Shelter and Pork Belly
“Hyaah!”
The battle cry shattered the silence of the snow-blanketed mountains. I’d heard it three times already today. But this time, it wasn’t me buried in the snow... No, way off in the distance, Im Nana was dragging a dead tree twice her height like it was nothing.
I gawked, mouth agape. She looked like a tribal warrior hauling her kill back to camp. Or more like... ...MegaNana-mon? Looked like the evolution was complete. The snowstorm swirling behind her even gave off vibes like she was unleashing some weather attack.
“Areum! This good?”
Im Nana dropped the log in front of me with a beaming smile. Not a single pant out of her. That lung capacity. That overwhelming physique. It hit me anew: the real heart of bushcraft isn’t tools—it’s raw muscle.
“Whoa... impressive. Yeah, that’s plenty. More than enough to cover the roof.”
“Hehe, phew. Want me to grab more?”
“No, no. Rest up first. I’ve got this now.”
I let Im Nana catch her breath and rummaged through my backpack. Time to get the fire going. Sure, this was wilderness survival, but we weren’t foraging for dinner like cavemen. And for today’s main event, I pulled out the star of the show.
Thud. Heavy as hell.
“...What’s that?”
Im Nana’s eyes went wide. I hoisted up the vacuum-sealed slab of meat.
“Tonight’s dinner.”
A special order from Hwang Grandpa’s pork farm online shop: a whopping 3kg whole pork belly. Don’t ask how tough it was lugging this up the mountain. Total secret.
“You’re... cooking this here?”
“Mind-blowing, right?”
I propped branches on either side of the bonfire and mounted the meat. Not straight grilling over direct flames, but slow-roasting in the heat and smoke. To cook it evenly all the way through and infuse that smoky flavor? It’d take time.
“Estimated cook time: five hours.”
“Five hours?!”
Im Nana recoiled in shock.
“What about lunch? I’m starving now.”
“Gotta do lunch simple... Save room for this masterpiece tonight.”
Simple how? I fished two cup ramens from the corner of my pack and waved them.
Yup. Cup ramen.
Nothing beats this stuff in the mountains.
Im Nana’s face twisted for a second, then she nodded.
“...Fine. For the meat, I’ll endure.”
Spoken like a true foodie.
The water boiled over the fire. Poured it into the cups and waited the three minutes. The longest three minutes on earth. Meanwhile, I checked on Maximus.
“Maximus, you warm enough?”
“Wang!”
He was tucked into the mini igloo I’d carved out of snow for him. Hot packs under a heated mat on the floor—he’d be toasty.
“All done. Dig in.”
I handed Im Nana some chopsticks.
Slurp.
Hot ramen in the middle of a freezing snowfield, cold wind whipping around. The noodles sliding down my throat sent shivers of bliss through my whole body.
“Haaah... so good.”
“Seriously... tastes even better out here in the mountains.”
Right? Cup ramen hits different outdoors.
“Hey, Areum. Is it okay to have a fire inside a snow house like this? Won’t it all melt and collapse?”
Her hunger eased, Im Nana was finally taking in our surroundings. Fair question. Snow’s made of water, fire’s hot...
“No worries. When we cap the roof later, I’ll cut a vent. Smoke escapes through there—no suffocation risk.”
“Not suffocation. What about the walls melting?”
“Actually, it’ll make ’em stronger.”
“Huh?”
“The warmth inside hits the snow walls and melts the surface just a bit. But outside? Subzero. That melt refreezes into an ice coating.”
I pointed at the wall with my finger.
“When water turns to ice, it releases heat—called latent heat of fusion. That keeps the inside warmer, and the walls harden like ice, blocking wind better. Same principle the Inuit use for igloos.”
“...Ohhh?”
Im Nana’s eyes glazed over. Mouth slightly open, staring into space.
Yup. Lost her.
Truth be told, I wasn’t a physics whiz. Just repackaging some old documentary I’d seen. But hey, if it’s warm and sturdy, who cares?
“Point is, it won’t collapse.”
“Ah... uh-huh. Cool.”
Im Nana nodded vaguely and slurped more broth. I chugged the rest of mine and stood.
Belly full—back to work.
Checked the camera in the shelter corner. We were live on YouTube. Time to drop more knowledge for the viewers.
“Okay, before roofing, gotta do some interior work.”
“Interior?”
“Yeah. Can’t just crash on the floor. Need to scoop out snow for beds, carve seats...”
I grabbed the field shovel.
But... no response from Im Nana. I turned. She was staring at me with a weird look.
“...Areum.”
“Yeah?”
“Couldn’t you have... shaped the snowbeds while digging it out earlier?”
“......”
Oops. Totally spaced on that. Got too into the digging.
But a pro camper doesn’t admit mistakes easy.
I quietly picked up the empty ramen cup. Pretended there was broth left and brought it to my lips.
Foo—foo—sluuuurp.
Just the sound of sucking an empty straw, super loud.
“......”
“......”
Im Nana’s gaze turned icy. Sweat trickled down my back.
This girl... got sharper.
Evolving to MegaNana-mon boosted her INT stat too?
No more stalling. I cleared my throat and pivoted hard.
“A-hem! Y’know, people mess up the order sometimes! Anyway, let’s hustle! Gotta finish before sundown!”
“...Last time I let that slide.”
Whew. Safe. Gotta stay sharp next time.
Anyway, work time. Im Nana’s pile of trimmed branches. Bundle ’em by size, lash with rope. Handiwork hour.
“Nana, mind the meat? Turn it every five minutes. Don’t let it burn.”
“Mmm...”
She looked drained. Makes sense: morning hike, manual labor, ramen lunch. Battery low.
But one bite of that pork? Full recharge.
Alright, real work. Thick branches first—interlace ’em straight. Think wooden roof frame. Then weave thinner ones to fill gaps. Tight enough so snow won’t sift through later.
“Areum.”
Im Nana, flipping the meat.
“Why not just tarp it over? Why bother with all this wood?”
Oho. Sharp question. I paused and clapped.
Time to drop some camping TMI.
“Great question! Tarp alone blocks wind, sure. But...”
I pointed inside the shelter.
“No stove or heater here. Bonfire won’t last all night. We’re relying on body heat and hot packs—tarp solo ain’t enough insulation.”
“Mmm...”
“We’ll weave the wood, tarp over that, then pile snow on top. Creates an air layer between tarp and wood. That insulates.”
Im Nana nodded. Half-got it, but listening.
“And the big reason: load distribution!”
“Load what now?”
“Yeah. Say a ton of snow dumps overnight? Tarp alone sags or collapses under the weight. Snow avalanche in your sleep.”
“Eek...”
She shivered.
“But wood frame spreads the load. Stays solid even buried. Safety first.”
“Ooooh! Got it!”
Im Nana lit up. Nailed that one.
Bushcraft ain’t all primitive. Science makes it magic.
Explanations done. Focus!
“Haaah... haaah... d-done...”
“Incredible... Feels like we actually survived in the wild!”
Im Nana’s eyes sparkled, face glowing with accomplishment.
“‘Survived’? What kinda phrasing is that?”
“Huh...? Just... real wild survival vibes?”
...What were we doing before, then? We’d been dropped in the wild hours ago...
Eh, feelings.
“So, we’re sleeping on those snow beds?”
“Yup. Not as cold as you think... Layer groundsheets underneath, sleeping bags, pop some hot packs—basically like a tent.”
“Wild...”
Im Nana snapped pics of the finished shelter nonstop. Loved her hard work. Maximus poked in and out the entrance, playing. Heehee, cute.
I smiled warmly at the sight, then glanced outside. Dusk had fallen. And...
The savory pork scent hit my nose. Smoky, nutty pork belly aroma filled the air.
Grrrrowl.
Ruuuuumble.
Groooowl!
...?
The first growl was my stomach. But rumble and groooowl?
I looked sideways.
“Ah...”
Im Nana stared at the dripping pork belly. Source found. First time hearing a human belly make those noises.
“Can we eat it yet...?”
...If I said wait longer, she might cry.