A Decade Off the Grid

Well, that’s it, we’ve been off grid (minus the internet) for 10 years. Add that to the list of things I started counting in decades. And really, I’m not sure how much there is to say about it. It’s nice to acknowledge as an… achievement? But it doesn’t feel like much of one. We didn’t go through a marathon of hardships and stuck with it through thick and thin, instead things quickly became remarkably normal. Sometimes though, my brain snaps back to an earlier era, and I’m reminded that these are all uncommon and formidable adventures, only we got used to them. It’s wonderful how little I’ve had to say about all things off grid in recent years, though I figured that the 10 year anniversary would be worth a few remarks.

Maybe it’s only coincidental timing, but it’s hard not to notice that the intensity of these adventures is directly correlated with a spur of creativity and productivity in me that went far beyond building the things we needed. And as things started quieting down around year 7, so did that energy. Maybe it’s just the ebbs and flows of aging, having knowledge and energy in my 30s. Or… maybe my brain kicked into overdrive when faced with very consequential challenges.

The amount of learning by necessity that happened these past 10 years is quite frankly amazing, and that in term has made me even more curious about everything in the world. I clearly stand on the shoulders of giants, I am deeply grateful to all the people who shared their knowledge with me. I’ve talked with so many people about so many things. Phone calls, walks over to neighbors, colleagues, any question was met with generosity and patience. I’ve learned to recognize what I’d describe as a particular breed of hands-on New Englanders. People extremely smart, sharp in their observations of the natural world, of mechanical systems, coupled with decades of practice, good common sense & practical mind. Often times with a touch of humor, sometimes a little superstition, but I wouldn’t allow myself to do anything but nod, these are extremely smart and honest people, and I aspire to their greatness. On occasion and more these days, I too get questions and I’m all too happy to do my part within this great culture of knowledge and generosity.

I remember vividly moving into our tiny “house”, which was barely up. No insulation, no heating, no water, no electricity, no internet, no nothing. So what? I thought. Was that it? When flashlight batteries ran out the day was over, it’s really not as bad as it sounds. A 50% battery on the music player and a little wine were all it took to be truly happy. These first few weeks were very freeing and felt incredible. Through the years we definitely improved and ran into many joyous firsts: first water, first plumbing, first internet, first refrigeration, and many more. The goal was not to reinvent a suburban house with all the amenities, though there are things we quickly learned we wanted back but had to do without for a few years. And then there are things we’ve learned we won’t budge on. Wood heat is amazing: it’s resilient, abundant, cheap, and gets us out in nature. Solar power is plentiful but requires some management. It’s incredibly resilient and it feels like we found a universe hack to get free energy.

Winter came that first year and with it many doubts about the integrity of the new house. Its ability to withstand wind, withhold heat, and repel water when 4 tiny walls were all that stood between us and a blizzard. I did my best to be reassuring to wife & kid, and I rationally believed it, but I wasn’t exactly at ease either. So we’d talk about our escape route to the neighbors just in case. Today the house has much more mass, with multiple sections and 2 stoves. We can be in a room that doesn’t have every side shielding the anger of a storm. And it’s gone through 9 winters just fine. These worries are long gone but the first couple of years, blizzards really felt like they were trying to pry open the house to get us.

Our house is bigger, and our systems are so much better now too. It’s welcome by all, but I know the comfort we have gained is directly linked to having fewer amazing experiences. Challenging and amazing often go hand in hand this isn’t a surprise. When we didn’t have any wood storage inside, I found myself outside at night in the dead of winter many times to fetch more wood. These were surreal experiences. I often thought of earlier people and how intense nature feels when you’re more exposed to it. I have no doubt I’d believe in the supernatural if all my mind had known were such vivid experiences. The comfort of modern life has a way of toning down the intensity of the natural world. Now we have wood storage inside the house, and then again on the covered porch, and the routines in place to stay a good 3 weeks ahead so we can ride multi-day storms comfortably, which also means without surreal experiences… But it’s ok, things are supposed to get easier, in fact we are thinking about older age and we want to stay on this trajectory. Yet I am glad for having had these experiences, and they still happen on occasion.

I’m also glad we were able to overcome all these challenges. There wasn’t anything written that said we would, and there were definitely many paths that could have led to worse outcomes. Somehow we avoided them all and were able to keep making things better for ourselves. It’s impossible here not to acknowledge Nicole’s partnership in all this, the endeavor was doomed to be a massive train wreck had she not been fully on board and pushing hard just as I was. In some way, now that I know what we are capable of, I regret not having gone deeper in the middle of nowhere. But realistically I know it is better to have neighbors and some civilization nearby.

Beyond the challenges, we had a few “oh shit” moments, but nothing ever really bad fortunately. One night I got out for wood in the middle of a blizzard, and upon walking back to the house I realized after a bit I wasn’t at all headed there. No problem, I know the land well enough to get back, but I understood then all the stories I heard of people getting lost in snow storms. We also had a couple of moments at the tail end of stove season when threw our very last log on the fire and had to go out to get a tree immediately following, preferably something dead or an ash, but hey who are we to be picky? We’re often a little behind on wood, but not that terribly :).

Where we are now is that we truly live in a piece of paradise that is very hard to leave. It’s objectively picture perfect, and we get the added dimension that we know how rough it once was, and how much sweat went into softening it. The house is still unfinished but it’s quite ok and we love it. I have stopped pushing as hard as I used to and get to just enjoy things. Slowing down + things being nice is a great recipe for happiness. What’s in the future? For now we want to keep refining and enjoying what we already have. We definitely have projects: root cellar, solar for a car, green house to name a few. Just nothing our livelihood depends on, so we’ll get to them when we get to them.

Annoying Unkindness

A group of ravens (I think, I still can’t quite tell them apart from crows), has taken over the area. I try to remain zen and admiring toward nature, but they are so fucking annoying. I feel bad for saying so but it’s the truth. They make the ugliest sound, and they make it all the god damn time, starting at 4:30. Any time you step out the door, it’s a riot cause they gotta let everyone on the whole hill know that something’s moved. They steal eggs if we leave them outside 5 minutes. The noise they constantly make is a loud swear over all other song birds. To top the ruckus, they do this weird dance I can’t quite place.

And of course they do it all the time and everywhere. I thought it was some sort of courtship behavior, but they’ve been at it for days at this point. You’d think they’d be done with it. I’ve looked at all sort of videos on raven behavior, and I really don’t know what they’re up to.