When I lived in a conventional house, I used to spend my weekends working my "to do" list. (Yes, I actually had a "to do" list!) I spent much of my Saturdays and Sundays fixing leaky faucets, repairing broken windows, clearing clogged drains, mowing the grass, cleaning gutters, painting, stuff like that. Then there were those big items on the list that I'd look at and think about, but then find some reason not to do. Like cleaning the garage, or clearing brush, or repairing a broken downspout. Bigger tasks that had to get done someday but could be put off.
As soon as I'd check a few items off the list, more would appear. The dishwasher would break, or the roof would start leaking, or the deck would need repair. It was endless, and I never got ride of my "to do" list.
Until I moved into a tent.
Now, I don't have a lawn. I don't have major appliances. I don't have faucets or plumbing. I don't have anything that requires painting. I do have a door, but no windows or screens. I don't even have a roof (well, I have a tarp, so I suppose that's a roof). And best of all, I don't have a "to do" list! Or maybe I have an empty "to do" list, which is even better!
Home maintenance is an ongoing struggle against Nature. An unmaintained house left to the elements will eventually deteriorate into dust. It's the result of the fundamental relationship between Nature and Life. Nature want to break down, Life wants to build. Nature wants to disintegrate, Life wants to integrate. And so it is with our own bodies, and so it is with all that we construct, including our houses. Without Life, all that we are and all that we have ever created becomes, at some point in time, dust.
To enter into home ownership is therefore to enter into this struggle against Nature. So I don't fight Nature much anymore. Instead, I try to enjoy it and live humbly within its rules. I don't swim upstream, fighting the current. I let go, and go with the flow.
But even my humble tent must be maintained, as all man-made objects must. The rain fly is by far my biggest maintenance item. The tarp has to be replaced every few years at a cost of around $400 and a few hours work. And although I don't try to keep grass from growing and therefore don't mow, I do pull the tall weeds on either side of my path every month or so as they begin to encroach. But that's about it.
Of course, there are still routine chores like fetching water, gathering wood in the winter, cooking, washing dishes, keeping my oil lamps full, emptying my tent toilet, so on. And in fact, I spend a lot of time and effort on these tasks, much more than in a conventional house. But somehow these menial tasks don't bother me. They help remind me that perhaps I'm on the right track, because water is precious and should be used sparingly, and Winter's cold should be respected, and human waste does not just magically disappear with the push of a lever.
Tent living allows me to live in harmony with Nature, and reminds me of the true and direct costs of keeping my body healthy and alive.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Mold and Mildew
It's mildew season again, and this year I'm fighting back! By late-July things get pretty humid in Virginia, and that's means mold and mildew, especially in a canvas tent with a bare plywood floor.
Mildew loves to grow in my tent in July and August. Last year, I just ignored it. I kept thinking that things would dry out on their own and it would go away. But it stayed around until September. I got tired of the musty smell. It was pretty annoying. So this year when the mold started in again, I fought back.
It seems to start under my bed where I store things, so this year I cleared most of my stuff out from under there and soaked the plywood floor with Tilex. And even though my tent was mildew treated at the factory, I still spray the inside with Lysol about once a week.
That seems to do the trick. The musty smell is gone. It's unfortunately that I can't store much under my bed because that was a great place to stash stuff, but that's okay. It has to breath under there.
Mildew loves to grow in my tent in July and August. Last year, I just ignored it. I kept thinking that things would dry out on their own and it would go away. But it stayed around until September. I got tired of the musty smell. It was pretty annoying. So this year when the mold started in again, I fought back.
It seems to start under my bed where I store things, so this year I cleared most of my stuff out from under there and soaked the plywood floor with Tilex. And even though my tent was mildew treated at the factory, I still spray the inside with Lysol about once a week.
That seems to do the trick. The musty smell is gone. It's unfortunately that I can't store much under my bed because that was a great place to stash stuff, but that's okay. It has to breath under there.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Going Home
I live in two worlds. From 9am to 5pm, Monday through Friday, I live a typical modern lifestyle, interacting primarily with 21st century humans in an air conditioned, high-tech corporate facility. But when I go home, I live with the birds and trees and insects and grass and deer and other life forms that surround my home.
Over the past year, I've grown more and more comfortable at my place. I really feel at home there now, and I think I've finally been welcomed into the neighborhood. I don't fight with the insects like I used to when I first moved in. And I'm getting to know the habits of the birds around me. I know where the deer live, too. I've visited their beds when they were out for the day, and smiled to myself thinking about how each of them picked out their own little spot to rest.
Over the past several generations, we modern human have progressively separated ourselves from all the other life on this planet. I don't think that we intentionally set out to do that, but that's where we find ourselves nonetheless. We've placed ourselves so far away from other life forms that one might conclude that we are indeed something unique, something really different. But we're not.
The rest of life on this planet is still there, like it always has been, waiting for us to come back home. We've been gone for a long while now, so it takes some time to get reacquainted, but I think the feeling of belonging that comes from living close to nature is well worth the effort of going back home and getting to know our cousins again.
Over the past year, I've grown more and more comfortable at my place. I really feel at home there now, and I think I've finally been welcomed into the neighborhood. I don't fight with the insects like I used to when I first moved in. And I'm getting to know the habits of the birds around me. I know where the deer live, too. I've visited their beds when they were out for the day, and smiled to myself thinking about how each of them picked out their own little spot to rest.
Over the past several generations, we modern human have progressively separated ourselves from all the other life on this planet. I don't think that we intentionally set out to do that, but that's where we find ourselves nonetheless. We've placed ourselves so far away from other life forms that one might conclude that we are indeed something unique, something really different. But we're not.
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| A plant cell (left) and an animal cell (right). All plants and animals, from humans to insects to a blade of grass, are nearly indistinguishable if you look close enough. |
Staying Cool in the Summer
It's mid-July and it's getting hot in Virginia. July and August are the most uncomfortable months to live in the woods. It's hot and humid. Spring and Autumn are easy, and even on the coldest Winter nights my wood stove keeps me comfortable, but in the dead of Summer there's just no escaping the heat.
So how do I stay cool? I don't. I sweat a lot. But I've acclimated, too, so 90 degrees in the shade feels pretty comfortable now. I spend a lot of time in my living room laying on the hammock or swinging in the shade, sipping a cold beer, wearing just a pair of shorts.
At night just before bed, I take a pot of cool water outside with me and bathe. I go through a lot of water in the Summer but it's well worth it.
Being uncomfortably hot in the Summer is the price one pays for living close to nature. But I'm in good company. All the creatures that I live with are struggling to stay cool, too. Seeking shelter from the mid-day Sun. Sitting quietly, waiting for the cool evening to arrive. It's all part of Summer.
So how do I stay cool? I don't. I sweat a lot. But I've acclimated, too, so 90 degrees in the shade feels pretty comfortable now. I spend a lot of time in my living room laying on the hammock or swinging in the shade, sipping a cold beer, wearing just a pair of shorts.
At night just before bed, I take a pot of cool water outside with me and bathe. I go through a lot of water in the Summer but it's well worth it.
Being uncomfortably hot in the Summer is the price one pays for living close to nature. But I'm in good company. All the creatures that I live with are struggling to stay cool, too. Seeking shelter from the mid-day Sun. Sitting quietly, waiting for the cool evening to arrive. It's all part of Summer.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Trade-offs and Values
I was about 14 years old the first time I went backpacking. I'd camped a lot as a child but backpacking was something new. It wasn't just about sleeping in the woods. It was about figuring out what to pack, too. And there was a real penalty for packing too much, so I carefully considered every item.
I took way too much on my first trip, so I learned a lot. Like the value of a light pack. As I packed for successive trips, I'd leave behind a few items that weren't worth their weight on the previous trip, and add a few items that I'd missed on the trail. After a lot of trial and error, I came up with just the right pack...for me.
I imagine every backpacker has a similar story of trial and error, yet each comes up with different solutions since everyone seems to pack different stuff. I remember seeing someone with a hatchet on one of my first hikes. We were staying in a shelter on the AT in Tennessee. We had hiked all day through the rain. The shelter had a fireplace but everything was wet. It was evening and I was cold and damp. Right about then a couple of hikers arrived at the shelter. I don't know why but they looked experienced, like they had hiked a lot and knew what they were doing. They introduced themselves and sat for awhile and chatted, but it wasn't long before one of them got up and went to his pack and pulled out a hatchet. He then went out into the rain, found a medium-size, short, dead log, and proceeded to split the log right down the middle. Then he split it again, and again, until he's had a nice pile of dry kindling. He built a nice fire for us all that night, and I decided right then that I wanted to be able to do that on my next rainy hike.
Hatchets are heavy so I had to think twice before I put one in my pack, but I just couldn't stop thinking about how nice that fire was, so I packed one in on my next few trips. But it didn't rain. Still, I couldn't just leave it behind. After a few more trips, I traded the hatchet for a machete, which wasn't much lighter really, but it was a whole lot cooler when I was a kid. The machete was a lot more versatile, too, so I could use it for other things, but it was still pretty damn heavy for what I got out of it, and I still hadn't run into a long, cold, rainy day that made it worth it's weight.
After a few more trips I stopped packing the machete, too. And I never missed it. I still have it, and it brings me some great memories, but the cost vs. benefit for backpacking didn't work out.
Living close to nature is easy, and it's hard. It's a stress-free life full of insects. It's cold water running over the top of your head on a hot Summer's day. It's peaceful nights spent playing a guitar and sipping a warm beer. It's spare time and extra cash and long boring days spent watching all the other life around you.
But then, living the modern lifestyle is also easy, and it's hard. It's driving a new, air conditioned car and making the car payments. It's relaxing in front of a TV after working for someone else all day. It's enjoying a freshly-cut lawn after sweating behind a mower on your day off. It's working all year to pay the bills, then taking a two-week vacation...to go camping.
I took way too much on my first trip, so I learned a lot. Like the value of a light pack. As I packed for successive trips, I'd leave behind a few items that weren't worth their weight on the previous trip, and add a few items that I'd missed on the trail. After a lot of trial and error, I came up with just the right pack...for me.
I imagine every backpacker has a similar story of trial and error, yet each comes up with different solutions since everyone seems to pack different stuff. I remember seeing someone with a hatchet on one of my first hikes. We were staying in a shelter on the AT in Tennessee. We had hiked all day through the rain. The shelter had a fireplace but everything was wet. It was evening and I was cold and damp. Right about then a couple of hikers arrived at the shelter. I don't know why but they looked experienced, like they had hiked a lot and knew what they were doing. They introduced themselves and sat for awhile and chatted, but it wasn't long before one of them got up and went to his pack and pulled out a hatchet. He then went out into the rain, found a medium-size, short, dead log, and proceeded to split the log right down the middle. Then he split it again, and again, until he's had a nice pile of dry kindling. He built a nice fire for us all that night, and I decided right then that I wanted to be able to do that on my next rainy hike.
Hatchets are heavy so I had to think twice before I put one in my pack, but I just couldn't stop thinking about how nice that fire was, so I packed one in on my next few trips. But it didn't rain. Still, I couldn't just leave it behind. After a few more trips, I traded the hatchet for a machete, which wasn't much lighter really, but it was a whole lot cooler when I was a kid. The machete was a lot more versatile, too, so I could use it for other things, but it was still pretty damn heavy for what I got out of it, and I still hadn't run into a long, cold, rainy day that made it worth it's weight.
After a few more trips I stopped packing the machete, too. And I never missed it. I still have it, and it brings me some great memories, but the cost vs. benefit for backpacking didn't work out.
Living close to nature is easy, and it's hard. It's a stress-free life full of insects. It's cold water running over the top of your head on a hot Summer's day. It's peaceful nights spent playing a guitar and sipping a warm beer. It's spare time and extra cash and long boring days spent watching all the other life around you.
But then, living the modern lifestyle is also easy, and it's hard. It's driving a new, air conditioned car and making the car payments. It's relaxing in front of a TV after working for someone else all day. It's enjoying a freshly-cut lawn after sweating behind a mower on your day off. It's working all year to pay the bills, then taking a two-week vacation...to go camping.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Use it or Lose it
Life forms are incredibly efficient. We constantly transform and optimise ourselves in response to our environment. Each of our biological subsystems, like our brains and muscles and cardiovascular and reproductive systems, constantly tunes itself to its environment. Use it, and it stays strong and healthy. Stop using it, and we lose it. It's our body's way of keeping what's important, and "decluttering" things that aren't used.
This same "use it or lose it" principle can be applied to our possessions, too. There are plenty of web sites out there that will step us through the process of decluttering, and most of them embrace the idea of "use it or lose it". Have something in the garage that you haven't used in a year? Get rid of it!
Living in the woods in a canvas tent has given me a slightly different perspective on this decluttering approach. Turns out that if I don't use something in a year's time or so, then I end up losing it alright...to other creatures!...that are happy to use it for me!
I have a team of helpers for this. Mice are really good. They like the soft stuff that I tuck away under my bed. And they love it when I store things in rarely-opened drawers. Moths are good workers, too. They always find those pants and shirts that I think I'll wear "someday". But for outdoor help, nothing beats black ants. They're not as particular as mice and moths since they're not strictly focused on finding soft fabrics. Instead, they're happy to just set up their homes in places that I don't get into much, like my outdoor plastic container that holds my backpacking gear.
Some of my recent encounters with "use it or lose it" have caused me to look at other English phrases in a different way, too. Old idioms that go back to when we all lived a bit closer to nature. Like "pitch it out", which really means, "you've just discovered an ant nest in your favorite old leather bag that you never use, so grab that sucker and quickly throw it out into the woods". Or "spring cleaning" which means "hey, it's getting warm outside so go through all your stuff and check every nook and cranny for critters building nests".
The good side to all of this is that I'm forced to declutter even further. When I first moved into my small 12' x 14' tent, I had to be pretty brutal about decluttering. I just didn't have room for much. But I still tried to hang onto a few rarely-used items that I thought I might want down the road. And as I've slowly lost some of those items over time, it's given me cause to reconsider. Like even though it was sad to throw out my favorite leather bag, I didn't replace it. So it turns out I didn't really need it anyway. But when I grabbed my golf clubs for the first time in over a year and found it fully of bees, I "pitched out" the old bag, went out and bought a new bag, and proceeded to the driving range.
It's sort of annoying that my little helpers are so incessantly decluttering on my behalf, but I'm curious to see how things turn out. I guess I should thank them for forcing me to consider how important each and every one of my possessions truly are to me.
This same "use it or lose it" principle can be applied to our possessions, too. There are plenty of web sites out there that will step us through the process of decluttering, and most of them embrace the idea of "use it or lose it". Have something in the garage that you haven't used in a year? Get rid of it!
Living in the woods in a canvas tent has given me a slightly different perspective on this decluttering approach. Turns out that if I don't use something in a year's time or so, then I end up losing it alright...to other creatures!...that are happy to use it for me!
I have a team of helpers for this. Mice are really good. They like the soft stuff that I tuck away under my bed. And they love it when I store things in rarely-opened drawers. Moths are good workers, too. They always find those pants and shirts that I think I'll wear "someday". But for outdoor help, nothing beats black ants. They're not as particular as mice and moths since they're not strictly focused on finding soft fabrics. Instead, they're happy to just set up their homes in places that I don't get into much, like my outdoor plastic container that holds my backpacking gear.
Some of my recent encounters with "use it or lose it" have caused me to look at other English phrases in a different way, too. Old idioms that go back to when we all lived a bit closer to nature. Like "pitch it out", which really means, "you've just discovered an ant nest in your favorite old leather bag that you never use, so grab that sucker and quickly throw it out into the woods". Or "spring cleaning" which means "hey, it's getting warm outside so go through all your stuff and check every nook and cranny for critters building nests".
The good side to all of this is that I'm forced to declutter even further. When I first moved into my small 12' x 14' tent, I had to be pretty brutal about decluttering. I just didn't have room for much. But I still tried to hang onto a few rarely-used items that I thought I might want down the road. And as I've slowly lost some of those items over time, it's given me cause to reconsider. Like even though it was sad to throw out my favorite leather bag, I didn't replace it. So it turns out I didn't really need it anyway. But when I grabbed my golf clubs for the first time in over a year and found it fully of bees, I "pitched out" the old bag, went out and bought a new bag, and proceeded to the driving range.
It's sort of annoying that my little helpers are so incessantly decluttering on my behalf, but I'm curious to see how things turn out. I guess I should thank them for forcing me to consider how important each and every one of my possessions truly are to me.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Missing My Place
It's already the end of June, and it occurs to me that I've spent very little time enjoying my place this month. It's just been one of those months. I've been busy as hell at work, putting in long hours and going straight to bed when I got home. There were a few nights when I didn't even light a candle. Just walked into the dark tent, turned on the flashlight to quickly check for critters, and hoped into bed. I also took 10 days off in June and spent the whole time sitting around the pool with my girlfriend and staying at her place, so I didn't see my place at all during those days (but hey, I'm not complaining!)
The past few days have gotten back to normal. My vacation is over, and work is tapering off. About a week ago I spent the better part of a day getting my place back in order. The weeds had taken over my path and the inside of my tent was in need of a good cleaning. But now things are getting back to normal, and I'm enjoying the tranquillity again.
It's getting hot, too. Not too bad so far, but Summer is certainly here. I'm enjoying the heat so far. It's still in the 70s at night so I'm sleeping fine. I usually leave the door open through the night. I'm enjoying the long evening light, too, but now that we're past the solstice...no, I'm not gonna think about that yet!
The past few days have gotten back to normal. My vacation is over, and work is tapering off. About a week ago I spent the better part of a day getting my place back in order. The weeds had taken over my path and the inside of my tent was in need of a good cleaning. But now things are getting back to normal, and I'm enjoying the tranquillity again.
It's getting hot, too. Not too bad so far, but Summer is certainly here. I'm enjoying the heat so far. It's still in the 70s at night so I'm sleeping fine. I usually leave the door open through the night. I'm enjoying the long evening light, too, but now that we're past the solstice...no, I'm not gonna think about that yet!
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