My wilderness preparedness bug started when I was young, with stories of Daniel Boone, the Swiss Family Robinson and Jack London. A local propane train derailment when I was 8 or 9, in which my mom had to go to work to evac a nursing home and my dad had to evac with my brother and I, just fueled those fantesies.

I grew up with parents and grandparents who seemed to always be prepared. They wouldn't call themselves preppers or survivalists though. They were just always stocked and skilled for just in case, always travelled to "survive not just arrive" and always had first aid training and supplies, subsistence gardens, etc. With grandprents who lived through the great depression, both in rural Ontario and on the Canadian praries, and a family tradition of nursing and farming, these were things we did out of the habit of generations.

9/11 scared me but the East Coast blackout of 2003 was the turning point for me when it all became very visceral. I was in our 24th floor apartment with our 1 month old on the outskirts of Toronto, and my husband was working downtown. The walk home took him hours, then he climbed up the 24 flights, only to have to go back down because we ran out of water to make forumla for our son. We've always been avid campers so had our camping gear and bbq to be able to boil water but not a drop to drink.

Not being able to feed our son was scarey. I vowed then never to be caught unprepared again.