When I was younger my father was about 4 steps ahead. Of everything. He talked about ‘cholesterol’ before I ever heard a doctor say the word.
He saw the importance of balancing a healthy diet, exercise and rest before there were personal trainers.
So when Dad started talking about bomb shelters I didn’t panic but I didn’t ignore him, either.
He and my mother were looking at different places to think about retiring. Sadly, Mom passed away when she was too young, and Dad never really retired. He bought a small business after he left his corporate career and ran it until he died.
Anyway, one weekend he was really excited, he’d found an old grist mill in a (then) very obscure town in the mountains. The walls were 3-foot-thick concrete, and there was a natural spring there. I honestly believed he was going to move us all there— this place with no windows —until Mom talked him out of it.
Pretty sure if I had to figure out how to survive on my own, in nature, I’d have a hard time. I know a bit about edibles— herbs and wildflowers, but I doubt that I know enough not to starve. I know nothing about mushrooms and wouldn’t eat one someone picked in the wild no matter how much they assured me they knew what it was.
I live in a hurricane-prone area. Since moving here there have been 4-category 1-3 storms in 5 years. So I have a generator, freeze-dried foods, many solar- and battery-powered items. As yet I have not had to use many of these. If something -or someone- were to cause me to strike out on my own I’d last maybe 3 days. My 2 rescue dogs would probably do better.
I have known outward bound people. They take small groups of kids out at summer camp and ‘rough it’. I have been to summer camps but either this was not an option or my mother felt giving me safer experiences like horseback riding, learning to sail or working with clay made more sense for me.
So I am really hoping I don’t actually have to deal with any hyper-extreme circumstance or situation. At my age my sense of adventure may include sky-diving, body surfing and mule rides into the Grand Canyon, but that’s about the extent of it.
So even though this picture, taken by my son, is from more than 10 years ago, they say riding a horse is like riding a bike. You never forget.