One Year Out Here.

One year ago tonight was our first night in the cabin. I still remember not being able to sleep, listening to every little thing. It's hard to believe time moves so quickly. I remember being so excited about 'cabin camping with the interwebs' which is my meme dream come true. I'm still just as excited, especially this winter having the wood burning stove. I remember wondering what are the chances.. in that very moment when I thought I'd take another look after over a year of searching, I'd find this very place. I never gave up hope to find a home.

I think it took me the entire year to get over the anxiety that comes with planting myself somewhere. I'm finally okay with having a home that's more than temporary. That, more than anything, was a critical step for me to stop the self-sabotaging reactions I have when things become "too comfortable". But I also believe that the nature of this place and the lifestyle that comes with it is a big part of why. On one hand it feels like home, no doubt about that.. on the other hand, it's kind of hard to be too comfortable. There's a delicate balance that must be maintained. Everything is hard work, and hard work is everything.. I like it that way.

When we first arrived, we had but a minivan full of various furnitures and another trip of all our gear and clothes. The only thing we had to sit on was a couple of folding lawn chairs. We have since collected many wares [mostly for free] to turn this cabin into home. We found a pile of bricks and built a fire pit, and constructed a compost bin [and two greenhouses!] from scraps. A couch from Craigslist, a tiny table and chair set perfect for the corner of our kitchen, a full sized smoke house, pots and pans and dishes- I even managed to score a television.. and suddenly, it looked like we lived here! We've even collected a few pieces of art for the walls. And the wood burning stove, my favourite piece [yep, free!] that completes the country cabin feel.

Winter was the perfect time to move here. We were introduced to our new home environment in the bone chilling cold, at the apex of the season. Being here to witness the transition as the valley turns from white to green was exciting, especially with perfect timing to plan and till the land. Most of summer was spent shrouded in wildfire smoke, and the mountains disappeared for quite some time. Thankfully our home and our crops were safe, and we enjoyed collecting a bountiful harvest late into fall. Speaking of, autumn here was the most beautiful autumn I've ever seen. Rainbows and vivid sunsets were almost daily events.

Our first garden was abundant.. perhaps a little too abundant! This was the first garden in a long time for both of us, and we went a little overboard on planting seeds. Unfortunately, we didn't thin the crops as well as we should have. I always feel bad picking a perfectly good plant, but I've learned [again] that it must be done for a healthy [and accessible!] garden.

Now we've come full circle. We've weathered two major winter storms, a very high freshet, many windstorms [and one ripping monsoon], and the skies are ever changing. I never tire from the ever changing view in my back yard. The landscape is always colourful even in winter. I especially enjoy sunny days when the bare blueberry bushes gleam a rich red against a snow dusted green mountain backdrop and a bright blue sky. The view still has the capability to take my breath away.

I'm looking forward to year two. Garden season is coming up fast, and it's almost time to pull the boat back out from storage. It will be a big year of hard, satisfying work to make our home and lifestyle more sustainable. Now that I'm fairly established as a housed individual [and finding comfort here], it's time to get back on top of my journey to good health. I've done it before, and now with the support that I have and a comfortable place to do so, I will do it again. For life this time.

journalog 1-7-18

It's quiet out here. Well, sort of... It became quite loud all of a sudden yesterday, and just as quickly it was done. The several inch thick layer of ice on the roof let go in an instant- weighed down with snow and then rain. When it crashed onto the awning separating it from the house, it sounded like we were run over by an avalanche.

We got up at first light today to venture over to the other farm. Our land owner had a stash of materials we could use to repair the awning, the only challenge was getting to it. He ran the tractor to dig out a path to the barn, and we loaded Delilah's roof racks with lumber while taking in the view. The warmer temperatures and slight breeze brought in a fog that made our mountain backdrop disappear in sweeping brushstrokes.

The awning adventure and getting a fire going was our excitement for the day. Cabin fever is a thing, and we're getting a little restless. We're going on our tenth week without steady work. Putting around the property when the weather allows to keep ourselves busy. We seek out downed branches we can buck up for the woodpile, and make our way out to the general store every few days to keep up on the social and make sure the van runs.

It's been a challenge to be at total peace with our situation. If we were truly remote, off the grid and not so reliant on finances, we'd be much more comfortable with what we have. The fact that we have to pay for the space that we occupy monthly is the part we're having troubles with. We've managed to find odd cash opportunities here and there to get a few bills paid, but it's been tight.

I'm glad that we stored up as much as we did for the winter. Every trip to town we made through the summer I chose an essential to buy in bulk. We've used a decent percentage of our food stores though, and we're edging on 'uncomfortably low'. We're getting into our last can of coffee, jar of honey and bag of sugar. The frozen fruit stores are well below half, and we've made a sizeable dent in our veggies. Our cupboards are fairly light, though we do still have a decent amount of rice and flour. Three weeks from now, we'll be setting into 'desperately low'. It's essential that we get steady work soon. Garden season is still a couple months away.

Hibernating hasn't been a total bummer though. I couldn't have imagined a better place to be holed up in for the winter. Something tells me I wouldn't be as settled being so long without work if I were living in the city. I know this from experience. After one week without a job I lose it- city living is costly on the daily and it's hard to avoid.

Out here the shift in priorities makes not having steady work much more bearable, even enjoyable at times. There's so much to do to maintain the cabin and the property- especially in storm season.. it's enough just to make it through the day without a panic attack. When you're more concerned with staying warm and making sure your home isn't destroyed by the weather, having a couple bills a few months overdue doesn't seem so pressing. There's no real worry to get anywhere on time if you can't get anywhere at all.

Also the view ain't half bad. We find enjoyment and satisfaction in the beautiful simplicity of country living. We could sit for hours watching the fireplace, and bundling up to go for a walk down our road is a scenic nature tour. Watching the eagles by day and listening for owls at night is a delightful blessing. Maintaining the house is more than just chores, it's fulfilling and satisfying that we are free to enjoy our own space as we choose.

I feel very fortunate to be here. There are far more challenging places I could be while broke in the middle of winter, like tenting in the woods. We may not have access to some basic luxuries, and it may get a little uncomfortable at times, but as Erik Salitan says, "excessive comfort is detrimental to one's character". There is always peace to be found amidst the chaos. There's always so much to be grateful for that it outshines the not-so-glamorous aspects of living a transient sort of lifestyle.

I anticipate getting real busy real soon with work in the field and in the garden, so I'm doing my best to savour the downtime. I've made one of my goals for the year to be better organized in my writing and little photography projects so my ideas and images don't get buried forever. As always, thanks to everyone reading this, for always sending words of encouragement and support. And a HUGE thank you to everyone who contributed near and far by ordering smelly things from my website, and sending us Timmies bucks and lunch cards. Your generosity and thoughtfulness truly warmed us! All the love.

xo

New Year- Old World

There's nothing like ringing in the new year in the dark. Our region was slammed with an epic ice storm a few days after Christmas, taking out trees and power lines in it's wake. It's been over a week and there's still power lines dropping, and outages all over the map. Thankfully we were given a generator last year "just in case". After the first wave of the storm we made sure that it was running, set it up and built it a makeshift shelter, and ran power cords back into the house. And thankfully so, as when the second wave hit, everything was covered in ice and the power went out for a very long time.

The first couple days, we didn't bother to leave the house. Standing on our front porch, you couldn't count to twenty without hearing a tree come crashing down in the distance. We passed the time with a week-long cribbage tournament by candlelight, storytelling accompanied by a sketchpad, and mulling about the property. Our sea can workshop got a much needed cleaning, and we burned all our cardboard and wood scraps we'd been collecting throughout the year.

Day three, we were called out to work. Given that it's been two months without anything steady, we weren't about to say no to an opportunity to make a little loot. The drive kept us on our toes. In order to get off our road, we had to stop the van every thirty feet or so to clear fallen branches from the giant cottonwoods. I kept the van in gear and ready to move while he quickly cleared a path as branches were still falling all around us. It was a slow drive towards town, dodging fallen trees and ice bombs. It was one of the most absolutely beautiful sights i'd ever seen when the sun hit the ice covering everything, the landscape shone like a spotlight party in a chandelier shop.

When we finally arrived in town it was utter chaos. No street lights, cars abandoned on the roadside, power lines downed and roads closed left and right.We gave it a couple more days before our next venture in to town. This time we needed supplies and fuel, so we had our fingers crossed we would find at least one grocery store open whose shelves were not yet cleaned out. I was excited to see that our produce market had it's doors open for business. They like most other places had lost the products kept in coolers after not having power so long, but we were there for the basics. Potatoes and fruit mostly, things we hadn't grown ourselves.

Everywhere we go, we tend to talk to strangers, so it was no surprise that we'd gotten into a full blown conversation about the current situation while shopping for our fruit. We brought up how lucky we were that we lived in a small place, so it was enough to run a generator with a small space heater and a hot plate. If we needed water from the well we could plug in the pump and we're all set. He told us how it felt like going back in time, the kids had fun playing in the snow, and the family actually sat together to play some board games. We talked about how useless all those big fancy homes are without the services running to them, they'd be impossible to heat being so big, and their inhabitants would be better off setting up a tent outside during times like this.

Heating the house was our main challenge. If we don't keep the house warm when it's below freezing the pipes will burst, and we'd have a lot more problems than sitting in the dark. When we met up with the landlord to pay the rent, we were discussing alternate heating options inside the house, and he said he was thinking of propane. I'd mentioned how the stack for the chimney was still installed and it would be awesome if we could put a wood burning stove back in it's place. He'd removed it because he was worried about the previous renters not using it right and it sat in storage a couple years, but we were stoked that he still had it. We were stoked to take it home.

By the time we got the wood burner installed, the power was back on for the most part. It was a couple day process of getting it to working order, outdoor and indoor test runs, building it a pad and getting it in to place, but it was well worth it. We spent yesterday afternoon cutting up and collecting branches from our road that had fallen in the ice storm. it's cottonwood which doesn't have the best aroma coming from the chimney outside, but it burns slow and hot. The cable had come back on around the same time we'd lit the first fire inside, but who needs television when you have flames dancing in your kitchen. We sat with our coffee and tea for hours admiring the heat.

Between not having much work and being thrust into a mini ice-age, this winter has been a very humbling and sobering experience. It's amazing what we take for granted when we have it, and not realize. This experience has reminded me how important it is to be prepared for the seasons and what they may bring. In summer we need to remember to slow down and keep cool, and save as best as we can for the winter [including firewood!]. This coming year we will make different [and hopefully better] choices of our resource allocation, of both moneys and produce. When winter rolls around we have to be keen about being prepared for what ever crazy weather mother nature might bring.

What I've really enjoyed about this winter is the feeling of having gone back in time a century or two, which has been the theme of our experience out here so far. I'd like to continue that trend in as many senses as possible while still maintaining our place in society. It's motivation to become better resourceful as we slide a little further off the grid. The part that's irked me is the lack of funds and our need to be reliant on money. My desire to slide a little further off that grid is strong.

The first five days of the year have been interesting that's for sure. Major triumphs and letdowns, wins and huge losses with impact-full messages, and the year has just begun. This is just the beginning, more to come.. I feel good about this one. Happy 2018 from the cabin on the slough. May 2018 be the best year yet..


xo

[Merry] "C" word.

For the majority of my life, the feelings most associated with Christmas are anxiety, sadness and guilt. It's never really been an easy time of year. This is my fourth Christmas since my mother passed away, and since I moved west. And it's my first Christmas I've made an attempt to write about it.

I feel like every Christmas since I moved west has been sort of a step-by-step healing process of making peace with the season. And as I'm sitting here trying to write about it, I think I just realized a big part of the reason why. I've had absolutely no cash with which to participate in the commercial Christmas the last 4 years.

That and being so far away I have no place to be, so if I want to spend the day wandering in the woods or lounging in my PJs, I may. I miss family dinners and seeing everyone together, but that part of the holidays gets harder for everyone as people pass on or move away. And now I know what it feels like to be the one that moved away...

My first Christmas out west was an interesting shock out of the whole traditional holiday season. I had nowhere in particular to be, no one in particular expecting me, and it was a gorgeous sunny day. I went for a walk on the downtown east side, and made a friend whose feelings about this time of year resonated with my own. We spent the day together roaming the parks and streets making merry and enjoying the holiday lights.

The whole experience changed my perspective enough to no longer fret for the holidays. That shift was critical to my survival in a far away place. The reality of moving so far away is simply this: "home for the holidays" is seldom a feasible option. But that means, everything else is.

My second Christmas was spent with a couple friends, a dog, and a pickup truck on the mud flats down by the lake. It was a gorgeous, yet frozen sunny day, perfect for a Christmas bonfire. That was the beginning of basically living the rest of the winter in said pickup truck, and it was a beautiful, humbling reminder to be grateful for what I've got. There was something incredibly satisfying about spending a Christmas out in nature. I loved it so much, it has since become my tradition.

For my third Christmas in BC, my partner and I skipped town to go fishing. We drove to several spots to enjoy the winter view, and ate cold pizza for lunch on the hood of the van while watching the sun dance across the snowy river.

We were both invited to his family gathering, even though they didn't know me that well. I was nervous and awkward, but once I was introduced, it was nice to be included in a family atmosphere. We were both squatting in his family's trailer at the time, and though it was nice to have a warm and dry place to sleep at night, we wished for a home of our own.

A couple weeks later, after months and months of camping, couch surfing and trailer squatting.. our Christmas wish came true. We found our tiny farmhouse in the valley.

Neither of us have been big fans of the holiday season, and we're glad to have one another to enjoy the escape into the wilderness. This year to keep up with our tradition of spending the holidays in nature, we took a Christmas eve hike into the woods behind our land. We're so broke this year we couldn't afford fuel to get out to our good December fishing spot, but it was really cool to see what kind of wildlife we could track in our own backyard. I'm glad that we were grounded as we got to experience our local area from a perspective we never had before, which we both enjoyed.

We woke up Christmas morning in our own home. My first Christmas here was in a hostel, the second in a pickup truck in the woods, and the third was out camping whilst squatting in a trailer. Despite having no money, no way to buy gifts or travel far, I couldn't be more grateful to wake up in our very own little home.

Christmas in BC has changed the holiday experience for me. I have no space to hold onto the guilt or sadness. I'm forced to be present, in the moment. Having my partner by my side and living in the place I've always dreamt I'd be is a special gift to me.

Thank you all, near-ish and far for all your love and well wishes this holiday season- and the lovely holiday card collection hanging on our wall. I wish everyone peace and joy and good things in 2018!

Xo

December already..

11 months now I've had this lovely little house to call home... and I'm stressing every day trying to rustle up enough dough to keep it going. This time last year we had more work than we did time, and now we've been searching for weeks to pick up new contracts with no luck.

Don't get me wrong, I love having time off from work, it just came a little unexpectedly and we weren't financially ready. I'm so thankful that we invested in a big chest freezer to keep our summer garden goodies in, our produce stash along with a giant bag of rice has kept us going. We Also stocked up on flour and various other baking ingredients, so if we can't scrounge enough money for fuel to get to town, at least we have a somewhat full pantry for a while.

The bit of extra time just happened to coincide with the eagles returning to the valley. And an ankle sprain.. So the past couple weeks I've been slowly rolling up and down my road with my hazards on, a foot on the brake and a lens to my face with the driver's door open. Anywhere else but here you'd def get looks for that, but I live on a dead end road out in the country. And right now, it's eagle country. There's plenty of people rolling around with cameras pulling over at random to get the shot.

Unfortunately, a storm took out our greenhouse a couple weeks ago. This on top of the sprain and being out of work really got me down. We ended up having our first frost the other day, which means the crops that were inside the greenhouse are pretty much toast. I've decided to keep a little green in my life this winter by adopting some houseplants. I even found a perfect mini lemon cypress to stand in as our Christmas tree. It's so cute!

So in summation, lots of ups and downs this season. My ankle is starting to heal, so I'm doing my best to get back on my daily ten thousand steps. I'm hopeful that work will pick back up again soon, and our home will be saved for the winter.

As always, thanks to all my amazing friends, fams and fans that have kept in touch and kept my spirits up. It gets a little lonely out here at times, but man is it lovely. If I don't write again before then, I wish you all a merry ho ho.. and bring on 2018!


Xo 

3 years later...

Ah man I'm bad at this. It's been an eventful summer that's for sure. The garden exploded, and we've literally been feeding the town with it. We use our produce in barter and trade, and the freezer chest is full. Loads of it are just given away. It's a beautiful garden, my best one yet. It's a fair bit of work to maintain, but it's more than worth it.

It's been a long, hot season. It's rained sparsely twice in the past 3 months, and this is the worst season for wildfires yet. We had a few days of relief from the smoke, but as I drove home today I could see a thick haze on the horizon. We're enveloped once again.

We find relief from the heat out on the water. My partner reclaimed a boat he had stashed in a barn. It took us a bit to get it up and running again, but it's been well used since. We are surrounded by lakes and waterways and blessed with beautiful places to fish. Our season started out well, we caught 7 rainbow trout in a few hours on our first lake run. Only half the luck since, and now we're waiting for the salmon. And the rain.

Work has been ...interesting. I have learned a lot in the 8 months I've been working with metal. I am learning from the best. Our team is highly sought after in the valley. Contract work can be unpredictable at times though when it comes to lining up jobs (and getting paid for them). We've had a couple nerve racking lulls, but then a week later we're turning down work because we're booked solid. It's kind of funny that we live in a tiny little farm house, and work in 4-8,000 square foot homes worth millions. And some with unbelievable views. BC stands for bring cash, and man do they ever.

I wish they'd share the wealth... though our schedule is full, our budget is still hella tight. We just barely made rent on time for the first of the month, and with so many bills coming up [and a couple weeks before we can expect any more pay] everything is on the line. My wheels, my phone, and ultimately our home. If only we could pay rent with vegetables...


It makes me think about the perception of wealth. If produce was currency, I'd be rich. Therefore, I suppose I am. It's reassuring to know that if the economy went for a dump, at least we can produce our own food, and lots of it. We need to get a bigger fire safe for our seed collection.

Besides going to work and our occasional trips to town, we live a very simple, localized lifestyle. It's very old timey and laid-back. As I was saying about the barter and trade, it's a part of life out here for 'people of the valley'. Most of our food came from somewhere in this community, trading zucchini and squash for farm fresh eggs, and our tomatoes and seeds for the sweetest corn on the cob I've ever tasted. It's such a contrast from city life, out here in the country.

Which by the way, was always a dream of mine. It's been 3 years now since I landed here. 3 years ago I stepped off that greyhound bus. I had no real plan.. If you would have asked me right then and there where I'd have seen myself three years later, I wouldn't know what to tell you. I could have ended up anywhere, or continuously traveled.. I could have gone back east, back to the land from which I came. but I'm still here.. I somehow passed the test of time that comes with east-coast peeps moving west. many go back in the first year and a half. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it more than once. 


 It wasn't the easiest choice to make, nor the easiest ride to take when i decided to stay. I've faced almost as much adversity the past three years as I had in the 29 years before that, but also experienced some of the most beautiful, priceless moments of my life. I would never take it back for anything. the places that I've been, the people that I've met.. it's just incredible. Even if I had to lose everything once or twice to get there. Even if I had to miss everyone back home so much to make these new connections, I would never wish it hadn't happened. 

If someone would have approached me that day I stepped off the bus and told me where I'd be in a few years and what I'd be doing, my response would probably be something along the lines of 'I wish...' and that's the craziest part of all. I wouldn't have believed it. Couldn't have even dreamt it... at the same time now that I'm here, I couldn't have imagined it any other way. Although I have these memories of my mother speculating how my life might end up if I moved out west, and it's almost creepy how spot on she was. I didn't really believe her either. But if I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I did say 'I wish'. If I could only tell her, and hear her say 'I told you so...'. But I do. 

I do.

Bring it Spring

It's been a long, cold and eventful winter, and I'm glad to finally see it's end. At the start of the season I had no idea where I'd be by the end of it, or that we'd get so much snow. Lesson learned, trust the almanac.

Moving out to the valley in the middle of winter was a huge risk for us, but I'm glad we made the move. Though it's not officially spring until tomorrow, we've been busy the past few weeks prepping our garden beds between the last couple winter storms.

The gardens are finally ready for planting. It took a lot of time and hard work to turn our compacted sandy, somewhat grassy yard into a rich, prime place to grow some food. Now that the topsoil and composted manure is turned in,  the grass is weeded out, and the beds are raked into rows, we can begin to sprout our seeds.

A lot of what we have will be started indoors over the next couple weeks, and after last frost the rest can be sown directly into the soil. We have 21 rows total between the two beds to work with, and a few dozen types of seed.

Our landlord was worried at first that we wouldn't have the time to maintain such a large growing space given how much we work, but so far even with shorter daylight hours we've managed to make it happen. It kinda helps that the van has been out of commission for drives to the city the past couple weeks, so I've had to skip out on the landscaping. Spending almost ten less hours a week stuck in traffic has given me more time to focus on other things.

My apprenticeship for instance. When I first started working with metal I wasn't as confident that I'd ever be good enough at it to make a living. But since I haven't been able to go to the city to focus on the landscaping, I've been working full time improving my metal working skills. It's another one of those things I'd never seen myself getting into but I'm glad I did.

Being contractors means setting our own hours, and since my productivity is improving we don't have to spend so many hours at work. We can indulge in occasional journeys down to the river to get our lines wet before work, finish a house, and still have enough daylight hours and energy to go home and play in the dirt.

Our lifestyle out here supports both my longing for a stable home base, and my sense of adventure. For once I'm finally able to get the best of both worlds. I have a place to call home in beautiful surroundings where I can garden and be comfortable, and I'm closer than ever to the wilds. It's taken a while for the reality to set in. Just a few months ago we had no real plan besides making it thorough the winter. And here we are, on the cusp of spring, ready to plant.. putting down roots in the valley. Thank the gods for our home sweet home.

Breaking ground.

It's been a long time since I've had a chance to reestablish Sandy Shores Farm, and I'm stoked for our new location. It's kind of ironic that I'd named the garden long before I even knew I would end up moving to the west. And here I am, on a farm on the river's shore, and our soil here is very, very sandy. Now that we have the first bed turned, we can think about how we will amend the soil.

After the snow melts again that is. It was nice and warm all week, and now we're amidst another big snowfall. We worked a couple hours a day all week to get a good start at establishing the first bed, which is now blanketed in a layer of the white stuff.

Collecting garden tools has been a slow go. All I have so far is the tools I have for work, a shovel and a hard rake. It's amazing what you can accomplish with so little and a lot of motivation. We used a pallet propped on an angle to screen the soil. As we tossed each shovel full of soil at the pallet, the clumps would roll down the slats knocking most of the soil from the grass roots. We could then easily remove the clumps of grass, shake them out and toss them to the side.

It was a long, somewhat tedious process, but every meter of ground we broke into was satisfying. After a few days we could visualize how we would lay out the first bed with our rows. I used my felco snips and a small hand saw to hack back some of the blackberry bramble from the far side of the bed to create a path. We spent the last few moments of daylight each day sitting in our chairs out by the garden to be, watching the sky change colours as the sun sank behind the mountains. What a feeling.


...


I've been trying to finish this post all week. The snow has since melted and we're at it again, building a box for our compost. There's another snowfall warning in the forecast, so we're trying to get done what we can before winter comes back around for it's final blow.

We've been out here for six weeks already. We moved out here when winter was full swing with big dreams for spring. Bit by bit the dreams are becoming our reality. The clocks turn ahead in a little over a week here, which means an extra hour of daylight after work for us to play in the yard.

The weather changes by the moment. When we came outside a couple hours ago it was sunny and warm. The temperature dropped right down and snow is falling up on the hill.


...



We had a thaw and a bit of sun yesterday in between snowfalls, so we grabbed some chicken wire when we went to town. Our landlord saw us out in the yard working, and said the yard looked really nice so far, and gave us the go ahead to start a second bed. We had a bit of an issue there when he said we could do whatever we wanted and then came back around and said we could only dig 8 feet of the far part of the yard. I'm glad he changed his mind.

Since we used our pallet screen to build the compost box, we had to use scraps of wood and the chicken wire to build a new one. We started turning the second bed using the new screen, and though it's taking a little longer, the soil is a lot cleaner. The next step is getting a dump load of compost. Once the snow melts. Again.

The valley under ice.

Just days after the valley was slammed with an epic snowstorm, the temperature rose as the next system rolled in. Snow turned to rain, but the windchill froze everything on contact. We woke up blanketed in a sheet of ice. We made an attempt to get out of the driveway, only making it to the next property over before having to turn around. With all the ice, snow and slush on the road, gaining traction was impossible.

Shortly after noon, as we'd suspected might happen, the power went out. Our area was one of two hundred other outages across BC leaving tens of thousands of people in the dark. Thankfully I'd just finished my baking for the day, so I had some fresh made snacks to load up in my pack.

With not much else to do, I decided to go for a walk. The rain had subsided for long enough that I could bring my camera out and capture some of the epic scenes left behind by the storm. And meet some of our neighbours in the process.

A couple houses down, one of our neighbours with the farm tractor (the one that dug us out before) was clearing the driveway for the old man at the wood shop. I had a chance to say hello. The old fella struck up a conversation and noticed my camera, and invited me onto his property to get some shots.

He commented on the sheet of ice that coated the barn reflecting the daylight, and insisted I take a shot. He has dozens of bird houses that were strung with icicles all over the yard. Old machinery equipment and a canoe hanging outside his shop looked as though they had been frozen for decades.

As he pulled the door to the wood shop open I felt a pulse of warm air hit me. He had the wood burning stove pumping and it felt nice to be warm. He showed me around, and he had a few customer orders sitting up on tables ready to be stained. There's a local native woman that paints beautiful scenery, wildlife and folk art on panels of wood which he then inlays in his hand made hope chests. Their work is sold to locals in the valley.

After telling me a few stories and showing me every piece of work in the shop and all the types of cedar he uses, he showed me out of the shop. He said if I ever had nothing to do again, I was welcome back any time. I told him I'd be back some day with prints for him.

As I carried on down the road I was joined by an old black lab that lived on the horse farm. She led me down the gravel path looking back every so often as if to make sure I was safe. I stopped a few times to hear the trees splitting under the weight of the ice, sounding off like thunder as the branches and tree tops crashed to the ground. Ice bombs began to fall off the wires above. I'd have to tread carefully for the next mile where several giant trees lined the road along the river.

I made it to the middle of a long stretch of trees when I suddenly heard the cracking right above me. I tucked my camera into my jacket quickly and ran for it. Smash! I looked back to see a huge branch shattered to bits on the road right where I was standing. I thought to myself, now I've done a lot of crazy things to get a good shot, but this might just be up there amongst the most dangerous. My heart was pounding, and I kept on going.

Finally I crossed the bridge over the creek where the old man with the scrap yard was shoveling his driveway. I wasn't expecting him to say hello when I waved, but much to my surprise, we ended up chatting for an hour. I've passed him a few times driving by and I always wave, and he never seems very eager to interact, so I was pretty stoked about our conversation.

After our long talk and the show around the yard of his massive inventory of trucks and parts, I was on my way again. I'd just made it to the end of my road when the plow turned down. I jumped out of the way with an enthusiastic wave, we'd finally be dug out of the mess! Moments after I'd sent a text home warning of the incoming plow, I got one back saying the power had been restored. I took a few more shots and turned back.

Just in time too, when I was about a hundred meters from the house the wind picked up again knocking down all the ice. More rain blew in, and in less than an hour there was no evidence that our world had been coated in ice. I was thankful that I'd made it out for my walk when I did, had I not gone I'd have missed out on a photo opportunity of a lifetime. We don't often get weather like this here, and the conversations I had along the way made it an amazing journey.

Today the sun is out, and the air smells like spring is on the way. I'm so thankful that our roads will be safe again and all the snow is melting, as beautiful as it was. The adventure continues...

Snowpocalypse 2017

Being stranded anywhere is one of my greatest fears. After a day and a half of nonstop snow, not seeing a single other vehicle drive down our road had me a little nervous. I know it's only a matter of time before it all melts, but we hadn't made it to town yet this week for our run, and our stocks of fresh foods are rather low. We have enough dry goods to last us a few weeks if need be, maybe even 6 weeks if we ration. I know we wouldn't be stuck that long, but I like to be prepared.

It's amazing how something so beautiful and pristine can become treacherous so quickly. How millions of teeny tiny little ice crystals can accumulate into several foot high snow drifts in the matter of hours. It's a lovely sight, and also a little nerve racking knowing we'd have to drive in it eventually. It's been a couple years since I've seen so much snow, and much longer since the BC coast has had a real winter. Not many people in the coastal area know how to handle their vehicles in conditions such as this. Being the first year I've had to drive in winter, I'm handling it quite well.

 
Just when I was beginning to have that sinking feeling that we'd be stuck for a while, one of our farmer neighbours pulled up with his tractor to dig us out. Country life is so much different than being in the city, I'm still often taken aback by the kindness of folks out here. Everyone helps everyone especially when the weather gets crazy. After two whole days of not seeing other humans, I literally jumped for joy to see the tractor digging out our van.

...

48 hours later, the snow finally stopped. We braved the roads to go check in on our job site, as we'd missed out on a couple days' work. Given how far out we live, and the distance we'd need to travel, we didn't leave the house unprepared. The van tote was re-stocked with water and canned goods, an extra canister of camp stove fuel, and a big lunch for the road. We fueled up at our nearest petrol station, putting a little more weight on the wheels. It might sound a little overboard, but if we were to get stuck out here it could be several hours before we'd be able to get a tow. If we ended up far enough off the road [and survived], it could be another day before anyone would find us. Better safe than sorry.

 
After an hour it started to come down again. We left immediately knowing full well it doesn't take long at this temperature for the snow to start sticking to the road, turning it into a slushy slick mess very quickly. Just as we were preparing to leave the job site, a local resident got himself stuck in a snowbank turning onto the road. Lucky for him we were the only people out there, and just long enough to help push him out. We stopped on the way home to grab a steel shovel to keep in the van, no time to shop for any groceries this time. With another foot of snow on the way, we wanted to make it home safely before the roads are buried.

...

I'm happy to be back home. Though the extra long weekend was unintentional, it's nice to finally have some down-time. There's not much else to do besides writing, experimenting in the kitchen, and of course a little Netflix and chill. That's when we're not busy looking out the window... nature never ceases to amaze us. We're so blessed to have the views that we do, not only of the mountains and the sky, but the seemingly hundreds of species of birds that inhabit the valley and river. Owls, geese, heron, dozens of species of duck, hawks and eagles, there's never a dull moment right outside our front door. We watched a few otters chasing each other through holes in the ice yesterday, not a care in the world about the storm.

The winds are picking up again, and the homemade chicken soup on the stove smells fantastic. It's about time I put away the computer and enjoy. Happy Soup-er Bowl Sunday everyone! Stay warm.


x

Taking it all in..

Finally after a week of living in our new home, we had a weekend off. And decent weather too. He stepped out on the porch with his coffee calling back into the house.. 'quick, bring your camera'. There were several eagles hanging out on the frozen river. It's the first morning we've had yet to just hang out on the front porch and enjoy simply existing in our new place. It seemed as though the local wildlife was celebrating.

We all were. The first day of the year with double digit temperatures that weren't in the negative. The sun even came out for a while to warm our bones. Standing in front of the house in the middle of the road, I still have a hard time believing that this place is my home. I get to build here, to grow.

I had my chance to see what was hiding under the snow, and there's much more space for gardening than I thought. I'm not sure yet what I want to grow or how to lay it out, but I do know that both sunflowers and leafy greens are a must. I'll need to start slowly accumulating gardening tools of my own so that I can get started prepping the land. There's lots of bramble to be cleared and debris to be raked up.

For us, aspects of regular life are a huge part of the adventure. Having housing stability is a newish thing. We have both been essentially floating for a long time. To have a place to nest and garden and enjoy the basic comforts of having our own home is still taking some getting used to. Things that most people in the western world take for granted are true blessings to us.

That said, the compromises that need be made for living partly off-grid aren't a huge inconvenience as we're used to having to make do, it's kind of like cabin camping with Netflix. I'm still in shock that we were able to get the Internet, and as the weather is still quite chilly, we're very grateful to be able to curl up to a movie in the evening, even if the only screen we have is my little laptop. So what if we have to boil water to do dishes and limit showers to five minutes. Who cares if we have to travel half an hour to the nearest grocery store. We are home.



x

misty morning

The coyotes woke us long before sunrise. I could hear the rain playing it's tune on the old chimney hood. It hasn't stopped for a couple days, and it's making quick work of melting all the snow. Soon we will see what we have to work with space wise for building our gardens.

As daylight slowly crept into the valley I took a peek out the window. The clouds are low and the fog is still hanging around. The usually dry creek at the end of the road is nearly flooded, and some of our neighbors have unintentional ponds in their front yards.

I'm starting to get used to the silence and the sounds that echo through it. The view however catches me off guard every morning. I'm not sure how long before it gets old, probably never. And I'm alright with that.

Our house is slowly becoming a home. We adopted two comfy salmon coloured corduroy chairs for the living room from a church store back in town, both for 25 dollars. We have just enough kitchenware to make us a meal, a mattress for a bed, and a brand new washer dryer set. After a few long days without hot water, the tank was finally replaced.

I took one last walk around the house, turning out all the lights, envisioning the future of our space. Friday, to my surprise, we will have the Internet. There's one service provider that just happens to have older lines run out our way, which to me is amazing. It won't be the fastest, but it's something. And now that we know it's possible, we couldn't wait.

As I stepped out the front door I couldn't help but to take another picture. The view across the street took my breath away. Again. We are so blessed to call this place our home.

xo

Lost and found

Yeah, I'm aware it's just a shirt. And yes, perhaps I put too much value in some of my material possessions, considering I'm not a very materialistic individual. A lot of what I own would be considered worthless junk to most, but to me it's all about the memories.

But that shirt though.. not only was it the memories, it was also just the most perfect shirt for outdoor adventure on cold days, for working outside in the fall and winter, and for days I want to laze around in my track pants and be comfortable. It's a lightweight, warm and comfy long sleeve black thermal shirt that just happens to fit me perfectly. Over tees, under hoodies, it's the perfect intermediate layer. It doesn't hold dirt or smells, so I can get away with wearing it most of the week without washing.

I stole it off a friend by accident when I was visiting Nova Scotia. I was couch surfing and had all my gear scattered about, and being a plain black shirt, it blended right in with the rest of my wardrobe. After denying for a couple weeks that I had unknowingly taken it, I found it in my laundry when I finally unpacked. Not knowing when I'd see my friend again or the east coast, it became a part of my daily ensemble. Sorry man, I took your shirt after all.

Every fishing trip, road trip, camping trip and hike, I've had that shirt with me ever since. I'd worn it on our Christmas morning fishing trip, and when I went to put it on for work the next day, I couldn't find it. I searched everywhere. Over the next few days I'd pretty well ripped apart the house and the van in search of this shirt. More than a week later I had given up, and my fella's aunt overheard us discussing my frustration about losing things. She asked what I lost and as I described the shirt she says uhhh oh...

Oh no. I had a feeling that was coming. I thought she was gonna say she'd donated it to the goodwill.. I've had that happen with my things before. Nope, it wasn't accidently donated. It ended up in a small heap of sweaters and jackets that family members had left at the house over the holiday weekend. Auntie had assumed it belonged to one of her daughters, and passed it off when she returned a jacket.

She said she'd go pick it up for me. She phoned to ask if it was there, but it just happened to be laundry day. Her daughter drops off her laundry at her boyfriend's mother's house as they don't have machines, so I'd have to wait until their laundry returns to find out of it's even there. After a couple weeks I had to let it go. The shirt was gone.

I'd gone to a few different thrift stores in search of something similar, but I could never find anything that fit quite the same. Too big or too small, or the sleeves are too tight.. where did this shirt even come from in the first place? I have no idea.

I was packing my clothes in preparation for the upcoming move, and auntie comes home with my shirt in hand. Yup, that's the one! I couldn't believe it. I swear I had dreams about searching for this shirt. Now that I have it back, I feel complete. My work shirt! Yes! Thank you universe! Haha. So I wrote this entire blog post about a silly shirt, that's right. Now that I'm moving out to the boons, I finally have it back. I had to resist the urge to jump for joy about it. Out in the cold valley, it'll keep me safe and warm. I'm happy to have it back. That is all.


x