. If the teacher is moving around the classroom and making adjustments it makes me feel wary and on edge. I like the teacher to stay at the front of the room where I can keep an eye or her or him! Even if the teacher is someone I know well and have had many classes with, I still feel uncomfortable about being touched. I am very sensitive both physically and energetically, and others’ touch leaves an imprint that I continue to feel long after the touch has occurred. I don’t like it.

So you would think I would have learned by now that for some reason my discomfort with touch seems to call out like a beacon for teachers to come and touch me! Yes, I finally have learned that this is likely to occur, and I’ve thought of a strategy to deal with it. But the learning didn’t come easy.

In January I attended a class at a location I was thinking of teaching at. I was there to participate as a student while getting a feel for the location, which was in the Downtown Eastside in the back room of an organization that offers yoga classes to DTES residents as an adjunct to health services that they provide. I’d never been there before, and I’d never met the yoga teacher. I have to admit I wasn’t 100% comfortable with this scene. Being in the DTES is a bit challenging for me, and attending a class with DTES residents was scary. Although I must say, the women who attended the class seemed like ordinary, high-functioning individuals and not at all different from students in other classes I’ve attended, except that they were a bit older than the average student in a yoga studio.

Nonetheless, I felt a bit on the hyper-vigilant side as students came in. The teacher turned off the light in the room, so there was only dim light coming down a hallway from the front room. This made me feel uncomfortable, but it seemed to be what the other students were used to. The teacher began the class late, and did not remark on this with an apology, but perhaps not being too vigilant about time was intended to make students who were late feel okay about attending. This was another difference from what I’m accustomed to, because usually being punctual about time is a way of respecting students’ schedules and setting clear boundaries for the class. I didn’t mind it beginning late, but the teacher also ended the class quite late, and to me that is disrepectful of the students’ time.

I don’t know, I suppose all these things were the conventions the teacher had established after founding the class there and teaching it for 3 years. But to me it was as if I had entered some weird Twilight Zone where all expectations are blown away. I was doing my best to deal with the norms of the class, and when the teacher began teaching, I was very impressed with her skill as a teacher. She had prepared a lesson about cleansing out the digestive system after over-indulging on the holidays, and had a second theme about protecting the joints when extending limbs. Wow! I was impressed.

So I was participating in the class, and exploring the subtleties of inner perception that the teacher drew my attention to. I was really getting a lot out of the class, and it seemed like the other students were too. Then we were all in child’s pose, and the teacher began moving around the room. Uh-oh. I noticed she was approaching various students, but couldn’t really see what was going on since my face was on the mat. And, in case you are not familiar with child’s pose, my ass was in the air. It is a very vulnerable pose. In the trauma-sensitive training they advised to use extreme caution about putting students into this pose, because it can trigger trauma. Think about it! Yet here the teacher was, going around the room and approaching students from the rear while they were in this extremely vulnerable pose.

Still, I didn’t dream that she was going to touch me. We had never met before. I had not granted her permission to touch me. She hadn’t said anything about touch at the beginning of the class. I felt uneasy as I sensed her approaching my mat. Then she did it–she bent over and placed her hands on my kidneys–one on either side of my waist. I turned towards her to say don’t do that, and she removed her hands and moved away before I had the chance to say anything. But the imprint of her hands remained for the rest of the class. I felt violated, and this incident did retraumatize me.

At the time, I was trying to cope, and mindful of the fact that I was supposed to be teaching there soon. I felt I had to get along with the teacher, and go along with what was happening. Big mistake. I over-rode my own instincts in order to be nice and go along, instead of shifting out of the pose and looking after myself. I wanted to deal with this maturely!

At the end of the class I waited for an opportunity to speak privately with the teacher. After complimenting her on the class, I explained to her that I hadn’t wanted her to touch me and that in trauma-sensitive yoga trainings that I have attended they teach that touching students is not appropriate. She did not apologize for touching me or express any concern about how her touch had impacted me. I guess this was new information to her and she didn’t understand how what was obviously a good intention could leave a bad impression.

Unfortunately for me, I learned the hard way that I have to set clear and definite boundaries even if there is no easy opportunity to do so. From now on, if I ever attend a yoga class again, I will be sure to speak to the teacher before the class begins to make it clear I don’t want to be touched. Yoga is supposed to be healing, not harmful, yet this incident was very distressing to me. I later experienced a panic attack when I was out for a run and remembering the class, and I ended up having to go to a trauma therapist to de-activate the triggered event of being held around the waist and physically beaten.

I have been reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s new novel, The Novice. He writes about a woman who responded to extreme injustice and physical violence with equanimity and magnanimity towards her aggressors. Clearly, I have a long way to go towards healing and being a spiritually enlightened being. Even now, I feel resentful towards the yoga teacher, and even towards my trauma therapist, who was supposed to have helped me deal with this trauma already! Although I am sure the yoga teacher meant no harm, I am still angry. And underneath the anger, I am hurt that she did not care how I felt, or admit she had done anything wrong. As always with events that impact us strongly, there is still more for me to understand about what happened that day.

Phantom trail run best race ever

Some of you might be wondering how the Phantom Trail Race on November 12 went. I must say, it was one of the best races I’ve ever run. It was as if I had my own personal race course set up for me in the forest, with an aid station, and volunteers at every turn of the course to cheer me on and show me the way.

I ran the race with my friend Tim Kelly. For some reason, the organizers decided to start the race a few minutes early. Tim and I had been waiting in his car for the race start, because it was very chilly out. So when we got to the start line, we found out we’d missed the starting gun. Oh well! All the other runners were well ahead, and soon Tim had disappeared into the distance as well.

A short way into the course I met a race volunteer who was looking for some lost sheep–runners who had strayed from the path. They were soon found, and we did a short technical section of the trail, involving steep, slippery stairs, together. Then they were off into the distance, and my own personal race began. For the next two hours it literally seemed like I was the only runner in the forest.

Two more hours, you ask? For a 12 KM race? Yes, this is part of why it was the most enjoyable race ever. I treated it like a Sunday run in the woods–a long, slow run. I didn’t try to go fast, but just let my body go at the pace it wanted. For the entire race! It was cold, wet, muddy, and raining, but I was in heaven. There was lots to interest me, as much of the course was new to me; a mystery around every turn. I had a map to guide me, which kept me from getting too anxious about not knowing where I was.

The scariest section of the race was an extremely steep mossy, slimy wooden staircase that led to a narrow wood suspension bridge over a very deep gorge, with rushing waters far below. I slowed to a snail’s pace for that bit, terrified that I might lose my balance, slip, and fall into the gorge. I didn’t, of course, and after a short climb on the other side of the bridge, came to the aid station. The folks there were very kind, and offered me all manner of goodies. I had a tiny Clif bar, and a drink of some sweet pink substance, and felt very energized to continue for the second half of the race.

As you might expect, given my late start and my very slow pace, I was the last runner to complete the race. But this was not a problem for me. I felt tremendous pleasure at running for 2 hours and 15 minutes straight, at my own pace, in my own private race. What a gift! Thanks to all the organizers and volunteers who made this incredible experience possible.

Wearing no clothes makes you run faster

Now I know why some of my friends who are really good runners wear hardly any clothes! I’m not talking about streaking, exactly, though I remember that was a really popular activity when I was a kid. I’m talking about my observation that the friends I’ve run with who are fast runners dress very lightly.

I went for a gorgeous fall run yesterday afternoon, running along the Burrard Inlet on the Trans Canada Trail. I left for the run at about 5:00, and it seemed so sunny and warm that I just wore my running skirt and a t-shirt. But by the time I got to the trail it was in the shade, and there was a crisp fall chill in the air. Let me tell you, I haven’t run so fast since I did the Longest Day Run with my fastest-ever 10K race time.

It was so cold, the only thing to do was run fast to try to beat the cold. And it actually works! It was a brisk half-hour run, and the endorphin high was unbelievable! I feel stoked for my next race, the Phantom Run 12K trail race on November 12. This will be the second trail race I’ve done at the Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve (you might recall the famous Hallow’s Eve Half), and I’m excited about running up the Homestead Trail to the finish line. But I think I’m going to dress more warmly that day.

Pledge page ready for your piddly donation

Not that it has to be piddly. But I am hoping that 20 of my friends will pledge 50 cents a day. That means if I do yoga for all 30 days, meeting the Reach Out Challenge, your donation would be $15. (In case you didn’t read my last entry, I am doing this to raise money for Yoga Outreach.)

So please help if you can. You can make your online donation now, here. Or send me an email to kyrempel@gmail.com with your pledge amount. I’ll let you know how I do and collect from you at the end.

A few years ago I was thinking of doing the Peacemaker Institute’s Street Retreat, living as a homeless person on the streets of Vancouver for 3 days. I thought this would be a way to find out how I am not different from the homeless people, learn to have compassion for others (instead of fear and revulsion), and overcome my fear of ending up homeless myself one day. But what prevented me from participating was the requirement to raise money as an “entry fee” by asking for donations from my friends and family. It was too hard for me to do at the time.

So I am happy to find out that I feel okay with asking now—just for 50 cents a day. I had thought of asking for $1 a day, but that was outside my comfort zone. So please, make a piddly donation if you can. Thanks!

In love with the night – night running, that is

Just back from an amazing full moon trail run along the Burrard Inlet. Once again I am in love with the night and with night running. Night runs are the special ones. They usually happen when life is so busy I have to just push against the limits and boundaries and go for a run after dark. Thinking about some of my favourite night runs tonight, I realized that they most often occur at or near the full moon. Maybe I have wolf blood!

Tonight, running on the trail, there were glimpses of the lovely moon, near full, gleaming through the trees. At other times, the trail was in deep shadow. I literally could not see if there was a trail in front of me. Running into the shadows I felt the night thick around me, a palpable presence. Velvety, luminous, warm, and contactful. Those precious moments reawakened the enchantment of life.

Other night runs I recall have been equally entrancing. I remember vividly a long run along a deserted paved road in the White Mountains, winding up towards the Bristlecone Pine forest, home of some of the oldest living beings on earth. Running in the dark, following the faint glow of the painted line down the middle of the road, the night was a luminous dark mist around me. Another amazing night run was the Klondike Road Relay, which I have described to you before. The road led from Skagway, Alaska, through a mountain pass and on down to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. If you recall, that run began with a white mouse crossing my trail.

The adventurous Nancy Wake, who was a spy in World War II, died recently. She was also known as the White Mouse. I am sure she had many night adventures, much more daring and harrowing than the moments I have recounted here. What a zest for life she had! May her spirit be at peace.

Addicted to stress

Taking a brief detour from the journey to Boulder, Colorado, I want to tell you today about [Vancouver doctor, researcher, Buddhist, music-lover] Gabor Maté’s book When the Body Says No. He explores the relationship between stress and illness, and in this passage, describes how stress can be addictive:

For those habituated to high levels of internal stress since early childhood, it is the absence of stress that creates unease, evoking boredom and a sense of meaninglessness. People may become addicted to their own stress hormones, adrenaline and cortisol, Hans Seyle [pioneering Czech-Canadian stress researcher] observed. To such persons stress feels desirable, while the absence of it feels like something to be avoided.

As I reported in an earlier entry, I have been experimenting with removing sugar (and also caffeine) from my diet. I expected this would lead to a much calmer state overall, without the artificial stimulants in my body. I also changed my meditation practice from evening to morning, so that I would be starting the day from connection with the ground of my being, and have that calm as a touchstone throughout the day.

In spite of these changes, I’ve been finding that the symptoms of stress in my body are growing! Not reducing, as I would have expected. How is that possible? Because I started working 45-50 hours per week, in a very stressful work environment, on a chaotic project with impossible deadlines. Oh! The curious thing is to realize how much I enjoy and seem to thrive in this environment. I feel energized all day. I love the rush. I usually come home feeling tired and satisfied (on the days when I am not up in arms or completely frustrated)!

I realized when I read the preceding passage from When the Body Says No that I am indeed addicted to stress, and the hormones that come with it. To slow down feels uncomfortable, each day and every time. Even just anticipating it feels scary. Who will I be if I don’t do this crazy thing? A big nobody! I am laughing at myself, but the feelings are true. It is the most difficult adventure of all to quiet, and allow space for the unknown to emerge within my soul.

P.S. I took the top photo on a country road near Horsefly, BC. I was very moved that the people who lived there cared for their child, and wanted to protect him or her by placing this sign up for all to see, so that drivers would be aware their child might be on the road and unable to hear the coming vehicle.

Rentals

Renting the Retreat Centre

The Monkey Valley Retreat Centre is pleased to create a rental arrangement customized to your needs, whether you are planning a private meditation retreat in nature or wish to bring a group of 30 for a yoga weekend. The remote location of the land is ideally suited to nature pursuits such as stargazing, bird watching, and winter activities such as snowshoeing and cross-country skiing.

Prices vary according to group size and whether you will be providing your own meals. Please contact us for a customized rate package.

Examples

Winter special: log cabin rental for 1-6 people—$2,000/month or $1,250 for two weeks
Camping groups of 5 to 50—$20/person/day (meals excluded)
Summer log cabin rental for 1-6 people—$400/group/day (you do the cooking)
Solo camping meditation retreat—$350/week (meals included)
Solo camping meditation retreat—$150/week (meals excluded)
Solo meditation retreat with indoor accommodations—$500/week (meals included)
Organic meals cost $30-50/person/day.
Rentals provide exclusive use of the land, affording your group complete privacy.

Life in the Wild

The Monkey Valley Retreat Centre is truly in the wilderness. Our nearest neighbours are about 30 kilometres away.

Monkey Valley is surrounded by crown lands on all sides, affording an exceptional experience of privacy and feeling of being away from civilization. The retreat centre is off the grid, which means that no power lines or phone lines go to the property. We do all we can to maintain the wildness of this place.

The way of life at Monkey Valley is designed to minimize human impact on the earth. The retreat centre runs on solar power, with an energy-efficient, quiet backup generator for extended cloudy periods. We use as little energy as possible, and try to keep waste to a minimum. We use biodegradable products as much as possible, because the water that goes down the drain eventually finds its way to the creek.

Our water supply is from an underground spring that is bountiful year round. The water has been tested to ensure it is safe for your drinking. It is crystal-clear and delicious, straight from the tap.

The centre has a cell phone for emergency use. Your cell phone will work in the house, but we encourage you to unplug from it while you are here!

The retreat centre is a haven for steeping in the energies of nature. Time here is free from traffic, TV, radio, and newspapers. We honour and acknowledge the shamanic traditions that use mind-altering substances to shift consciousness. However, at Monkey Valley we don’t use these methods to journey to other states of awareness and deepen into our true nature. No recreational drugs or alcohol are permitted at the retreat centre.

When you come to the retreat centre we will teach you about low-impact camping and ways of being in harmony with the land and her creatures. We also teach safety topics such as how to stay found and how to handle wild-life encounters.