Winter Melancholy

It's the last day of December and I'm feeling down. The tent feels awfully small this time of year. The days are short, and I just want to sleep. I need some sun! I start feeling this way every year around this time. January is tough, too. But once February is near, I know it's about over.

Heavy Snow Takes a Toll

I had my first significant storm-related failure a few weeks ago. We had a Winter storm with mixed precipitation and the heavy accumulation of snow, rain, and sleet on my rain fly caused it to break loose from the conduit pipe running along the eaves.

Heavy snow damages rain fly

Fortunately, my good friend, Tom, had convinced me to attach the rain fly to the conduit with nylon zip-ties. Not only was that a clever and easy solution, but the zip-ties broke before the grommets did, so it was easy to fix the damage.

Not so for the small tarp that I had set over the picnic table. I rigged it about the same way, using zip-ties, but the tarp itself wasn't very thick so some of the grommets tore out. I'll replace it in Spring with a heavier tarp.

Living room tarp was a total loss

My Second Anniversary of Tent Living

I moved into my tent in November of 2011, so it's been two year now. Nearly as long as Thoreau lived at Walden Pond. I've planted no beans, as he did, and I don't bathe in a pond, but like him, I've lived the simple life long enough to get a good taste of it.

This second year of tent living was my year of routine. Last November, I was setup much as I am today, which means that I've solved all the problems that needed solving, and I know how to live well through each season.  My one big home improvement project during this past year was to hang a tarp over my picnic table during a particularly long Summer rain storm on an otherwise pleasant day when I wanted to spend some time outdoors. But that's it. So I am cruising along now on a steady course.

This November is different from last since I know exactly what to expect in the coming months. Last November started with a feeling of dread since I had not yet had a good Winter experience. But last Winter was a great success, so now that is my new memory. And I know now that there will be very cold times, as well as warm and cozy times. And long, dark evenings spent reading in solitude next to a fire. And early bedtimes. And cold mornings when the coals did not last through the night. And wind and rain and Winter storms. And clear, crisp, snowy days that will make me squint and smile. And hot coffee with my morning walks through the quiet, snow-covered pine woods. And visits to my swing and picnic table and hammock, covered with snow, surrounded by mud, waiting for Spring's warmth to wake them up again. And stacks of kindling and firewood that I will have to keep dry and well-supplied and tended to, that being my primary concern this time of year.

I can already say with confidence that I will live yet another year this way, should all things go according to plan. I've yet to seriously consider returning to the normal way of life, this one being so much simpler and therefore preferable to me. This time of year, I often sit by the fire, gazing into it for awhile, then look around my home, realising, as I often do, that I want for nothing more. And that makes me smile, knowing that I am living well and right, for me.

Land Search Continues

It's been a month now since I started my most recent land search. I ran a Craigslist ad looking for land to lease for off-grid living, and posted a corresponding link to Facebook. Both received a lot of attention. Several of my friends offered to let me stay on their land, and to-date I've gotten about 140 blog hits from the Craigslist ad.

I also met some new people, like Donna and Ron who saw my Facebook post and asked about writing an article on my lifestyle, and Jonathan and Joe who saw my Craigslist ad and sent me emails. Jonathan was very encouraging and said he would pass the word to his friends. But it was Joe's email that got me thinking.

Joe lives in a rural area about 3 hours from me. He owns an 86-acre farm. Sometime ago, Joe let a friend setup a camper on his property for occasional overnight stays during hunting season. An anonymous neighbor complained about the camper to the county who sent investigators. Joe was informed that he was in violation of various county ordinances and was forced to stop using the camper.

I also heard from my old friend, Elizabeth, who I'd met on my previous land search back in 2011. She had also shared with me some of her experiences with nosy neighbors and county authorities.

By now, I was starting to get angry! How could the county restrict someone from tent camping on private property? I did some research. From what I can tell, there are three areas of concern that people wanting to live my lifestyle should be aware of:

• Health codes. Especially in the area of water and sewer
• Fire codes. Such as fire-retardant materials, indoor use of propane, wood stove installation, and so on
• Occupancy and zoning. Limitations on "camping", and the definition of "campgrounds" (this is where Joe got into trouble)

I already learned about the health code issues when I setup my tent toilet back in 2012. And the fire code restrictions are probably a good idea (considering I've already had a few mishaps with my propane heater and wood stove!) But it's the limitations on tent camping that can be the show-stopper.

I was pretty angry about the whole situation until my friend, Elizabeth, finally talked some sense into me. "Oh, my. Looks like you have swapped priorities and choose contentiousness over enjoying life in your tent. I feel bad for you!", she said. That really got to me. Of course, she was right. I was getting all worked-up just thinking about the authorities ending my peaceful lifestyle. So worked-up, in fact, that I had already ended my peaceful lifestyle without a single visit from the county!

So my current strategy is to lay low and be a good neighbor. And maybe invest in some camouflage.

Candle Making

I don't have electricity at my place so I light with oil lamps and candles. Candles never completely burn. They always leave behind remnants of wax after the wick is gone. I gather up these pieces after each candle and, from time to time, melt them all down into new candles.

I have a small pan dedicated to candle making so I don't worry about melted wax spoiling the pan.

Melting wax chips

I always burn candles in small containers so that the wax doesn't drip onto my table tops. I use these same containers as candle molds.



Candle molds

Once the wax is melted, I pour it into the molds. I use a sieve to remove any debris, like old wicks, and insects that flew into the old candles. I let the candles cool just long enough to form a thin layer of hardened wax on the top and bottom, which holds the new wick in place.

Cooling the wax and inserting the wicks

Here's the finished product in use, lighting up my bathroom.

Autumn Squirrels

It’s harvest season again. That used to mean something to humans when we lived close to Nature. When we were each keenly aware that our food supply was part of the yearly cycle of our planet. Before commercial farming and global agriculture and supermarkets, we each knew where our food came from. It was grown in our own fields, or foraged and hunted from our surroundings. And we knew how our food supply depended upon the seasons. We knew the season to plant, the season to cultivate and grow, and the season to harvest. But that antiquated awareness is now gone for most of us. We now do our gathering at 24-hour supermarkets and restaurants which seem to always have a bounty of food available, no matter the season.

 

But while modern humans no longer associate their food supply with the seasons, most other life forms still do, which means that October is still the harvest season for many. It’s the time when surplus food is quickly gathered and stored away for the coming of Winter. And so it is for squirrels in Virginia.

 

In my area of Virginia, the squirrels seemed particularly active this Autumn. I have a large walnut tree just outside my door so I have a front-row seat to the harvest. There are always two or three squirrels in the tree this time of year, scurrying up and down the limbs and around the trunk, cutting walnuts from the tree and dropping them to the ground, then picking them up and carrying them off. Very industrious! Always on the run. Is this a stressful time of year for them? Do they feel a sense of urgency?

 

I love watching squirrels during the harvest. Their behaviour personifies many of our most esteemed values. They work hard, and benefit from their own labour. They plan ahead, and save for tomorrow. And they’re independent, each relying upon themself to gather their own nuts. There is no "nut factory". No working for "Nuts, Inc.". No investing in the "nut market". Want to eat this winter? Go gather some nuts! And so they toil on, each one of them, gathering all the nuts that can be found until each has enough to carry them through until Spring. Some will be more fortunately than others, but each has their own equal chance, so long as they work hard.

 

And they all work hard! Running up and down trees, this way and that, always on the run! Especially when they’re away from the woods and out on the roads. Standing just at the edge of the road, looking first in one direction, then quickly spinning to face the other. Taking a quick step or two, then stopping, and turning again. "Come on, little fellow, make up your mind!" I’d say to myself, slowing my vehicle as I approached them, until finally there was nothing more to do then to commit to my chosen route, hoping that I had correctly predicted their next move, which I often did, but sometimes didn’t.

 

I hit only one this year, but had plenty of near misses, as I did a few weeks ago. I was driving along a narrow country road when I spotted a squirrel ahead on my right, just at the edge of the road. As I began slowing down, planning how to avoid him, I realised that the oncoming vehicle would be just to my left at the very moment that I reached the squirrel. I wouldn’t be able to swerve, so I tried to slow down even more but there was no way to fully stop before reaching him. It would be up to the squirrel now.

 

The little guy stood up on his hind legs just as I and the other vehicle closed in on him. He was facing the road, and took a quick few steps toward us, but then quickly spun around and ran safely off into the tall grass to my right. Relieved, I looked up and smiled and waved at the oncoming driver.

 

He was an older man in his sixties with neat grey hair. He wore a dress shirt and drove a clean, new Ford F-350. He looked at me but didn’t wave back, seemingly unaware that he and I had just collaborated to save a squirrel! As he passed, I joked to myself, "Nice truck. Must have cost a lot of nuts. Wonder which trees he gathered from?" I looked in my mirror, expecting to perhaps see a "Nuts, Inc." bumper sticker on his truck, but there wasn’t one.

 

We’ve come far since our days of hunting and gathering, but we’ve lost much along the way, too. While our physical hunger has been satisfied, our spiritual hunger has increased in the bargain. Now, instead of gathering nuts, we must all gather money to carry us through the seasons. And our money-machines are not nearly as nurturing as our Mother Earth.

Searching for Land

As I mentioned in an earlier post about land, I don't own land, nor do I want to at this point in my life. But I still need a place to setup my tent, and that means renting a spot from a landowner.

I've lived at my current location in Brandy Station for a year-and-a-half now, and I'm getting the itch to move. I want a place that's more secluded, with more wildlife, and a stream or river.

Yesterday, I ran a Craigslist ad:

WANTED: Land to Lease for Off-grid Living (Culpeper County)

Do you own land in Culpeper County, or know someone who does? Do you believe in the benefits of living a simple lifestyle, close to nature? If so, then please read on.

Hi, my name is Dave. I live in a canvas wall tent. I live close to nature and off the grid. I'm 55 years old and have a full-time job that pays well so I don't *need* to live this way. I *want* to live this way.

My current lifestyle started about two years ago as a sort of experiment and is still going strong! You can read all about it at: <link to this blog>

Up until now, I've been staying on about 30 acres. But lately I've been wanting to go deeper into nature. And that's where I need your help.

I'm looking for secluded land in Culpeper County with a stream or river. I'd like a place where I could stay for a year or two. I'm completely self-sufficient and enjoy spending my evenings in solitude.

If you're a landowner, I'll pay you $100/month for the privilege of staying on your land. If you know a landowner that might be interested, I'll pay you $100 for the referral, if things work out.

If you are interested in what I'm doing and have ideas to help me in my quest, then please call me.

Within 24 hours I got over 20 hits on my blog from this ad, so the word is getting out. But how many people need to see the ad before I get results? Hmm

Well, I posted the ad under "real estate wanted", so I'm thinking that a lot of people searching that category already own real estate. And of all the property owners in this area of Virginia, maybe 5% own the type of property I'm looking for. Of those, maybe only 10% are open minded enough to consider letting me stay there. And of those, maybe half will be in a position to offer me occupancy.

And on my side, I'd like to be a little picky. I don't want to settle for the first property that comes along. I'd rather have a few to select from. And I want to be sure that I'll get along with the owners, too. So what would it take to find, let's say, five potential properties? I'm thinking it may take a couple thousand people to see my ad!

But then again, if I already got 20 hits to my blog in 24 hours, does that mean that those 20 people are interested in what I'm doing (the "open minded" segment?) And since I'm offering a $100 referral, might they help me find land, even if they themselves don't own a suitable place? Maybe. At least a few of them might, maybe one or two a day.

So I'm going to let this advertising experiment run for awhile and see what happens.

Fun with Propane

When it comes to controlling temperatures in the tent, there are three season: the Hot Season (Summer), the Cold Season (Winter), and the Damn-It's-Cold-In-The-Morning Season (Spring and Autumn). Spring and Autumn in Virginia can bring morning temperatures down to the 40s. That's still too warm to light up the wood stove, but it's uncomfortably cool when you crawl out of bed in the morning. So from September through November, and again in the Spring, I need some sort of space heater to warm things up.

Last year, I used a kerosene heater to drive out the morning chill. It worked well, but it gave off a lot of fumes when it was first lit so I had to light it outdoors and let it burn for awhile before bringing it into the tent. That made for some uncomfortable mornings since I had to jump out of bed and walk around the cold tent for awhile, dealing with the kerosene heater. And kerosene gives off a lot of fumes, which never really bothered me but seemed to bother some of my friends.

So this year, I replaced my kerosene heater with a propane tank-top heater. I use a Mr. Heater MH15T tank-top heater. It attaches directly to a 20 lbs propane tank and gives off about 15K BTUs. That's a bit less the the 22K BTUs I got from the kerosene heater but it should still do the job. I used a BTU calculator to figure the difference. For a 12' x 14' "poorly insulated room", 15K BTUs will raise the temperature about 30 degrees (compared to 45 degrees for 22K BTUs). That will get me into December, when the temperatures drop down to the 30s and I can finally install the wood stove.

Mr. Heater MH15T tank-top propane heater

A few nights ago, I lit the propane heater for the first time. I brought a new, full propane tank into the tent and attached the heater. Propane tanks have left-hand threads so I struggled a bit getting the heater attached. I'd screw in the connector a few turns, but then it would start to feel like it was cross-threading so I'd take it out and try again. When I finally did get it connected, it still didn't seem quite right, but I thought, "Well, I guess that's just how it connects" (Mistake #1).

It was late in the evening and the temperatures were dropping quickly so I was anxious to fire up the new heater and get things nice and cozy! I opened the tank valve, opened the heater valve, and placed a lighter in front of the heating element. I lit the lighter first, then pushed the safety plunger in to let the gas flow. That's really important because propane is very flammable, so you should always have the ignition flame lit first before turning on the gas! Otherwise, gas can accumulate while you're struggling to light the match or lighter and...Whoof!

As soon as I pushed the safety plunger, gas began to flow to the element and, with my lighter in place, the element lit right up! Nice! I held the plunger in for a few more seconds while the thermal coupler came up to temperature, then let go. Done! A lovely orange glow spread across the element as it hit its stride and began warming up the tent. "Oh, nice", I thought, "this is gonna be great! Propane is so much easier and quicker and cleaner than kerosene."

(And so much more volatile!)

I sat back on my knees on the floor next to the heater and smiled, enjoying the warmth. And it was right about then that I smelled something. Gas. Hmm. Must be a bit of gas escaped from the element while I was lighting it (Mistake #2). Then I remembered the difficulty I had connecting the heater to the tank. Could there be a leak around the connection?

Okay, let's pause for a moment to talk about gas safety. Here's the procedure for checking for a gas leak:

• Step 1. Turn off the gas
• Step 2. Make sure you are in a well ventilated area
• Step 3. Make sure there are no open flames in the area
• Step 4. Pressurize the system (in my case, open the tank valve)
• Step 5. Wet down the suspected parts with a soap solution

Even the smallest of leaks will cause bubbles. Once you find the leak, turn off the gas, fix the leak, and repeat the process to be doubly sure that the leak is gone. Easy, right? And safe, too!

And what you never, ever, ever do is check for leaks using a lighter!


Now, back to the story...



"Hmm, maybe there is a leak around that connection", I thought. But I figured it would have to be a small one (Mistake #3). I still had my lighter in my hand, so I put it next to the connection (No! Mistake #4!) and lit it (oops...that was definitely a mistake!)

Poh...Whrroof!!!

I felt the pain first in my right hand, which was holding the lighter and took a direct hit from the fire ball. Then, I realized my bare feet had been burned, too, due to the large "puddle" of gas that had accumulated around the tank. And the pain continued up both legs to my knees, which is apparently how far the gas had travelled up my pant legs.

Fortunately, they were only first-degree burns, which was good because I didn't really have time to think about the pain. Instead, I had to deal with the propane tank which now had eight-inch flames shooting out around the heater connection. My first instincts were to quickly reach into the flames and shut off the main valve. I did that three or four time, getting in a half-turn on the valve each time I darted my hand in and out. After about the fourth attempt, I realized that I was getting some pretty good burns on the back of my right hand. I paused for a moment, thinking about how I could protect my hand, but then worrying about the flames dancing around the top of the tank, I reached in one more time for a quick turn of the valve. And on that turn, the flames finally reduced a bit. One more quick turn, and the valve was closed. I escaped with only minor burns.

Once the flames were out, I closed the valve good and tight and set the contraption outdoors for the night. The next day, I removed the heater from the tank and looked inside the tank valve. The rubberized o-ring that was normally in place around the check valve was completely missing. I suspected that the tank had been shipped that way. Without that o-ring, gas would have been streaming past the heater connection.

Yeah, I really love my new propane heater! So much nicer than kerosene!

The Meaning of Life

"What is the meaning of life?" That's quite a question. It's intriguing, but something inside me says it's a trick question. I think the word "meaning" gives me problems. What is the meaning of "meaning"? Hmm, now that's a good question!

I don't particularly like the "meaning of life" question, but for some reason I just couldn't leave it alone. I had to explore it a bit further so I Googled it and got some ideas:

• To realize your potential
• To live as long as possible
• To seek wisdom and knowledge
• To do good
• To follow God
• To love
• To enjoy
• To be rich or powerful
• To be happy
• Life has no meaning
• Life is miserable

Okay, that's not a bad list. Let's work with that.

 

I'll discard the last two, "Life has no meaning" and "Life is miserable". There might be some truth there, but I don't feel like going in those directions (and hey, it's my search so I get to pick my direction).

 

The remaining ideas are all pretty appealing, which makes we want to just pick them all. But such a profound question deserves an equally profound answer. Something simple and elegant. So I'll try to cook those initial ideas down into a single nugget of truth. First, I'll try to categorize them:

 

Behaviors

• To seek wisdom and knowledge
• To do good
• To follow God
• To love

Objectives

• To realize your potential
• To live as long as possible
• To enjoy
• To be rich or powerful
• To be happy

I'm naturally drawn to the Behaviors. I guess I'm looking for answers that help me on a daily basis. Some of the other ideas are good, too, but a few just make me want to ask, "Why?" Why be rich and powerful? Or seek wisdom and knowledge? Or realize my potential?

I suppose one common thread there is that we should try to "be all that we can be". But again, why? I think it's about life being precious, and, so far as we know, about having only one life to live. Okay, I like that message. It also ties in with the "live as long as possible" idea.

Another common thread is that these ideas are means to an end. But what is the end? What do I get for being rich and powerful? Or for seeking wisdom and knowledge? I think the answers here are about being happy, or enjoying life more, things like that (which, by the way, are already on the list).

Then there's the notion of living for yourself (enjoy, be happy, and so on) and living for others (do good, love, follow God, things like that). I see the value in both, so the truth about life must incorporate those ideas, too.

So is that profound nugget of truth beginning to appear yet? So far it's something like, "Life is precious, so live for yourself and live for others". Hmm. There's something there that I really like, but it's just too cryptic to be very useful. Let me try another approach.

The "life is precious" portion is the easy part for me since I've already spent a lot of time pondering that idea and have concluded that I should appreciate each and every moment. Life is like a road trip. When you're born, you get into your vehicle and start your journey. Our lives are filled with ups and downs, adventure and routine, happiness and sadness, love and loss. All of these things, the good as well as the bad, are the gifts of life. So appreciate what's going on around you each moment. If you spend too much time thinking about where you'll be tomorrow, or thinking about how far you've already come, then you'll miss the moment you're in right now! Just pay attention, and savor each moment as it passes by.

Okay, great, stay in the moment. Now, what about all of that "enjoy" and "be happy" stuff? And the "live for others" part? What is it we're supposed to be doing in our moments?

Well, it doesn't make sense that we can enjoy and be happy in each moment, because some moments are full of pain and suffering and loss. So there will be sad times, too. But even in those moments, I think life can be rich and full. And certainly we can help others along the way by being loving and compassionate and good.

So is that it? Is the meaning of life something like, "Cherish each moment, and help others"?

Yes, I think maybe it is. I like that. I think I'll stop there.

So what does any of this have to do with tent living? Perhaps nothing at all. Perhaps everything. (But that's another post.)

Home Maintenance

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Food

I don't have a refrigerator at my place so leftovers are kind of tricky. In late Autumn and early Spring it's easier because I can sit my leftover dinner outside through the day and have the rest the next night. That works in Winter, too, so long as the food will tolerate freezing. And sometimes during Summer, when I have guests over, I put ice in the cooler and cook a bigger meal and again my leftovers will keep for a bit. But usually, I cook a single meal and consume it all.

I don't have much storage either, so I don't really stock up on food. I keep some canned goods on hand, and dry goods like rice and nuts and pasta. Things that tolerate Summer's heat and Winter's cold. In the colder months I keep eggs and cheese and butter and things like that on hand, but more delicate foods, like produce, have to be bought and eaten right away.

I don't make shopping lists anymore, since I buy one meal at a time. And I just make mental notes when I run low on other consumables like toilet paper and paper towels and...well that's about it for other consumables.

My lifestyle forces me to be very deliberate about buying and storing and consuming things, especially food which has to be dealt with immediately. There's no opening the refrigerator door to see what's inside. Instead, as I begin to get a little hungry, I begin lining up my next meal.

I rarely waste food these days. I like that. I like being more in tune with my consumption and not stocking up on things. I'm not sure why that's appealing to me, but I like it. It's sort of that way with everything at my place. I know what I have, and I don't have much so I can keep track of it all. And I know where everything is. It feels good for some reason.

Our Endless Desires

On my way to work this morning, I listened to a radio broadcast of a religious sermon. It was about greed and desire and money and property and its relationship to spirituality and I was very moved by it. I'm not particularly religious, but I'm fascinated by religion. I love talking with people about their religious beliefs, and observing how their beliefs impact their lives.

I always look for the common threads that run through religions, and there are many I think. There's always a deep connection to the culture in which the religion is rooted. And the telltale signs of cultural shifts that pushed and pulled the doctrine along the way, keeping it relevant. And of course, the promise of answers to our most difficult questions. Solid, authoritative answers that help quiet our minds and bring us comfort, when the religion is good.

My own beliefs are now a patchwork tapestry, woven from these common threads. The wonderful, colorful teachings of Hinduism with its ancient stories, and its practical teachings of Karma, and Yoga. The Christian teachings of love and compassion and forgiveness. The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism. The self-discipline of Islam. All good and helpful messages.

And perhaps not surprisingly, these common threads seem to align, like warp in a loom. They all seem to point in the same direction, toward spiritual growth. Toward a higher place that promises to make us better. Better for ourselves, and better for each other.

But it's a difficult direction to follow, so our religions try to guide us and help us along the way. They warn us of the pitfalls, like temptation and desire. They encourage us to be strong. They promise reward, and sometimes threaten punishment. All in the name of making us better.

This morning's sermon focused on greed and desire. Boring, right? We've heard it all before, "Greed is bad!" And so it went with this sermon. But then the speaker took an interesting turn. He started to paint a picture of an afterlife. A realm in which possessions could not enter. A place where we are separated from all those things that once made us happy and comfortable. Where not even our bodies are allowed. Where only our spirits may dwell. And that image struck me. Not because I necessarily believe in such an afterlife, but because of the symbolism that it has for this life.

We spend so much of our time struggling to acquire. Hedging ourselves against an uncertain future by accumulating as much as we can each day. We have too much fear, and not enough faith. Our religions warn us about this, but we're too weak or afraid to follow the advice. And so we continue, endlessly searching for pleasures in the niceties of the world, trying to find solace in the knowledge that we are like so many others. And so it goes, and we grow old.

There's a deeper level of satisfaction that we're missing I think. A greater potential that remains unrealized in each of us. And I can't help but see that it's our endless desires that are at the root of our struggles.

Free as a Bird

Early this morning I poured my first cup of coffee and stepped outside to greet the day. As I sat on my stoop and sipped my coffee, I started watching the Spring birds. It's the end of April in Virginia and the song birds are busy this time of year. The morning air is full of song, and the sky and trees are full of birds.

Birds live a simple life, as do most creatures of our planet. They eat what the circle of life provides. They drink what falls from the sky. When it's warm, they sit in the sunshine. When it's cold or rainy they seek shelter wherever they can find it. Their social order is as simple as a song. They declare their territory and connect with mates and please nearby humans all with a warble and a caw. And they are free to fly as high as they like, but inexplicably to me, they rarely do.

I used to think about birds a lot, envying their simple ways, and thinking about how they and the other life forms of our planet are so tightly knit into a web of life, while us human remain so removed. Of course we humans still have plenty of advantages like clean and safe housing with automatic temperature control and Internet connections. Plenty of safe food and clean water. And health care and airline transportation and televisions. Things like that. So maybe birds secretly admire our way of life. But I would still trade several of my days in a corporate cubicle for just one day of living as a bird does. And indeed, in some small ways, I've made some of those trades.

Early this morning, I watched the birds and pondered, and having finished my coffee, I went back into my canvas nest and got ready for my corporate job.

One Year at a Time

When I was younger I was a pretty good planner. I had goals and dreams and plenty of ambition. And I worked in the technology field so I knew all about planning. How to define tasks and milestones and identify dependencies and evaluate risks and determine resource needs and manage the critical path and so on. I could spend a few hours filling in project management worksheets and print out the rest of my life as a nice, tidy Gantt chart. Of course, it wasn't always easy predicting how my life would unfold, but that's why mankind invented contingency plans, right?

But what I didn't do very well back then was to track my actual progress against the plans that I made. Yes, I could dream about my future and come up with a brilliant plan that covered all the angles. But then I'd just set the plan aside and go about my life, convinced that I was now prepared for whatever came my way. I never looked back at my old plans to see how well I'd predicted the future. I only came up with new plans, and then convinced myself that my future was under control.

It took me several years, and lots of failed plans, to finally realize that trying to plan out my life was a fool's errand. They say that "life turns on a dime". Well, dimes are pretty small, and I think they're right. Looking back over my life and all the things I tried to plan, all those big things like marriage and children and jobs and homes and retirement and so on, it's now clear to me that life simply happens, regardless of how much we try to execute our plans.

One day not so long ago, I tried to figure out just how far ahead I could plan my life. I listed some of the major events in my life, like getting married, having children, changing jobs, moving to different states, buy and selling houses, ending my marriage, and so on, and I thought about whether I could have planned any of them. In every case, I couldn't see the event coming more than a year ahead. One year I was single, and the next I was married. One year no children, and the next a son. A few years more, and a daughter, then another daughter. I moved from Michigan to Texas, then to Virginia, and never saw those moves coming, either. I woke up one day and my marriage of 33 years was over, and a few months ago I was informed that my job of 25 years was at risk. All big events, and all unplanned. And I'm now convinced, all unplannable.

So I just stopped making plans. Well, not exactly. I still try to plan a year ahead. It took me awhile to stop looking so far into the future and to just live one year at a time, but now that I do I really enjoy it. Friends sometimes ask me things like, "Are you going to retire soon? What if you lose your job? What would you do?" I tell them that I have no plans, and that I just deal with things as they come.

Before I became comfortable living a year at a time, I first had to learn to let go. I had to acknowledge that my prior attempts at long-term planning didn't really work for me anyway, and that it was okay to just let go and trust. To have faith that the world would always have a place for me. And now that I view the world this way, my faith has strengthened accordingly.

I only plan a year at a time now, which means I don't really do much planning at all, but hey, I still do some! And every April, I plan my next year of tent living. That's because I pay my rent a year in advance, and April is "rent month". So later this week, I'll be paying another year's rent.

So if things work out according to plan, I'll be living in my tent in Brandy Station for another year. After that...?

Early Spring

Each season has it's charm. The dark greens and long, hot days of Summer. Autumn's cool nights dressed in reds and yellows. Winter's short, white, windy days spent near a warm fire. And Spring, with its light greens and soft pastels. Open the windows, listen to the birds, and feel the sunshine warm your skin!

The coming of Spring brings immediate changes to tent living. With daytime temperatures in the 70s, I leave my door open now. The stall scent of wood stove smoke that permeated my canvas walls all Winter is slowly disappearing. And small friends that I haven't seen since Autumn are popping up for a visit already. So far it's spiders and stink bugs, but more to come later. It's seems it only took one warm day to wake up the spiders. And now that they're awake, they're busy casting their webs across my path again, just as they had last year, leaving me little reminders that warm weather is here again, and that I'd better get used to clearing the webs from my face as I pass through them.

The larger animals are back, too. More birds. And the deer are settled back in. I'll probably see turkey soon, as I did last year. I don't want to think about the ticks yet. Or the mice. But they're all coming, now that Spring is here.

The coming of warm weather brings lifestyle changes, too. Soon I'll be carrying in more water, trying to stay cool. But there's an upside, too. The nights are longer and warmer, so it's time to open up the outside living space and have some friends over! And it's time to pull the wood stove out and set up my indoor living room!

When I installed my wood stove last December, I had to clear out my living area to make room. I was able to keep a small rocking chair off to the side but that was about it. I also pulled up the rug to keep it away from sparks.

Living room with wood stove installed

Now that Spring is here, the wood stove is out and the rug and furniture are back in!

Living room without wood stove

Spring is my favorite season. The short, cold days of Winter are behind, and the hot Summer days and nights are still ahead. Spring brings me back to life, just like the creatures that I live with.

But I gotta say, I'm starting to miss my cold Winter beers already :)

Living in the Moment

I used to practise mindful meditation. The way I did it was to observe my own train of conscious thought. For example, as I drove down the road, I'd observe how my conscious mind would wander here and there while my subconscious mind and body would continue driving. I'd try to catch myself in these mental states and remind myself to "stay in the moment". To observe the grass and trees and fences as I passed them by. To stop reminiscing about yesterday. To stop thinking about tomorrow. To enjoy the experience of driving down the road.

That style of meditation worked well for me, especially when I was stressed or worried or depressed. So long as I could maintain that state of mindfulness, I was able to step away from my problems. But it was an active process that took a lot of focus and mental energy. It was work. And it always felt like I was somehow just treating the symptoms of my problems instead of addressing the causes. Even so, it was an effective tool that I used often, and it worked.

In the past several months, I've sort of forgotten about practicing meditation. At the same time, I feel like I'm living in the present moment now more than ever. What happened?

Well, I have a theory. If I look back on the times when I used to practice mindfulness, I see that it was always during difficult periods of my life. When I was worried about losing my job. Or when I would lay awake at night thinking about all the things I had to do the next day. I was treating the symptoms, but what were the causes?

I recently pondered that question and came up with this cause-and-effect chain:

That's how it used to be for me. I'd get stressed and worried over things that were out of my control, or bad things that I thought might happen in the future, or my never ending "to do" list.

As I searched for a "root cause" to my stress and anxiety, I found Materialism and Complexity. Tent living has eliminated Materialism and Complexity from my life. Is it any wonder that it's easier now to live in the moment without practicing mindful meditation?

Rain

It rained last night. It started as just a sprinkle at around 11pm, just when I had crawled into bed. As soon as I heard the first few random drops, I rolled over onto my back and laid quietly, a smile crossing my face, and listened. I had noticed crickets chirping earlier in the evening. It was the first time that I had heard them so loud, a nice sign of warming weather. So as the rain began, I listened to see whether I could still hear them in the background. But after just a few minutes, the storm intensified and drowned out all the other sounds.

My tent began filling with white noise. The rain fly is a thick poly tarp and it resonates at a low frequency when struck by raindrops. As the rain fell harder, the noise in the tent increased until the whole tarp buzzed with a low-pitched drone.

Soon, I was fast asleep. I awoke at 7am to my cell phone alarm. The rain was still going strong so I snoozed. And snoozed again. When I finally decided to get up, I remembered that I was out of water, but instead of walking to the water supply, I decided to place a pot outside along the eaves of the rain fly to catch some rain water for my bath. There was just enough potable water left in my container for a pot of coffee, so I made one and put it on the stove.

As my bathing pot filled with rainwater, and my coffee pot began to perk, I looked out onto the path to my home. It had become a little river, with large section being overtaken by runoff that was making its way to the creek just below my tent. I gazed for awhile longer until I started to smell the coffee. By then, my bathing pot was full so I brought it inside and put it on the stove to warm. Surprisingly, this was the first time that I'd collected rainwater that way, but it won't be the last. The rainwater was noticeably softer than the well water that I usually bathe in, plus I didn't have to walk through the rain to fetch it.

It's early afternoon now and the rain has stopped. The sky is starting to lighten and soon the sun will be out again. My path will be a muddy mess for a few days, and now that we're getting closer to Spring, it will be like that more and more often. But my nights will be good, and I'll sleep well as those Spring showers make their way to Virginia, and my rain fly.

On Being "Off the Grid"

Last week, we had our worst Winter storm so far this season. It started Tuesday evening around 8pm and got progressively worse through the night. The wet, heavy snow accumulated on everything, including on the pine tree branches above my tent.

At about 3am, the wind picked up and started blowing the accumulation from the tree limbs. My tent was bombarded with heavy slush-balls that made a loud "Pow!...P-Pow!...Pow!" as they crashed onto the rain fly. My lady, Jeanie, and our dog, Max, were spending the night, and we all three woke up and looked around as the bombardment began, trying to figure out what was going on. At first, I thought it must be tree limbs breaking and striking the tent, but it didn't really sound like that. Max was sitting up in the bed, fully alert, snapping his head from side to side as the slush-balls struck the tent over here, then over there, then over here again.

The bombardment continued on into the morning, and we had a hard time getting back to sleep. We finally gave up and crawled out of bed around 9am. As I put on the morning coffee, Jeanie mentioned that she'd have to call her daughters back home to see whether they'd lost power.

Fortunately, Jeanie's power was still on, but over the next few days I ran into plenty of people who had lost power due to fallen limbs and trees. And as I talked with people after the storm (people that weren't aware of my current lifestyle) they'd ask me: "Did you lose power?"

The first few times, I just said, "No, I didn't lose power", not wanting to get into long explanations. But that started bothering me a little because it wasn't exactly honest, so I tried, "Well, I'm not sure whether power went out in my area", which was closer to the truth, but led to questions like, "Oh? Where were you during the storm?" Oops. That didn't work, either, since I had to explain things anyway. Once I tried, "Well, I currently live in a tent without electricity", but that, of course, got me back into a long explanation.

Later that day, I came up with a nice, honest, short response: "I'm off the grid". There.

Being "off the grid" is something people have heard of and can relate to, unlike "living in a tent". When I say I'm off the grid I get questions like, "Really? Totally off the grid?", to which I respond with a simple, "Yep, totally", but that's it. No long discussion about tent living.

It's interesting that it never really occurred on me that I am, indeed, off the grid. It's been more of a byproduct of how I live than an objective. When one of my co-workers mentioned that he had always wanted to live off the grid (not knowing that I live in a tent), I said, "Well, it's pretty easy to do, but you have to make lifestyle changes". He said that he'd like to talk to me sometime about how I did it. So much for avoiding long conversations!

Recipe for Coconut Fried Roots and Salmon

Coconut Fried Roots and Salmon

1. Marinade one pound of sockeye salmon in a mixture of teriyaki, soy sauce, curry, black pepper, and beer for about an hour.
2. Heat about five tablespoons of coconut oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.
3. Slice one potato, one turnip, and one onion. Put veggies in the oil and fry them until they're a little brown, then turn down the heat and cook until almost done. Add something hot and spicy, like diced jalapeno peppers or Asian peanut sauce.
4. Toward the end, move the veggies over to the side of the pan and fry the fish.

Garnish with a few slices of cheddar cheese and enjoy!

Oh hell yes!

Quiet Whispers from My Sanctuary

Several weeks ago, I hit a bump in the road of my life. I've been very blessed in so many ways throughout my life. I have three wonderful children, three incredible granddaughters, a good job, good health, my music, and good friends that I can always count on. But some weeks back, I hit a difficult period in my life that really got me sidetracked for awhile. I became angry and obsessive. And for awhile, I lost track of how lucky I am, and how wonderful life really is.

I started losing sleep, worry about my problems. I just couldn't shake the negative thoughts. They were consuming me. And even when I was home, in my tent, where I had always been so relaxed and carefree, even there I'd sit and stew about my problems.

Then, a few nights ago, I was home for the evening, tending to the fire, cooking dinner, and listening to music, and it dawned on me that I wasn't enjoying myself. I wasn't in that centered place anymore. I wasn't experiencing the calm and happiness that I usually did. I wasn't accepting the gifts that my sanctuary offers.

My home was trying to remind me of all the good things in life. Of how lucky we are just to be alive. Of how simple life can be. And with that gentle reminder, that quiet whisper, I started to come out of my slump.

Last night, finally, I smiled again, and had a good night's sleep. Thank you, my sanctuary, for taking such good care of my soul.

Staying Warm in the Winter

It's January now, and temperatures are dropping. My friends worry about me this time of year. They ask me how I'm doing. A few of them have invited me into their homes for the winter, or for a break from the cold. But I reassure them that I'm doing okay, and that I have Virginia winters in a tent pretty much figured out now.

January and February are the cold months in Virginia, with highs in the 40s and lows in the 20s. That's pretty cold, but I've been acclimating. I'm pretty comfortable now standing around in a T-shirt and bare feet at 35 degrees. (Well, for a little while anyway.) And some of these sunny January days feel downright balmy.

Not only am I acclimating to the cold, I'm also accepting the cold more now. I think that's another secret to staying comfortable. I expect my fingers to be numb as I gather tinder and kindling for the evening fire. And adjusting kerosene lamps and striking matches without the sense of touch is normal this time of year.

And then there are the warm time. The cozy times. Even the hot times, when I have to open the door and let some cold air in because the wood stove got too hot.

A lingering hint of wood smoke is always present in the tent this time of year, and I like that. Every time I open the stove door, a little puff of smoke escapes. But I don't like too much smoke. Turns out it takes very little smoke to set off a smoke detector in a 12' x 14' tent. "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!" I hear it every night. Granted, it's a friendly female voice that says, "Fire! Fire!", but it's still annoying.

I can get away with letting out one puff of smoke once in a while, maybe two. But if three of four escape it's, "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!", followed by me hitting the "hush" button on the smoke detector and opening the door to clear out the smoke. One minute it'll be 80 degrees and nice and cozy and I'll be putting another log on the fire, and the next minute I'll be running around, opening the door, and freezing again.

But usually, things work just fine and I stay warm. In fact, I've only had one wood stove failure this year. It happened the second night that I burned the stove.

It was the middle of the night, maybe 4am. I woke up to urinate and on my way back to bed opened the stove door to check on the fire. There was a wonderful bed of coals, maybe 5 inches deep, with a couple of pieces of nearly-burnt wood sitting on top. The fuel would soon be gone so I figured I'd load up the stove. I smiled thinking about how comfortable the rest of the night would be, and how I'd wake up to a nice warm tent.

I put in a few small pieces of wood first, then bigger ones on top of those. The coals were really hot so the smaller pieces took off immediately. Flames started roaring up the stove pipe as I placed more and more wood in the fire box.

As I finished loading the stove, the flames were still roaring so I got the poker out and moved the wood around a little to calm things down. It was right about then that I heard a, "Thwup!". What was that? Sounded like something went up the stove pipe. But what? No paper in there. Maybe...

Holy crap! Flames started belching out of the door! I shut it immediately. Now smoke was pouring out of the draft holes in the stove door! "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!"

I was still half asleep. I wasn't thinking straight. Everything was happening so quickly. "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!" It was dark but I could smell smoke. Thick smoke. I ran out of the tent.

I left the door open and smoke rolled out. I stepped away from the door to catch some fresh air. "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!" I was now standing outside in my underwear in 30 degrees, trying to compose myself and figure out what to do next.

I reached inside the door and grabbed my flashlight. The tent was filled with smoke from the ceiling down to within two feet of the floor. I could see thick smoke still pouring out of the draft holes. "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!"

Okay, I was wide awake now. Don't breathe the smoke. Don't even breathe near the floor. You've already inhaled too much. "Beep! Beep! Fire! Fire!" Hold your breath, go close the draft, and kill that damn smoke detector!

Ready? Go!......Done, and back outside.

Okay, think. There was that "Thwup!" noise. What the hell was that? Damn it's cold out here! Sounded like paper going up the pipe. But no paper in there. Bark? Maybe bark? Damn it's cold!

I shined the flashlight back in. The smoke was starting to clear. I could see what was going on a little better now. The stove wasn't smoking, but smoke was seeping out of the cracks in the stove pipe. That meant the obstruction was outside, high in the pipe. But how? What was going on? Damn it's cold!

Okay, hold your breath and go get some clothes!...Okay, back outside.

I stood on the stoop for some time, waiting for the pipes to stop seeping smoking, but they never did. One more dash into the tent to grab my pillow and sleeping bag, then out to my truck for the night.

The next day, I took apart a section of stove pipe and immediately found out what had happened. I had installed new pipe. Black pipe. Black painted pipe. And the paint had peeled from the inside of the pipe. The "Thwup!" that I had heard was the sound of a sheet of peeled paint breaking loose on three sides and hinging itself nice and tight in the stove pipe. A fine obstruction. In fact, there were two obstructions just like that!

That was an exciting night. I've had other nights when the smoke has chased me out for awhile. Like when I tried to build the fire too quickly and the whole thing went out and smoked up the place. Things like that. But usually it's warm and cozy. So don't worry, friends. I'm hanging in there. And Spring is getting closer all the time!