My life has become a series of bags. I’ve written before about how ill-prepared my family and I were for the Japanese earthquake and tsunami on March 11th. Although we were very lucky, and to this day have experienced only minor inconveniences, we nonetheless dove head-first into something resembling prepping.
Unfortunately, prepping with neither a plan nor a little forethought is a bit like diving head-first into a strange lake without first surveying the depth and the bottom. The best that can happen is nothing; the worst that can happen is permanent damage. Our attitude when we went shopping was “We want this. We could use that. We have to have the other.” There was little thought, just reaction, and we ended up with lots of items that, while useful, were not necessarily suited to our situation or our needs. Our Bug Out Bag (BOB) swelled to a ridiculous size and weight that my wife could barely pick up. Despite our best intentions, we were doing a form of panic buying based more on what could have happened–and on more than a few strong aftershocks and secondary earthquakes–rather than buying supplies based on a plan. We were thinking about grand escape plans and emergency camping rather than focusing on how events might effect our everyday lives. This sometimes left us unprepared for smaller incidents.
In the aftermath of the crisis, for example, rolling blackouts brought the vaunted Japanese train system to a crawl. Not long after the quake and tsunami, I managed to get to my office by train and retrieve some personal items. However, a ten-hour train stoppage soon after I arrived forced me to walk home. In a huff at the inconvenience and the lack of help from workers at the local station, I started walking. Once again, I was unprepared. Although I knew how to get home, it turned out that I was walking into the blackout zones and all the stores and restaurants were closed. I had no water, no food, no hat–it was a warm and sunny spring day–and only an old, frayed book bag full of school stuff. Luckily, I stumbled across an open 7/11 and was able to stock up with drinks and some snacks.
After that, I assembled a bloated Get Home Kit complete with food, water, flashlights, a first aid kit, a mess kit, cutlery, various forms of tinder, a compass, a cell phone charger and other sundry goods. Even though it was for an easy seven mile walk over relatively flat terrain, it was heavy and barely fit into my fraying book bag along side my laptop, textbooks and school papers.
As my cooler, calmer, and perhaps more naive self took over, I sat down and assessed what our real needs were based on the situations we were likely to face and what might occur in the aftermaths of those situations. This process resulted in a series of bags.
Getting Home
For this, I settled on a more modular Get Home System. If I’m at my day job, the most immediate threat to my getting home is rolling blackouts that shut down the trains. Although these are not expected until July and August when Japan’s sweltering summer typically hits with its full force, the threat that power consumption will surpass power supply is an ever increasing threat as the temperature and humidity climb. As such, my Day Job Kit consists of a small multi-tool, a flashlight with spare batteries, a small first aid kit, water, some power bars, a change of socks and some emergency cash. All of this fits inside a small pouch that can easily slip inside my book bag. I’ve also stashed bottled water and sports drinks in my desk at school that I can grab before I leave rather than hoping to find an open store. As it’s currently rainy season, I’m also carrying a rain poncho and have a spare umbrella at school.
There are still some issues to resolve. In a large quake, I’d be in one room and my kit would be in another. In Japan, I should point out, the rooms belong to the students and the teachers move from room to room. The kit is small enough to carry from class to class but is the kind of thing the boys in an all-boys private school would have trouble leaving alone if I left it at the front while I moved around the room to check their work. Still, even if I were forced to abandon it because of a quake, being able to get home from my day job isn’t my biggest concern.
By contrast, for my current evening job, I teach in Kawasaki, which is on the other side of Tokyo from my home. On a good day, with perfect conditions and no long delays, I’d have a 9-1/2 hour night time hike through a fairly cramped city to get home. At least part of that hike would be through blackout zones. The hope is that I’d only have to walk far enough to find a working train line. Just in case, though, my Away Job Kit is more robust. It is kept in a new fanny pack that fits inside my book bag. Inside the pack I’ve put my Day Job Kit, spare flashlights, light sticks, more water, more power bars, water purification pills, a filter straw, collapsible water bags, various fire starters, various forms of tinder, a metal dish, cutlery, candy, a rain poncho, an emergency blanket, some paracord, some hemp twine, a map and a compass. Although it seems like a lot, the kit’s actually lighter, and more carefully selected than what I tried to carry right after the quake.
Other Get Home Issues
One of the biggest issues for my evening job is the problem of shoes. Because I teach business men and women, I’m also expected to look the part. Although both Japan and my employer have adopted the notion of “Cool Biz”, which means ties and suits are out for the summer while Polo-style shirts and business casual are in, I’m still expected to wear dressier socks and shined, professional looking shoes. As a compromise, I’ve settled on various forms of Rockport shoes, one pair of which a friend claims is the style worn by U.S. Postal Service mail carriers. Rockport shoes have always fit me well and have always felt comfortable on long walks.
Also, in order to get home from my current evening job, I will have to cross the Tama River. In a blackout, bridges will still be intact. In a proper disaster, however, I may have to explore a while to find a safe place to cross. This could add hours to my hike. This makes an adequate supply of food and water more critical. As the Tama River is rather disgusting, I’m not going to eat anything that comes out of it, therefore, I don’t carry any kind of fishing kit. Instead, I intend to add some canned tuna and sardines to my Away Job Kit.
The last issue is that even a recreational trip to Tokyo requires some forethought. If I decide to travel down to Tokyo to do some shopping or visit a museum, I’ll have to do some careful planning and may have to carry multiple maps that direct me home from each place I plan to visit.
Getting Away
Our first-floor apartment is average size for a Japanese apartment and has sliding doors on the interior and sliding glass doors to the outside in each room. On both the front and back are large balconies. We have lots of options for getting out, but it’s possible one or more exits could be blocked by collapsed upper balconies or jammed sliding doors.
As such, we sat down and assembled a multiple bag BOB system with one main bag that stays near the front door and a traveling bag that moves with us from room to room. Each contains duplicate supplies including a couple days emergency rations and water. My petite wife is capable of carrying either one. In a controlled evacuation, with me home from work, we’d be able to shift things around and I’d get the heavier bag. In a more urgent situation, especially with me at work, my wife would be able to get out with enough for her and the kids. When I got home, I’d be able to pick up what was left, or could simply head straight to the evacuation center or our designated meeting place and we’d have some supplies.
Also, in our bedroom, we have a single, small plastic drawer designed to stack with other drawers that has served us for many years as an impromptu night stand. It is now filled with spare shoes and other equipment including seasonal clothes. In a rush, we could simply carry the entire drawer with us along with our bug-out bags.
In our car trunk, we’ve begun storing bottled water, emergency blankets and gear we know can survive in summer heat. This summer, I intend to experiment with the hot weather survivability of various forms of MREs in order to see if we can store some of them in the car as well.
Vacuum Bags
Lately, we’ve begun using vacuum bags to place spare clothes in our BOBs. These are bags that allow users to crush down soft items so that they use less storage space. The Japanese use them to store unneeded seasonal clothing and extra blankets for long periods of time without giving up entire closets or worrying about mold and mildew. They are airtight, waterproof and reusable. We’ve used them many times to maximize luggage space on trips to the USA. The better quality ones handle being knocked around and reused, although it’s best to under-pack them rather than stuff them with as many items as possible. This allows more air to be forced out and enables the bag to make a tighter seal. The larger ones let you use a vacuum cleaner to suck out the air. With the smaller ones you can simply kneel on them to force the air out. I use the latter to carry spare socks and undergarments in my Away Job Kit. (I can imagine using them for winter camping and hiking as they’d keep clothes dry after a plunge in icy water but this is not a theory I plan to test any time soon.)
Relearning Again
One of the odd results of the quake and tsunami is that my wife and I have begun relearning skills we’d once known and then let fade away. My wife’s been sewing clothes and baking bread more than before. I’ve relearned how to sharpen and care for knives. I’ve practiced making and using various forms of tinder and fire starters and relearned how to tie all the knots I’d learned in Boy Scouts. I even catch myself whittling on a block of wood sometimes and this has created a small bag of wood chips I use to make tinder.
I don’t think these relearned skills, especially mine, will be put to much use, or will even be particularly useful, but they’ve become a form of meditation, a way to focus. If I make a knife dull as a result of carving with it, I have to sharpen it again and make sure it’s clean. This ritual reminds me of why I started doing it in the first place and what can happen if we’re not prepared. This, in turn, reminds me of what’s yet to be done to get ready.