A time-honored military maxim advises that “no battle plan survives the first shot fired.” In other words, even the soundest and most thoughtfully crafted strategy doesn’t (and truly can’t) account for the enemy’s vote, and commanders must be prepared to adapt on-the-fly.
Every plan that’s worth a damn has contingencies, fall-backs, alternate routes, and so on.
When I laid out our plan to stay put ’til Tuesday morning, I included the parenthetical, “except in case of emergency.” That’s common sense, really. We’d leave The Mountain if circumstances warrant.
After we enjoyed the sunset last night, the ailment that sent Deb to a walk-in clinic a couple of weeks ago (a painful UTI) suddenly flared up again. Since it would’ve been perilous to postpone treatment, we drove to Mountain Home early this morning to get her checked out.
She got a new prescription for a different, more potent antibiotic.
Now suppose this same condition cropped up not during a dry run but in the middle of a real crisis. For whatever reason, seeking professional care wasn’t an option. What then?
Some time ago, we decided to lay-in a supply of prescription antibiotics, in the form of a “Jase Case.” If this had been an actual emergency (to coin a phrase), Deb would’ve self-medicated from that supply. And if that didn’t cure the ill completely, it’d buy us time.
Obviously, it would’ve been foolish to dip into our antibiotics this time (and be forced to replenish what we used). The risks associated with driving to Mountain Home and back were negligible. We adjusted to circumstances without operating as if we’re in some sort of worst-case scenario.
Medical issues are inevitable. Everyone who takes prepping seriously should account for that. Find a way to put back over-the-counter and prescription meds, including ones you take routinely.
The unintended outing did give us a chance to survey the territory to our east, including a place (Mountain Home) that’s putting itself out there as a totality destination.
Traffic on US 62 between towns was light, actually, owing to it being a Sunday morning in The Bible Belt. RVs, however, were over-represented in the rolling stock, a hint that visitors indeed are in area.
The staff at the walk-in clinic confirmed to Deb that they’d been seeing a lot of out-of-state patients.
We had two hours to pass while waiting for the pharmacy to fill Deb’s prescription, and we chose to do that with breakfast at Mel’s Diner. Our fellow patrons appeared to be mostly locals, though several tables I saw were occupied by obvious out-of-towners.
On our drive back to Yellville, traffic was heavier and I spotted more out-of-state plates. Notably, a campground we passed on the west bank of the White River appeared to be hosting three times the RVs we usually see there, along with more tents than we could count.
All of that is anecdotal and unscientific. There’s clear evidence of “eclipse tourism” in the neighborhood, but I wouldn’t say that the invasion is overwhelming.
That could change between now and noon tomorrow.
This afternoon, exactly 24 hours before totality sweeps over Ozarkansas, I checked the weather forecast. I figure we’ve reached the point at which we can consider predictions reliable (if not altogether certain).
First, I launched my Windy app and asked it to display cloud cover for 2pm CDT tomorrow:
That map shows only high-altitude clouds over The Mountain. No low- or medium-altitude clouds and no rain.
Next, I surfed over to the National Weather Service to see its latest eclipse forecast:
The NWS map appears to put our little slice of Ozarkansas inside an enviable break in the clouds. In fact, the state of Arkansas is sittin’ pretty — almost the entire path of totality in The Natural State should be clear enough for good viewing.
There are no guarantees, but yeah, it looks promising for us. We’ll be here regardless, of course. You can expect a full report.
Sunday sunrise.
Sunday sunset.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB