The first pale light over Chilko Lake slipped through the cracks of Lin Yu'an's makeshift shelter and pulled him from sleep. He unzipped the sleeping bag, feeling the warm cocoon around him and the cold air beyond. No large animal had visited; only small rustlings suggested curious rodents or beetles at work in the duff.
"Good morning, everyone," he said into the chest camera, voice rough but steady. "Day two at Chilko Lake. I slept well. The shelter is simple, but it keeps the wind out."
He set clear priorities for the day. First, survey the surrounding environment. Second, find a reliable food source. Third, identify a site for a permanent shelter that would be higher, drier, and close to water and wood. After a quick wash with boiled stream water and a stretch to loosen stiff muscles, he revived the embers and boiled a pot for hot water. The steam chased away the morning chill.
Before heading out he checked the alarm lines he had planted the night before. Thin branches tied to tiny bells hung along likely paths to the shelter and would jingle if anything disturbed them. They were intact. Satisfied, he stowed the bells in the container space and slung only the essentials over his shoulder: a water bottle, a multi tool on his belt, the camera, and his American hunting bow and quiver. Even if he did not plan to use the bow today, carrying it helped him feel prepared.
He chose to walk upstream. "Streams and their headwaters often concentrate animal activity," he told the camera. "If I find a good spot now, it will make shelter placement and food planning more reliable."
The morning forest smelled sharp and fresh. Every step required care because roots and moss made footing uncertain. He moved slowly, ears tuned to any snapping twig or hiss of wind. The lake shore offered few obvious fishing points, and he remarked to the camera that catching fish there would be harder than he first imagined.
Where the stream bent he found fresh scat and, shortly after, a clear set of hoof prints in the muddy bank. He crouched and pointed the camera low.
"Look here," he said, voice lowered. "White tailed deer prints. From the size and depth I would say an adult doe, possibly with a fawn. They came here to drink last night or this morning."
A deer would be a prize, enough meat to change his immediate prospects, but Lin Yu'an did not rush to pursue it. He knew the risks of chasing big game with limited knowledge of the animals' range and trail patterns. Tracking now would be premature and likely wasteful of energy. He made a quick plan instead. Learn the deer routes, watch their timings, then set an ambush or a careful hunting strategy later.
For the immediate day he concentrated on low risk gains. He found clumps of bilberries and wild blueberries, sweet and bright on his tongue. He popped a few for the camera and smiled.
Further on he came across a patch of plants that looked like Jerusalem artichoke. With a small trowel fashioned from a knife sheath he dug a test piece, tasted a sliver cautiously, and marked the spot with a charcoal cross on a strip of bark he was using as a map.
"These are Jerusalem artichokes," he explained. "Starchy, crisp and slightly sweet. Great for roasting or soup. I will let some mature, then harvest in quantity once the shelter is secure."
A wide clearing then opened before him. Flat, backed by a fir‑covered slope, with a stand of birch to the south that would bring sunlight in the afternoon. The ground sat at a modest rise above the stream, with deadfall for fuel abundant nearby.
"This is perfect," he said, walking to the center and turning slowly so the camera could capture the 360 degree exposure. "Flat and dry, trees to block the wind, close to water, and lots of wood. Good visibility for early warning. This is where the permanent camp will go."
With site chosen, he set simple snares for small game. He demonstrated Old John's elastic‑branch noose technique, showing how to select flexible saplings for trigger branches, sharpen prongs with his knife, and conceal loops with fine grass so the snare looked natural. He emphasized balance.
"The trick is camouflage and trigger tension," he said. "Cover the noose but keep the opening just large enough. The triggering branch has to be elastic but not hair‑triggered. Too sensitive and it goes off on a leaf or breeze."
He set a string of snares along likely rabbit paths and tucked bait where rodents might investigate. He considered simple flat‑stone traps for ground birds but admitted to the camera that he hated the idea of eating rats. He would try to avoid low‑quality protein where possible.
Late in the afternoon he returned to the temporary shelter with a modest haul: a handful of berries and a few Jerusalem artichoke tubers that he steamed for dinner. Night fell colder than the previous one. He banked the fire and crawled into the bag, thinking about a more permanent semi‑subterranean stone house with a small smokehouse attached. He knew patience would matter as much as skill. Traps require time.
Just as sleep threatened, a different sound crept from the brush outside. It was not wind. Intermittent snapping told him something was struggling. He froze and listened. The pattern was too small for a large animal and too rhythmic for simple windfall.
Heart quickening, he strapped on bear spray, picked up the camera and his woodcutting axe, and moved out quietly to inspect.