June 13, 2012
The drive from Calgary
to Winnipeg was a 15 hour endurance run. Shouldn't have taken so
long, but bad weather, a big accident in rural Saskatchewan that had
the road clogged with probably every EMS vehicle in a 100 km radius,
and an insane amount of 50km/h construction slowed things
considerably.
The most excellent
folks at Centennial Animal Boarding stayed open for me and at just
shy of 9 PM (I left home at 5 AM!) were happy to take charge of poor
Guinness and Seamus who had patiently endured the gruelling ride
without the benefit of understanding that the end goal was good.
Then on to Heather's.
I was jittery from all the caffeine, barely able to string together a
sentence, but she was happy to see me and we had a very nice evening,
complete with beer, food from Billabong on Osborne, and general
catching up. I was so relieved to not be in the truck.
This morning we had
breakfast at Stella's and then I went out and (gasp!) bought a quad.
A yellow 2012 Outlander Max XT 800, to be precise. I pick it up next
Friday.
Then grocery shopping
with Heather, collecting the dogs and finally, heading out of town.
Everything had taken longer than one might think possible. I didn't
hit the road until about 5PM. There were warnings of severe
thunderstorms, but the rain held off until I made the turn off the
TransCanada. Then it started to come down. It was nearly 8:30PM by
the time we arrived at our parking space. Mercifully, the rain
stopped about 2 km shy of our driveway and seemed to be moving south
and east. I was very glad I had taken the time to pack strategically
before leaving Heather's. One backpack with overnight necessities
(including laptop and beer) and one cooler bag with all my
perishables. The dogs were excited, but wanted to stop and smell
everything on the way down to the cabin. Finally we made it. The
bugs on the way down were quite intolerable, as they are wont to be
after a rain. I fully expect to have a gazillion bites tomorrow.
I got the cabin open
and everything seems just as it should be. Had a devil of a time
getting the fridge lit. Still have only managed to light one light
(the one on the same pipe circuit as the fridge). There seems to be
plenty of propane in the tank, but maybe something has crawled into
the other line and made a web or nest... Something to explore
tomorrow, in daylight. For tonight, candle light will have to do, and
I will have to get more candles when we go to Kenora tomorrow.
We did a tour of
inspection (and filled 2 buckets with water from the lake). All
buildings are still standing. Yay! The water is extremely high. We
have no beach. The lake almost crests the dock. I can't recall the
last time it was so high.
The dogs were in
paroxysms of joy at being here. Guinness almost immediately went for
a swim. Then he found a sturdy stick and presented it to me to throw
into the lake. Seamus is still anxious about the water, but he was
plunging in chest deep every time Guinness went to retrieve the
stick.
I have finally got them
to come inside and there is much cleaning of paws and so on. The
cabin reeks of wet dog. Actually, it's a pretty happy smell. I feel I
have endured many trials to get here, but now I have arrived, my beer
is presumably getting cold in the freezer, and all is right with the
world.
Tomorrow I will have to
figure out how to unload the solar panels (which are much larger and
heavier than I can cope with on the descent from the parking area)
and the batteries (ditto). The rest of the extensive luggage will
have to be brought down. And then, it's off to Kenora to speak to
the folks at KMTS who thought they could provide me with a phone that
would actually work out here. That would really be something. I am
skeptical. And a phone with a data plan that works out here... well,
I shouldn't even allow myself to think of such things.
It is 10:30 PM now.
Dark outside. There is a small flying insect rejoicing in the glow
from my laptop screen. One of my 3 candles has all but gone out.
Must buy more candles tomorrow because, what if I can't get the other
two lights lit? Always good to have a back-up plan. The temperature
in the cabin is decent enough, no need to put a fire in the stove.
But it is a tad frustrating to not have the modern conveniences, like
piped in propane lamps, not work. At least the propane fridge is
going. The furthest back in the freezer can of beer is decidedly
cold on the bottom, so I am drinking it. Do I dare leave the others
in the freezer over night? I probably should not. After the ordeals
of the past 2 days I will likely sleep long enough for the fridge to
get cold and the freezer to freeze stuff. Just so thankful the
fridge finally lit! The veggies would likely cope ok for a day or so,
but the yoghurt? Maybe not. Of course, I must remember, people have
been eating yoghurt, and eggs, and veggies, since long before the
advent of refrigeration.
I was talking to
someone about the set-up out here (can't recall who, maybe the
salesman from the quad place) and he was incredulous. “How do you
manage without electricity, without running water, without heat and
air conditioning and a hot water heater?” Well, folks have been
managing without those things for much, much longer than they have
had access to them. And that is what this series of blogs is going to
be about. Life in the slow lane. Where making a cup of coffee can
take darn near an hour. Because unless people change how they do
things, this is what we're all going to have to cope with eventually.
And fossil fuels running out is one piece of that. But politics,
pollution, and the erosion of our society and individuals' ability to
cope with adversity are also parts of the mix. I don't consider
living off the grid adversity, mind you. I relish the ability to
slow down, to really appreciate everything. Nothing tastes better
than baked goods from a wood stove. Baking your own bread is foreign
to a lot of people, it takes a long time and it is more work than
picking up a loaf from the bakery section. Even if you use a bread
machine. But if you have to get a fire going in a wood stove (and
trust me, that wood does not split itself), as well as raise the
yeast, mix the ingredients and knead the dough by hand, and keep the
fire going, and monitor the process....well, that is real bread. And
it is a glorious thing when it comes out of the oven. Seldom does a
loaf of bread, or a pan of sticky buns, hang around out here much
longer than it is cool enough to cut.
Years ago, being out
here with two kids in cloth diapers...well, that was a bit of
adversity. A washboard and boiling big pots of water on the stove (I
did mention the log splitting and fire building part, didn't I?),
made me profoundly in awe of pioneer women. Profoundly. Our ancestors
had it way rougher than we do, no mistake about that. Especially the
women (in my opinion). It is pretty tough to run a household and keep
everyone bathed, clothed in clean clothes, and fed, when you have to
expend that much time and effort in every little thing. Splitting
stove wood, making kindling, building fires, hauling water...
And there are people in
this world who live like that to this day. And not by choice as I
do. So that's another thing I hope to do with this blog. Raise
people's awareness of what other people face. I don't have to walk
miles to get water. The lake is a hundred metres, give or take, from
the cabin. I don't risk land mines or snipers or rapists or random
acts of war. I can drive an hour to town and get food, I don't have
to grow my own lentils and rice and everything else, or raise
chickens for eggs. I do plan to grow sprouts, and get some tomato
plants and maybe start a herb garden, because all those things are
just better really, really fresh. But even though I am living for the
summer in an alternate mode that is foreign and inconceivable to many
twenty-first century first worlders, so many people have a life that
is so much harder that it is on a different scale altogether. So, I
do not have a TV, or a blow dryer. I don't (yet) have a phone. Big
deal. I have nature, and two beautiful dogs that are over the moon
happy about being out here. And the satisfaction of knowing that I
can do this. I can be isolated and alone for weeks on end. I can
make a fire. I can prepare food from the most “scratch”
ingredients imaginable (tomorrow I will be soaking dried chick peas
for a lovely chick pea curry...). I can survive. And so could most
people, if they step outside their comfort zone and learn how. I am
not a “survivalist”, by the way. Just someone who appreciates
the old ways.
So, if you have made it
this far, I invite you to join me on my journey through the summer.
See what it's like to live “off the grid”.
Update: it's nearly
11:30. Very dark out. Down to 1 functioning candle. Time to move the
beer (yes! It is becoming cold!) to the fridge and take my candle up
to bed. Good night all!
No comments:
Post a Comment