What do hurricane season and Y2K preparedness
have in common? If you're ready for one,
you're ready for both
Advantage, campers
Campers have a big edge
By Cynthia Oi
when it comes to disaster
preparedness
Star-BulletinTHE lights don't switch on. There's no electricity because power company's computers go on the fritz. The range won't work. There's no fuel because the gas company's computer tubes.
The supermarket is shut down. There's no way for cashiers to tally your bill or to figure how much change you're due because the cash registers freeze.
The shower is dry. There's no H2O because the Board of Water Supply's computers take a dive.
The house and car are locked. You can't get in because their security systems jam.
Come 12:00.01 a.m. Jan. 1, 2000, will life as we know it change forever?
Maybe, maybe not.
Pessimists and worrywarts are stockpiling food and withdrawing their money from banks while opportunistic businesses are feeding their fears (Buy your 100-pound capacity, bulletproof, steel-sided, air-tight oatmeal canisters now, before it's too late!) and harvesting their money (Only $9.95 in 72 easy payments!) as the clock ticks closer to the year 2000.
That's when doomsayers predict nothing will work because everything, including your toaster oven, has a computer, a chip or some unknown gizmo that will not recognize the last two zeros in the 2000 and will blitz out.
There are those who believe this scenario, there are those who don't. Most people -- as the lines of cars outside the post office the night of April 15 demonstrate -- typically adopt a "why-worry-now-when-I-can-worry-later" attitude.
If you're a backpacker or camper, which group you fit in with doesn't matter. If the world careens into chaos, you are on it, you are Boy Scouts, you are prepared. All that gear and the outdoor knowledge accumulated through the years have readied you for the worst.
You have shelter: That three-man, three-season tent you've lugged down and up Haleakala, cursing its 10-pound weight all the way, will keep you dry pitched in your back yard. Campers and serious picnickers have their blue plastic tarps and aluminum poles to rig a temporary home. Air mattresses, sleeping bags, camp chairs and inflatable pillows will keep you comfy.
You have food: Those packages of dehydrated or freeze-dried chili and turkey tetrazzini that you've stashed in the pantry for your next haul up Mauna Loa will come in handy. And they'll taste as good as they do after a 12-mile hike when you can't get fresh goods at the market. L.D.P Camping Foods offers a two-serving batch of Mountain Chili, about 2-1/2 cups, for $5.35; Turkey Romanoff, same serving, for $6.80.
You have a water filter or iodine tablets: These will purify rain and even water from the Ala Wai Canal. You also know how to ration scarce water.
You have a portable stove and fuel: If you don't have a water filter or iodine, you can boil that canal water to kill the uku-million bacteria that thrive in it. You'll have hot water to rehydrate the chili or make coffee and tea.
You have a first aid kit: The bag you've stocked with the ointments, gauze, bandages, pills and scissors will be right handy.
You have a trowel: Back-country packers know why this is a necessary tool. For the uninitiated, you need one to dig a hole deep enough to bury human wastes.
You have sensible clothing: If chaos reigns, vested suits and high heels won't cut it. Quick-drying shirts, pants and socks, waterproof jackets and sturdy boots will be de rigueur; function will be fashionable.
You have backpacks: Top or panel loader, external or internal frame, your pack will serve you well when the unprepared masses threaten to separate you from your stuff. Load up the gear, shrug into the shoulder straps, hook up the hip belt and head for the Koolaus.
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