When the Mist Rolls In

   02.22.17

When the Mist Rolls In

We had just gotten into our bug out camp for a weekend of trials, gun shooting, patrol practice, and camp duty. As we arrived, a light rain was falling, nothing huge, but everything was wet and getting wetter. We hurriedly unpacked to settle in.

The month was November, so you know what that means in the Deep South. Wet is cold. The temperature was maybe in the 40s, but a breeze kicked up and with the rain the humidity was high. This is a mixture for chilly, bone soaking cold in the south.

After dinner, I sat on the front porch to relax, 1911 beside me and an AR not too far away. Our camp is in an area not well known for safety and security. High unemployment with welfare to match, property break ins were a regular news item. Here, we were the minority. Even a county sheriff’s deputy told us to move out of the county. That was reassuring. But, truthfully in twenty-two years our cabin has only been broken into twice.

Still, it is a place to be on your “P’s” and “Q’s.” I knew the front gate was locked and another camp member was stoking up a big fire in the fire ring. The few cabin lights ought to ward off any prowlers pulling off the highway.

It was eerie though as I sat on the porch, I watched a low fog move in off the river a half mile away until it blanketed the camp. I had flashbacks of the movie The Mist. I was hoping the outcome would be better. I pulled my Kimber 1911 from its holster, drew back the slide to chamber a .45 round and secured it “cocked and locked.”

We moved to our chairs around the fire to discuss prepping topics, upcoming deer hunting, and life in general. Then a clank came at the front gate. I had seen a flash of headlights, but that often happens. Now someone was at the gate. I drew my pistol and moved behind a big oak near the fire ring. Everyone else sat still.

Without a yell to camp or a flashlight, another camp member rounded the road on foot. He forget his gate key. We scolded him for not giving us notice. He did acknowledge my drawn pistol. That won’t happen again.

Lessons? Always be alert in bug out camp. Always be armed and ready. Communicate with team members. Know the advancing weather. Don’t be so paranoid or scared, just be prepared.

Avatar Author ID 67 - 1036946464

Award winning outdoor writer/photographer since 1978. Over 3000 articles and columns published nationally. Field & Stream Hero of Conservation in 2007. Fields of writing includes hunting most game in American, Canada, and Europe, fishing fresh and saltwater, destination travel, product reviews, industry consulting, and conservation issues. Currently VP at largest community college in Mississippi in economic development and workforce training with 40 years of experience in Higher Education. BS-MS in wildlife sciences from MO. University, and then a PhD in Industrial Psychology. Married with two children and Molly the Schnoodle.

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