Showing posts with label survival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label survival. Show all posts

Sunday, July 8, 2012

A bit of Cooper's wisdom

"We are steadily asked about the age at which to teach young people to shoot. The answer to this obviously depends upon the particular individual; not only his physical maturity but his desire.

"Apart from these considerations, however, I think it important to understand that it is the duty of the father to teach the son to shoot.

"Before the young man leaves home, there are certain things he should know and certain skills he should acquire, apart from any state-sponsored activity. Certainly the youngster should be taught to swim, strongly and safely, at distance. And young people of either sex should be taught to drive a motor vehicle, and if at all possible, how to fly a light airplane. I believe a youngster should be taught the rudiments of hand-to-hand combat, unarmed, together with basic survival skills.

"The list is long, but it is a parent's duty to make sure that the child does not go forth into the world helpless in the face of its perils.

"Shooting, of course, is our business, and shooting should not be left up to the state."


(Lt. Col. John Dean "Jeff" Cooper)

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

'.22's for Survival?'

While casting about the 'Web over the last 20 years, I've noticed that finding what I'm looking for doesn't stop me -- often it only spurs me to search for something else. That's what happened last week, when I unearthed that January-February 2009 issue of Rifle magazine.

Thus encouraged, I began stalking an even older rag that's eluded me.

I posted "Back fifty-two to 'Fifty-nine" about 18 months ago, talking about the preparedness mindset and providing links to pdf versions of two issues of Guns magazine from 1959.

I also linked to a fascinating article from a 1958 issue of Guns. At the time I couldn't offer a pdf of the piece.

Now I can -- click here to download the August 1958 issue of Guns magazine. The article ".22's for Survival?" begins on pages 34 and 35, continuing on page 58. Even though 54 years have passed since its publication, I believe it's as useful now as it was provocative then.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Windfall

It's been the strangest of winters 'round here -- no snow to speak of, lots of rain and temps climbing past 50°F once or twice a week. A cold front came through yesterday, bringing only a trace of the white stuff but steady 30mph winds gusting to (reportedly) 60mph.

Last night one of those gusts took down a long-dead 35-foot pine just east of our property. I've no idea what killed the tree or when, but it was dead and bare of needles when we moved in two years ago.
I strolled out back this morning to survey this casualty of the wind, snapped off a foot or so above the ground. As I approached it I noticed the glow of heartwood at the center of the bug-eaten pine.

I suspected that this golden core, which measures about four inches in diameter, might be what I described in an early installment of "Urban Resources" -- fatwood.

Sure enough, I now have a resiny reservoir of natural firestarter, aromatic and hard as a rock, within a hundred feet of my back door. I expect I'll harvest as much of it as I can, practically speaking, if only to hone the skills required to do so. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

On channeling Glenn

Back in the warehouse at work, I keep my desktop radio tuned to a local all-talk station. I'm no one's disciple, mind you, nor have I changed my opinion that conservative talk radio is an intellectual desert. Still, since I'm armed with independent critical thought, what I hear often serves as a useful starting point.

Glenn Beck -- still crazy after all these years -- fills the 9am-to-noon slot each day. And while he's more apocalyptic and decidedly Goddier than I am, the truth is that we share many of the same views.

The difference, simply put, is that I get there without melodrama, precious metals, right-wing social ideology or reliance on prophecy.

One morning last month, Beck devoted an hour of his radio show to personal and family preparedness, recapping a webcast he'd done the night before. I present his stream-of consciousness notes here, unabridged -- I'll come back with my observations on the other side.

BUY FARMLAND
Grow your own food.
Live near people & Begin to make alliances-of-skill. (barter)
Live near farmland.

ELECTRONICS-FREE
Paper copies of important documents.
Know where your deeds are. Take them in an emergency.
Russian gangs in trouble.

COLLEGE/SCHOOL
Apprenticeships are the future.
Discuss the value of school for what you can earn.
Do not look for labels -- they will become meaningless. (Yale)
Find other forms of school. (online)
Teach young children now that college is not a given.
Demand merit for school & student or pull your time/$.
Educate yourself at all times. Always read.
Have a hardcopy of all important books/documents.
Learn old and/or lost practices.
Mending/canning/farming.
Learn to fix an engine.
Re-learn reading a map.
Know the news. Life can change quickly.
Be able to defend your positions by knowing the other side.

TRADITIONS
Preserve what is important. Shed all others.
Conserve & preserve. Reclaim & restore.

MONEY
Gold, food, cigarettes, liquor, sugar, ammunition, guns, seeds, skills. (barter)
Knowledge.
Have 30 days' cash-on-hand.
Buy a house.
Stop all excess spending. Buy quality only. Forget fashion-only.
Measure twice, cut once. Do not waste.
Consider a fuel-efficient SUV/truck.
Consider something prior to 1979. Fix yourself.

LOCATION
Live near like-minded people. Texas, mountains or where God still plays a role in real life.
If you cannot move (no place will be untouched), create network.

BUSINESS/WORK
Be the best you can be. Be the one employee no one can fire.
Small biz -- be the product or service no one can cancel.
Conserve & preserve.
Learn from the Depression.
Advertise when no one else is: Chevrolet.
Stay in business, but downsize & preserve. (arch)
Honesty, integrity & charity.

BE GEORGE BAILEY
Spit yourself out of the system. Turn upside-down now.
Put your money where your heart is.
Do business in symbiotic ways -- we need each other.
Do not try to put others out of business -- let them do it.
Gimbles & Macy's.
Never be the smartest man in the room.
Take care of your employees the best you can.
Take less & give more.
Read Franklin & Washington.

LIFE
Do not plan your life & then move. Plan, listen & obey.
Practice at least Franklin's American religion.
Serve.
Honor all of your obligations.
Preserve -- food, time, money, energy.
Teach your children the basics. Values/principles.

Do with less now. Less of a shock if it comes later.
Serve/share.
Join a 9.12 group. Link online. Phone & locations.
Have a meeting place established for family.
Read the Bible.
Have a gun & know how to shoot it.
Resolve those issues that are holding you back.
Stop all behavior that does not expand you or others into good.
Make amends for what you have done.
Find peace & get to work.
Teach children work ethic.
Tolerate nothing that you feel is wrong by remaining silent.
Let your children see you stand.
Be honorable in all of your dealings.
Understand that anger is a part of life but never feed it.
The first look is not a problem. It is the second look.
Never be the best man/woman in the room.
Be happy & optimistic. Life will go on. Make plans for the future. Get married. Have children.
Does any of that (minus the obvious) sound the least bit familiar?

Flip back through KintlaLake Blog, especially my posts on urban resources and preparedness, gardening and canning, frugality and keepers and more. Notice the striking similarity between Beck's mindset and my own.

I'll admit that appearing to channel a talk-radio klaxon bugs me a bit. The point, though, is that Glenn Beck and I are, at least in this regard, on the same preparedness page -- and that's a good thing.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Gameday recap

Yesterday's noon kickoff had Mrs. KintlaLake and me arriving on the Ohio State campus around 9am. Once there we strolled north along Neil, crossed Lane and, in a parking lot next to a venerable OSU watering hole, resurrected one of our favorite gameday traditions.

It had been three years since Danger Brothers left Lane Avenue when Hineygate, "the world's largest tailgate party," ended its 26-year run. The band played on, albeit at a tiny outdoor venue over a mile away, but pre-game hasn't been the same since.
But there we were behind the Varsity Club yesterday morning, sipping ice-cold Budweiser at an hour more appropriate to cereal and milk, digging Danger Brothers' wonderfully adolescent shtick. We'd been there less than a minute, I'd guess, when another member of the Beer-for-Breakfast Club approached me, grinning.

"You're here!" he shouted over the music, reaching to grab my hand. "My buds and me wondered if you'd be here -- I knew you would!"

I have no idea who that guy was -- and yeah, the encounter was just a wee bit disturbing -- but the spirit of Hineygate, cultivated over a generation of football Saturdays, has returned to Lane Avenue. It was like a big ol' reunion, familiar faces in a new place.

The missus and I hung around through Danger Brothers' first set so that we could extend a personal "welcome back" before heading over to The 'Shoe for another band and another reunion.
The first game traditionally hosts the annual return of TBDBITL alumni. The sight and sound of nearly a thousand bandsmen -- 225 current members and more than 750 scarlet-shirted alums -- is unforgettable, stirring our souls in ways I won't even try to describe.

As for the game, I'll cut to the chase: Ohio State 42, Akron 0. (Maybe there's a reason they're called "Zips.") The Bucks looked good, not great, and a win is a win.

My wife and I didn't see the whole game, however. We didn't even make it through the first half.

In 49 years of watching OSU play football in Ohio Stadium, I can't recall it ever being as brutally hot as it was yesterday -- upper 90s, heat index well above 110°F, stifling humidity and a smog alert.

An official went down from the heat ten minutes into the game. After the first quarter, fans started bailing down the aisles like they often do when the Buckeyes are up by four touchdowns at the end of the third. We went below shortly before halftime.

The concourse under the stands was jammed, the walls lined with people trying to cool off. Woozy patrons packed first-aid stations, with more standing in long lines awaiting medical help. Ambulances came and went like cabs at Grand Central -- hundreds of fans suffering from heat-related maladies, some reported to be serious, were transported to area hospitals. I'd never seen anything like it.

We chugged water and cuddled cups of ice for a half-hour, but we knew that if we returned to our A-deck seats it wouldn't take long for the relative comfort to broil away. Ultimately we decided to call it a (game)day.

I snapped this photo of Mrs. KintlaLake just before we walked out of the stadium. The sign means to convey that once we left, we wouldn't be permitted back in.

The double entendre, certainly unintentional, suited the occasion.

Overall it was a great day, despite the fact that we ended it utterly gassed. We still are, stumbling through the middle of our long weekend and trying to re-charge.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

At 4:51pm EDT yesterday...

...I checked the weather conditions, as registered at a reporting station adjacent to a state DOT garage several miles away.

Dig that crazy "heat index" and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate...

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Great Cup Roundup

Yesterday's post got me thinking about the dozens of metal cups that have accompanied me over the years. On a whim, I went rummaging through my gear and found four more that are still with me.

Along with my newly acquired GI canteen cup there's an original-style Sierra, a GSI with folding wire handles, a Coleman Peak1 with a rigid wire handle and a battered aluminum cup that first saw trailside duty when I wore the rank of Tenderfoot Scout. Together they span more than four decades of picnic lunches, day hikes, backpacking trips and motorcycle tours.

In the field, especially when packing light, a good cup is more than just a receptacle for beverages and soup. It's a dinner plate and a cook pot, a wash basin and even a trowel.

Each design has advantages, of course, as well as disadvantages. I've probably used various Sierra cups more than any other type, even though their relatively small capacity almost always disappoints.

Lately, with an eye on condensing my kit as much as is practical, I'm leaning more toward a "nesting" setup -- thus the GI canteen cup and also the stainless-steel GSI, which mates with a common Nalgene bottle in similar fashion. A cup's volume has become more important to me, too, primarily for water-purification purposes, so it's no accident that the GI and GSI are the largest of the bunch.

An intimate relationship can develop between cup and camper, for reasons that I hope need no explanation. That's why my well-worn Boy Scout dipper remains a sentimental favorite.

We cemented our bond in 1972, I think, at Philmont Scout Ranch. Over 75 miles of dusty trail it hung from a pack strap or my belt, clink-clanking at the end of a rawhide thong. It served me hot cocoa and tepid bug juice, beef stew and mac'n'cheese. A half-dozen years later, it drew icy water from Kintla Creek.

Other cups may be bigger or more versatile, but that one's a keeper.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Putting a Capp on comics

I'll conclude my peek at government comics with two on Civil Defense.




The FCDA tapped cartoonist Al Capp to draw Mr. Civil Defense Tells About Natural Disasters! (1956) and Operation Survival! (1957). Capp's well-known "Li'l Abner" shows up on both covers, but only as bait -- the stories inside unfold in locales other than Dogpatch, populated by amusingly stereotypical 1950s characters.

These taxpayer-funded 'toons are intriguing slices of the early Cold War years. From our present-day perch they're naive, perhaps, but I find their simplism entertaining and, in a way, quite instructive.

As I've said, "The older I get, the simpler I like it."


Saturday, March 26, 2011

Bugging: Whatever the question is...

...this is not the answer:



For $50,000 (per adult), an outfit known as
Vivos will save you a place in one of its self-contained survival shelters. The company claims to have a "network" of these underground complexes -- 20 in the U.S. and two in Europe -- to save your well-heeled ass in case of:When the shit hits the fan, all you have to do is get to your assigned TEOTWAWKI timeshare -- each of which houses up to a thousand "members" -- before Vivos locks the door. Now that's (you should pardon the expression) turn-key survival.

Naturally, sales of doomsday shelters are up between 20% and 1,000% (depending on who's doing the bragging) in the wake of Japan's earthquake-tsunami-radiation disaster.

Whenever I hear about this kind of "assurance of life" racket, I know that
P.T. Barnum was right -- the whole thing strikes me as designed to separate naive people from their money. For the moment, though, let's suppose that it's the real deal, just as Vivos claims it is.

Fundamentally, the only difference between a big-bucks bunker and a community shelter is the price. Inhabiting the former will be the less fortunate and the ill-prepared; in the latter will be wealthy
hamsters.

No guns. No knives. No smoking.

Both groups will become nothing more than refugees. One, we may presume, would be free to go if they so choose, while the other paid dearly for the privilege of being imprisoned -- if, that is, they can even get to their gilded gaol.

And that -- actually getting there -- is among the myriad flaws of
bugging out in general and Vivos-type schemes in particular. Public panic will set in within an hour after a catastrophic event (or word of its imminence) and, as a result, order will start breaking down. Roads will clog with evacuees. Opportunistic crime will spike and carefully prepared BOVs will be stolen, stripped or otherwise rendered useless.

No, thanks.

My family and I have made very different choices. We cultivate a preparedness mindset, hone our skills and plan to shelter-in-place unless we have a damned good reason to leave -- 'cause in the end (again, please pardon the expression), there's no place like home.

(Oh, by the way -- if you're really into the "continuance of life" thing and want to throw money at preserving the human race instead of your own survival, Vivos offers a
CryoVault deal, too. "Join us in the gene pool," they say. Talk about chilly...)
"...pole shift, super volcano eruptions, solar flares, earthquakes, tsunamis, and asteroids...nuclear bombs, bio terrorism, chemical warfare...the return of Planet X (known as Nibiru) and the massive solar system disturbances it will cause."

Monday, March 14, 2011

Japan: Begging the question

If someone were to ask me, "What happened in Japan?" I could default to simple explanation: a major earthquake off the northeast coast, the temblor triggering a tsunami, and so on.

Those would be the facts. Accurate as they are, however, they aren't terribly useful right now -- not to millions of survivors caught up in the catastrophe, and not to those of us striving to learn from it.



The "disaster" here isn't an earthquake or a tsunami. It's unchecked HazMats, both chemical and biological, and fires raging out of control. It's shortages of fuel and food, fouled water supplies and squashed commerce. Where the power grid isn't in shambles, rolling blackouts have been employed. Communications and transportation systems either are damaged or have been taken off-line.

It's tens of thousands of people living as refugees in their own land. It's an infrastructure overwhelmed by forces of nature and undermined by compromises in design. It's an already-ailing economy, the world's third-largest, dealt a crippling blow.

What happened in Japan? A civilized, high-tech, First World nation has been sent careening madly toward collapse.

From a preparedness perspective, causes matter less than effects. Once we've catalogued our threats (surveyed "
the lay of the land," if you will) and determined specific needs (like potassium iodide tablets), we prepare to be as self-sufficient as possible in the face of present difficulty, regardless of what caused the difficulty.

Circumstances will dictate whether we
shelter-in-place or bug out, but the basics -- mindset, shelter, water, security, mobility, fire, food, health, communications and commerce -- apply in any case. The reason for executing our plan becomes virtually irrelevant.

And so we prepare primarily not for causes but for the aftermath, provided that we're lucky enough to have emerged from the original calamity -- and then we adapt to that aftermath, whatever form it takes. I'm sure that a survivor in Sendai today, for example, would agree with Jim Hanks, who escaped
US Airways flight 1549 after it splashed into the Hudson River two years ago:Survival is complex and cumulative. Outcomes are the result of actions building on actions. We survive one moment at a time, standing on a foundation of choices we've made.

Much is made of Japan's "culture of preparedness." Given the seismic threat, it's true that the Japanese people and their government are more involved and aware than, say, their American counterparts. Still, as I've watched events unfold over the last several days, it's obvious that survival -- and therefore preparedness -- is an inarguably individual endeavor.

Another thing that's clear (like we didn't know this already) is that we can count on the authorities to soft-pedal the scope, severity and impact of catastrophic events. That's actually wise, in a way -- most people panic when delivered an awful truth, and panic kills. A strategy of placating and appeasement requires fewer body bags.

With that in mind, we should act from our own experience and trust our instincts.

Just two more observations before I close. First, any American naive enough to believe that "it couldn't happen here" is on notice -- it can.

Second, if I turn on CNN again and have the misfortune of seeing
Ryan McDonald, an American teacher living in Japan, whine one more time about having only a bottle of water and a cup of rice noodles in 12 hours -- 12 hours! The agony! -- I swear I'm gonna hurl.

Mr. McDonald needs to pour himself a tall glass of shut the hell up and spend some time with
this photo:
"One of the things I discovered is that in a situation like this, you have to survive more than once."

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Bugging: A new primer from WLC

I shared one of Kevin Estela's helpful PowerPoints back in 2009; his name also came up in "On 'false gods'" a week ago. Now I'm pleased to pass along another of his Wilderness Learning Center presentations -- enjoy and learn.
View all presentations from Kevin Estela on slideshare.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Back fifty-two to 'Fifty-nine

If you were alive and awake during the 1950s and early 1960s you remember Civil Defense shelters, "Duck & Cover" and other signs of those precarious times. Back then, TEOTWAWKI wasn't idle talk -- the prospect of a nuclear attack, followed by an invasion, was all too real.

The dangers confronting us today bear little resemblance to the ones we faced then -- nukes and nations have been supplanted in our collective consciousness by terrorism, shadowy cells and lone wolves. Still, I find it interesting (and arguably instructive) to revisit Americans' attitudes toward the threats of two generations ago.

To that end, I offer a pair of snapshots from 1959. These two articles were published in Guns Magazine just a few months apart, and both were received enthusiastically by readers.

I'll provide links to the entire magazines (in pdf format) at the end of this post, but to start with, here are the opening paragraphs of "Where are Tomorrow's Minutemen?" from the January 1959 issue:

"We like to think of ourselves as 'a nation of riflemen,' self-armed, ready and able to dash out any time and become an effective, fighting, guerrilla force in resisting any enemy who might attack our country.

"But is it true?

"Except for a very few widely scattered individuals -- and possibly small groups in certain also widely scattered areas -- no.

"We're not 'a nation of riflemen.' Hardly 5 per cent of the men inducted into the armed forces for World War Two knew how to shoot a rifle even passably well. A stunningly high percentage had never so much as fired a rifle or handgun. And it is highly doubtful that as many as one of 100 of the men who were familiar with weapons knew enough about woodscraft to live off the land and fight effectively as guerrillas.

"If this seems to you to be a pessimistic appraisal, ask yourself this question: If this country were hit tonight and you were a survivor, what would you do?

"Involved in that question are these questions: Where would you go? With whom? How would you get there? What would you take with you? And what would you do, or try to do, after you got there?

"Time was, you remember, when the American colonies helped defeat invaders by the more or less individual efforts of the 'Minute Men.' Armed with gun skills and woods skills gained in Indian fighting and in getting meat for their tables, these men were a formidable force against the world's finest soldiery. But times have changed, and men have changed with the times. How many men today could survive and fight under similar conditions?"

"The Rifleman in Civil Defense," which appeared in April, begins,

"You were somewhere else when it happened. Now you stand beside the smoking pile of rubble that an hour ago was your home -- in the debris-strewn area that was your city. The sights and sounds around you are horrible. Seventy miles away the big metropolis was Ground Zero -- one of 63 major U.S. cities defense authorities estimate would be vaporized in the first minutes of nuclear attack. Your car radio is chattering hysterically about enemy troops dropping from the sky -- they'll be here soon, you think.

"What do you do? Some fellow on television told you last fall, but you switched to the ball game. A magazine article had suggestions, but you were too busy to read it. Will a Civil Defense Rescue Unit come charging up the street to help you? You doubt it. Neither you nor your neighbors paid much attention to Civil Defense over the past few years, and it's too late now.

"So, what do you do? What are you going to do it with? You don't know...so you are chalked off along with seventy-five million other Americans in those 63 major cities who sat, fat and happy, and laughed at the people in Civil Defense who warned, and played cops-and-robbers with fire hoses and guns. Now you, too, would like to play the game, but there aren't enough "toys" to go around. You're out. You are dead...not because Civil Defense has failed to try to save you, but because you and your neighbors rejected their efforts.

"Can this picture be prevented? Not entirely, but your chances of survival can be increased many times by efficient, effective preparation. In your home, now, you can organize things to help yourself cope with disaster. Matters such as at least two weeks food supply for your household; containers of water tightly sealed; towels, bandages, blankets, and first aid supplies, could make a difference. And you can join your local Civil Defense unit now, and become an important member in the organized fight for survival."

If you consider those words to be anachronistic or alarmist... or if your ass catches at the mere mention of the word "militia"... or if you see our current government as "tyrannical" or "socialist" and you're itchin' to overthrow it... you've missed the point completely.

When you get right down to it, it's pretty simple. Here it is:

Threats come and go, technology advances and tactics evolve, but the preparedness mindset doesn't change.

Think about it -- and while you're at it, take a lesson from the 'Fifties.

(As I post this, both of those 1959 issues of Guns Magazine still are available in pdf format. You can view the complete original layout of "Where are Tomorrow's Minutemen?"
here and "The Rifleman in Civil Defense" here. And if you enjoy those two, you also may appreciate ".22's for Survival?" from August of 1958 -- it's another intriguing piece, quite thought-provoking.)

Thursday, February 10, 2011

On 'false gods'

I've been contemplating this post for quite a while. My thought process originally was prompted by a brochure for a winter-camping course, noting that fire is a "false god" in cold weather -- the human body, properly stoked with fuel (food), is its own furnace. With adequate clothing and shelter, the heat it produces can be conserved.

The Inuit have learned to do it, the brochure advised, and so can we.

Another angle came to me earlier this month via Kevin Estela of
WLC. In "The Training Modifier," which he posted on Forest & Stream, Estela describes how a broken metacarpal on his strong (right) hand forced him to rely more on his off (left) hand.

After weeks of using predominantly his left hand he "noticed improved dexterity, strength and function." He encourages us to actively seek ways to modify our training -- varied experience, he maintains, can yield better skills and more complete capabilities.

With that as background, then, I got to thinking about the false gods around me, including those in my own life.

Five days a week, for example, I pick up the younger spawn at school. Lately I've paid close attention to the students and their parents -- specifically, how their behavior exposes thoughtless presumptions.

On these bitter and snowy days it doesn't surprise me, really, to see most teenagers emerge from the building attired in hoodies, jeans, untied Nikes and no socks. (Mindless fashion and hormone-driven invincibility rule at that age, I guess.) When I see adults show up dressed for an August afternoon, however, it's a clue that they worship the everyday equivalent of fire.

Apparently these folks come straight from climate-controlled garages, relying on their vehicles' heaters to fend off the elements until they return to their residential cocoons. But even if their school-day errands are as short as my eight-mile trip, a mishap like running out of gas, a flat tire, a mechanical breakdown or a fender-bender could put them in a cold-weather survival situation -- unnecessarily.

I have my own false gods, of course, and in the front of my mind these days is my over-reliance on armed personal defense. Especially since acquiring a
concealed-carry permit last April, I've become comfortable with my ability to use a firearm to protect myself and my family -- way too comfortable, it occurs to me. Truth is, I've passed up opportunities to hone alternative means of defense -- backup, hand-to-hand, unarmed, less-lethal and so on.

In short, a loaded gun became a false god. Now here, off the cuff and in no particular order, are some others deserving of our wariness:
  • Coffee
  • Artificial light
  • A wireless phone
  • An Internet connection
  • Hot & cold running water
  • An electronic security system
  • A locked door
  • A "safe" neighborhood
  • A "survival" knife
  • Four-wheel drive
  • Mobility
  • Readily available gasoline
  • Readily available groceries
  • GPS
  • ATMs
  • ROI
Ridding ourselves of false gods begins and ends with mindset. The sound practice of "having three," for example, works best if it's built on a commitment to the principle of cultivating contingencies -- not just for worst-case scenarios but in all areas of our lives.

Learning to distinguish a convenience from a necessity helps, too.

The myriad things that we depend on day to day, whether tethered to technology or simply close at hand, may not always be there for us. We should get a firm grip on that and act accordingly.

That's not pessimism and, as I've said before, it's not paranoia -- it's just good old-fashioned common sense.


(So maybe you thought yesterday's post was the last you'd see of the Model 67 on KintlaLake Blog? Fat chance. The image above was clipped from a 1950 Winchester ad in Popular Mechanics, and the ad below appeared in the same magazine two years later. More, perhaps, as I discover others worth posting. It's what I do.)

Friday, January 14, 2011

New tin on the block

Finding uses for empty Altoids tins has become, for some people, an obsession. I'll admit to having a mild case of tin-tin-adulation myself, having mentioned the subject a few times here on KintlaLake Blog.

They beg to be recycled (or, as a jargonista would say, re-purposed). Lots of other products come to us in similarly useful containers, too -- take this sturdy hinged tin, which originally held a gift card presented to me last Christmas.


The slimmer gift-card tin is a comfortable fit for a hip, jacket or cargo pocket. While it's not as deep as an Altoids tin, it has a larger footprint and greater interior volume -- roughly 20% more space for tinder, first-aid supplies, snare wire, a fishing kit or other survival bits. It has enough headroom to swallow a 3/8-inch firesteel and enough length to accommodate a decent single-blade pocketknife (the 108mm
Victorinox Safari Solo Adventurer, for example).

Sure, for less than three bucks it's possible to buy this (or another) gift-card tin, minus the gift card. But as I said about
Ranger Bands, spending real money defeats the purpose -- sorry, the re-purpose.

The venerable Altoids tin will continue its reign, of course. Other minty tins worth recycling: the Altoids Chewing Gum tin, slightly more than half the size of the standard Altoids tin; and the Altoids Smalls tin, which a year ago inspired me to build an ultra-compact fire kit.

Let the tinnovations roll on.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Urban Resources: 'The Pace'

Here in the KintlaLake household, our arsenal of tools includes three snow shovels -- we have no snowblower and, unlike two years ago, we no longer own a tractor equipped with a dozer blade. One of our neighbors has a snow-plowing business, so occasionally (today, for instance) we'll have him give our driveway a quick scrape. For the most part, though, we move the white stuff by hand.

The ordinary task of shoveling snow, believe it or not, offers a great opportunity to practice an important survival skill: getting the job done without breaking a sweat. I call it "The Pace."

In a cold-weather survival situation, whether lost in the backcountry or stuck by the roadside in the middle of a blizzard, physical exertion may be necessary -- in those two examples, perhaps that means building a shelter or clearing snow from around a tailpipe. Whatever the reason, it's crucial to conserve physical energy and warmth.

Even if a person is dressed properly, excessive sweating will saturate a base
layer, quickly crippling its vital wicking function -- and there's no way to dry it out. It's an E-ticket ride to hypothermia.

The trick, then, is to work at something less than full capacity. Some survivalists put a number on that level of exertion -- I've heard 40%, 50% and 60% -- but since conditions vary and each of us is different, self-awareness is the only realistic way to gauge The Pace.

While shoveling our driveway and sidewalks the last few mornings, I paid special attention to setting a no-sweat pace -- a useful exercise but not as easy as it sounds. When I noticed myself sweating I slowed down, took a break, vented or shed an outer layer.

Other wintertime chores and activities provide myriad ways to experiment with The Pace -- buck and split firewood, go sledding, take a hike and so on.

Simple? Sure, but this "urban resource" is far from trivial.
Practicing a few basic skills outside of a survival situation just might make a difference when it counts.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Sharps: Wyoming Saw I

Our holiday haul came with a gift card, which we split among us. I used my share to buy a saw for our family preparedness kit.

The US-made
Wyoming Saw I is the smallest of three collapsible bow saws offered by Wyoming Knife Corporation (which is headquartered, oddly enough, in Colorado). I judged this one to be best for our purposes -- 11-inch blade, 16 ounces, nylon case, $43.35 MSRP.

The Wyoming breaks down into six bits: two stainless-steel frame pieces, cast-aluminum handle, bolt, wingnut and blade. It's supplied with both a wood blade and a bone blade; a hacksaw blade also is available. Everything nests neatly and securely in the case, making for a very compact package.

Any time I try out a new saw, especially a collapsible bow, I can't help but compare it to the well-loved
Sven Saw I've been using since the late 1970s. Since many KintlaLake Blog readers probably are familiar with the Sven, for scale I've included it in a few of the photos.

That said, it'd be neither fair nor useful to pit the smallest Wyoming against the bigger Sven in a head-to-head cutting contest, so I won't.

The Wyoming Saw I assembles quickly and cuts well for a short-stroker. This morning I ran it through some frozen ash from my woodpile and it did exactly what it's designed to do, with no drama whatsoever. A longer blade -- like the 14-inch Wyoming Saw III, the 18-inch Wyoming Saw II or the 21-inch Sven Saw -- would make things go faster, of course.

Each of the three Wyomings, as well as the Sven, employs a bolt-and-wingnut scheme for drawing the blade taut. That wingnut can go flying into low earth orbit at the most inconvenient moments, usually when assembling or disassembling the saw. (Don't ask me how I know.) It's a good idea to carry a spare.

I've rigged a simple wingnut-retention system, visible in the photo above. (Yeah, it's a
Ranger Band.) If that should fail, Wyoming Knife will replace a lost or broken bolt-and-wingnut assembly at no charge -- all I have to do is drop them an e-mail. Nice perk, that.

Bottom line: I like this saw. Used within what I consider reasonable limits, it's a delightfully capable addition to our kit.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Urban Resources: Ranger Bands

I'll admit to being hesitant about this installment of Urban Resources. I mean, just about every outdoorsman, farmer, biker, cop and firefighter I know is familiar with Ranger Bands. I figure most KintlaLake Blog readers are, too, and the subject has been covered extensively on the Web.

Then last week I saw an online retailer selling a pack of ten for $9.95, and it occurred to me that this post might be worthwhile after all.

My Scoutmaster, while prepping a group of us for a trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, introduced me to making industrial-strength rubber bands by cutting up inner tubes. On our trek through the Sangre de Cristo range, the bands were indispensable for securing all kinds of gear.

I've been using them ever since. It wasn't until years later that I learned that they're commonly called "Ranger Bands."

Depending on the type of inner tube -- mountain bike, road bicycle, truck, tractor, motorcycle, etc. -- and the width of section cut, it's possible to make custom bands for specific tasks. Some folks use a utility knife; I prefer scissors. Either way, it's ridiculously easy.

So there's no need to spend money on pre-packaged "official" Ranger Bands. And although it may be forgivable (and less expensive) to buy new inner tubes for the purpose, that's not necessary, either.

Last evening, for example, the younger spawn needed professional help lacing a BMX wheel, so we paid a visit to a local bicycle shop. As the shop owner patiently wove spokes onto the rim, I asked him if he had any huffed tubes laying around.

"We've got tons of 'em," he said, gesturing toward a large cardboard box in the corner. "Help yourself."

I rummaged through the castoffs, picking out a couple of skinny road-bike tubes that should yield about a hundred small bands -- and they were absolutely free.

Over the years I've done the same thing at tire installers, motorcycle shops and tractor-supply stores. All I had to do was ask.

There's truly no limit to the ways that Ranger Bands can be used. In the photo, there's a band around my motorcycle's tool roll and another securing the optics wrench supplied with my new Leatherman MUT. Lengths of bicycle tube make the Bic lighters grippier. Each of the Altoids tins holds a fire kit -- Ranger Bands keep the lids shut and the rubber can come in handy as a firestarter.

The band shown on my
Bravo Necker's sheath gives me a place to stow a whistle, a compass, fatwood sticks or other small items. My modified Mora 640 no longer fits securely in its plastic sheath, but adding a wide mountain-bike band fixed the retention problem.

Beyond what's pictured, I'm always using Ranger Bands around the garage -- to clamp wood or leather, to suspend brake calipers while I have the wheels off my motorcycle, and more. Also, long strips of inner tube make dandy tie-downs.

I could go on, but I won't. Use your imagination -- just don't spend any money.