Being thrown without ceremony into a survival situation with a bunch of total strangers is calculated to conjure childhood fears and morbid visions of shipwreck or plane crash. Tom Hanks recently made a bad film on this theme, and 'reality' TV plays with similar emotions. As the world gets smaller, we are forced to go looking for wilderness and adventure.
Enter 'Survival in the wild'. These weekend breaks put you into a ready-made survival situation and force you to make the best of an existence free from any of the comforts we take for granted. Sounds a bit like that tacky television show, but there is no million quid on the horizon. No cash prize... but perhaps a feeling of self-worth and increased confidence that's worth a bit.
My preparation for a weekend in Devon (more precisely, a wood near Exeter) was nil. Brandishing a grin and a healthy dose of blind optimism, I boarded the train from London on a glorious Friday, only to observe storm clouds gathering the further I strayed from the capital. By the time I arrived at Honiton station, it was bucketing down. I was forced sheepishly to confess to my group leader, ex-Royal Marine Jonathan Crockett, that I hadn't brought any waterproof clothing. Scenes from Private Benjamin began to flash before my eyes, as the truth dawned: I would have to get through as best I could. After all, this was survival, not a five-star girl's guide to camping in comfort. Having always prided myself on being resourceful, I was forced to admit that I'm more of a city girl than I like to imagine.
Thankfully, Jonathan's business partner Drew was able to lend me some waterproofs and I set off boldly to meet my fellow survivors. We were an unlikely bunch of new best friends but, over the course of the weekend, that is what we rapidly became. I had been half-expecting some kind of army boot camp, but on reaching the campsite it hit me I'd be sleeping in the great outdoors, with only a couple of pine needles for shelter.
Mercifully, Jonathan had arranged us a dry settlement for our first night out. After a few lessons in starting fires with obscure materials, four strangers and I settled down for a night's sleep, huddled together under a small, low-slung canopy.
The occasional beeping of mobile phones was the only reminder that we were really just playing at survival; I'd have been at it as well, if I hadn't left London with nothing but a sleeping-bag and a change of underwear.
Saturday morning, and I drifted into consciousness having slept fitfully. Luckily someone hadn't slept at all, as our fire was still burning. Have you any idea how much wood and effort it requires to maintain a smouldering fire throughout a cold, wet night? The fire is the only way to ensure a hot cup of tea to start the day (even if it is prepared with nettles and muddy water).
Essentials such as this are what I learned over the weekend, and despite what the cynics will say there is merit in learning this stuff. You never know. Isn't that the point?
It's amazing how slowly a day can go when everything you do is geared towards keeping yourself alive. We learned how to trap animals and also how to kill them. This was the bit I had been apprehensive about. I didn't know how I'd react when Drew, a professional poultry farmer, demonstrated the finer points of wringing a chicken's neck. I believe firmly that if you're prepared to eat it, you should also be prepared to kill it, but even so...In the event, I was spared. Drew killed the first bird and stepped in to finish the job cleanly when one of the participants botched killing the second one. I plucked and cooked. It was an enormous relief once the deed had been done. Drew was faultless in his respect for the birds, and there was no coercion to do anything we didn't want to. Observing how my companions dealt with the situation was humbling and created a bond that it is difficult to imagine could exist after less than 24 hours together.
Jonathan's teaching strategy was to remove from us all we take for granted, from which I learned that it is possible to live through rain and cold, scavenging for shelter and food, never free from some task needing urgent attention. Anyone can do it, if you learn how. Perhaps I've learned never to go on anything as innocuous as a Sunday picnic without the means to exist there for a fortnight if I have to. Call me neurotic - but at least I'm prepared. Now where's that cappuccino?
• 'Survival in the wild' weekend, £119 from Activity Superstore, PO Box 123, Saffron Walden, Essex CB10 1XX (01799 526526; email fun@activitysuperstore.com). For more information see www.survivalschool.co.uk.
