It is very quiet out here on the Western Front.  Weird.  The prawn boats left because the prawns never showed and this time of the year is usually busy with boats and planes going about the fishery.  The boats were here, of course, but not for long.

“Nothing from nothing leaves nothing”, after all (Billy Preston).

And DFO does nothing very well.  Bear in mind that DFO was alerted to the absence of the prawns two months before they opened the season.  Actual quote from DFO official: “Well, if there are no prawns then the fishermen will soon determine that and leave.”    

Such is DFO prawn fishery management.  I think they call it the Atlantic Cod Directive. 

We do seem to be getting a lot of government traffic, tho.  Had the usual ‘Sounds of Freedom’ jet fighters fly back and forth a few times.  Methinks it is a shift change from Alaska to Seattle, but I don’t really know.  I just don’t think Canada has any functioning jet fighters.  Musical Rides with horses and Dancing Snowbirds, yes.  Fighters?  No.

We do have some submarines that are high and dry tho.  They are on the hard because they’ll sink if they are put in water.  And not come up.

We also had helicopters, a few coast guard cutters and even a police boat last week.  It is rare that a police boat shows up.  They don’t know how to navigate.  If they show up here, they are lost.  And, if you call them, they don’t show up ’cause they got lost somewhere else.

The following is a true dialogue with a lost policeman out in a magnificently equipped boat while he was also hugely kitted out – basically barely able to move for all the crap he had on plus life-saving gear – on a hot August day a few years back: While sweat was pouring from his face, “This Estoban Bay?”

“No.  Estoban Bay is on the other side of the island.  You are on the west side.  They are on the east.  Where ya headed?”

“Got a distress call from Estoban Resort.”

“Which one?”

“Which one?”

“There are two resorts of the same name.  Same company.  One is in Estoban Bay, the other is on another island.  But it is closer”.

“Can you point me in that direction?”

Imagine the number of trained and experienced police officers assigned to the Mike Duffy and Pamela Wallin case regarding their $300,000 (each) a year senate expenditures on just travel expenses (while residing in Ottawa) and how long it will take those professionals to file charges – if they ever do.  Then imagine the least experienced, least connected and likely dumbest young cop they have on the roster posted to some rural outback like ours.  Give that doofus a gun, a boat and a road map.  Send him out to sea.

If he ever comes back, put him on the BC Rail case.

The mayor of Toronto was allegedly caught on video smoking crack with two drug dealers.  One of them secretly taped the episode, then offered the tape to the media for $200,000.  A week or so later, one of them was shot and killed.  Tape seems to have disappeared.

Meanwhile the dance band on the Titanic plays on………..

Barge came yesterday but it came late because the fuel delivery at the terminal was slow.  Coming late means it missed high tide.  Missing high tide means that the load had to be dumped on the beach and dumping the load on the beach means that Sal and I had to schlep the materials up the beach, up the ramp and onto the deck and then onto the funicular.  Before the tide comes up.

An easy job made hard by a minor late delivery.

Actually, it wasn’t that hard.  In fact, we did it sensibly for once and did it slowly taking a tea break in the middle of it all.  Sal remarked, “The trouble with taking a break is that I don’t think I can get back up and start the second half.”

So, we didn’t.

We’ll finish the second half of schlepping today.  Maybe.  It may not be efficient but it is the pace that we can manage.  But we felt a bit guilty about it.  “We should be better.  I seem to be feeling less than energetic these days.”  Coming from the mini Candu Reactor that is my wife, that is an incredible admission.  I, personally, have no such delusions.  If she is Candu, I am Fukushima.

I should be de-commissioned.

Having said that, we had a delightful encounter with some nice new people the other day – some city folks.  Not as old as us (ten years younger) but, in many ways much, much older.  Decrepit comes to mind.  They already are decommissioned!  They couldn’t walk the ground without difficulty.  They couldn’t lift themselves up unless it was by way of stairs with a handrail.  And they couldn’t carry anything while moving about.  The women wore insensible shoes covered in sparkly rhinestones and one of them carried a small dog (which they handed to me when they had to move).  They waved dismissively in the direction of their car in response to the question ‘Do you need help with your groceries?’

They were very nice but they wouldn’t have lasted a week here if they had to take care of themselves in any kind of non-kitchen-based way.  I sound judgmental and I apologize for that.  I am not.  Not really.  Not of them.  They are simply paying a price for convenience and living a modern lifestyle.  It might be too high a price when you think about it.

I confess that I didn’t think about it until around the time we moved.

In contrast, we had the barge fellows deliver fuel and the aforementioned building supplies.  They did it because we are still too soft and lazy to carry 35 sheets of plywood and a pallet of lumber over by our own means (small boat).

Yes, remnants of a modern lifestyle mindset.  Old bodies, old habits.

Even tho they had a Hiab arm to ‘sling’ the loads, the fellows had to navigate the irregular beach surface and drag heavy fuel hoses up craggy terrain.  One of the crew, ‘M’, is my age.  The guy is as nimble as a goat and as strong as an ox.  His balance is exceptional.  He doesn’t have the figure for Cirque’ de Soleil and his white beard would be a shock for the audience but, other than that, he could put on quite a show.

Dave, what’s the point?

Living out here keeps you fit.  I may be somewhat the exception to that basic rule but even I am more fit than many of my contemporaries in the city.  I am definitely more fit than I would have been had I stayed in the cul-de-sac.  Fitness is somewhat forced upon you out here.  You can’t avoid it.  Trust me.  I try.

Probably the most significant influence on the human body out here is irregular ground.  No two steps are the same pattern as the two previous or the two pending.  Walking is a non-rhythmic dance without repetition.  It is work.  Add some weight to the job like lumber carrying or even a heavy tool and it becomes hard work.  And that is every day.

We have sixty-six stairs from the front door to the beach and we often cover that distance several times a day sometimes carrying as much as 50 pounds.  It is like a football training exercise.

It’s weird tho, Sal just gets stronger.  And I still manage to gain weight!?

The last time (about six years ago) I checked, prawns were selling for around $7.00 to $10.00 a pound.  And two pounds of prawns was a meal (along with other things) for a party of four.  Not today.  Today, prawns are selling for $25.00 a pound!  And offering up $50.00 worth of prawns for just a portion of a meal is a bit steep.

The reasons for this leap in prawns value are multiple.  Prawn fishing is petro-consuming work and there are fewer prawns.  Supply and demand on fuel and prawns.  Basic economics.

Plus, of course, we don’t manage the prawn fishery.  It is one of those fisheries that is simply plundered until it is no more.  Our government has pretty much abandoned many of the fisheries and, if they are not managed by the fishermen themselves, the usual outcome is fishing out the stock until it is non-economic.  And that is what is happening here.

‘Course the rise in price of prawns will be interpreted by government as ‘growing the economy’.

Some fisheries, however, are ‘managed’ by the different associations involved in the harvesting.  Oysters, Geoduck, Sablefish and, to some extent, salmon just to name a few.  And, while the associations themselves are not much on the production side (no one builds hatcheries, etc.) they are pretty good on limiting the harvest to sustainable amounts.  But, bear in mind: this kind of self-imposed discipline comes from the associations, not DFO.

DFO stands idly by doing nothing.  More useless than the senate.  And more expensive.  They are a complete waste of money, time and, in fact, are an exacerbating factor in preservation, conservation and reconstitution.  They should be abolished.

And they will be.  The Federal government continues to slash the DFO budget and, despite many of the staff wanting to do their work and wanting to do the right thing, they are not allowed to.  We have a government policy to kill this natural resource.  This is the same government that is intent on selling tar-sludge and destroying the immediate environment around the tar sands.

This is what they call job creation.

I have come to learn that many people will do a lot of things that are very wrong but many of them sincerely believe in their actions at the time.  They just believe in different things.  In Harper’s case, he is a devout convert to ‘corporatism’ and BIG OIL.  So, basically, he and I just have a difference of opinion.  He thinks Canada gains from his point of view.  I think Canada suffers.

But how can anyone think that the DFO is doing anything good?  Even a rabid sell-out like Harper loses when supporting a huge, inneffective bureaucracy.  He only has to look at the senate debacle to get a glimpse of that.  So, what is the point of keeping thousands of bureaucrats doing nothing in Ottawa while the resources they are supposed to manage die?

OK.  That rant is over.  But, of course, I have a dozen more.  Who doesn’t?  But one other is kinda fun…..Rob Ford, mayor of Toronto.  This is American style politics, this is.  Think Marion Barry.  This is Congressman Weiner sending pictures of himself in just his underwear to internet-met women.  This is muck-raking gossip of the most fascinating kind.  Not only is Ford accused of smoking crack but the two guys who he was video’d with were later shot.  This is not a Jack Nicolson, Matt Damon movie, this is a Tim Robbins, Dan Ackroyd, Mike Meyers movie. It is evil but also darkly amusing.

Christy Clark announced that BC is not happy with the ‘conditions’ she set for the Enbridge sludge pipeline project.  Ergo, NO GO.  BC will not approve.  Not yet, anyway.  “Game is still on, tho.  The fat lady has not yet begun to sing! Keep trying.  We believe in due process.”

Translation: “Like our prawns, the price for selling out our coastline just went up!”

My daughter is in Hong Kong.  Staying at a nice place.  Hong Kong has no wildlife.  Not even bugs.  A few birds, a bunch o’ fish in aquariums and a few domestic dogs.  That’s it.  Maybe a tree.  I wrote her yesterday to see how she was doing.  This was part of her answer:

“The only real ‘news’ was something that just happened, not an hour ago. I was walking up to the house and as I went to head up the metal stairs, I heard a “HISSS” (I was looking at something else) and I whipped my head around, and there was a cobra with it’s head up, hood out, making little mini-lunge movements at me…. Scared the bejesus out of me!!!!!

“I don’t know if we told you about our last cobra story… but there was a big cobra that we could’ve stepped on if Bri didn’t catch a glimpse of it’s tail moving….. and that cobra was a decent size! That was a couple weeks ago…. they caught him and got rid of him… and now there was this little guy today….”

This story kind of revises my take on that city.  Seems there is wildlife there.

I’ll take the wolves!

The silly season has started.  In full.  Social do’s, dinners, visitors up the yin yang.  All of July booked (overbooked, actually.  We have three days with more people than beds).  Plus all the projects have to continue even at a slower-than-usual pace – slower than snail, just a smidge faster than glacial.   And it all starts with a bang tomorrow.

It is truly amazing how the seasons affect my popular standing.  Seems I am a bit of a pariah until the sun shines.  But then, everyone loves me!  I am thinking of relocating to a place where the sun don’t shine but Sal says I am already partially there.  My head is there, anyway.

Barge comes in a few days.  Get stocked up on gas and crap.  Building supplies coming in, too.  Studio gets underway again. That’s good.  I love the smell of sawdust in the morning.  Might get a copy of Ride of the Valkyries to play real loud while I am cutting lumber.  Seems kinda fitting.

Anyway, I’m pretty healthy.  All things considered.  And I must admit, I have a lot of things to consider when I am making that statement.  But, regardless, I am not complaining.  I can move about, carry things, hammer, eat, poop and laugh.  I got the basics covered anyway.  Sleeping is sometimes a bit of a challenge but, all in all, I am good.  Still, one has to go to the doctor.  De rigeur, it seems, when you are 65.  It’s like a hobby. Or the theatre.  You know?  You go do it every few months?

What a racket!

I am getting a procedure.  It is an old-man’s test for crap.  Little probing, little analysis, little crappy junk.  I hate it.  But I hate the system even more.  Seems I have to go in and have a ‘consult’.  “I don’t need a consult, I said,  I have had the procedure before.  I know what it is all about.  I don’t need to talk about it again with someone who doesn’t care anyway.  Just bill the medical services plan, get your money and we’ll just say we had a consult.”

“Can’t do that!”

“Well then, I’ll do it by phone.  You don’t need to see me to consult.  Consulting is talking.  I can talk by phone.”

“The doctor will not consult by phone!”

And they call it Health Care!  I call it MoneyCare.  The symbol for the practice of medicine is two snakes wrapped up a pole.  My daughter has seen two cobras within days.  Coincidence?

I don’t think so.

To an innocent remark I made about the expiration dates on milk, one of our weekend guests added, “Well, some people in our household never put the milk away!”

“Well”, replied the other, “that is because only one person in our household uses milk!”

And for the next minute or so we were hugely entertained by an amateur production of the Bickersons.  Over milk, no less.

I howled.  “I love you guys!” 

Sally and I have always operated on the premise that if we are annoyed or irritated with one another, we express it at the moment.  Given my natural grumpiness, lack of even normal amounts of patience and a quick and nasty tongue and Sal’s unshakable sense of righteousness and total refusal to take crap from anyone, we can flare up at any given moment.  And don’t think for a minute that the presence of others has any bearing on our behaviour whatsoever.  We consider ‘bystanders’ to be collateral damage.

But we ‘flare’ like a match.  In a few seconds it’s over.

Please understand: we get along.  We are at peace with one another 99.99% of the time.  I love Sally with all my heart.  And she has come to accept me as I am (which is the best I can hope for).  We are good.  Really good.  But one of the reasons we are ‘good’ is that nothing is left to fester.  We don’t harbour grudges.  Basically we nip problems in the bud.  In the moment.  And in your face if you are there.

But we are never nasty.  We just might scowl a bit and openly disagree.  It’s all very civil.

We used to make some people squirm a little when we ‘disagreed’ in public.  Now, most of our friends are used to it and some even chime in.  “Oh yeah?  I, have personally seen you leave the milk on the counter!”  

“Oh, great!  Now the guests are adding their two-cents.  Don’t you people have enough domestic issues of your own?  I’ve seen Bob track dirty mud all along the hallway and your cat thinks its butt and my face are friends!  Don’t get me started!”

Frankly, I think it is healthy.  I really do.  People disagree.  It is only natural.  And, of course, some disagreements are serious and should be private.  I get that.  But sometimes the bigger issues are aggravated by the smaller ones and we have taken the position that the smaller ones have no right to infect the bigger ones.  So we dispense with little ones on the spot.  And, surprisingly, that has the effect of keeping the bigger ones at a solvable size.  And we have managed to solve all of them so far.

That’s pretty good.

Sal and I have been together for 42 plus years.  Known each other for 44 years.  I think we have the best marriage I have ever seen.  I give her most of the credit, of course.  Because it is true.  But I also think that we have, together, kept the relationship healthy and one of the ways was not to keep issues bottled up inside.  Our weekend guests seemed to operate on the same premise.

I loved it.

Today, the wife wrote to us and asked, “BTW, pls ask JD how we were not “blog worthy”. None of our antics were enough? Do we really have to up the ante?”

The answer: Nah.  You guys are blog worthy.  You guys bicker a bit and it is good to see.  And I just wrote about it.  See above.

But, do you really want to see more of you in this blog?

First of a gazillion summer guests this year came this weekend. ‘Gridders’.  They were great.  We had a good time, laughed a lot and still got a few things done.  Plus Sal made meals worthy of a Michelin review.  I’d give her four stars.  Five if she regularly read my blog. It was extremely civilized.    

They enjoy coming here (I am assuming since it was their fourth time).  And they marvel at the hummingbirds, lovely weather and, of course, the view.  Coming and going by boat just adds to the picture and the whole experience for them and many others borders on more of an adventure than just a visit.  They feel as if they have gone feral and off-the-grid, too.  Ooooh, it is kinda exciting….

But comfortably so.  Running water, hot showers, plenty of food and wine, nice beds, no real danger, no major discomfort.  This is an easy place to be off-the-grid and, because of that, not always a true ‘feral’ experience. But, still, an experience.

Don’t get me wrong.  I have little interest in a true feral/wild/dangerous experience either but, of course, when you live in the forest all the time, true feral experiences sometimes occur.  Lying with dogs = fleas.  Living with wolves = sometimes a feral experience.

None of this feral adventure is a daily or even weekly occurrence, mind you.  If it was, I’d move back to the city.  No, we get the feral experience in an in-your-frightened-face-kinda way about three times a year.  And trust me, that is more than enough.  You are in a heavily laden small boat and caught out in a storm, you have to chainsaw something that wants to fall on you, a fire breaks out, someone gets injured……..these are the times when living off the grid seems like it might sometimes be a bridge or a logging road too far.  Danger stalks, to be sure, but not that often.

And, typically the danger is of the ‘I can-manage-it’ kind.  Just a bit of a rush is all.

Some loon in Texas just killed a person and wounded five others in a random shooting spree while driving around.  A soldier was beheaded in London by two Islam extremists wielding machetes.  I personally wouldn’t spend any amount of time in Surrey without watching over my shoulder and Langley is getting just as bad. Danger in the city is of the random-shooting type.  I think it is scary.

But here’s the point:  I know that I am likely going to face a dicey situation once, twice or maybe three times a year.  The only part of that danger that gives me comfort is that I know that little of it – if any (barring a hungry cougar) – is intended to hurt me.  The storm may be dangerous but it is not personal.  And my danger rarely, if ever, comes with intent on two feet.

Living in the city is a bit different.  In the city, they have railings and safety lights and alarms and fire-doors and security guards and rules, regulations and cops and authority figures to enforce it all.  In the city they have managed to minimize the benign, natural, impersonal, accidental dangers considerably.  WorkSafe BC actually makes a statement in their propaganda that all accidents are preventable.  The city seems intent on making you safe.

So, why are my survival instincts on ultra-high alert there? 

I mean, seriously……………the city is supposed to be the pinnacle of modern civilization.  It is supposed to be the ‘safe’ place to live.  Urban life is about control and safety and resources and response teams.  You got your ‘first responders’, your ‘medical industry’ and your ‘security industry’ and your ‘enforcement industry’ not to mention insurance and legal and political industries – all intended to keep order and safety and hygiene and management standards.

And kids get snatched with increasing frequency.  People murdered.  Hundreds lost to drugs.  Car accidents that maim and kill.  And, face it, you are likely to catch a dangerous, can’t-get-rid-of-it ‘bug’ if you go to the hospital.  You have to be more and more careful of strangers.  You lock your doors.  You carry ‘passes’ and codes and keys to get from A to B.  In short, city folks have assimilated a level of fear and caution into their every day.  All day.

And it is still not enough.

I have come to the conclusion that it is the city that is the most dangerous by far.  It is the visit to the city that is the extreme adventure.  Out here, in the wilds, in the storms, amongst the cougars and the bears?  With the axe and the chainsaws……?  It’s a piece of cake by comparison.

Go ahead, you take the cul-de-sac, you take public transit, you live amongst the civilized.  Follow those rules.  Take Manhattan.  Take Berlin.

I’ll take the wolves.

………..God!  I must be getting old.  That must be it.  I just loathe town days.  I hate ém.  And we only ‘go to the store’ once every three weeks!  You’d think that I could handle this sort of thing better but, to be frank, I cannot.  I am handling it worse.  It just drains me.  And, to be fair, it drains Sal, too.  Feels a lot like an eight-hour dental appointment to us.  ‘Cept it lasts longer.

We start at 8:00 and get back home by 6:00 if we are lucky and make all the connections.  8:00 to 8:00 is not unheard of.

So, I have been thinking……….what if we just put together a shopping list, phone it in and have it delivered by barge every month?  Crazy right?  But think about it………….the barge would cost say, $200.  It already costs $100 for us to go by car and ferry and small boat to town and then I have to do it all!

Basically I am thinking of only paying $100 extra NOT to have to ever go to town again.  Makes sense to me.  That means I would pay $1200 a year NOT to go to town.

It’s worth it!

I know what you are thinking.  “Dave, you are nuts!”

Not as crazy as you might think, Butterfly.  Let me explain…..

………..we went away in 1999 for a five month vacation with our kids (Long story.  Good story.  Great memories).  Sal told me we had to leave enough money in the bank for the ‘house and sundries’ while we were away.  Even tho we had paid off the mortgage, her list added up to $1500 a month (security alarm, lines, cable, heat, light, pool, lawn care insurance x several policies, window washers, etc.).

Because we had family staying in the house for part of the time and things could go awry, we decided to leave $1700 a month in the bank so that we could go away and NOT worry at all.  Remember: we were not going to live in our house.  That was the cost of simply leaving it alone.  Comparison: like paying to board a dog in a kennel only more expensive.

You heard that right.  It cost me $1700 a month NOT to live in my house!  The price to actually reside there, of course, was much, much more but the killer concept for me was that it cost me $1700 a month to put my ‘stuff’ in some kind of holding pattern.  AND NOT USE IT!

That is insane.  It is even MORE insane when you realize that you have to earn $2500 before taxes so that you can spend $1700 of it!

Well, it was insane when I looked at it that way.  Most everyone else doesn’t see it like that.  But I did.  And I still do.

And now I am looking at ‘going to town’ and it seems somehow almost as insane to me all over again.  I am paying for the pain!  Hmmmmmm……I maybe have some choices here.  Maybe I should look at it more closely, exercise my brain, look at the alternatives, ya know?

Of course we have already made some ‘adjustments’ for the logistical madness and they are along the lines of the ‘off-the-grid’ theme of this blog and so I’ll share them.  That is the topic of today’s blog.  How to shop or, better yet, NOT shop.

When we shop we usually do more than that.  We combine ‘errands’ of all kinds into shopping days.  That means doctor’s appointments, meetings, deliveries, visits, bureaucratic hoops and banks – just to name a few.  All crammed into one day.

When I have to see a doctor or someone and they say, “How about next Tuesday at ten?” I look at the calendar and determine when we are next scheduled for a town day and suggest that time instead.  If that doesn’t work, I suggest three weeks further in to the future and so on so that I can ‘kill two birds’.  And so on.

Basically, this means I am the architect of my own hell.  I am the one who schedules twenty five stops into one day.  Or, rather, me and Sal design our own hell.  She does it , too.  We try to do too much.  It is our own fault.

But, in our defense, how many of you can actually accomplish all that you set out to do when you do a shopping day?  If, like me, you are into building, then you know that – no matter what you do – the store is ‘out of those parts’ right now and they will have to ‘bring them in’.  Or, more likely, ‘we haven’t carried that product for a year.  I don’t know who does.  You may have to get a new one’.  “Sorry, the doctor is running behind.  It will be a long (extra long) wait.  Can you come back in two hours?”

“No.  But I will come back in three weeks.”

Home Depot is the worst.  They make me laugh.  Big Box laughs, actually.  If I have a list of ten items (and remember, I am not building a Candu reactor), I will be lucky to get 6 of the items.  Any shopping list – even food items – is not 100% obtainable.  Not possible.  Guaranteed impossible, in fact.  So,  my point: you may as well aim for 25 stops and 100 items because four of the stops and 20% of the items are just ‘swings and misses’.  Really.

But, sadly, therein lies the answer to the barge idea.  I may be able to get the building supply place to deliver what they have but they will not have everything I need and no one but me knows how to ‘make do’ or substitute for the jobs I have planned.  I may be able to get Save-On to deliver food (to a set list) but no one but Sal picks the best lettuce or right choice of meat.  And there would be no chance for spontaneous ‘opportune’ sale-priced purchases.

Because of wanting choice, I have no choice – I have to go myself.  What a trap!

I just have to think up the right escape plan…… 

As I mentioned in a previous blog, we had guests from Japan last month.  Husband and wife.  ‘Leo’ was a former W’fer and wanted to show his new partner ‘the wilds’.  Living off-the-grid.  And it was a delight.  We really enjoyed seeing them again.

Seems we are getting some more.  This time it is ‘old’ Chinese students from a few years ago.  Now grown up, two of the first students from the schools we hosted eventually married and are coming to ‘remember’ their first date.  It was here.

And they want to bring two friends.

Sally and I do not, for a second, believe it is our magnetic personalities drawing young people from foreign countries.  For one thing, there was and likely still is a significant language barrier.  Not to mention a cultural, generational and scheduling (I go to bed early) barrier.  We all like each other a great deal but we are not buddies.  Not in any conventional sense, anyway.

But they come.  And they want to. Desperately.  They are the ones who write and request permission.  They are the ones who make the effort to make the reunion happen.  It comes from them.

Why?

Some of it, of course, is just plain youthful adventure tourism.  Some of it is the foreknowledge of knowing there will be a good reception.  But the real reason is the woods.  The real reason is nature.  The real reason is a deeply-felt longing to be in the forest with clean air and wildlife and physical activities.  The real reason is really, really basic.  It is fulfilling a primal need for space, nature, clean air and a sense of freedom.

And that is as much about rejection of their city life as it is a longing for the wilds.  It is not a coincidence that the desire to ‘go feral’ is manifesting in young urban Asians.  It is there (Tokyo, Hong Kong) that the urban life looms largest.  Claustrophobic in the extreme to westerners but even to young Asians used to living in giant hives and colonies, it is becoming too much.  And now some of them know there is an alternative.  And they want it.

We all may feel a bit of that while living in the city but, in Vancouver, it is easy to ‘get away’ and one can be in a ‘wild space’ within hours.  Even Stanley Park can feel wild in some parts.   And our ‘city’ for all it’s confinement, has lots of open space, the air is usually good and we do not all live on top of each other.  We westerners don’t really feel the weight, the oppression, the dominance of so-called urban society as heavily as urban Asians do.  Hell, we even have grass and trees everywhere.  Hong Kong doesn’t.  You can go for hours and only see buildings and roads.

It is a modern hell.

And, in time, it will be a lifestyle more and more common, more ubiquitous, more omnipresent.  It is happening in Asia, India and even in Europe to a large extent.  And people will increasingly come to see living like that as normal. Change is generational.  And it will happen that way – each generation accepting their increasing incarceration.

Greater Chongquing (inland city in SW China) has an official population of 28 million.  Unofficially, it is thought to be closer to 35 million.  Canada has barely 35 million people spread over the second largest country in the world, geographically speaking!

We have space.

Many people don’t.

Sal and I can do this.  And we will.  Four students, maybe five at a time.  But it is exhausting and it is a minuscule response.  People will want this.  People need this.  I sure do, anyway.  And, it seems many of our previous guests need it, too.  It’s only natural.

It is actually super-natural BC.

Cedar Canoe Bailer

Our neighbours over the way are pretty funky.  They know this kind of lifestyle (off-the-grid) and they like to live it. They grow, they build, they forage and they ‘craft’ stuff.  They can ‘go native’ with the best of them.  All of it is pretty neat.  They are pretty neat.

One day when we were visiting, Sally admired a cedar basket they had and, of course, that led to them saying, “Well, you can make them, you know?  And this is the right time of the year to do it.  Waddya say we go get materials tomorrow and make some?”

Gathering Material

I demurred claiming that I had to clean my room and wash my hair but Sal was keen and so this morning they all headed off in moccasins, so to speak.   A while later they came back with some cedar strips and, wanting to include me, they came to our back deck where I was working on a little side-table from ‘found’ materials…but with clean hair. We all sat down to ‘do’ baskets.

And then another local, ‘can-do-anything-type’ dropped by.  Since I hadn’t foraged and I wasn’t an expert in anything, I was dispatched to make tea and gather goodies.  “Would you like sugar and milk with that?  Can I get you another napkin?”

Sushi

Normally I limit my gracious-hosting to scotch-pouring (and sushi-making) but this time I had to be the chatelaine.  I was pretty good.  Gracious to a fault.  Perhaps lacking in the charm and visual appeal somewhat.

Removing outer bark

While I was busy scurrying about looking after them, they got busy.  And the pictures testify to their work and skill.  An hour or so out foraging in the woods, a couple of hours spent crafting and drinking tea and eating sushi (yes, I had made some the day before and it was still presentable) and the day was half done.

Pleating the ends

Carving a handle

Residing in paradise, living with Pocahantas, enjoying myself all the time…..well, it isn’t as easy as it looks. Sometime it is me who has to make the tea!

First stage completed

Just ordered a bunch o’ lumber, plywood and crap to continue building the studio.  It will come by barge likely in the first week of June.  The barge is a helluva deal.  About $150 (+ or -) a ‘lift’ and the barge can ‘lift’ about a ton at a time.  My order may be two lifts, might get lucky and only be one.  Worst case: $300+.

Compare that to schlepping 40 plywood sheets on a small boat.  We’re talking days.  We’re talking lots of small-boat gasoline.  We’re talkin’ coronary.

I love the barge.

And the 3-member crew of the barge (run by Inlet Navigation out of Campbell River and Menzies bay) are great guys.  Real human beings.  They come and drop their load and we ‘kill’ a few minutes cracking jokes and bein’ guys. Saying stupid stuff and laughing at ourselves and the world around us.  It’s good.  I look forward to their visits.

This delivery will also form the main stock for my summer activities.  It will keep me busy and entertained – albeit slowly as my pace is somewhat zombie-like nowadays.  I will be ‘stocked up’ in building materials for awhile.

There is something very satisfying about being stocked up. Stocked up is a tenet of living off the grid.  Ya gotta be independent to be living out here and, to be that, you gotta be stocked up in whatever it takes to feel, well, stocked up.

It is a weird kind of circular logic (if there is any logic at all) because the ‘stock’ in question is just a barge load or a town-day away but it is that part of the lifestyle  that makes you feel vulnerable somehow.  Ideally, I would have two years supply of potatoes, two years supply of scotch and two years supply of building crap.  Just for starters.

I have two years supply of wasabi.  And Thai chili sauce.  And light bulbs.  But some things are consumed at a faster rate and it is hard to keep a two year supply of say, toilet paper.  Impossible to keep a two year supply of wine.  I’d have to buy another 1100 gallon cistern.

………..hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm………….?

But we do have a two year supply of fire wood.  And we literally burn through that.  So, it can be done.  Sal and I are on the final cord of putting away the wood for the second winter from now.  This is good.  This is satisfying.  This is a perfect example of stocking up.

It is also a perfect example of a growing dysfunction.  We are considering keeping at it so that we have three years!  And you know where that will lead, don’t you?  Three won’t be enough and we’ll have to start on year four!

Stocking up, if not managed properly, can get crazy-making.  And I am a bit vulnerable to that, I must confess.  Whenever we go to Costco, Sal says, “Now, for God’s sake, we don’t need any more Thai chili sauce.  Don’t even think about it.  We have a life time’s supply.  Even for a Thai family!”

“You sure?  I just used some the other night?  Maybe one more…?  Just to be safe?”

And you thought that I was building a studio!  Ha! You should see the storage I plan to put in that puppy!