Coloradans- Am I missing anything?

I wrote a letter to my over-privileged Southern California nephew last year when he went off to, what was was referred to in my day, as "Outdoor Ed." I grew up in the Rocky Mountains and to this day consider myself a proud Coloradan. I go back to visit regularly.  Read my letter below the orange hootis-chingadero and feel free to augment it in the comments section...

Dear Nathan, I understand that you're away for "Outdoor Ed" (or whatever they call it these days). I hope you're enjoying yourself out there.

Why, I remember back in my youth in Colorado when they made me go through a similar program. Of course, this was way back in 1989. No internet back then (it's true!). In fact, things were much different than they are today. For example, a typical day of "Outdoor Ed" featured the counselors waking us up at 5:30 in the morning by releasing a mountain lion into our cabins. We were expected to escape through a window or fight it off with not but a loin cloth and a sharpened stick.

After that, the survivors were made to run 20 miles uphill in waist-deep snow to get breakfast at the mess hall: usually squirrel soup with a side of dirt. Then it was time for roll-call: we stood about in the sub-zero freezing cold and rolled around calling our names. Then, we'd fight bears for a few hours (hand-to-hand, of course) until it was again another 20 miles uphill to the mess hall for lunch. Lunch was usually a slab of wood (Ponderosa Pine, mostly) that had been fried in lard and bear grease, with a nice pine cone salad to go with it. That was washed down with a glass of gasoline to get us prepared for the afternoon of educational activities such as "guess which berry you can eat, and which berry will kill you."

We would then participate in "camp maintenance." That essentially meant that we hauled felled trees on our backs through a blizzard back to the camp (all uphill of course) and help construct a bridge across one of Colorado's many raging, treacherous rivers. So to speed the process along, the counselors would let loose a wolverine or two among the students, just to make sure we weren't sitting about for too long. Then it was another 20 miles uphill for dinner (usually tree bark and pine needle stew with a side of snow). And finally back to the cabin to do it all again tomorrow.

Throwing socks at one another? Giggling into our pillows? No sir! Not in Colorado. Why, we had us the toughest camp counselors this side of the Nuremburg trials! If one of them even thought that we were stepping out of line it was straight to "the pit" to mine for copper ore for the whole week! Yessir. I went in to "Outdoor Ed" with 21 of my fellow classmates and came out with 13.

Made me the man I am today.

Much love, Your Uncle

Jared

That bit about giggling into one's pillow and throwing socks at one another? That was a reference to the letter my wife wrote to him. She grew up in Orange County, CA. Obviously, she had it much easier than I did.

So- what did I miss? I mean it was '89. I'm sure things were even tougher before then.