Be Prep-ared

“Be prepared, son.  That’s my motto.  Be prepared.” – The Last Boy Scout

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The most prepared person is my friend, Justin Case.

When I was a kid, camping meant backpacking.  I had the good fortune to live in the mountains, where it my daily view waiting for the school bus was what people took vacation from work to see.  Heck, it was valuable enough to them that they would buy an SUV to haul a miniature home to come and experience for five days.  But to me, that wasn’t camping, that was daily life.  It’s amazing how we can become bored by splendor when surrounded by it daily.

Backpacking was camping.  When you camp as a backpacker, everything that goes up the hill goes on your back.  You are the SUV, which may explain why Pop Wilder put a bumper sticker on my butt.

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Okay that wasn’t it, but if it were 2019 the sticker would say, “Hey, vegans, you can thank me for killing that cow that was eating all of your food.”

When you backpack for more than a day or so, you really learn what’s essential.  The Boy and then later Pugsley joined the ranks of a familiar organization in hopes of becoming . . . “A member of an elite paramilitary organization: Eagle Scouts®” so that they can avenge me after the communists put me in the drive in movie camp.  I just know that there won’t be Raisinettes©, because communists hate Raisinettes™.

When The Boy first joined Cub Scouts® (the younger version where parents have to camp with the kids), my brain still equated camping with backpacking.  The tent I bought for camping with him?  A good four-man backpacker.  If you know anything about tents, you know that a four man tent is not big enough for four normal-sized humans.  In fact, it was just big enough for me and The Boy and our gear, and it was one you had to get on your knees to crawl inside.  To sleep on?  Self-inflating sleeping pads.

Honestly, I’ve never camped with anyone that I wanted to kill more.  When I was sharing the tent with him, every time I’d start to drift off to sleep, The Boy would shake me back awake.  Every time.  Why?  Because, allegedly, I would snore.

If you have never spent two nights camping with someone who intentionally wakes you up just as you’re getting ready to go into deep sleep, you may not understand that’s the sort of thing that makes you think . . . “You know, The Mrs. could produce a decent copy of The Boy that looks a lot like this one.”

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I shouldn’t make too much fun of Charlie Sheen – I hear he’s got a new show set for later this year – Two and a Half Personalities.

Everything I brought camping for that first Scout© trip including the tent and cooking gear fit into one decent-sized backpack.  Surely everyone else had the same idea about camping, right?  No.  When I got there I saw that spacious, palatial multi-room tents with cots, tables, and even sinks was the norm.  On one camping trip, the leader even brought a gasoline-powered electric generator for powering his tent.  I’m pretty sure at least one family brought a television, but since I was sleep-deprived, my memory might be suspect.

It was at that point I realized that outside of where I grew up, camping meant “living in a fabric palace with every possible amenity known to man.”

Yikes.  Eventually I gave up and bought my own fabric palace for camping with the The Boy and Pugsley when they were Cub Scouts©, though I stopped before we bought a generator and sink.  But when The Boy moved over to the actual Boy Scouts®?  Things changed.

The idea of camping there was that the boys (not the adults) were responsible for their own cooking, cleaning, equipment, and logistics.  They planned the meals, they selected the cooks, they divided the work, and nobody considered a fabric palace with a generator – it was not quite the austerity of backpacking, but it was close.  One especially nice rule was “no phones” for the kids.  As I was an adult leader in this elite paramilitary organization, I got to go camping quite a lot – sometimes over 30 days a year.

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My first trip, packing took an hour.  My most recent trip, packing took about five minutes – I’ve discovered that if I forgot it?  I can live 48 hours without it.

I experimented with gear – what gear made sense, what gear should be thrown out.  Thirty days of camping gives a lot of testing time, and do it over the course of several years?  Soon enough you’ve put nearly 150 days into the field for gear testing.  I learned what was useful, and what was useless.  Probably the best lesson was about things that were sometimes useful.

What was always useful?  The list is in (more or less) order from “never give up” to “might give up based on the trip.”

  • Clothing – Fully half the days of the year near Modern Mayberry, if you chose to go camping and it wasn’t raining, you’d need no more than your camping clothes to sleep. Might it be a chilly night on some nights?    But you’d be okay.  We often forget that the first line of defense against everything from sunburn to bugs to cold weather that we have is our clothing.  Clothing also keep us from getting arrested, or at least that’s what my probation officer keeps saying.
  • Shoes – Foot protection is important – no protection on the feet, you won’t be moving around. Sure, people in the distant past . . . yada yada.  It takes years to build up the appropriate calluses on your feet to walk around.  Having good shoes is just a trip to buy them.
  • Tent – I know one leader that made due with a tarp. I know one that only used hammocks.  I liked actual tents – it keeps the bugs out.  I eventually caved, and in car camping I use a tent that I can stand up in.  I know the others could work for me, but that’s what I chose because I’m old.  It was also good down to -15°F (-456°C).
  • Knife – I always carry one. Can cut a rope, I can cut dinner, but I just can’t cut the mustard.
  • Matches – In the winter, staying warm is a must, and fire can cook food.
  • Sleeping Bag – I take a sleeping bag, even in summer – worst case, you can sweat all over it.
  • Cot – I experimented with sleeping foam, and inflatable sleeping pads, but a cot is about the best. Sleeping pads are a pretty close second.
  • Coffee Cup – Yes, for coffee. But also for soup.  Or stew.
  • Bowl – I started out using a fancy mess kit. I know one person who used a Frisbee®, but I just settled on an unbreakable ceramic bowl.
  • Cookware – The bowl could double, if it was metal. I’m all for having both a bowl and a cooking pot.
  • Spoon – Spoons are like bowls on the end of sticks. Amazing that people would invent a smaller bowl to empty a larger one.
  • Book – I always took one, I always read one. Nice during down time.
  • Toilet Paper – Better than using poison ivy leaves.
  • Folding Chair – Sure, silly, but it was always used. You can only stand so long.  A stump works, certainly, and when I backpack we’d pull up a log.  But chairs are nice.
  • Light for Inside the Tent – Mainly useful for reading the book.

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This was nearly as useless as that glass hammer that I got from E-Bay®, or that wooden frying pan that I got from Amazon©.

What was sometimes useful?  The order is less useful here, since depending upon weather or other conditions, some of these would really be essential.

  • First Aid Kit – I still always carry one, though mine is a bit more tricked out than an over the counter version – I’ve added Super Glue®, butterfly bandages, a foam splint, and blood clotting agent. It’s hard to be John Wilder:  Civil War Surgeon® without a bag tools.  Did I mention I have a knife?
  • Bug Spray – Depending on the time of the year, this is really nice to have. I tried not showering as an alternative, but that only works as a people repellent.
  • Rope – Paracord is about right – you could always use more if you were hauling something heavy, but we never ran into any situation where paracord wouldn’t work.
  • Rain Poncho – Useful when it was raining, in theory. In practice, when it’s raining and 80°F out, it’s not required unless you happen to be made out of sugar.  When it’s raining and 40°F out?  It’s a necessity.
  • Water Bottle – Why isn’t this useful for every trip? Well, most places we went had water.  If they didn’t?  We brought it.  If unlimited fresh water wasn’t the case, I’d revert to my backpacking days where a water bottle and a water filter were near the top of the list.
  • Saw/Axe/Hatchet – Most fires that we made were out of small wood that we could easily break by hand. We used saws/axes/hatchets more for making things.  In deep winter camping, we’d probably want better firewood, so a saw becomes more useful.
  • Map – This is listed in “sometimes useful” but only when we taught map reading. We never went any place so far off the beaten path where a map was required.  If you didn’t have a cell phone?  This might be useful once again.
  • Frisbee/Football – Good times. And football doesn’t mean soccer ball.
  • Flashlight – When I started camping, I thought this was essential. Between firelight, moonlight, and starlight, rarely did I use a flashlight after the first thirty days.
  • Cell Phone – Okay, I’ll admit I surfed Drudge® while I was camping. And it’s great to have as an emergency backup, if there’s signal.

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I always carry a knife when I have a flashlight – you won’t see me taking a stab in the dark.

What was rarely (if ever) useful?

  • Compass – Modern GPS technology and cell phones have made this of similar usefulness as a buggy whip. I have several.
  • Bear Spray – Not very good for spicing up my chili when camping. When hiking, scouts make enough noise that bears are afraid.  And my (alleged) snoring would keep any bear away at night.
  • Wallet – Nothing useful there for camping, unless they need to identify the body.
  • Keys – Useful before and after camping. Not so much during.

A camping trip isn’t the end of the world, so there are things that we plan to take with us that we consumed during the trip:

  • Water – Needed. Unless you’re a kangaroo rat.  Clean water is of great importance, but maybe we take it for granted – and remember, it’s no substitute for beer.
  • Food – Unless you have a medical condition, over the course of any short duration, food is not a necessity, it’s a comfort item. We were comfortable campers.
  • Paper Towels – 99% of cleanup is done with paper towels. Not a necessity.  But nice.
  • Soap – To wash dishes. Or yourself.
  • Trash Bags – In a pinch, you could use them for rainwater collection, as a poncho, or weave it into a plastic rope to let yourself out of a psychiatric prison again. We just put trash into ours.

“Here’s a lesson to test your mind’s mettle:  take part of a week in which you have only the most meager and cheap food, dress scantly in shabby clothes, and ask yourself if this is really the worst that you feared.  It is when times are good that you should gird yourself for tougher times ahead, for when Fortune is kind the soul can build defenses against her ravages.  So it is that soldiers practice maneuvers in peacetime, erecting bunkers with no enemies in sight and exhausting themselves under no attack so that when it comes they won’t grow tired.”

– Seneca the Dead Roman Dude

“It is precisely in times of immunity from care that the soul should toughen itself beforehand for occasions of greater stress.  If you would not have a man flinch when the crisis comes, train him before it comes.”

– Also Seneca the Still Dead Roman Dude

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Roman algebra was boring.  X was always equal to 10.

One of the best parts about camping is that it allows you to walk away from 2019.  It allows you to leave behind the past and live with virtually no technology younger than 70 years old.  Camping pulls you away from most of the meaningless parts of our world, and it’s interesting to see people cope with moving from an environment that manages to provide amusement on demand to one where high-tech includes propane stoves and fire.

One particular campout brings this one to mind – an adult was continually whining about the weather.  Sure, it was November, and there was a constant rain.  Thankfully, we had an adult whining about the weather every chance he got.  Since the boys were off doing their own thing, they weren’t exposed to the negativity – the boys loved it, cooking oatmeal in the rain for Sunday breakfast.  Several thought the campout was one of the best they’d been on.

The lesson?  You don’t need most of the things you think you need, not even good weather.

Things that you need that you don’t think you need:

  • Practice – spending that amount of time away from a house taught me a lot about what I need, and what I don’t.
  • Mental Toughness – The life we have on a daily basis isn’t really normal, especially when compared to the lives people have lived throughout history. We live in luxury, with a great freedom from want, and ample food for everyone:  whether it gets distributed is another matter.  Living without these luxuries for a week and learning you can be happy with less is a great way to prepare for emergencies.
  • Amusements – Simple things like a deck of cards can help with the withdrawals from 2019. The next step is meaningfully connecting with people.  Crazy idea, that one.
  • Purpose – Understand why you’re doing all of this. Having a purpose that’s beyond Facebook® is priceless.

Here are some lessons I picked up from Hurricane Ike:

  • 90%+ of people don’t prepare at all until the last minute.
  • Unless you’ve practiced, you’ve forgotten something. I forgot propane for the gas grill, my neighbor had some.  He forgot gas for his car.  I had some.  Even trade.
  • Unless your family has practiced, they’ll be mentally weak. Even just a few days without power had people missing it, and in the aftermath of the hurricane, it got hot.  With no air conditioning, Houston was just plain horrible.  None of us were used to that.  Another week of no power and I’d have shipped off the rest of the family to a hotel.

The basics of survival are simple:  Air for breathing.  A place to get out of the cold.  Water.  Eventually, food.  Survival is hard to practice for – taking a few days off and camping is easy.  Taking a month off is harder, and taking a year off is nearly impossible for anyone who has bills to pay.  But if you’re ready for a disaster that lasts a month?  You’ve already gone to the head of the class.  And if you’ve learned to not murder your child because he wakes you up every time you start to snore so that sleep is impossible?

Well, that’s a positive, too.

Remember:  just because it hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean it won’t.  And when you’re prepared for a range of outcomes, both physically and mentally, you’re ahead not of 90% of the population, but 99%.  What will the future bring us? That’s a big question, but if you prepare, remember that practice is a part of the preparation.

As Concerned American always notes over at Western Rifle Shooters (LINK), “This material will be on the final exam.”

CPAP – Three Week Review, Plus Chainsaw Hands. Because Everyone Wants Chainsaw Hands.

“I heard Sutler’s going to make a public statement tonight . . . It’s nearly time.  The masks were ingenious.  It was strange to suddenly see your face everywhere.” – V for Vendetta

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Oh, my, this is sexy!  It’s either a Halloween costume or . . . a CPAP mask.  I wish my CPAP mask was this cool.  Then I could take over Britain.  But I guess I’d have to get in line . . .   Photo credit – somewhere on the internet.

Okay, I promise I won’t keep going on and on about the Continuous Positive Air Pressure (CPAP) breathing device – this is just a three week (and likely final) review of the device unless something significant comes up.  My first post on this is here (Sleep Apnea, CPAP, and how the Medical Mafia is Killing You).

First comment:

The name.  CPAP.  I just sounds . . . icky.   I think it might be the “pap” part.  “Pap” is defined as a soft food for infants, a “Pap” smear is a woman’s parts test that I don’t want to even know about, “pap” is also defined as “nonsense,” and “pap” is also South African slang for “spineless and without character.”

No, a really bad name.  I, John Wilder, suggest that in its place we call it “life-giving energy machine.”  Heck, even something more specific like “Sleep Suffocation Harm Reduction And Care” is better, and has a much cooler acronym – SSHARC.  Shark.  That sounds cool, like something you could tattoo on your bicep (ladies, you could just put the SSHARC . . . nowhere – iffin’ you’re a lady, you don’t get a tat).    And it’s true:  untreated sleep apnea can cause a host of problems like arrhythmia (which leads to stroke), heart failure, diabetes, and that little rash under your wristwatch band if you wear it all the time.

Next:  The machine is quiet.  I half expected it to sound like Darth Vader was on my bedside table, but it was not at all loud – I think the dwarves (Tolkien dwarves from the underworld, not little people) we keep in the closet make a lot more noise, especially when they nip into the mead.  I can’t even hear it at all unless I open my mouth.  To sleep with a CPAP, you have to have your mouth closed.  Totally closed.  The air pressure is jammed into your nose, so that when you inhale, your throat can’t close up (which makes the snoring sound).  When I open my mouth with the CPAP on, I get the (really weird) feeling of exhaling through my mouth without moving my lungs.  Weird.  It also makes a “whooshing” sound, like the end of Quentin Tarantino’s career.

I slept through the night the first time I used my CPAP.  No issues.  I’ve checked the readings, and the number of sleep apneas I’m having is now . . . zero.  And the number of times I breathe shallowly during the night (hypopnea) is one or two.  This is considered super-human.  So that means I’m a man-machine now?  Maybe.  I can crush cans with my machine hands.  Oh, wait, they’re regular hands – and the cans are aluminum, so they’re easy to crush.  Maybe my doctor will prescribe chainsaw hands?  Yeah.

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If we all had chainsaw hands, then almost 18,000 chainsaw injuries to the hands could have been stopped in 1994!  Call your congressman NOW to demand that all hands be replaced with chainsaws today.  And that we develop time machines so people in 1994 can be saved from chainsaw related head trauma. 

For those that SSHARC (or, CPAP, if you must) has helped, it becomes a near-obsession.  Most fanatics won’t go a single night without CPAP – or even a single nap.  I have noticed that my daytime drowsiness level continues to drop.  That’s very nice for me and anyone else on the highway as I drive.  As the old saying goes, “I want to die in my sleep, like grandpa; not screaming like the passengers in his car.”

There are listed side effects:  allergies and sinus impacts that seem to bother some people.  So far, not me.  My eyes are much puffier, which the folks put down to an insufficiently tight mask blowing air into my eyes at night, but I also think that there might be something to do with a radically different blood chemistry (less CO2) and less stress hormones from not choking yourself (so to speak) every night.  This has been the most significant side effect I’ve seen personally, but it’s fairly common according to Google®.  More severe side effects appear to be edema (fluid retention) in folks that aren’t having any sort of problems that would normally cause fluid retention.  That’s more difficult to deal with, since  (according to the message boards) doctors seem to think that edema would be some sort of witchcraft that can only be fought with sacrifice of a virgin – and California doctors seem to be all out.

Per the studies I could find, the minimum amount of therapy required for significant death reduction is 5 of 7 nights, 4 hours nightly, which seems low to me.  But, hey, I didn’t take the data.  However, the message board people (again) wouldn’t fly in an airplane and sleep without using their CPAP.

About 54% of users stick with CPAP after being prescribed.  15% give up after an average of 10 months of trying, and 31% . . . never started.  These percentages are nice, because they add up to 100%, so you know they must be accurate.  I just wonder how many of the 31% never start because of the stupid name.  CPAP.  Ugh.

I’ve found the following personal benefits – I’ve got more energy during workouts – a lot more.  I can exercise harder and for longer duration, about 40% more.  I’ve also got a “more full feeling” (less desire to eat), which I hear is a benefit of not getting choked every night.  I tried to replicate these findings, but The Mrs. seemed to object with me randomly choking her for two minutes 10 or so times an hour.  She’s so closed minded!  This is ¡Science!  How dare The Mrs. oppose ¡Science! by not letting me choke her ten times an hour?

And, obviously, since I’m getting better sleep, I’m not as sleepy during the day.  Since nobody is choking me.  Except The Mrs. in some weird retaliation.  I mean, she’s not even writing down the results, so her choking me isn’t science, right?

The weirdest side effect?  My dreams have been much more vivid.  And not always good.  I rarely have nightmares, but I’ve had several since starting CPAP.  And these aren’t your normal nightmares – these are nightmares that make Silence of the Lambs look like a Pixar® movie.  I mean, there were both Kardashians and Madonna® in that dream.  Ugh.  I still feel like I need to take a shower.

My only theory is that previously my sleep would have been disrupted and I would have woken up.  I’ve always had the ability to alter my dreams when they got too weird, and I still can, but in order for me to alter the dream, I have to realize I’m dreaming – and these dreams are so very vivid that on several occasions in that “drowsy-waking up” time, I’ve been convinced these dreams were real.  So, I’m either sleeping better or I’ve got a “back order” of vivid, crappy dreams I have to have to catch up with everybody else on planet Earth.  You poor, poor, people.

Regardless, I’m going to experiment a bit – maybe try a night without the CPAP SSHARC to see how that goes . . . I’ve been 100% compliant for the past three weeks, and maybe, just maybe, I’m feeling a bit naughty.

Call me a rebel.  A SSHARC rebel.  Yeah.  But no SSHARC tattoos for me.  They’ll just get droopy and look like bad cartoons when I go into the old folks home.

Note:  I AM NOT A DOCTOR!  This blog is just my strange, odd, and personal experience:  don’t do any of this nonsense without talking to your doctor.  Really.  I’m not a good role model.  I’m what the warning label said NOT to do.  Except ladies, don’t get a tat.  Really.  Ugh.