ThinkstockHaving camping equipment at home, or proper knowledge on how to camp, can be an important an aid in survival when an unexpected emergency happens.

The recent devastating windstorm in Washington became a serious matter of survival, especially for people who had trees falling through their roofs.

Otherwise, most inland Northwesters simply coped with the widespread power outage as though it was another family trek to the lake or into the mountains.

Call it “camping in.”

They unloaded refrigerator contents into coolers. They fired up barbecues and camp cooking gear and carried on.

A high percentage of people who live in this region have a closet — or garage — full of camping gear. They also know how to use it, including the safety issues requiring carbon monoxide-producing camp appliances to be used outside.

Battery-operated lanterns and big emergency candles, for example, are the safe way to go inside. Our family has them, along with lighters, in the camping gear, as well as stored in handy places around the house. Water purification devices, too, should they be needed.

Things were hectic the night the storm hit: the power went out; getting home was a dangerous ordeal; trees were coming down around town and two deaths related to falling trees were already being reported.

I didn’t want to get too fancy, but keeping the mood upbeat was important, especially with Grace, my 95-year-old mother-in-law, housebound at our abode.

I screwed an fuel canister onto my Pocket Rocket and pulled together a nearly instant one-pot meal I use at hunting camp when there’s no extra time to fuss with preparations. Grace, my wife and I dined by candlelight on rice smothered in hearty boil-in-foil-packet chowders teamed with bread and wine.

Epic winds were rocking the house, but we were having a peasant feast with warm recollections of camping trips past.

“Gee, camping is fun,” Grace said as the three of us made a toast.

Our daughters were young and still living at home when Ice Storm chilled Spokane, Washington, in 1996. Temperatures were cold. We filled hot water bottles and rolled out sleeping pads and down bags in the family room in front of the gas fireplace.

We used our camping headlamps to read and do homework and we argued in good nature over who got to cuddle with the family dog for extra warmth. We easily toughed out five four-person, one-dog nights.

My youngest daughter said the experience was like living the “Little House on the Prairie.” I fantasized it was a step closer to entering the Iditarod.

During this windstorm, the following nights without power gave us more time to be creative. We have a generator, but we know others are using blocks of dry ice in their freezers to keep this season’s harvest of fish, game and huckleberries frozen hard.

Barbecued salmon with grill-toasted bread and veggies one night was carried over into another one-pot meal of leftovers.

We were living in such relative luxury that we had time to feel great sympathy for families in Syria and other war-torn places in the world where they live in fear and much worse conditions every day with little hope for the power to come on tomorrow.

We’ve also had time to talk about the next camping trip, and which national park, forest or canyon would be the next destination for “camping out.”