My usual contributions to this blog consist of pithy little bits of practical advice that you hopefully will never need to worry about, so allow me to deviate from that formula for just one go around and get all warm and fuzzy on you. It’s not that my commitment to emergency preparation has lessened, but a late season storm dusted the mountains with snow a couple of days ago, today the sun is back and warm, just a few puffy clouds to give variety to a porcelain blue sky, in other words, nature at its most pleasing and pleasant. And I am stuck at work, but I digress.
I like to call myself a common sense prepper. By that I mean that I have several months worth of food in my basement, ranging from a half dozen jars of peanut butter, plentiful canned and packaged dry food, to a supply of the long-term dehydrated food that this company makes and sells, and a 55 gallon drum of water in the garage, rotated annually. I have enough camping gear both heavy and light to keep my family comfortable in all four seasons, though I hope my theory is never tested in a particularly brutal January. Given five minutes, I can get enough of that gear and food-and some water I store besides the drum-into the family car to keep us alive in any circumstance and get down the road. Give me an hour and I’ll make our evacuation be almost like a vacation. A good chunk of my yard is given over to a nice garden, so from June to November, we buy precious little produce, and preserve enough of our bounty that it helps keep the grocery bill down even in the off season.
I do not, however, have an underground bunker, a buried fuel tank, or guns to defend my stash. (Just for the record, I have no problems with guns, but my wife lost her father to a hunting accident, so she does, and that is that). Kudos to those who do go that far in their commitment to being ready for any circumstance whatsoever.
But out here in the west, if we are called on to evacuate, where would we evacuate to? The answer is obvious: the mountains. It’s where there is water to drink, wood to keep warm, and room to spread out and even hide if necessary. Beyond the practical aspects, except in the depths of winter, the mountains are where nature reaches her pinnacle of beauty for us to enjoy, be it on an afternoon picnic or a long term sojourn.
I have camped as far back as my memory takes me, and dived into the wilderness on hikes lasting several hours to several days since I was twelve. I have pitched tents in grassy parks, alpine tundra, on several feet of snow, and in driving rain, and enjoyed each time for its own different experience. Many of my deposits into the Bank of Dad were made beside sparkling Sierra Nevada lakes with my kids, and those deposits came in handy back in civilization when withdrawals were required. My heart has been lifted and the cares of workaday life peeled away by the time I have spent up high.
And lest we forget the point of this blurb, the skills I have acquired in the backcountry intersect wonderfully with those that just might save me and my families toast in a pinch. I can find water where none is evident, light a fire with or without matches, rig shelter to stay warm and dry, camp so that no one further than fifty feet away would know we were there, and many other skills that I hope never to need but am ready to use if required.
So take a little time this week to practice some emergency skills, but if you really want to do it right, practice them along a trail, or in a campground, or at least on a picnic where you can take a few minutes to lay in the grass or on a blanket, feel the warmth of the sun or the pleasant cool of some shade glide across your face. The babble of a friendly stream always makes a nice accompaniment. You will come back not only with some new or polished talents for an emergency, but with a clear head and a lighter heart. Now if you will excuse me, I have a sudden urge to pack a pack and hit the trail for a few hours. See you next time when I’ll be back to a more practical mode.