So, I was camping in Wales.[1. Details of where we stayed for those who want to follow in our footsteps: We went to The Brecon Beacons, a national park of astounding natural beauty. We stayed in two campsites, both of which I strongly recommend – Priory Mill Farm, just outside the town of Brecon, and Ynysfaen a mile and a half outside of Trecastle] It wasn’t a survivalism retreat and to my mind it was far from roughing it. Experienced survivalists would sneer at it and pampered hotel-dwellers would shudder. But you’d better believe it taught me a few things about my survivability rate post-apocalypse… both good and bad. It also taught me about how unpleasant a panic attack is when you’re having it in a field surrounded by woodland, water and no other people, but that’s an entirely different post for an entirely different blog.
First, the bad. Read on after the cut.
Continue reading “What Wales taught me about the post apocalypse.”
I am not here. I am off camping in Wales with my husband, where I am spending the time walking up hills, looking at castles, complaining about hills and wishing I didn’t get thirsty so often.
I’ve always loved camping and walking holidays, and this time I’ve chosen one with as few mod cons available to me as possible (I drew the line at lack of showers; though all the places we’re staying have only 4 minutes of hot water).
And while it’s not true survivalism we’re doing (I have access to a town and shops, this is a HOLIDAY) It is far from a luxury break, and it’s excellent practice for the post apocalypse.
Continue reading “Camping: It's practice for living post-city.”