Who is NOT making Survival Preparations...and WHY?

If something was to happen your way to survival would only initially be by stockpiling goods and ammo. Once the initial burst of fear is over people would have to go back to hunter / gatherer communities that defend themselves by being highly mobile following game animals, avoiding outside contact, or by building traditional wooden/stone fortresses and farming.

If you do not provide a skill set required to exist in that environment your stockpile might gain you entry, however a stockpile is only an initial investment if you have to be carried by others for the next several years. The firearms and bows would likely be enough to gain entry over food, because safety is paramount in any end of the world as we know it scenario. Guns and ammo are would be the primary defense until you ran out of ammo, then I see them being melted down and turned back into daggers or swords. Bows or crossbows long term would be the most efficient weapon of choice. I definitely would allow an individual into a commune if they brought bows, or if they had stockpiled appropriate seeds or grains appropriate for my geographical area.

Interesting topic to think about.

Originally posted by shagreen heart
i'm not, because you can't prepare for the unknown. you can stockpile and stockpile all you want, it'll never be enough. and will you share your resources. of course you won't. all your tools will eventually wear down and break, or not work or get lost, or get looted. the only safe place would be out int he wilderness, which isn't safe at all. everyone will be looting, killing eachohter, so it honestly does't matter how well prepared you are, you can't stop or prevent everything, and you most likely won't, no matter how skilled or prepared you think you are. don't stress, just roll with the punches and do what you have to do. it's not a bad idea to have some contingency plans, but don't be contingent on your contingency plans. none of us have any clue what is going to happen, or most importantly WHEN, so the best thing to do is prepare mentally, and minimally.

Greetings:

... you can stockpile and stockpile all you want, it'll never be enough.

Is this tidbit of "wisdom" from personal experience or just a hunch?

... and will you share your resources. of course you won't.

Please do not allow your clouded vision to assist creating erroneous assumptions about what others may or may not do. Sharing is one of the basic tenets of life, IMHO.

... all your tools will eventually wear down and break.

Is this tidbit of "wisdom" from personal experience or just a hunch? I personally have hand tools that I have used for over 40 years, and they are still going strong. As in most things, one should invest in quality decisions at the outset.

Tools not work?

Is this tidbit of "wisdom" from personal experience or just a hunch?

Get lost?

They can't, period. The small ones we attach leg irons to so they cannot scurry away and we implant GPS trackers in the rest of them.

Get looted?

One might think that a person who had the foresight to have these tools in the first place might have a way of insuring that the tools are not looted.

... no matter how skilled or prepared you think you are.

Those in the know know the answer to this assumption. I believe that I am both skilled and prepared - and that's from experience and "just a hunch."

OK. Either this is an adventure in creative writing for you or you are perhaps entrenched in the victim role and expect to lose no matter what happens. We're here to help if you need it and by your last sentence - you actually are prepared in your mind. That's a good start.

Let's see if we can offer perspective and perhaps understanding by looking at an real disaster through another person's eyes who was actually "in the eye of the storm" - and then some. One of my friends, KT Frankovich, was in Hurricane Andrew and her account of it is one of the most compelling and riveting stories you will ever read. I just spoke to her in Florida and she gave me permission to directly quote her.



KT survived hurricane Andrew. KT was a television producer with friends in the business. After she walked out of the dead zone, she contacted those same friends and told them what really had happened... which was a FAR cry from what had been reported by the media. They would not run her story.

You can't even imagine what her story is like ... no one can tell it like KT can tell it. A small section from her book follows. Some believe only God kept her and her son alive. Here is a snippet that begins after Andrew hit, destroyed her apartment building, devastated the surroundings, severely injured her, and turned the survivors into walking zombies.

Within hours of the sun making its appearance, the stench of putrid death began to saturate the hot air. Remains of dead bodies and body parts lay scattered all about. I stepped on something oddly strange that caused me to stop. When I looked down, I thought the small hand belonged to a doll. But as I stood there staring at it, I realized I was wrong. The small severed hand was human.

The horror there to haunt me for the rest of my life...

Twelve other survivors wandered into our area that day. A few had survived from the complex like us but the others straggled in from elsewhere. Each one suffered from shell shock, too traumatized to speak. We hugged each other repeatedly, not wanting to let go. The touch of another human being seemed to be our lifeline. Unselfishly we shared in tears that wept over and over again. Clinging to each other as we waited for help to arrive. We'd speak a few words, then suddenly stop, suspending them without finishing the sentence. We couldn't communicate coherently. Some, like myself, were in dire need of emergency medical treatment. But there was no way to escape the endless aftermath. Andrew had gobbled up our cars and spat them out junked. My son's Astro Van rolled about the parking lot with a full size tree speared through the interior. Massive gnarled roots jutted out the rear door. Roads had disappeared out of sight. Telephones were a thing of the past. Without water or bandages, there wasn't much we could do, other than sit there and wait in the suffocating heat.

So, we waited and waited. Each hour passing by wretchedly slow, while it took ten long days for President Bush to summon the Federal Troops to South Dade with life-sustaining supplies. Unknown to us, twenty-one communities in South Dade had been completely devastated. Roped off from the outside world by Metro Dade Police and military soldiers armed with semi-automatic rifles, we had no idea what was happening beyond our immediate area. Like little children, we truly believed emergency help would quickly arrive. Airlifting out the injured and bringing necessary supplies. The agonizing minutes dragged into hours, and hours dragged into days. No rescue teams showed up. Slowly we had to accept the ghastly truth. No one was coming to rescue us.



It was the worst, gut-wrenching betrayal I have ever experienced. Where were the emergency rescue teams? Where was our government? Where were our families? Where were our friends? Why didn't anyone come? We had no water, no food, no medical supplies, or shelter. When the hot muggy skies clouded with afternoon thunderstorms, we huddled together under any make-shift shelter we could find. Lightning bolts blasted our shell-shocked minds, while our bodies shook with each approaching squall.

The stench of death tormented us with each passing hour. Reeking the humidity with foul rotting flesh. It saturated our nostrils deep into our throat, causing us to gag with each breath that we took. Just within our immediate vicinity, the area within walking distance, over seventy dead bodies were discovered. I watched a military personnel truck make its way slowly past me, carefully steering around felled trees and smashed roof tops, as it rolled out of the trailer park area on the morning Andrew ended. Uniformed soldiers stared at me blankly from the rear of the vehicle, where filled body-bags lay stacked on top of each other.

Soon thereafter, thick torrential black smoky clouds rolled across the grove headed in our direction. The stench of burning flesh mixed with lime descended so rapidly we didn't have time to react. The rolling smoke blanketed us and choked us with coughing fits. Continuously blowing our way for days on end. Metrozoo was burning dead bodies around the clock, at the back of their property. Five days into the aftermath the fires still raged on, while we gagged on thick dark mucous being coughed up from our lungs.

Insurmountable problems escalated with each passing hour. We had no sanitation facilities. What little water we managed to find was contaminated. We competed against rhesus monkeys and big apes searching for salvageable food. Asbestos dust blanketed everything. Rusty nails poked us. Slivers of broken glass pierced our every touch. And then, there were the nights ...when we moved about in total blackness constantly attacked by swarms of mosquitoes. Cock roaches and scorpions took over. Rats ran rampant. Snakes slid out of nowhere. As the unbearable temperatures climbed higher and hotter, colonies of maggots nested in rotting food and animal corpses. And, it wasn't long before armed looters began to infiltrate.

And that is just a bit of the story.

In Peace & Light
tfw

reply to post by thorfourwinds[/i

 

Thank you so much for your informative post.

This is the meat of the thread imo.

Cheers!