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| Living and entertainment space |
Friday, June 22, 2012
My Living Space
I found a very inviting shady spot near my tent that's perfect for a living area. There's extra seating for guests and a hammock. A tiki torch provides the right ambiance for evening gathering.
This space is still evolving. I'd like to prepare meals there so I'll be adding a small picnic table soon. And a fire ring is a must! But then I think I'm done.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Simplicity
Sitting on a sandy beach, facing the ocean, wearing nothing but my swim trunks and a squint from the bright sunshine, I listen to the ocean gently pound the shoreline with wave after wave after wave. The sand slowly wears away, and the sea takes in the salt and minerals from the land. The sea and the sand blend in this way.
Living creatures, on the other hand, resist such erosion. Being alive means that we remain integrated, not disintegrated like the sand and the surf. We stay together. We maintain our self. We fight against the disintegrating properties of nature in this way, because we are life forms and that is what we do. All life forms resist disintegration, only to yield to it finally upon death.
And all the things that living creatures construct, from ants hills to bee hives to skyscrapers, are of this same nature. We gather and fashion and construct and fight the forces of nature that want to breakdown and deconstruct. And once we are finished with our work, we step away. But nature is always there, trying to break down our objects, to return them to sand and salt.
And so it is with our own life, and with all the things that we make, and with all the things made by others that we acquire and care for and try to keep from decomposing. We fight the constant waves of nature, trying to keep our stuff intact and in proper working order. We build our sand castles by the sea. Then we dig our moats to protect them. Then we watch and worry and repair as best we can, always knowing that the ocean will wash it all away when we retire for the evening.
There were times in my life when I owned many things. Some were big and expensive like a house. Others were small. Some were useful. Others were intended to give me pleasure just by their mere presence. But I could never figure out how to just enjoy my multitude of things without worrying about all the maintenance. So I'm trying a different approach now. I'm trying not to own things. And I've never felt so relaxed.
I'm sitting on a sandy beach now, facing the ocean, wearing nothing but my swim trunks and a squint from the bright sunshine. And there's not a sand castle in sight.
Living creatures, on the other hand, resist such erosion. Being alive means that we remain integrated, not disintegrated like the sand and the surf. We stay together. We maintain our self. We fight against the disintegrating properties of nature in this way, because we are life forms and that is what we do. All life forms resist disintegration, only to yield to it finally upon death.
And all the things that living creatures construct, from ants hills to bee hives to skyscrapers, are of this same nature. We gather and fashion and construct and fight the forces of nature that want to breakdown and deconstruct. And once we are finished with our work, we step away. But nature is always there, trying to break down our objects, to return them to sand and salt.
And so it is with our own life, and with all the things that we make, and with all the things made by others that we acquire and care for and try to keep from decomposing. We fight the constant waves of nature, trying to keep our stuff intact and in proper working order. We build our sand castles by the sea. Then we dig our moats to protect them. Then we watch and worry and repair as best we can, always knowing that the ocean will wash it all away when we retire for the evening.
There were times in my life when I owned many things. Some were big and expensive like a house. Others were small. Some were useful. Others were intended to give me pleasure just by their mere presence. But I could never figure out how to just enjoy my multitude of things without worrying about all the maintenance. So I'm trying a different approach now. I'm trying not to own things. And I've never felt so relaxed.
I'm sitting on a sandy beach now, facing the ocean, wearing nothing but my swim trunks and a squint from the bright sunshine. And there's not a sand castle in sight.
Mice!
Living in a tent in the middle of the woods has gotten me used to all sorts of creatures. After all, I'm in *their* environment so it makes sense that I would have guests popping in. And for the most part, I've gotten used to them all. Wasps that dart into my tent on hot, sunny days. Moths that find my evening candlelight. And those damn ticks! And spiders and fireflies and mosquitoes and snakes and lizards so on and so on.
I've gotten used to them all, and have come to a place where I actually enjoy being in their midst, with one exception: mice!
A few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night with a start. I sat up in my bed wide-eyed, looking around my dark tent, searching for the source of what had startled me. Everything was quiet, so I just sat there motionless in my bed and waited for a bit. Then I heard the noise again! It was an animal, not too big. A quick animal, too quick to be a snake. And it sounded like it was right next to me. It moved again. My imagination was trying to figure out what it was. Then it moved again, and this time it sounded like it was right above me! I jumped out of bed, backed away from the noise, and reached for my flashlight.
I shined the flashlight around the ceiling of the tent just above my bed where I had heard the noise. Nothing was there and all was quiet again, so I hit the canvas ceiling with a sharp slap. There it was! I heard it run down the side of my tent for a few feet and then stop. I hit the canvas again. It ran a bit more. I banged the canvas harder, trying to knock whatever it was off the walls. Slap! Slap! Finally it was gone.
This continued for a few more nights. I'd wake up, startled by a noise. Then I'd listen for the noise again, bang the canvas around to chase the damn thing away, then fall back to sleep. I had seen both lizards and mice outside the tent, and had decided it must be one of those. The size and speed seemed about right. A few days later, I confirmed that it was indeed a mouse when I heard that same familiar noise during daylight hours and could then clearly see the cute little silhouette of a mouse walking around on top of my tent.
But mice are only cute when they're not living with you. Last week, I was out of town for a few days and when I got back home I immediately noticed that something had been in my tent. There were bits of nuts and raisins scattered here and there, and it was obvious that the mice had made their way inside while I was absent. That night the noises were different. The little bastards were running around the tent all night long. There were at least two of them. And where there are two there are ten. Damn!
So I bought some traps and caught two of them. Things are quiet again...for now. I also bought some firring strips that I'll fasten to the perimeter of the tent to better seal the canvas. I still need to go through all of my stuff and check for nests, clean up droppings, inspect my food, and so on. But for the moment its back to just spiders and moths and wasps and...no mice.
I've gotten used to them all, and have come to a place where I actually enjoy being in their midst, with one exception: mice!
A few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night with a start. I sat up in my bed wide-eyed, looking around my dark tent, searching for the source of what had startled me. Everything was quiet, so I just sat there motionless in my bed and waited for a bit. Then I heard the noise again! It was an animal, not too big. A quick animal, too quick to be a snake. And it sounded like it was right next to me. It moved again. My imagination was trying to figure out what it was. Then it moved again, and this time it sounded like it was right above me! I jumped out of bed, backed away from the noise, and reached for my flashlight.
I shined the flashlight around the ceiling of the tent just above my bed where I had heard the noise. Nothing was there and all was quiet again, so I hit the canvas ceiling with a sharp slap. There it was! I heard it run down the side of my tent for a few feet and then stop. I hit the canvas again. It ran a bit more. I banged the canvas harder, trying to knock whatever it was off the walls. Slap! Slap! Finally it was gone.
This continued for a few more nights. I'd wake up, startled by a noise. Then I'd listen for the noise again, bang the canvas around to chase the damn thing away, then fall back to sleep. I had seen both lizards and mice outside the tent, and had decided it must be one of those. The size and speed seemed about right. A few days later, I confirmed that it was indeed a mouse when I heard that same familiar noise during daylight hours and could then clearly see the cute little silhouette of a mouse walking around on top of my tent.
But mice are only cute when they're not living with you. Last week, I was out of town for a few days and when I got back home I immediately noticed that something had been in my tent. There were bits of nuts and raisins scattered here and there, and it was obvious that the mice had made their way inside while I was absent. That night the noises were different. The little bastards were running around the tent all night long. There were at least two of them. And where there are two there are ten. Damn!
So I bought some traps and caught two of them. Things are quiet again...for now. I also bought some firring strips that I'll fasten to the perimeter of the tent to better seal the canvas. I still need to go through all of my stuff and check for nests, clean up droppings, inspect my food, and so on. But for the moment its back to just spiders and moths and wasps and...no mice.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Sounds
Last winter, there were times when I'd wake up in the morning to ice in my wash basin. The thin canvas walls unable to keep the cold winter air from creeping in through the night. No insulation! Nothing to keep the outside temperatures from coming in.
But those same thin walls let in the most wonderful sounds.
I awaken to birds singing every morning. And the singing is so clear that I can tell exactly where each bird is. I can hear their wings on the air as they fly from tree to tree around me. I hear them chatter at each other, like squabbling children. And I smile as I pull the blankets around me, trying to stay warm.
And at night, when a storm is moving in, I hear the wind moving from tree top to tree top to tree top until finally it hits my rain fly and moves my entire tent ever so slightly, like waves of wind washing over my home. I can hear it start from so far away. I can tell when it will arrive, and how strong it will be. And after it hits me, I hear it move on its way, away from me as it continues on from tree top to tree top. And that makes me smile, too.
I hear the rain drops, too, of course. But not just that, I can even hear the snow flakes during a strong winter storm. The white noise of precipitation is usually calming, but it can also be damn loud during thunderstorms. Too loud to sleep through sometimes. I've spend a few nights like that, waiting for things to quiet down enough for me to get back to sleep. But usually, the soft rain drops make me sleepy, like they did a few days ago. It was late afternoon, and the sky began to darken as a storm rolled in, so dark that I had to light some candles. I sat in my chair and read while the storm arrived. The sky grew darker still, then the rain began, slowly at first, building to a nice summer soaker. I only read for a few more minutes before deciding it was time for a nap. I woke up almost two hours later.
Cold in the winter. Hot in the summer. Sounds all year long.
But those same thin walls let in the most wonderful sounds.
I awaken to birds singing every morning. And the singing is so clear that I can tell exactly where each bird is. I can hear their wings on the air as they fly from tree to tree around me. I hear them chatter at each other, like squabbling children. And I smile as I pull the blankets around me, trying to stay warm.
And at night, when a storm is moving in, I hear the wind moving from tree top to tree top to tree top until finally it hits my rain fly and moves my entire tent ever so slightly, like waves of wind washing over my home. I can hear it start from so far away. I can tell when it will arrive, and how strong it will be. And after it hits me, I hear it move on its way, away from me as it continues on from tree top to tree top. And that makes me smile, too.
I hear the rain drops, too, of course. But not just that, I can even hear the snow flakes during a strong winter storm. The white noise of precipitation is usually calming, but it can also be damn loud during thunderstorms. Too loud to sleep through sometimes. I've spend a few nights like that, waiting for things to quiet down enough for me to get back to sleep. But usually, the soft rain drops make me sleepy, like they did a few days ago. It was late afternoon, and the sky began to darken as a storm rolled in, so dark that I had to light some candles. I sat in my chair and read while the storm arrived. The sky grew darker still, then the rain began, slowly at first, building to a nice summer soaker. I only read for a few more minutes before deciding it was time for a nap. I woke up almost two hours later.
Cold in the winter. Hot in the summer. Sounds all year long.
My $3000 Home
Here's a breakdown of what I spent on my tent. Unfortunately, I didn't keep very good records, but these figures are pretty close:
Platform (blocks, lumber, and fasteners): $300
Interior tent frame (conduit and angle fixtures): $300
Tent (canvas shell, ropes, and stakes): $800
Rain fly (wooden support, tarp, ropes, and stakes): $300
Door assembly (lumber, Plexiglas, and hardware): $150
Wood stove (including stove pipe): $300
Earth closet: $50
Dump sink (bucket, pipes, and fixtures): $20
Cook stove (burners, hose, and LP tanks): $80
TOTAL: $2300
That's for the finished structure with all the systems. Then I had to furnish the interior space with shelves, a closet, a bed, some rugs, some art work, and so on. The whole thing is less than $3000.
Platform (blocks, lumber, and fasteners): $300
Interior tent frame (conduit and angle fixtures): $300
Tent (canvas shell, ropes, and stakes): $800
Rain fly (wooden support, tarp, ropes, and stakes): $300
Door assembly (lumber, Plexiglas, and hardware): $150
Wood stove (including stove pipe): $300
Earth closet: $50
Dump sink (bucket, pipes, and fixtures): $20
Cook stove (burners, hose, and LP tanks): $80
TOTAL: $2300
That's for the finished structure with all the systems. Then I had to furnish the interior space with shelves, a closet, a bed, some rugs, some art work, and so on. The whole thing is less than $3000.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Frequently Asked Questions
Here are some FAQs about tent living. Please post more questions if you have them!
Why do you live this way?
Well, that's sort of a long story.
Do you have electricity?
I don't have electrical service, but I do have a few battery operated devices like a flashlight and a beard trimmer. I also have a battery operated CD player. I really don't miss electricity.
How do you light your tent at night?
I mainly use candles for lighting, especially in the warmer months. I also use kerosene lamps sometimes, like when I have guests, or when I cook or read.
Do you have refrigeration?
No, I don't have refrigeration. I have a cooler that I pack with ice when I have guests sometimes, mainly for beverages. As a consequence, I have no way to preserve my leftover food during the warmer months so I plan my meals accordingly. And I can't keep refrigerated foods like fresh meats and dairy on hand, so I shop accordingly by buying fresh foods on my way home from work, to be cooked and eaten that evening for dinner. The only thing that I miss is cold beer! I just can't get used to warm beer.
How do you cook?
I have a fully-functional kitchen featuring a two-burner gas camp stove and a camp oven. The oven doesn't work very well though. I can't really bake anything. It only gets up to around 250 degrees. Great for warming things, and okay for nachos and pizza. The stove operates on LP, and I have a 20 lbs tank outside connected to the stove by a 10' adaptor hose.
Where do you get your water?
I get all of my water from an outside source and carry to my tent using seven-gallon containers. I consume about three gallons a day for bathing, cooking, and cleaning (note that my toilet doesn't use water). Before I moved to Brandy Station, I filled my containers at a nearby convenience store for $1 per container. Now, I get my water for free from my landlord from an outside spigot on his guest house.
What about bathing?
I take sponge baths using wash clothes and a wash basin. Since I carry in my water, it's precious to me and this type of bathing helps me conserve water. I can bathe my entire body using only about 1 1/2 gallons of water. And I don't need a tub or shower, which occupy space and consume a lot of water. I have a dedicated eight-quart pot for hot water. I fill it with cold water and heat it on my gas cook stove. It heats to bathing temperature in about 10 minutes.
How do you wash dishes?
I wash and rinse my dishes by hand using a plastic dish pan. As with bathing, I heat my water on the stove using the hot water pot. I get water a little hotter for dishes so it takes a bit longer to heat, but it's the same idea as bathing. I dump the wash and rinse water down the dump sink when I'm finished, and I stack the dishes in a dish drainer to air dry.
How do you wash your clothes?
I usually go to the laundromat. Sometimes my friends invite me to do laundry at their house while I hang out and visit.
What is your toilet like?
I use my dump sink as a urinal. It's plumbed to a dry well outside. The dump sink handles all of my grey water, including urine. For solid waste I use an earth closet that I built from plywood and five-gallon buckets. I use sawdust instead of earth to cover the waste, and periodically dump it to a tree bog. This system doesn't use any water and doesn't require any sort of underground septic system.
Do you get cold in the winter?
Yes, I get cold in the winter, but only for short periods. Like when I get up in the morning. The inside temperature in the morning is nearly the same as the outside because my wood stove, which is my main heating source, only keeps the tent comfortable for maybe six hours or so. After that, the cold starts creeping in pretty quickly. So my winter mornings consist of me running out to my front stoop to quickly light my kerosene heater, then throwing some wood in the stove, then quickly jumping back into bed for a 10-minute snooze! My bed is plenty warm since I pile on blankets, sleeping bags, a down comforters, and so on. And I sleep in long underwear so it's actually all pretty tolerable. But it'll wake you up in the morning!
The other cold period is when I get home from work in the evenings and the wood stove is once again down to just coals. Again, I have to get the stove going, and that takes about 15 minutes or so. I just leave my coat on and huddle around the stove pipe for a bit until things warm up.
Other than that, it's actually very warm and cozy in the winter. In fact, I've probably had more challenges keeping the space cool enough. It's difficult to regulate the wood stove in such a small space and I've often seen the temperature creep up to 90 degrees plus. I've even had to open the front door and let some cold winter air in to cool things down at times.
Do you get hot in the summer?
Yes, I get hot in the summer. Very hot! My first summer in a tent was the summer of 2012. I had just moved to a new location that April so I was still a bit disorganized as the summer began heating up. By August, I had finally gotten things figured out, and my body had acclimated to the heat by then. I found four things that helped me fight the summer heat: a rain fly that helped shade my tent, an outdoor living area where I could sit in the shade, plenty of cold baths, and very few clothes. By the end of summer, I had acclimated to where 95 degrees felt like "room temperature" to me.
Do you stay dry when it rains?
Yes, I stay very dry even during heavy rains. That's because I have a very large rain fly with plenty of overhang all around my tent, and the tent is up on a wooden platform, well off the ground. High and dry!
What did it cost?
The whole thing cost less than $3000. I didn't keep very good records, but I have a breakdown that's pretty close.
Why do you live this way?
Well, that's sort of a long story.
Do you have electricity?
I don't have electrical service, but I do have a few battery operated devices like a flashlight and a beard trimmer. I also have a battery operated CD player. I really don't miss electricity.
How do you light your tent at night?
I mainly use candles for lighting, especially in the warmer months. I also use kerosene lamps sometimes, like when I have guests, or when I cook or read.
Do you have refrigeration?
No, I don't have refrigeration. I have a cooler that I pack with ice when I have guests sometimes, mainly for beverages. As a consequence, I have no way to preserve my leftover food during the warmer months so I plan my meals accordingly. And I can't keep refrigerated foods like fresh meats and dairy on hand, so I shop accordingly by buying fresh foods on my way home from work, to be cooked and eaten that evening for dinner. The only thing that I miss is cold beer! I just can't get used to warm beer.
How do you cook?
I have a fully-functional kitchen featuring a two-burner gas camp stove and a camp oven. The oven doesn't work very well though. I can't really bake anything. It only gets up to around 250 degrees. Great for warming things, and okay for nachos and pizza. The stove operates on LP, and I have a 20 lbs tank outside connected to the stove by a 10' adaptor hose.
Where do you get your water?
I get all of my water from an outside source and carry to my tent using seven-gallon containers. I consume about three gallons a day for bathing, cooking, and cleaning (note that my toilet doesn't use water). Before I moved to Brandy Station, I filled my containers at a nearby convenience store for $1 per container. Now, I get my water for free from my landlord from an outside spigot on his guest house.
What about bathing?
I take sponge baths using wash clothes and a wash basin. Since I carry in my water, it's precious to me and this type of bathing helps me conserve water. I can bathe my entire body using only about 1 1/2 gallons of water. And I don't need a tub or shower, which occupy space and consume a lot of water. I have a dedicated eight-quart pot for hot water. I fill it with cold water and heat it on my gas cook stove. It heats to bathing temperature in about 10 minutes.
How do you wash dishes?
I wash and rinse my dishes by hand using a plastic dish pan. As with bathing, I heat my water on the stove using the hot water pot. I get water a little hotter for dishes so it takes a bit longer to heat, but it's the same idea as bathing. I dump the wash and rinse water down the dump sink when I'm finished, and I stack the dishes in a dish drainer to air dry.
How do you wash your clothes?
I usually go to the laundromat. Sometimes my friends invite me to do laundry at their house while I hang out and visit.
What is your toilet like?
I use my dump sink as a urinal. It's plumbed to a dry well outside. The dump sink handles all of my grey water, including urine. For solid waste I use an earth closet that I built from plywood and five-gallon buckets. I use sawdust instead of earth to cover the waste, and periodically dump it to a tree bog. This system doesn't use any water and doesn't require any sort of underground septic system.
Do you get cold in the winter?
Yes, I get cold in the winter, but only for short periods. Like when I get up in the morning. The inside temperature in the morning is nearly the same as the outside because my wood stove, which is my main heating source, only keeps the tent comfortable for maybe six hours or so. After that, the cold starts creeping in pretty quickly. So my winter mornings consist of me running out to my front stoop to quickly light my kerosene heater, then throwing some wood in the stove, then quickly jumping back into bed for a 10-minute snooze! My bed is plenty warm since I pile on blankets, sleeping bags, a down comforters, and so on. And I sleep in long underwear so it's actually all pretty tolerable. But it'll wake you up in the morning!
The other cold period is when I get home from work in the evenings and the wood stove is once again down to just coals. Again, I have to get the stove going, and that takes about 15 minutes or so. I just leave my coat on and huddle around the stove pipe for a bit until things warm up.
Other than that, it's actually very warm and cozy in the winter. In fact, I've probably had more challenges keeping the space cool enough. It's difficult to regulate the wood stove in such a small space and I've often seen the temperature creep up to 90 degrees plus. I've even had to open the front door and let some cold winter air in to cool things down at times.
Do you get hot in the summer?
Yes, I get hot in the summer. Very hot! My first summer in a tent was the summer of 2012. I had just moved to a new location that April so I was still a bit disorganized as the summer began heating up. By August, I had finally gotten things figured out, and my body had acclimated to the heat by then. I found four things that helped me fight the summer heat: a rain fly that helped shade my tent, an outdoor living area where I could sit in the shade, plenty of cold baths, and very few clothes. By the end of summer, I had acclimated to where 95 degrees felt like "room temperature" to me.
Do you stay dry when it rains?
Yes, I stay very dry even during heavy rains. That's because I have a very large rain fly with plenty of overhang all around my tent, and the tent is up on a wooden platform, well off the ground. High and dry!
What did it cost?
The whole thing cost less than $3000. I didn't keep very good records, but I have a breakdown that's pretty close.
Installing My Front Door and "Porch"
I finally got around to installing my front door and "porch" the other day following my move to Brandy Station.
The front door is easy. I just set it in place, screw the threshold down to the platform, and tighten down the inside clamps that grab the canvas. It makes a pretty good seal, keeping out insects and the wind.
The rectangular portion in the center of the door assembly is the hinged portion that you walk through. The triangles to either side and on top are fixed Plexiglas windows.
I also installed the front "porch", which is just a 3' x 4' platform in front of the door. I cut two 4x4s to the proper length to level out the porch.
The front door is easy. I just set it in place, screw the threshold down to the platform, and tighten down the inside clamps that grab the canvas. It makes a pretty good seal, keeping out insects and the wind.
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| Front door installed |
I also installed the front "porch", which is just a 3' x 4' platform in front of the door. I cut two 4x4s to the proper length to level out the porch.
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| Front "porch" |
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