Sanctuary Among The Trees: (Part 1)

 
 

It’s 2pm Thursday afternoon; as my ride pulls away, I wave a final goodbye to civilization. The next few days will be spent living out of my Bug Out Bag—testing my own survival skills.

Quickly I creep into the thick brush and squat down. Listening and watching to see if my infiltration has gone unnoticed. I’m surrounded by thick brush, tall trees, and downed-timber from the recent ice storms last season. The air is slightly nippy, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds brings a little light into the otherwise gloomy Alaska boreal forest.

My Lensatic Compass gives me the bearing that I will be taking. It’s nearly fifteen miles to my Safe Area; a little spot on top of a remote hill surrounded by a large boggy marsh. It’s one of the intermediate areas that I have set-up as a cache point. I hope to reach it as soon as possible.

The leaves squish underneath the soles of my hunting boots as I stalk through the maze of Alaska jungle. It’s quiet out here; other than the sounds of mosquitos, and the occasional sounds that nature makes, for all intents it feels like I have stepped back into time itself.

A Rugger .338-Winchester Magnum rifle is held close to my chest. It’s my grizzly bear rifle. The powerful cartridge kills moose and bears with impunity; That’s what they are designed for, that why I carry it. A shoulder holster carries my defensive handgun; a Taurus “Raging Bull” .454-Casull Magnum. The powerful handgun serves as my last ditch protection, and a back-up hunting weapon. But it doesn’t belay the fact that some bears like to wait in ambush, and then pounce out of the brush at speed equal to a horse. Many hunters and hikers have been savaged in this way—with little or no warning. I don’t intend to become a victim if at all possible.

My steps are quite but sure. Each step brings another fifty yards into view. Each brush is scrutinized, each downed log is searched with my eyes, each step through the maze of lumber carries me deeper into the dark gloom that has slowly surrounded me like a fog. My eyes take in every nook and cranny that could harbor a predator. Making my way silently through the million year old forest—my friend and my adversary.

I am at home here. The lush green wraps itself around me like a warm coat. The air flowing into my nose is filled with clean air, the scent of old dirt, and the aromatic spice of nature’s returning from its winter sleep. The varied hues of colors dazzle my eyes—overhead  the shrill cries of a Raven remind me that I am a trespasser in his home. But I smile and send my mental signals of friendship up to him, asking him to keep watch over me—but he is already out of sight—a mere dark speck against blue skies.

My nose picks up the slightest scent of wood smoke. It’s faint, and far off. But that means other people are out here with me. I check the wind; it’s coming from my left. The upper leaves in the trees confirm this. I cannot allow anyone to see me out here. They must be made oblivious to my presence. Dropping to my left knee I listen for sounds; closing my eyes-willing my senses to reach out beyond the horizon. Using my mind to comb the area—tuned for the slightest disturbance in the energy field. After a few minutes; satisfied that I am alone, I resume my solitary trek deeper into the forest. I alter my compass heading three degrees towards the right, and count each step using my pace-count beads.

My feet carry me through twisting ravines, steep hills, and have me scrambling across countless downed trees, I notice the ground underneath is getting a little firmer. I have made it out of the valley; somewhere ahead of me rises the snow-capped mountains—my destination.

Throughout the afternoon the shadows creep along beside me. The air grows thinner, and I feel a change in the air. Night is coming soon. My eyes take in the sun’s position, the quietness creeping through the forest. There is a slight perceptible change around me—a primitive, almost ancestral-nocturnal fear reaching forward from the dawn of my ancestors time; reminding me that night brings death. It is time to find shelter, and appease my gnawing hunger.

A small hillside beckons me to rest; a cozy patch of sunlight illuminating a small comfortable circle of light. A downed log replete with soft moss–It cries out to me, demanding that I take rest upon it; but light and clearing is death in these woods. I choose the dark foreboding scrub-filled bog; a place better suited for defense—a place that hides my unnatural form and actions.

I kneel and listen; analyzing each sound, processing every movement of leaves and twigs; tasting the air as it flows part me. Sensing beyond my eyes for a tell-tale disturbance, an unnatural color or line; for the smell of something foreign. But all that returns to me is quite—I am alone out here, at least for now.

Moving quietly and slowly, I shed my rucksack and pull it behind me as I crawl deeper into the thorn filled thickets. My cheeks are ripped by the thorns, and somewhere on my right knee I feel a stab of pain, but I cannot stop until I am firmly inside this protective wall of punishment. The ground gives way to peat-moss; until at last I am crawling through knee deep water; my destination a dry clump of tall grass, a tiny island of dryness large enough to fit my form. This will be my home for the night. This will be where I can sleep without fear of a slow-creeping ambush.

My folding stove balances precariously on the lid of my mess kit. The boiling water being fed by the blue flames of my home-made fuel-tinder. A freeze dried food packs awaits the hot water, as does a tea bag. I am famished, and ready to sustain myself—to feed the fire that drives me further into this unreal place that I have called home.

While the water boils, I crawl forward and replace the thickets and brush that I have moved while crawling in here. There cannot be any sign of my passing or occupation of this place. A small black length of twine is tied near the entrance and woven back to my area so that I can be warned of an adversaries approach. A stick near my head will fall—thus alerting me to unwanted entry. I am surrounded by prickly thorns that thrive in muddy marsh water; and overhead the gently bowing branches of many birch trees lean down towards me—creating a living green cave.

My home for the night is small and uncomfortable; a mere three feet wide by six feet long protrusion of land; it is the only dry spot in sight. It will have to do—it will serve me well when darkness once again shimmers among the heavenly stars that will be my only company.

 

There will be no camp fire tonight; no lights to betray my presence. The stillness will not be broken by my voice, or caused by my action. I will remain quiet, a ghost among the gently swaying trees; I will fade into my respite, become part of the vegetation that so hides my presence.

My belly full, and legs stretched out ahead of me, I revel in the stillness around me that is mine. Laying back against my left elbow I sip at the Camille tea, swirling the dark liquid around inside of the canteen cup; allowing my eyes to travel across the quickly darkening skies overhead. It’s vast expanse making me feel small and inconsequential, a singular speck of humanity against the dark forest stretching infinitely around me. I ponder at the eyes of my own ancestral lineage that have witnessed these same sights, perhaps thought these same thoughts, and felt the the smallness that is felt among the towering pines and endless skies. A contentment sweeps over me, the peace that only can be realized in moments such as this. The connection across time eternal to First Man and First Woman—the pulls of generations yet unbroken.

With my gear re-packed, I make ready to get some sleep. Everything must be ready to go at a moments notice. There can be nothing laying around, nothing that will require me to stop and scoop it up. I must rest; yet I must maintain my defense as well. This requires that I not allow the shameful sloppiness of humanity into my camp. A poncho and poncho liner serve as my bedding. There will be no warm and comfortable sleeping bag tonight. The wetness all around me precludes it.

I strip off my outer-wear, and don the warm fleece pants and sweater that will substitute for my sleeping bag. My gloves and cap, also of fleece, complete the sleeping gear. Slipping back into my waterproof outer-wear, I roll into the luxurious warmth of my poncho; my head resting against the rucksack. With my rifle laid underneath the poncho; my last conscious thought is of the claustrophobic feeling that the mosquito head-net gives me—but soon the pleasure of slowly spiraling into the void of sleep…

It is night, something has awakened me. I dare not breath, hearing my heart pounding inside of my chest. I have to relieve myself, but movement might spell trouble. The comforting outline of my bear rifle is felt along my left leg under the poncho. My mind conjured images of a slathering grizzly bear trashing its way through the cold dark water—our eyes meeting each other in the surreal darkness around me. I quickly push the thought deep back into the corners of my thoughts, and reach out with my hearing and senses to see what has roused me from sleep.

My breathing sounds abnormally loud, and I will my lungs to slow down some. My eyes slowly scanning through the tangle of undergrowth, sensing movement, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the wind rustling the leaves in top of the trees. Somewhere in the far distance I hear the faint howl of a lonely wolf. I hold my breath for a moment, listening for a return call; but only silence greets me.

Scooting over a little towards my left, I roll over onto my side, and relieve myself into the sloping ground leading into the dark waters. Standing up would make noise, attract attention; whatever awakened me might still be close—I cannot move right now.

It seems like a lifetime before the urgency of danger leaves me. With it, the taste in the air changes as well. My heightened sense detected something out there. Something that alarmed my inner being, something that awoke me to the dark night’s fear. It is a feeling that I have counted on in the past—a feeling that I can trust.

Still unsure, I lay my head back down determined that I may hear it again. but soon the swirling drops me back into the bliss of sleep…

Its been a long night; daylight has finally returned. Many times I was awakened by something moving around outside of my little fort. It was only during the last few hours that my mind and body finally rested; dropping me near exhausted into a deep satisfying sleep, the kind that rejuvenates the tiredness of body and mind.

The diffused sunlight peeks out from behind the trees; I gaze up into the skies and watch the low hanging clouds moving slowly by; it feels like rain today. Putting away my sleeping gear I reach into the rucksack and pull out the small thermos bottle. Hot water boiled after last nights dinner make the task of breakfast easier. Oatmeal, coffee, and some vitamin-c drink, help to get the day started without much fuss.

Using my map and compass I am able to triangulate my position against the nearest mountains. I’ve travelled about halfway to my destination.  Today’s travel will take me through the low-lying foot hills, and across many streams that I will have to ford. It’s the most difficult part of the journey. The high-snow capped mountains in the distance fills me with a sense of awe, and at the same time reminds me that man has struggled against them for millennia. Many have perished amidst those ragged peaks. A broken ankle, a sliced artery; the mountain has its own way of getting even with those beating themselves against it. The mountain’s ominous warning proclaimed by the thick fog drifting to and fro near the top. A cold barrier, a sign reminding me that nature is in control—I am but an unfamiliar inside of these tangled trees.

My gear once again rests comfortably on my shoulders. The food and coffee invigorating me; giving me the energy that will be required. The swarms of mosquitos rush toward my exposed face; quickly retreating from the scent of the repellant that has been liberally applied. These pesky-insects congregate around my head like a dark cloud, seeking to drain blood from my already battered and bruised body. The tiny aches and pains of my journey a reminder that out here, the human body is soft. This is evidenced by the throbbing in my right knee. Yesterday a small thorn punctured into the flesh, forcing me to strip down and cut it out with my multi-tool. It was a painful and slow process, but in the end the tiny sliver of wood coated with toxic resin was removed. Antibiotic from my first aid kit helped to quell the infection that would have surely resulted had I allowed the wound to fester.

Two hours later I drop my rucksack and squat carefully beside a small stream. The crystal clear water pumping through my water filter will insure that I m hydrated. Crossing over these life-giving streams without refilling my canteens is suicide. It’s then that I hear a splashing noise further upstream. Slowly I withdraw into the thick bushes, my rifle quickly filling my hands. With my back against a tree, I search the banks of the streams with my eyes for the source of the noise. It could be anything, a salmon jumping, a rock moving, a scampering rodent—but I hear the splashing sound again, this time a little closer.

It’s the unmistakable sound of paws padding through the waters shallows. It’s then that I catch a glimmer of movement; a patch of brown fur, the realization that I am seeing a large grizzly bear—and it isn’t aware of me. This is a dangerous situation. To surprise the grizzly is certain to cause it to charge, to stand up and let myself be seen, is sure to surprise this carnivore.

With a soft click I release the safety on my rifle; edging further backwards around the tree, I mentally will my body to fade into the green. Praying that my camouflage will help to hide my outline. I don’t stare at the bear; fearful of sending out a signal that his inner-senses will pick-up; I keep my eyes on the ground in front of him. My eyes watching the ground as his slow gait brings him closer to me. Close enough that I can hear his breathing, seeing as his small eyes flick back and forth—close enough that we are separated by only a distance of five yards.

 

The bear slows; his nose sampling the air; the nose seven times more sensitive than the best hunting dog. He has caught a whiff of me. I watch the muscles ripple along his chest as he assesses the area that I am hiding in. He starts to come towards me, my heart sounding like a bass-drum; my breathing excited. I edge further into the bushes; my rifle slowly coming-up into the firing position. I can smell the musky aroma emanating for this powerful king of the forest. I can smell my own fear as well. I steel myself for what is sure to come…

Suddenly; I hear a shrill cry of a Raven; overhead the black shadow circles twice, his screams matched by the quick dives towards the ground—and just as quick, the Raven is gone out of sight.The bear stops, swinging his massive head back towards the water; he plods along on his original route. I’ll never know if I was spotted, if this North American carnivore allowed me to remain; but I am thankful that the two of us didn’t have to encounter each other in violence. It’s time to be on my way again.

Hours later I find myself resting against an over-turned tree trunk; munching down a power bar and dried pineapple fruit. My tired muscles complain as I shift position, and I feel the trickle of water creeping down the side of my neck, travelling onto my chest. Even the best-made rain suits cannot prevent the cold rain from penetrating into my body’s warmth.

The rain began soon after the encounter with the grizzly bear. It began with a slight drizzle; culminating with a frenzied down pour sending sheets of driving rain through the trees. The forest around me becomes darker, the leaves dripping water; the wind arcing the rain sideways across my vision. I hope the rains would let up a little, but I know better. These rain storm blow in all the time with little warning. They can last for days on end, and then just as suddenly as they appeared, they withdraw and allow the Sun to regain a foothold—having nourished the foliage with its life-saving sustenance.

West Coast Survival Strategies: How To Get Out Alive

The most difficult aspect of getting out of dodge when SHTF, is know when to go, where to go, and how to get there. This is where many survivalists drop the ball because it is a real challenge to figure this part of the survival planning out. There are many obstacles to overcome, and it requires a high level of understanding about the inherent difficulties; as well as meticulous attention to a myriad of details.

Given the fact that California has a population density of 37,253,956 people, this should indicate the severity of Bugging Out, and what it means to those trying to flee the large cities. Whereas Oregon has a population of 3,831,074. What’s the difference between 37.2 million people, and 3.8 million people? The answer is Movement…

It’s already clear that California’s highway and interstate system are overcrowded; imagine trying to get across LA when a very large percentage of the population is hitting the streets in utter panic. If you have never experience the Santa Monica Freeway at rush hour on a three day weekend–then you cannot begin to imagine that chaos.

 

The very first thing that must be considered when working out an escape plan, is to know your area within your own neighborhood, and also the area leading out of it.

Step Number 1:

  1. Get a detailed city map that shows all the streets and major highways.
  2. Locate your home on the map and draw a green square around the location.
  3. Find the quickest way out of the area using major roads and highways–Mark These in RED MARKER.
  4. Identify every street leading out of the area on city streets, but NOT major highways or 4-land streets. In order words, look for neighborhood streets that will take you across town. Mark these with a GREEN MARKER.

 

 

 

 

Step Number 2:

Take a drive on at least three or four of the streets that you have marked in GREEN. This will be the most important part of the survival plan. The intent is to become familiar with the route, and the resources that you will encounter. bring the map with you, as well as a writing pad and pens.

Here is what you will need to look for:

  • Bridges; whether you drive over it, or under it.
  • Culverts and large drainage pipes.
  • Overhead walkways.

Mark the exact location of each bridge with a RED SQUARE

Mark the exact location of each culvert with a GREEN CIRCLE

Mark the exact location of walkways with a RED SQUARE

The purpose of this is to have the ability to quickly re-route yourself if the primary route is blocked. Knowing where all the bridges and culverts are located will make this a much easier job. This will prevent you from wasting time, and wasting precious gasoline to get to safety. You will need to know every route out of the area, as well as every obstruction that could fall down in an earthquake, or flood-out during a severe storm. Knowing where all of these obstructions and choke points are located; gives you an advantage that the unprepared people won’t have. Culverts can also be useful as emergency temporary shelters, as long as there is no standing water inside the culvert.

 

Read The Full Article HERE

Brad Meltzer’s Decoded “2012 The Beginning”; Interview With Franke Schein

Filmed on-loction in Anchorage, Alaska August 2011

Franke Schein; a Alaska based survivalist talks about preparing for 2012 Prophecies, and other disasters.

A hard-Hitting expose’ …

Survival: Protecting What’s Yours

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The use of firearms when SHTF is probably one of the most talked-about issues on the internet these days. In many cases, firearms sometimes rank higher than food supplies in some circles.

The trend in survival firearms has taken a radical right turn; instead of defensive weapons, many have turned towards assault rifles, and offensive weapons. It’s not uncommon to see survivalists wearing tactical gear, Kevlar helmets, ballistic vest, and sporting an assortment of battle-ready guns with multiple magazines of ammunition.

The problem with that is; it doesn’t leave much room for survival gear. Heading out into the woods with tactical gear, and preparing for a gun battle is okay if that is your mindset. But the reality is that all of that gear won’t help you one bit—when faced with multiple opponents. On the contrary, it will only serve to make their job easier because it’s hard to run wearing all of that gear.

When I train newbies out in the field, the rule is only carry the things that you will actually need, and replace everything else with food supplies. Nothing is as important as food—nothing!

One of the things that I attempt to have people understand, is that even though firearms are an integral part of any survival plan, they should not be the entire plan.

No matter what the weapon of choice is; it is necessary to first become intimate with the weapon. That means spending a lot of time at the range, shooting at various distances, and shooting during weather extremes. It takes hundreds of hours to “Become One” with your weapon. But when the honeymoon is over, you’ve got something in your hands that is both familiar and might provide for an extra edge if you are ever forced to shoot somebody down.

It really doesn’t matter the make or model of the rifle, what matters is the weight, the maneuverability, and whether or not you can hit what you are aiming at in any survival or weather condition. One of my more favorite weapons is an old Soviet battle rifle: The Mosin-Nagant M1944 7.62x54R bolt action rifle. The rifle is sometimes referred to as a “Russian .308”; and that would be a close description.

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[ Mosin-44 Out in The Alaska Back Country ]

The Mosin-44 is a trusted old rifle that is still being used today in many parts of the world. Here in Alaska, these old rifles are found in the hands of Eskimo hunters, and homesteaders alike. It’s reputation and durability makes this a rifle that has earned its place by the people that count on it for their day to day existence.

I’ve owned and fired tons of weapons throughout the years. Some weren’t worth a plugged nickel, while others were worth their weight in gold. One of my more favorite defensive weapon is a Diamond Back .380 caliber handgun. It’s small size makes it an ideal carry-weapon,. It certainly doesn’t pack the same punch as a .45 ACP, but again—it’s all a matter of getting to know your weapon, as well as your own capabilities. What is amazing for this small caliber cartridge, is the penetration factor. As a primary combat weapon it’s all but useless due to to lack of energy; but up-close-personal, this weapon will do what’s asked of it.

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[ DB-380 Semi-Auto Handgun ]

Survivalists should consider firearms as yet another tool that gets the job done. Over-reliance on weapons is the one problem that should be avoided. To me personally; a rifle that I carry in the bush has to be suited for hunting and defensive situations. The standard that I apply to myself is that I carry one rifle, and one handgun; perhaps if the situation requires it, I may also hump a folding-stock shotgun. But in my own survival plans, everyone in my group is armed, and even if it’s just my family and I tromping around in the bush—we all carry weapons.

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When SHTF; protecting the family and yourself, as well as protecting your stockpile will require firearms that are capable of doing the job with little or no frills. A basic pump shotgun, an assault rifle, or even a bolt action rifle will make life miserable for those individuals who foolishly believe that a “force of arms” will feed them.

I much prefer the heavy caliber weapons such as the belted-magnums. There is no doubt in my mind that a .375 H&H magnum will punch right through ballistic armor. Subsequently, the .454-Casull Magnum will certainly eat bullet-proof vests everyday of the week.

Additionally; in the hands of an experienced shooter, the bolt action .308 caliber rifle loaded with deadly Armor Piercing ammunition is a force of nature unto itself. A determined shooter can far exceed the range and killing power of assault rifle wielding assailants.

When it comes to self-defense in a survival situation, it’s important to understand that if you are doing things correctly; nobody out there should see you, hear, you, or realize that you are in the area. When things go south, and you find yourself confronted with armed thugs, your best option is to get away as quickly as possible. Breaking contact might not sound very “Macho”; but I guarantee that you will not feel so Macho when one of your kids, or your mate is laying dead on the ground.

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E-Mail: frankeschein@hotmail.com

Crisis Thinking: Critical Perceptions

[ Warning: Graphic Content ]

 

Franke Schein-Alaska Survivalist-Japan's Tsunami

 

SYNOPSIS:

The world has just ended for the people in your neighborhood. Everything around you has collapsed,,,, and modern utilities are a thing of the past.

Early that morning a massive under-sea earthquake comes to life without any warning. The shock waves create a tsunami wave approaching heights of 2000 feet–travelling at an astounding speed of 600 MPH. It’s bigger than the Empire State Building.

The Warning Alerts were transmitted at 10:45am while you are at work. The first thing that you thought of, was to call your wife on the cell-phone. The line is busy–you cannot get through.

You don’t hesitate, and quickly jump into your car heading for home, and planning on stopping at the school to pick up your two children. It only takes you three minutes to realize that everybody else in the city is doing exactly the same thing, and the roads are already gridlocked–traffic is at a standstill.

Panicked you try the cell-phone again for the thousand time, but it’s still busy. You cannot reach your wife. It’s then that you notice the fuel gauge is hovering near a quarter of a tank. You were running late for work this morning, and intending to top-off the gas tank after work.

The skies are filled with many helicopters as the elites and rich flee the city into the high mountains. You wished that you could commandeer one of those birds, and bring your family to safety. But you are stuck in standstill traffic.

Ten minutes later you abandon the car and start running towards the head of the line–hoping to convince somebody to help you get home. In your mind you are formulating a sneaky plan to steal a car from whoever is still mobile. There’s nothing in the world that will stop you from getting to your kids and home–even if you have to hurt somebody in the process.

FAST FORWARD:

It’s been 48-hours since the massive tsunami wave swept through the area. Every building that you knew, has now been knocked down and carried away by the wave. Blotted dead bodies float with the rippling currents. You watch in amazement as your own car floats by, bobbing against a mini-van full of small children–all of whom are drowned. The sight brings instant fear to your mind, as you try to imagine what has become of your own kids. Quickly you push that thought way back into the furthest recesses of your mind. It’s not something that you can deal with right now; you have only one single purpose; to get home and take care of your family, and get them all into a safe area.

But first–you have to, somehow, get off this concrete parking garage that has saved you from the tsunami wave. Looking down eight stores into the swirling black waters, you understand the force that nature sent against you, and realize that like the other thirty people sharing the roof with you, there’s not one single thing that you can do for yourself, much less your own family. You are stuck here until the waters recede, or the government can rescue you from the only standing structure in the area. For a moment you consider jumping into the water and swimming from building to building until you reach dry ground…

 

Read The Full Article Below:

http://frankeschein.blogspot.com/2011/12/crisis-thinking-critical-perceptions.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Follow Up: Survival Planning Before You Die!

Franke schein - Alaska Survivalist

In a previous article that I wrote yesterday titled “Startling Facts About Survivalists: You Are Going To Die!” I outlined what I personally believe to be some serious misconceptions about the current survival trends.

Many of the readers that have found the article interesting, asked how it was possible to overcome these issues, and proceed forward utilizing a reality based survival plan.

 

In another book that I had planned to publish early in 2012; I outline what I believe to be the nexus of survival planning. That doesn’t mean that I am the ultimate authority, or that my plans will work for everyone; but it does mean that these plans will work for me personally, and consequently those people within the rank and file of The Alaska Watchmen Group that have come to rely upon my judgment, and critical thinking in these area.

When I “engage the brain” in these areas, I first set to pen and paper every conceivable threat that I and the group will face. Even the most ludicrous things are written down, at least for the moment.

Each threat is then dissected into it’s inherent sub-threat which may pose a danger or risk.

 

Read The Full Article Below:

http://frankeschein.blogspot.com/2011/12/follow-up-survival-planning-before-you.html

Startling Facts About Survivalists: You Are Going To Die!

Franke Schein - Alaska Survivalist

Having been involved in survivalism for the last thirty years; I can honestly say without any trepidation that a vast majority of survivalist are not ready to meet the challenges of disaster preparedness in 2012, or beyond. I can say this with complete truthfulness based on both the time I have been involved in this field, and the thousands upon thousands of people, articles, and videos that I have experienced over the years.

That is not to say that all survivalist aren’t ready, just a large percentage of those that I have encountered.

Financial Abilities:  Though many claim to be preparing for SHTF, the fact remains that our economy sucks; and therefore not many families can allocate a portion of their income towards Long Term food supplies, or emergency gear.

 

Lack Of Planning: Sadly this is the most abused element when it comes to survival planning. The lack of reality based survival planning will lead many people to their doom. There is absolutely no way that anyone can head to hills with a jar of peanut butter, and then try to feed his family by living off the land. It might work for awhile, but it won’t work for ever. Guarantee they will die. These types of people also fall into the “Lonewolf Survivalist” category-They almost go hand-in-hand.

 

Lack Of Resources: Not having the requisite food and water supply will at some point force the ill-prepared survivalist out into the open. Let’s face the very simple facts; if one heads out into the woods without enough food or water, their time is limited, and they must at some point return to civilization in order to resupply themselves. Simple things such as toilet paper, water filters, antibiotics, powdered milks, and other necessary and life-saving items cannot be built, manufactured, or harvested from the wilds of nature.

I’ve spent months and months in the Arizona and Texas deserts. Water is out there, but knowing where to look, and how to purify it is another matter altogether. Coupled with the simple fact that everybody else will also be looking for water, creates an immediate danger to anyone skulking around out in the desert. Waterholes and wells will be highly defended by well armed survival groups.

I’ve travelled the deserts at night using the moonlight for navigation. Finding water at night is almost impossible. Rattle snakes like to curl up around the rocks near water. The rocks stay warm throughout the night, and the snakes love to keep warm, and then fill-up with life saving water in the early morning hours, before they slither away into their cool burrows to wait out the hot sun.

Let’s not forget about the drug cartels currently operating out in the desert either…

 

Read The Full Article Below:

http://frankeschein.blogspot.com/2011/12/startling-facts-about-survivalists-you.html