If the apocalypse hits, you can ensure that you’ve got a bunk bed ready in a small remote ranch, located some two hours from any major city, for just $3,000 upfront.
That’s the concept put forward by Fortitude Ranch, a survival and recreation company, which markets itself as similar to a country club, until the proverbial s*** hits the fan.
“We want to have the middle-class survive a collapse, not just marauders and politicians. And our motto is prepare for the worst, enjoy the present,” says Drew Miller, founder of the business.
Miller, a former intelligence specialist in the US air force reserve, has been a long time “prepper,” the name given to members of the survivalism movement, who proactively prepare for crises including, but not limited to, the end of the world as we know it.
Speaking from Fortitude Ranch Colorado – one of the company’s seven properties – Miller candidly but seriously discusses how such a societal collapse could come about.
The most likely, he tells The Independent, is the grid going down, and the US being plunged into darkness and chaos. Other potential disasters he predicts include: Electromagnetic Pulses (EMPs), pandemics deliberately bioengineered by foreign powers including Russia, or nuclear war.
The ranches are equipped for all eventualities, though, with communal areas, clinics, greenhouses, animal pens, and yes, underground bunkers – though Miller stresses that the main defense from most ends of the world is the ranches’ remoteness.
Miller is adamant that Fortitude Ranches are not timeshares. “In a timeshare you own a piece of property,” he says.
“This is like a country club, you join Fortitude Ranch. You are a member. You don’t own anything. Is there a room we assigned to you? Yes, there is. Do you own it? No, no, you do not own it. And your stuff is stored in there for a collapse.”
Like a normal country club, members can visit the ranch any time of year. Unlike a normal country club, there are no tennis courts or swimming pools.
“The Wisconsin ranch is a lakefront property, that’s a nice place to vacation,” Miller says. “Some members come out a little bit to recreate, but most of our members tend to be professionals… and so it’s a long drive.
“We are a rural recreational facility, but if you were to go to any of our locations, odds are there would be few or no members actually vacationing there.”
Think of it more like a storage unit that you can sleep in if your own home suddenly becomes unliveable.
So how much does membership to Fortitude Ranch cost? That depends on what level of comfort you want, though the properties are intended to be “affordable for the middle-class,” unlike other luxury survivalist companies.
At Fortitude, the cheapest option is a “Spartan” shared space room for one person, with minimal privacy but access to all facilities. It costs $1,000 per year, following a $2,000 down payment. Other options include “Spartan private” and “economy” rooms, working their way all the way up to luxury rooms that have a private toilet and sink.
“By the time you get up to that end, you’re spending $20,000 up front, and then probably about $2,000 per person per year in quarterly dues and food restocking fees,” Miller told The Independent.
Fellow survivalist company Survival Condo, offers luxury and custom-built underground bunkers, including half-floor, full-floor, and even penthouse options.
A full floor Condo suite package, according to the company website, can accommodate six to 10 people, and has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and dining room. Each unit also includes special windows which simulate outdoor views to create “a normal living experience as if you were above ground.”
That package retails at a casual $3m.
Though it might not be at the high end of the price scale, Fortitude says it’s doing well. The company currently has locations in West Virginia, Colorado, Texas, Wisconsin and Nevada, with two franchises in Tennessee and New York. Miller says he also has “a dozen plus” franchisees in development.
“When we started up [in 2014] the problem was I… couldn’t get anyone to invest. Prepping was regarded as a nutty thing to do. Nowadays it’s not,” he tells The Independent.
But, though it may seem to most an eerie and dystopian thing to consider, Miller maintains that preparing for the apocalypse doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom.
“Yeah, we’re prepared for survival. That doesn’t mean you live in dread,” he says.
“We vacation at our locations, we live a normal life, we’ve got peace of mind because we have real life insurance. Not life insurance that pays off if you die to your survivors, but life insurance to ensure you stay alive in a collapse.
“So our members are not paranoid. They’re confident that when the s*** hits the fan – when it happens, they can survive, and they’ll get through it.”
