Living in the Wilderness: Romantic or a Pain in the Ass?
Like my title? I think the answer depends on what your soul's foundation is made of. I've been out trying to build a permanent home in the wild now for awhile, and it's got its pros and cons. I've been interested in hearing different people's opinions on my escapades, too- they vary. I've got everything from my sister believing I might have lost my mind just a little, to northern boys who can easily over-romanticize it because they're living in compacted and busy cities and dying for a vacation. I'm going to break down the differences between the magic and the dark side right here, today.
1. The light:
I wake up every morning to beauty; untouched & complex. I get to see tremendous things, unexpected and glorious. I came face to face with a buck, had a woodpecker bigger than my arm swoop past my head, cows walk to my front door in the early fog from a neighbor's, and giant hawks land right in front of me on my walking paths. I've watched the "shift changes" happen right at dusk; little critters hurry into their homes for the night and I can hear the stirring of larger predators as they creep towards our abode. The air changes. The feeling changes. It's pure magic.
The dark side:
I have to get myself together just like the little creatures do before the sun falls. It's like finding a hiding spot before the vampires wake up. When I was "tenting", I had to put up any trace of food, take away the garbage, shelter things that could be destroyed by wild animals or wet weather, and light torches and anything that would make fire to keep things at bay. I don't live in a national park where rangers are employed to keep things under control. This is the wildest place I've ever lived.
2. The light:
No human noise pollution! There are no sirens, subway rail screams, garbage trucks, or the nearest angry Bronx man yelling obscenities at someone who almost ran him over with their car. This has reduced my stress levels significantly. I am surrounded by the bubbling of a brook, birds singing and the orchestra of cicadas at night.
The dark side:
I hear the screams of something either dying to a predator or a territory fight every night. Things get crazy after 2 am in the woods. There is way less sleeping out here than on a residential street full of humans. Predators only stay quiet long enough to cause some trouble. The fatal kind.
3. The light:
I have no high rent to pay. No on-grid utility bills, no subway or cab spending, and I don't have to buy something to use the bathroom somewhere if I'm stuck in the city. I don't spend money on eating out very often. There are no deliveries here, and it forces me to eat a little healthier. I've lost all my displaced body fat at this point, and I'm no longer sedentary. I must travel to acquire internet sessions, and that keeps me from sitting around on a computer. I'm healthier, happier, and there's more money in my bank account.
The dark side:
Convenience does not exist here. I'm in shape because I just spent two days with a scythe, cutting down grass taller than my head, and moving piles of logs out of a dilapidated barn to build a temporary outhouse. I move wheelbarrow loads of bricks around, and I shove myself under buildings to remove my dog when she gets herself stuck. My core is almost ripped, and I look better naked than I ever have before. (I guess that belongs in the light..) But the point is, it's hard, hard work. I don't get to eat until I spend time preparing it. I have no refrigeration, so I carefully plan what I'll be putting into a cooler and for how long it can sit there. Nothing goes bad; I have learned not to waste anything. I cook my coffee every morning with a percolator on a propane powered camp stove. I can't walk sleepily to the barn to use the outdoor bathroom; I must pay attention and wake up immediately or I'll fall into a hole under grassy mounds. The ground's uneven. Everything grows fast, so I'm out every week with that scythe or a weedeater, simply so I can continue using the bathroom. The weeds can completely take over the walking path and the doorway in about two weeks. Oh yeah.. and my money is still spent, but very carefully. I do purchase gas for my tailgate generator and ice for my cooler.
4. The light: I have animals everywhere. They're pretty. I came face to face with a raccoon who seemed interested in me, and we just sat together on the creek bank. It was amazing. There are feral barn cats out here, and they're interesting. Not really my thing, but interesting to watch, anyway.
The dark side: Once in a blue moon, one of these beautiful animals gets seriously injured or diseased, due to wilderness conditions and predators. And this is when either I, or someone in my family, must put the poor creature out of its misery. This is not fun, and since I'm the one with the easy to use pistol, I'm usually part of the plan. We recently had a zombie cat walking around, covered in flies. He was already the walking dead, and I have a healthy dog to worry about. I'll be dragged slowly over hot steel before I'll allow my dog to be infected by a rotten zombie creature, and I won't let her run loose until the thing is buried and gone. Unfortunately, puppies like playing with dead things. So we had to take care of that this week. It was weird. And very gross.
5. The light: I have my own place, and it belongs to me. No one will ever make me leave. Unless the government decides one day that this land is housing coveted minerals, in which case that would really blow.. you guys know they can do that, right? I'll probably have this magical place on into my old age, however.
The dark side: I'm responsible for making my home comfortable. That means taming wilderness grounds that could potentially kill me, converting my building skeleton into a real home, building fences, landscaping, pumping my own water, sanitizing my own water, disposing of my own refuse, building composts, figuring out and installing my own heating systems, cooling systems, power alternatives, buying a lot of batteries, etc. etc.... it's a hell of a lot of work. I don't get to wake up to an electric pot of coffee, go sit down at my computer and get lost in cyberspace until I've realized half my day is gone. I'm usually working or planning from daybreak to sunset.
These are just a few things that go on when learning to live off the grid. My lessons are moving slowly, because I'm doing this alone and learning as I go. I'm fortunate to have family to help with more difficult issues, like shooting zombie cats, moving giant buildings across creeks, and taming the land so that I can actually walk across it. The Appalachians are dense. There's a field here we call "The Field of Knobs", because it's got so many knobby sticks strong in the ground that you can't make it across if you don't pay attention and do some dodging. You'll get impaled.
My body cycles have now shifted to match day and night, as I live by candle light when the sun goes down. (And I'm usually dead tired) So my day ends with a glass of wine and some music off a tangible cd playing on the portable sound box.
Still wanna visit? :D
1. The light:
I wake up every morning to beauty; untouched & complex. I get to see tremendous things, unexpected and glorious. I came face to face with a buck, had a woodpecker bigger than my arm swoop past my head, cows walk to my front door in the early fog from a neighbor's, and giant hawks land right in front of me on my walking paths. I've watched the "shift changes" happen right at dusk; little critters hurry into their homes for the night and I can hear the stirring of larger predators as they creep towards our abode. The air changes. The feeling changes. It's pure magic.
The dark side:
I have to get myself together just like the little creatures do before the sun falls. It's like finding a hiding spot before the vampires wake up. When I was "tenting", I had to put up any trace of food, take away the garbage, shelter things that could be destroyed by wild animals or wet weather, and light torches and anything that would make fire to keep things at bay. I don't live in a national park where rangers are employed to keep things under control. This is the wildest place I've ever lived.
2. The light:
No human noise pollution! There are no sirens, subway rail screams, garbage trucks, or the nearest angry Bronx man yelling obscenities at someone who almost ran him over with their car. This has reduced my stress levels significantly. I am surrounded by the bubbling of a brook, birds singing and the orchestra of cicadas at night.
The dark side:
I hear the screams of something either dying to a predator or a territory fight every night. Things get crazy after 2 am in the woods. There is way less sleeping out here than on a residential street full of humans. Predators only stay quiet long enough to cause some trouble. The fatal kind.
3. The light:
I have no high rent to pay. No on-grid utility bills, no subway or cab spending, and I don't have to buy something to use the bathroom somewhere if I'm stuck in the city. I don't spend money on eating out very often. There are no deliveries here, and it forces me to eat a little healthier. I've lost all my displaced body fat at this point, and I'm no longer sedentary. I must travel to acquire internet sessions, and that keeps me from sitting around on a computer. I'm healthier, happier, and there's more money in my bank account.
The dark side:
Convenience does not exist here. I'm in shape because I just spent two days with a scythe, cutting down grass taller than my head, and moving piles of logs out of a dilapidated barn to build a temporary outhouse. I move wheelbarrow loads of bricks around, and I shove myself under buildings to remove my dog when she gets herself stuck. My core is almost ripped, and I look better naked than I ever have before. (I guess that belongs in the light..) But the point is, it's hard, hard work. I don't get to eat until I spend time preparing it. I have no refrigeration, so I carefully plan what I'll be putting into a cooler and for how long it can sit there. Nothing goes bad; I have learned not to waste anything. I cook my coffee every morning with a percolator on a propane powered camp stove. I can't walk sleepily to the barn to use the outdoor bathroom; I must pay attention and wake up immediately or I'll fall into a hole under grassy mounds. The ground's uneven. Everything grows fast, so I'm out every week with that scythe or a weedeater, simply so I can continue using the bathroom. The weeds can completely take over the walking path and the doorway in about two weeks. Oh yeah.. and my money is still spent, but very carefully. I do purchase gas for my tailgate generator and ice for my cooler.
4. The light: I have animals everywhere. They're pretty. I came face to face with a raccoon who seemed interested in me, and we just sat together on the creek bank. It was amazing. There are feral barn cats out here, and they're interesting. Not really my thing, but interesting to watch, anyway.
The dark side: Once in a blue moon, one of these beautiful animals gets seriously injured or diseased, due to wilderness conditions and predators. And this is when either I, or someone in my family, must put the poor creature out of its misery. This is not fun, and since I'm the one with the easy to use pistol, I'm usually part of the plan. We recently had a zombie cat walking around, covered in flies. He was already the walking dead, and I have a healthy dog to worry about. I'll be dragged slowly over hot steel before I'll allow my dog to be infected by a rotten zombie creature, and I won't let her run loose until the thing is buried and gone. Unfortunately, puppies like playing with dead things. So we had to take care of that this week. It was weird. And very gross.
5. The light: I have my own place, and it belongs to me. No one will ever make me leave. Unless the government decides one day that this land is housing coveted minerals, in which case that would really blow.. you guys know they can do that, right? I'll probably have this magical place on into my old age, however.
The dark side: I'm responsible for making my home comfortable. That means taming wilderness grounds that could potentially kill me, converting my building skeleton into a real home, building fences, landscaping, pumping my own water, sanitizing my own water, disposing of my own refuse, building composts, figuring out and installing my own heating systems, cooling systems, power alternatives, buying a lot of batteries, etc. etc.... it's a hell of a lot of work. I don't get to wake up to an electric pot of coffee, go sit down at my computer and get lost in cyberspace until I've realized half my day is gone. I'm usually working or planning from daybreak to sunset.
These are just a few things that go on when learning to live off the grid. My lessons are moving slowly, because I'm doing this alone and learning as I go. I'm fortunate to have family to help with more difficult issues, like shooting zombie cats, moving giant buildings across creeks, and taming the land so that I can actually walk across it. The Appalachians are dense. There's a field here we call "The Field of Knobs", because it's got so many knobby sticks strong in the ground that you can't make it across if you don't pay attention and do some dodging. You'll get impaled.
My body cycles have now shifted to match day and night, as I live by candle light when the sun goes down. (And I'm usually dead tired) So my day ends with a glass of wine and some music off a tangible cd playing on the portable sound box.
Still wanna visit? :D
Comments
Post a Comment