Thursday, January 26, 2012

Laying a False Trail

I'm reading The Death of Albert Johnson-Mad Trapper of Rat River , by Heritage House Publishing Co.

Albert Johnson was a sketchy individual who built himself an 8 x 12 fortress up near the Klondike in Canada. He dug 3 feet deep, built 5 foot walls, sloping roof, and covered it all with 2 feet of dirt. This structure was chinked with dirt, too, with a stout door, actually underwent a dynamite invasion and the man survived.

But, back to the story. The guy wasn't so much big as an endurance expert. Able to single handedly paddle upstream to the Rat River, accomplishing feats the mounted Police wondered at.

Trouble was, he wouldn't answer the door when they came knocking. Frustrated, the visiting police report him, obtain a search warrant and reinforcements. Johnson fires through his own front door, hitting a man and that is the end of life as he knew it.

This drama played out in the Northwest Territories in 1931-1932. His house was small enough he could shoot from inside in all four directions after knocking out some chinks. Then the dyanimte bundle was launched, hit the roof, exploded. No one thought he could survive, but he did and proceeded to lead his enemies on a chase through out the region.

The guy should have probably answered the door.
I was impressed by his endurance, able to lay 2 miles of false trail for every one mile of true. He would wear his snowshoes backwards, then retrace again. He'd cross rivers and mountains said to be impossible.

This leads to the conclusion, to survive a shit hits the fan scenario, we need to be in Shape!

Eventually they do catch the guy and a shoot out occurs on a frozen lake, resulting in17 bullets taking out Johnson. One of his sins is that he was a "hermit", taciturn and independent to the point of rudeness.  

There's always two sides to a story. The guy wanted to be left alone in the frozen wilderness to trap and smoke his pipe. He didn't fit in, he did have skills.

This book is 94 pages with a lot of photos. An interesting read.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Extreme Survival in Winter

It's been pretty warm here in North East Georgia, so no snow to play in so far. I'm from the north, and snow, ice and sub zero temps were the norm. I saw this really good clip about Extreme Survival on the Weather Channel. Several people gave their stories, among them a neat Japanese dude who says its way better than a round of golf. He loves it out there, near Mt. Rainier, bring it baby.

http://www.weather.com/weather/videos/news-41/top-stories-169/chaser-describes-birmingham-storm-damage-25791#loc=62/436/25739
He used his socks to start his fire, then burned $6 in cash to start it.

The weather channel has a great site, though:
http://www.weather.com/weather/videos/news-41/top-stories-169/chaser-describes-birmingham-storm-damage-25791

This link tells the importance of layers, keeping those layers clean for maximum warmth:

http://dsc.discovery.com/adventure/extreme-cold-weather-survival-tips-2.html

This goes right along with keeping your sleeping bag clean. If you find its not doing the job anymore, try washing it before throwing it out.

I washed my Marmot 800 goose down bag after literally hundreds of nights/ thousands of trail miles. Its good as new...well, taking into account the tiny hole that's been stitched up, and some abrasion from AT shelter floors.

Anyways, my whole take away from this was: in a survival situation, what are the things, or thing I would want, most of all.
My list:

Fire tools, first and foremost, redundancy is fine, preferred, actually: matches, lighter, flint, cotton and petroleum firestarters. A candle would be nice. Take plenty and double bag for water protection. In a survival situation, those extra baggies can collect water or food.

A vapor barrier, large plastic bags, silnylon tarp, rain suit, plastic sheeting all fit in this category. Perfect for holding body warmth in, protection from the elements, allowing to sleep on dry surface, able to walk out.

Cutting tool, preferably a decent knife, razor blade, emergency saw.  I don't go for these multipurpose tools, but that would fit here too. These would be useful in many ways, cutting limbs for shelter, firewood, cordage. Really, its the last on the list cause a person can make due without a cutting implement.

Most importantly, this list does me no good unless its with me. I've got this stuff in my car. I need to carry it on my trails. Day hikers get lost, adventurers get turned around. Add some food, and its amazing.  One story told of a lady surviving 7 weeks on jerky and gorp when their vehicle became stranded in Nevada.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Right At Your Door-Movie Review

This is a must see movie for any survivalist.

Heartrending shit, too.

I'm surfing through channels and see this 2006 suspense movie with Mary McCormack and Rory Cochrane: Lovers must remain apart after dirty boms explode in Los Angeles.

My only complaint is the IFC channel has started doing commercial breaks. See this movie without commercials if you can.

Nearly the whole thing takes place around the couples home. The man tries to get his wife, but is turned back by armed gas wearing cops, who shoot another trying to flee. He goes back home, listening to the radio. We recieve so much information on the crisis, genius way of making it so real without running us all over the city.
A maintanence man joins him, and they are instructed to tape up the house, seal everything. The phones, electric, water all still work.

I ask myself, do we have enough plastic and tape to do this should it come to that? He has alot, because eventually his wife, who escapes from the ground zero red zone, coughing and totally contaminated, gets some space inside their home, sectioned off and completely sealed from him.

Its both a love story and survival story. Not  a sugary thing, not a chick flick. They both realize he's not going to tear down the barriers so they can die together.
One thing leads to another and the feds and public service announcements try to control crowds, most of which are unarmed.

Without giving the very disturbing and totally realistic ending away, I'll say there's an unexpected twist that leaves you wanting an arsenol of home defense weapondry for escaping your own home.

The grid plays an important part of this scenario. Without the radio and phones, our story would go untold and people might chose to flee rather than wait for the help that is promised and comes in a very unexpected way.

The bottom line: people don't really matter, governments do.

This is a movie I plan to watch with my partner when he returns from his dive trip.
wow

Friday, January 20, 2012

All Hell Won't Wait

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006ZRGWBI
All books can stand alone, there's plenty of back story in book 5, if you haven't read the first 4 yet.

An excerpt from book 5:

20. All Hell Breaks Loose




Carla assembled all her weapons and ammunition on the kitchen table. She had jerked it into the living room where it claimed a central position, and removed all the throw rugs from the floors.

Brew watched her take each weapon apart and expertly wipe it down. She reloaded each to capacity, checked the chamber, and removed the safeties. She laid each carefully in position, organizing them according to ballistics and started on the knives. She tested each blade and honed the ones deemed lame. Brewmaster watched her assemble candles and solar lights, and count out the remaining matches.

“They could be delayed, too. You still have to eat.”

“I’m fine, I’ll grab something later.” She had come straight home from the river and taken initiatives.

Someone pounded on the door and Carla said, “Can you get that for me Brew?” She continued arranging the weapons. She wiped the binoculars and straightened the cord, and laid the night vision monocular next to it. Her hand ran lovingly over each piece.    

“Yeah, she’s working on them now,” he said. Brewmaster stood aside to let the sheriff and Apache pass into the room. The men walked over and surveyed the arsenal.

“O’Leery’s on the way. The deputies are going door to door, talking to everyone, getting things ready. We’ve been through this, Carla. It will be alright,” Snyder said.

She glanced up and nodded absently. Apache’s brow furrowed and he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“We’re living on borrowed time.” Brew and Apache remembered the night they met the Hendersons, the night she’d walked into camp after gleaning information from a temporary hostage. Unless they urged her to speak her mind, she’d continue on her path alone.

“What else?” Apache asked, placing a dark hand on her arm. She stopped and looked up at the tall warrior.

“What worries me, why would they give them a specific date? How could the main contingency be sure? Or if the advance parties were discovered and gave up the information, we would be ready. Waiting. If anything, they’ll be early.  We’ve been living on borrowed time.”

The men watched her. Sheriff Snyder said, “I’ve never known you to be scared, Carla.”

O’Leery burst into the room, panting. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Carla’s giving us inside info, listen up,” Snyder said.

She paused, glanced at Brew and swallowed. “I am scared; Sheriff and you should be too. But, more importantly I’m fucking pissed.” Brewmaster hid a smile. It was no time to be smiling. He erased the image of her on his desk and stepped closer to check her mini 14. He scowled at the scratches on the barrel, pointed it towards the back door and checked the sites.

“Outliers? They’ll eat their own mother, play a hand of poker and fight over her scraps.” Carla continued, passionately, “They’re armed scavengers, thieving murderers with no soul. Bastards who operate in darkness, alone, undercover. They won’t come full out, like an army we can see and surround.” She let that sink in. “Picture 30 or more vicious cannibals, roaming at will, raping River Town with nothing to lose, Sheriff.  Those are the men we’ll be fighting, who will be targeting your house and mine and everything we hold dear.”

She shook her head and watched Captain Rickman lay down the rifle. “They are coming.”

The River Patrol and Sheriff Snyder stood around Carla’s war chest. Not a finger moved or a muscle twitched. The sun had not set before the red moon rose. 

“The hanging is at high noon, tomorrow. I want you all to be there,” Snyder said and left. Apache doubled the 24-7 watch and dogs were paired with the town patrols.

O’Leery saw a farmer pulling a load into town and flagged down a ride. “We’ll be fine, darling,” he said and hobbled out to the road.

Brew urged her to spend the night at his house. She declined, “Our homes were both marked. If they took either as a command post, we’d be in deep shit. I’ll keep my lights off and watch tonight.”

“The candle is the signal.” 

“Hold the fort, Rickman,” she said and walked him to the door. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing she wouldn’t rest until this was over. She heard his heart beating strong. They’d make it.  

About 3 a.m.  the dogs started barking. She monitored each of the windows, established a pattern of surveillance. His main floor lights were on. She kept hers off. The moonlight cast an eerie glow, enough to see by. Carla opened a window. Far across town dogs were howling.

The dogs quit and all was quiet. Too quiet. She shut her windows and made sure her doors were locked and braced each one with a chair. Carla tiptoed upstairs with her night vision and scoped in each direction. Then, she returned to the first floor.

A soft rapping on the south window startled her. She eased over and peered into the darkness. Captain Rickman signaled he was going to take a look and indicated the stream behind their houses.

The man was terrifying, head to toe camouflaged, armed to the teeth. She recognized his weapons and his walk. The eyes that flashed from his mask were unmistakable.

leapt into the woods. He lowered his pistol and turned west. The red moon, poignant in heartless observation, was an omen of more blood to come.

The long night was finally over and the sun rose brilliantly in a perfect blue sky. Sunlight glinted over changing hues. The patrols checked in with the main office and reported minor disturbances. They figured the harvest moon had spooked them all.

The kids were sent off to class as normal, packing lunches and pockets full of show and tell. Brewmaster and Carla walked past the school on the way to the square. They checked the building before the kids arrived. All was unmolested, secure and pronounced safe. The kids entered noisily, chattering about the candy apples the teachers promised they would make today and the biggest pumpkin ever in the Hoffman’s field.

The patrol crossed the street and checked the hospital. The nurse reported rustlings during the night. The doctor had checked the yard, run over to the lab and returned home unalarmed.  Brewmaster noted the firearms in the lab, but Paul said they expected a quiet day after the last dose of penicillin was administered.

Brewmaster said it was time for the hanging. The doctor frowned, “They were the cause of this whole mess, but I was able to complete my research as a result. The silver lining, kids!”

Carla promised to come back later that afternoon and take another look around. She told the cook to keep watch and let them know if any food, table scraps, or garbage went missing. Brew grabbed her arm and pulled her away, chuckling, “It’s almost noon. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” she accused.

“We’ve been through this before. Every man and woman is armed and well trained, and they have something to lose.”

A large crowd had already gathered to watch justice being served. No children were allowed. The Pastor was glad the innocents were unable to witness the thou-shalt-not-kill commandment being broken. It was a sin. If they’d only given him more time, the Bean family could have been saved.

The River Patrol felt relief knowing the outliers would hang in the square beneath the large oak that yielded bumper crops year upon year. The Beans were led to the 6 x 8 plank hastily braced between cinder blocks. It had been years since they hung anyone. The novelty called for a large attendance. Wagons and horses were parked in the center of the town square while the owners stood nearby to watch.

“I thought they put black hoods over their heads,” a chubby farm woman whispered loudly.

Her husband shrugged and said, “Hush, Margret, listen to the Sheriff.”

“For crimes of conspiracy, attempted murder and espionage, these three are hereby found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging.”

Felicia was sobbing. Rob was a vegetable. Only Billy remained defiant. They climbed unto the plank and felt the heavy ropes go around their necks. Three men hauled on the first and Billy swung free, kicking. They jerked hard and he collapsed, eyes bulging from dripping sockets.

The three moved to the next rope, hauled on it and Rob joined his brother. Their faces were frozen in agony. The crowd hushed when the three executioners moved to the final rope.

Apache held out a dark arm and called, “Brand her and let her go.”  A murmur rose from the crowd and the sheriff nodded to his deputy.

The crowd waited. A man ran across the square and came back with the iron. He lit a torch and held it to the steel X. It glowed red and he approached the woman. A man helped her off the plank and held her while the brand sizzled into her forehead. He let her go and backed away into the crowd.

Felecia stumbled and fainted. Patrick O’Leery pushed the gawkers aside, picked her up and set her on a bench. “She was only a diversion, foolish lass.”

A runner arrived breathless, reporting the pub was under fire. This seemed highly unlikely with so many armed clients. The crowd dispersed while the sheriff claimed his men and followed the runner.

Carla’s skin crawled. She told Apache, “I don’t like it something’s wrong.”



Now Available at Amazon.Com (kindle) or Barnes and Noble $2.99

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I'd Rather Suck A Hospital Mop

This whole cruise ship fiasco near an island off the coast of Italy is scary, on so many levels.
http://news.yahoo.com/coast-guard-ordered-ship-captain-back-board-124134509.html

At one time, my partner and I thought we should, just to say we did, book a cruise and check it out. I mean, rumors had it there was fantastic food, 24-7 intertainment, fresh air, sights of a life time.

Then we had that fiasco near the Baja and watched the news, hoping the poor people stuck on a crippled cruise ship being fed Spam without power or toilets would make it another day.

Interviews with the survivors of this current crisis tell about every man for himself, not enough life jackets, and a "its just the generator" warning when the ship struck the rocks and began taking on fatal water.
What is up with this customer service?

After a little research and YouTube-ing, my partner and I put our cruise on hold. One guy said he'd rather suck a hospital mop than go through another cruise.

I took notice. I've worked in a hospital.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Survival Hobo Oven

Today I got out there and actually did my hobo oven test. Three Idaho potatoes in a #10 tin can, surrounded by coals. Its been really cold up here in north east Georgia and there's ice on the buckets.
Makes a great scenario for us hobos. No aluminum foil needed for this standard boyscout trick.


I'll be doing a real you tube video with more details. I used this concept in my second and fourth books, so today, I actually took photos of the project.

This is purely ice. I dumped it out from a white 5 gallon plastic bucket, and its actually a hobo ice chest! Who Knew?


Stay healthy, hobos!

Monday, January 9, 2012

Donner Party- A Movie Review

This 2009 movie is incredibly depressing. I imagine it's supposed to be. We get survival lessons all along the way, namely know who is your guide and that they can actually pull off what they promise.

The rich dude, Mr. Foster, is about useless, and I guess we're not supposed to like him. The women are the survivors, and we do carry a lot more body fat then men, a reason, plus we need fewer calories to maintain our energy. Just nature's way of keeping the species going.

The movie shows them drawing sticks, the short end got murdered, and eaten. I thought they ate the ones that died of starvation. Reports vary. I looked it up in Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donner_Party

Now, I'd never fault a person for eating another if they had already died. Shooting someone to eat them is a whole nother thing.

I went through Donner Pass on the Pacific Crest Trail. It would be a very difficult place if a person was snowed in. Seriously cold and rugged.

There were days hiking in the Northern Cascades when the weather turned bad. We hiked over the pass and into the valley with the admonition: Remember the Donner Party.

Do I recommend the movie, humm. Not unless its sunny and cheery. I'm depressed now.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Surviving A Year on Meat Alone

"A diet of meat is good for you, despite some stubborn superstition to the contrary. Vilhjalmur Stefansson lived for a full year on meat alone to prove this point. If you are forced to live solely on the products of the chase, you must east flesh, fat, liver and every edible part to ensure that you don't suffer from dietetic deficiencies."-- page 77 Never Say Die

I've read that meat alone would kill a person, especially lean meat like rabbits. I believe the above quote. Most animals have some kind of fat on them, and I'd eat that just to be sure.

Eating a lot of meat would be hard on the kidneys. Water would be critical at this juncture. Hopefully we won't come to those dire straights.

I don't think the end of the world is coming in December. It might feel like it for those struggling with house payments. For some reason, the economic figures are improving, yet no one I meet is feeling it.

Here in Georgia it's really warm. Hunting season is over, people are target practicing as I type.
It's like we're in the eye of the storm, and the other side of hell is about to break loose.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Wood Stove Pipe Silicone Stuff, a Video Review



I'm currently testing a new sealant for my wood stove pipes. I think, in retrospect many of the issues comes from the bend, the elbow. But by doing it this way, my roof stays in tact, with no leaking issues.

Still, the window option is working, but a little more fanaggling.

If the heat on these pipes is a little intense, then I let it cool a bit before adding more wood. Its pretty fast.