As most of my readers know, I like the Chinese culture in many ways.  More than that, I like a lot of people who also happen to be Chinese.

Mind you, there are plenty to choose from……

But that inclination to be a Sinophile-cum-fan doesn’t make me stupid.  I can see things about China and even Chinese culture about which I am not a big fan.

I like the emphasis on civil harmony but that comes with a lack-of-freedom-of-speech price.  I like how they all pull together but that also fosters group-think and makes the individual somewhat expendable.

There is a lot of yin and yang to the Chinese culture as there is to ours.  It ain’t black and white.  It is not all bad.  It is not all good.

One of the cultural biases I hold close is the rule of law and the Judeo-Christian ethic.  Call them institutionalized value systems, if you like.  I freely admit that I ‘like’ them because I was raised in them.  Those values are my values.  I have added a bit from the US Constitution, Star Trek and a few cheap B movies but, basically, I am a law-abiding, Judeo-Christian kind of guy.

The Chinese culture is not.  Not even close.  They are more Confucian, more concerned with the hive than the bee…….that kind of thing.

They may even be right.  We may be right.  Who am I to know from my limited already-brainwashed perspective?  I won’t judge too much.  Especially since we are hardly disciplined practitioners of our own values ourselves.

But one thing is clear.  One thing is true regardless of which value system you choose:  You can’t have them both.  That cultural dissonance is the root of the saying, “The east is the east and the west is the west and never the twain shall meet”.

Canada is ignoring that.

Canada is close to ratifying a deal with China that will subjugate Canada.  It will make us a colony of China – at least as far as the deal extends.  China is 50 times larger than Canada and, even in a Judeo-Christian based business world, the bigger the dog, the bigger the share.  We are not even a flea on this dog.  And they’ll eat us like they are snapping at fleas.

Harper is sending naked kids to hand-feed hungry lions.  It isn’t a scenario that can possibly work out for the kids.

And, because of their value system, that kind of exploitation, that kind of opportunism, that kind of unfairness will pose no ethical, moral or legal problem for them.  It was just good luck.  Good joss.  They aren’t being bad, they are just having good luck.

For Chinese Business (which is the government), it is first the emperor (now the Politburo), then the middle kingdom and – way down the Confucian/PRC list – is the Chinese individual.  Even further down the list is the environment.

The point?  Canada and Canadians are not even on the list!  And we never will be.  It ain’t personal.  It’s just business (like the business between an Owl and a mouse). 

You want proof?  Ironically, you can ask any Sinophile, even a Chinese.  They know the two systems don’t mesh.  They know they operate one way here and another in China.  The two systems can’t work as one.  Neither will an international contract that involves them.

This Canada China trade deal is a terrible, terrible thing for our country.

Yes, I know.  Not off-the-grid.  Not funny.  Worse, a political rant.  What can I say?

Sally and I are laughing…………….

We had an earthquake a few days ago.  No one was hurt (or even got wet) but a few bureaucrats are getting heat for not responding fast enough to what amounted to as ‘nothing’.

And the media are all over this……..asking ‘experts’ to weigh in on “What should we do if there is a Tsunami coming?”   The PhD-wielding expert head of Emergency Services says, “Get to higher ground!”

Like, duh!  I wonder if we pay that college genius enough?

But the experts are not done there……..No, they have additional advice: “In the event of a major catastrophe you should have a go-to bag already put together for survival purposes.  It should have water and a flashlight and space blankets and high-energy bars.  The go-to bag should be on wheels so that you can trundle it down to the local community centre where the emergency services will gather.  And a hand-crank radio would be good.”

So, I am wondering…………the catastrophe is so bad that your house is unlivable and your car undriveable and you have a suitcase on wheels with chocolate bars in it heading for the community centre?  Does that make any sense?

“Did the guy recommend packing a .45 with a few extra clips to shoot your way into and then out of the community centre filled with people wanting your chocolate bars and space blankets?”

“No, sweetie.  The catastrophe is not that bad.  It is just one of those ‘inconvenient’ catastrophes.  Like, you know, nothing truly horrendous.  Like, where people all come together for a night and await word from the authorities as to what to do next?”

“Like a hurricane or tornado but not as bad as nuclear war?”

“Yeah.  Like that.  You know……..just bad enough to need those chocolate bars and bottled water, that’s all.  Maybe, like a tsunami?”

“Well, a tsunami may be a factor on the west coast, especially if you live up an inlet.  But Vancouver Island will act as a Tsunami buffer and the only thing that might happen in the Gulf of Georgia is a gradual rise in the sea level.  Worst outcome from a huge offshore tsunami is a ten foot increase in the tide.  Not one of those overwhelming Hollywood waves.  We’re talkin’ high tide’ is all.  ‘Course, watching that with a nice chocolate bar would be better, I guess.”

“Hmmm…….so what kind of disaster are they planning for?”

“Well, frankly…..to me anyway, it is not a disaster if it was planned for now was it?  And the truly devastating disasters are, well, devastating.  You know, like beyond planning for?  And anyway, whatever kind of disaster they are thinking of, I can’t imagine a suitcase full of chocolate bars being your go-to response.  Most people will get in their car and head for the hills.  I guess they can eat chocolate while they wait in the traffic jam…?   But the car radio will work without hand-cranking”. 

“No, sweetie.  The hand-crank radio is for the long term.  You know, when you survive for like, over a year or something?  Like when the space blankets are all in shreds and the chocolate is all gone?”

“So, where is Commander Survival with his PhD at this point?  Have they eaten him or something by then?”

“No.  I am guessing his Emergency preparedness program was for, like the first three days, ya know?  Otherwise eating all that chocolate longer term would cause skin problems.  No, this is a short-term plan.  After that, geez, I dunno.  I guess you hand-crank your radio and listen for further advice.”

We’re laughin’……..Sal has so much chocolate that we can survive just about anything.  Plus we have some real food.  We gotta get some space blankets, of course, but, until then, we’ll just have to make do with the ones we use all the time – the nice warm ones that are soft and comfy.  I guess we’ll have to panic on our own ’cause I am not leaving this entirely self-sufficient house with a years worth of firewood and all my tools to go to the community centre to await word from the authorities who will, in all likelihood, be shot in their car for their chocolate bars by starving disaster victims clad in space blankets.

But I must admit that I am looking forward to hearing the next batch of experts from the Royal Disaster Commission that will be struck to look into the matter when it is all said and done.

I don’t do much on ‘how-to’ because, well, I don’t know ‘how-to’ very well.  As anyone who has read me so far, I just overbuild what I have to do on the assumption that if two-by-fours are required for code, then 2×8’s are probably better….?  Of course, I am not quite that bad anymore.  But I was.

And I still use that method when in doubt. My logic: more material is cheaper than an engineer.

My house has 12 load-bearing points under which the pillars should have been placed.  And I did that.  Looked good.  Stood firm.  But I looked around and I had a lot of extra logs at that time and well, I stopped counting after putting in 31 more.  I am guessing that, with the food shed and the deck I have over sixty five log-pillars made of 6 inch logs (or bigger) under my house.  When my house falls down, it will fall onto a haystack of logs.  That’s my kind of engineering.

Yes.  They are cross-braced.  Some of them, anyway.  I may add some more braces………I dunno…….don’t want to look insecure, ya know?

So, the point?  I am not the best source for how-to advice.  Having said that, I have to opine that now seems like a real good time to buy some solar panels.  I mean, if you are considering getting some at all…….?

When I bought my panels over six years ago the price was over $5 a watt.  An 80 watt panel cost $400 plus PST, GST and God-knows-what-else-they-add to make it up over $500.00 a panel.  I  initially only bought four.  After a couple of years, I bought four more.  They came in a bit less but still pretty expensive.

Today the US consumer pays $1.00 a watt and the Canadian consumer $1.50.  Which is fair, don’t you think?  Their panels have to work harder since they actually have sunshine!  Some US states also subsidize alternative energy purchases but we don’t do that up here and the GST even still applies but over-paying for everything is the Canadian way, eh?

Harper just ain’t green.  He subsidizes Oil companies, China and the Tar Sands instead.  What a guy!

Panels today are also generally larger.  My old 80 watt panels were about 16 inches by 36 and wired for making 12 volts.  I needed four just to get them working cooperatively with my 48 volt system.  Now they come in 24 volts as well as 12 and the wattage is up as high as 240 watts.  Even though the working surface area is much the same overall, you can get bigger panels and thus make installation a bit easier.

Some products are better than others but the general feeling is that the panels are all pretty much the same and they are all made in China anyway.  There may be someone making them better in Norway or somewhere else but the cheap and still-good panels are Chinese.  Bottom line, it has never been cheaper to get a large array of panels.

But – for those of you easily fooled – don’t be!  Getting a good, large-ish off-the-grid array may be cheaper right now but the panels are not even the largest expenditure in the system and the rest of the required equipment is much the same price.  A good inverter and batteries and the required racks for the panels will be where the larger costs will accrue and, if you plant those puppies too far from your batteries, you can start to tally up some pretty large expenses in wiring as well.  While solar panels have dropped in price, copper wire has rocketed.  In other words: to take advantage of cheap solar panels, you have to put them close to the whole system.

Well, you really just have to plan the whole sysytem well.  In this case engineers are cheaper than materials.

OK.  I’ll stop.  I am not the best how-to guy.  Nor am I even much of a consultant (Those who can, do.  Those who can’t, consult!).  And, even if I was any good at any one time, the playing field is changing all the time.  Technology is fleet afoot.  Better batteries are coming (or so they say).  Thin-film solar is coming.  Inverters are changing.  More is being learned all the time.  This is an evolving field of endeavour.  All I know is that solar panels are cheaper than what they were.

And I thought I had better mention it.

The place has changed.  It is grey.  Where it was bright and vibrant with Fall’s colours, it is now foggy-grey in the morning with a washed out respite of weak sunshine in the afternoon but darkening-with-fog early in the afternoon.  Feels like the End of Days.  Feels like winter.  Feels like………….

………….I have to do something about it.

I am not so sure how that might turn out this year.  Or even if I will make much of an attempt.  Chances are we will just adjust and ‘hunker’ through the winter this time around.  It just seems that we are facing winter’s beakness a bit early, is all.  ‘Course the earthquake didn’t help.  Earthquakes: Nature’s wake-up call.

Yesterday the region around Prince Rupert/Haida Gwaii experienced a 7.7 on the Richter scale.  Not huge by world standards but more than enough to get everyone’s attention.  Well, maybe Harper and Enbridge ignored it.  Two of our friends (a couple) held hands in the kitchen and said their goodbyes.  But, thank God, things settled down, so did they and they then sat down to write us about it.  So, it’s all OK………….for now.

They (the universal ‘they’) maintain that some percentage of what seems like an increase in incidents described as natural disasters are a result of climate change.  You know: “Well, the permafrost helps hold things together and so the geotechnic plates move more easily when it melts.”

So the sky is falling (Hurricane Sandy) and the floor is shifting.  And the seas are rising.  And the economy is falling along with the sky.  Pretty soon, they say, “The wheels will fall off!”  Mayans predict December 21 at 11 minutes past 11 in the morning.  Sheesh, all that, the end of Daylight Saving Time and an extra large Visa bill this month and it is enough to depress a guy.

But I am not in the least depressed.  First off, I have access to anti-depressants – the ultimate coping mechanism.  My doctor says: “Don’t call me, just take a few extra Prozac and start singin’ in the morning. That’s what I do!”

Secondly, I don’t think they can find me and they can’t get blood from a stone even if they do.  And that is all we have out here – stones!  “So, come already!  Repossess some granite.  Go ahead!”

Thirdly, we’ll get a few sunny days again sometime and everything will be better.  So yeah, that’s my plan: Hunker down, hide out.  Wait long enough for the sun to come out again.

You got a better idea?

I generally don’t write about politics anymore.  Everything turns into a rant.  I can’t help myself.  But today, I can make an exception.  Today is about our very own off-the-grid local politics.  The community association is having their annual general meeting and, I have to say, I doubt that I could find a rant to express about it if my life depended on it.  Our local politicians know how to do things.  There is precious little to rant about.

Well, for me, anyway.  Some people can rant over a bake sale and we have a few rebellious dissenters in the community who oppose what is going on now and then……..whatever it might be.  But you can’t count them, the official Contrarian Party Opposed to Everything.  They’d oppose a free lunch on the basis that it was a government-backed conspiracy and a rip-off (which it might be……..)!

Our community has about 250 people in it.  It is defined by the islands encompassed by the Regional District’s somewhat casual reference to the outer islands.  I am not sure we know exactly which islands are included because we have outer islands, ‘special islands’ and really way-out-there islands plus a few who live on the mainland.  I think.  Whatever.

It doesn’t really matter because never in the history of the area have all 250 people gathered in one spot.  Or spoken as one.  Or even spoken to one another.  Not all of us – that is for sure.  Plus the people are always changing.  We haven’t a clue who belongs in the larger community. 

General rule of thumb: if they are wearing gumboots and Thrift Store clothing, haven’t shaved in a week and can drop a few names we know into the conversation, they are in.

The actual, official Association is, of course, better defined.  It even has a name and a newsletter.  Those who have paid up membership are members of the Association.  Except for those who can’t afford the membership (or balk at the concept of having to buy official membership in the community) in which case they are also allowed in under the hardship or official dissenter allowance.

But some people attend meetings anyway, membership or not.  The reasons for that are myriad but free food is a major enticement.  And no membership check is ever made.  Those who ‘crash’ meetings are local, quite familiar and recognized as neighbourhood eccentrics.  Some could just really use the meal.

And, basically, no one cares.

It didn’t use to be that way.  In the past the Association had been, at times, a political hotbed.  Arguments, divisions, factions hiving off, bad feeling……we had it all………..A lot of things said, feelings hurt, mental and spiritual scarring.  It was ugly.  The strong feelings over the rights of free range cattle almost started a civil war!  (And there was only one cow and one horse at the centre of the controversy which was mostly resolved when the cow died. May she rest in peace)

But that era finally ran it’s course and, eventually, the current group took over and wisely confined their work to caring only for the community buildings.  They are very responsible building stewards.  But they resist expressing any other kind of opinion.  If it isn’t work bees, operating hours or ‘get-togethers’, these guys are devoid of position and opinion.  They are the embodiment of neutrality.  Officially.

‘Course, they are also people.  Individuals with local experience and biases, feelings and allegiances.  The individual members have a history even if their role on the Association board forbids expressing it.  It’s a struggle for some.

There is usually a personal mini-drama in the background on any subject but our guys are good; it rarely surfaces.

And that is the point.  These folks are successful politicians.  And they will likely all get voted in again.  They just take care of community business and leave the rest of the initiatives, those hot potatoes that spring up now and again, to those who get involved in such things.  Our guys try to remain at arms length from most things and just make sure the buildings don’t burn down.

It might be a political model long overdue.

There are so many…..what to choose first………?

Let’s start with building.  When a person is in the building stage (which can last for years), they cannot go through anybody else’s door, entry or room without noting how the work was done.  They can’t pass a wall without checking it for being plumb, flat and square.  All joinery is examined closely.  Plumbing is examined by climbing under the house with a flashlight. Counter tops are not admired so much as post analyzed for ease of transport, installation and local content.  People in the building stage become ad hoc, de facto building inspectors, they really do.  And they can’t help themselves.

To some extent the ‘inspector‘ stage diminishes once the person has worked through their own building period but the longer that time took, the longer the amateur inspector stage lingers.  We have guys who have spent their whole lives building and now, tho mostly retired from the work, can still be seen eyeing a wall or a roofline with a critical gaze.  And that applies to chicken coops, docks, lean-tos and whatever else they can relate to in a ‘can I build it?’ sense.

Urban people tend to take the basic construction for granted.  Who examines the concrete in a highrise or the installation of an escalator?  Urbanites look at ‘finishes’,  decor, style and the latest technology.  “Ooh, you have an ultra-thin flat screen TV?  And I love the Subzero fridge.” They don’t wonder about how it is constructed or how it was installed.   They like how it looks, how it functions and what kind of statement it makes.

The off-the-gridder (OTG) would look at them both and ask, “What kind of power does it draw?  Are they both on their own circuits?  How big is your panel?”  It’s a fundamental difference in looking at the same things.

The first and easiest place to notice this behaviour is in how we react to seeing a building.  The second easiest one is in our preoccupation with power sources and consumption.

The third observation is often how the toilet works but we’ll do that some other time.

The fourth OTG observation is, “How did you get that here!?”   Why?  Because logistics and materials handling are big deals when you are doing most of it with small vehicles and even smaller boats.  Over rough ground.  Up steep hills.

One of our point-earners with our neighbours is that we have one of those big, old, heavy, wide gas stoves from the 40’s and an almost equally heavy ‘sideboard’ as a piece of furniture.  When we first moved in almost every one commented on both those items – not for their looks or functionality but for their weight and cumbersome nature.  They envisioned Sally and I carrying it all up the hill.  Trust me – anything over 300 pounds gets a second look from everyone up here and anything over 500 is marvelled at.

Another universal OTG quirk of social behaviour is local people ‘bringing‘ something when they visit.  And it is rarely wine or flowers.  Eggs from their chickens, tomatoes from their garden, a fresh-baked loaf of bread, a fish……….?  The hostess gift out here is a crap-shoot.  Could be anything.  DVDs, log dogs, a tool they know you need………  The only thing you can count on is that everyone will have a packsack and in a few of them there will be something for the larder or the tool shed.  Our first winter, one of our neighbours brought a sling of (much needed) dry firewood.

Another brought a sack of deer off-cuttings and bones for the dogs (very well received!).

I suppose it is not quirky so much as practical and real.  We are really just a big outdoor school out here and everyone is learning how to do what they have to do as well as they can.  We learn from each other and what better way to do that than to actually see and feel what was done?  And, since building is the first stage, it only makes sense that it would also show up as amateur construction analysis 101.

If there is a real quirk to the whole thing it is this: everyone is in different stages of skill-developing and knowledge-gathering.  So no ‘reviews‘ from your neighbours are going to sit well as a rule.  And, if their comments do warm the cockles of your heart, you can be assured that many criticisms were omitted.  So the comments on work done are usually pleasant, polite, encouraging and largely disingenuous.  “Used green screws on your decking, I see.  Good job.  Looks good.  Heard that brown ones were better but, really…..a screw is a screw, eh?”

Translation:  “I’d take those screws out if I were you and replace them with the right ones.  Brown ones.  You might want to go up a size so the screw gets a good grip when you go into the old hole.  I don’t think that deck will last the winter, you poor sap!”

The only response:  “Geez, it’s good to see you guys.  Thanks for the bucket of compost (Sally: Yes, that truly was a gift brought by a guest) and the zucchinis.  Can I get you a beer or would you like a glass of wine?”

Some years ago, when I was playing at being a businessman, I bought an expensive pair of Florsheim shoes.  Fancy shoes were part of the uniform of the team I was trying to get on.  I wore the shoes for a day and then the heel fell off.  It was irritating and I took them back to the store with a glower.  I was polite and restrained but this second trip was cutting into a busy day and my anger must have shown through.  I was young, after all.

The storeowner replaced the shoes immediately and gave me a couple of pairs of ‘lifetime’ socks (and shoe polish, I think).  At first I refused the gesture saying that it was not necessary.  I had just come in for shoes and shoes were all I wanted.

“Please, sir.  We wanted to make a good first impression and we failed.  So, I really want to make a much better second impression.  I want you to remember this visit and not the first.  If I can do that, you’ll come back.”

I accepted (he was very sincere) and, of course, I went back for as long as I was in the game.  Which, thank God, was mercifully short.

But I never forgot the lesson…………………..or did I?

A few years go I had a disappointing encounter with Superior Propane.  I had signed on due to their telemarketing campaign and then, because I lived where I lived, they withdrew the offer.  They made a half-hearted attempt at a consolation and I use them to this day but, for me, the relationship has always been a bit strained.  They, of course, have many, many customers and, to them, I am just one of many account numbers in their computer.

And like many other ‘numbers’ in any of these machines encounter now and then, my last bill from them was an error.  They had overbilled me $25,000.  Mind you, in retrospect, that is the best kind of error.  Overbilling me only a few dollars might have gone unnoticed.

I had no choice.  I wrote to them and told them of their error and, further, I added a few other complaints to the list.  I was polite but pointed. I must have managed to glower by way of e-mail.  It is an art.

They replied quickly, apologized profusely and told me the billing problem had been rectified.  But then they went the additional step of addressing my other whiny complaints.  I didn’t expect that.  And I confess, I had brought up my disappointment from 6 years ago in my earlier complaint.  They wanted to pursue that.

My response: “That you would ask me about it is good enough. Fuggedabout it. It was years ago. The employees involved have likely gone. The world moves on.  And so do I.  We’ll let it go.”

Superior replied with:  “No sir.  We want to make it better.  We screwed up and we want a good relationship, not a poor one.  We’ll do the right thing by you this time!”

And they did.

Sometimes a faux pas can be an opportunity.  Sometimes it is just another screw-up in a world of screwing up.  But the good part is that a screw-up fixed with grace and sincerity is remembered.  I still remember the shoe store manager thirty-five years later.  But now his file in my memory drawer just got a little bigger.  I had to shuffle him over to make room for Superior Propane.

Let’s hope I get to remember them for 35 years!

Well, it is not really madness.  Not really.  Not so much.  It is just a bit on how moving off the grid was partly (tho not much) fear driven.

I kinda think the world is going to hell in a handbasket and I think that because everyone tells me so and because I am inclined to the dark view by nature.  Off-the-grid?  Maybe moving-off-the-bullseye would be another way of saying it.

I haven’t discussed this part with Sal.  Not much.  No point.  She is of the glass-always-full-and-runneth-over type.  To her, the world is mostly beautiful and full of promise, cookies, flowers and puppies.  No fear, only happy.

Good thing she has me, eh?

Anyway, there is plenty of evidence for a sense of fear-of-the-future, of course.  Documentarians make a good living scaring the crap out of us – just for starters.  And, where they leave off, the scientists and the nut-cases add to the growing general paranoia, what with climate change and pandemics and mass-shootings.  And that was just yesterday! 

Fear is just good-for-business, really.  Hell, the media and the government are in the business of selling bad news (what a concept that is, eh?).   If it isn’t Big Brother warning us about terrorists and celebrities chastising us for hunger and neglect of others, it is Michael Moore and PBS telling me the sky is falling.   There is simply no end to the scare mongering.

And, worse, it is working.  They could be right.  We could be doomed!  DOOMED!

So, my point is this: moving off the grid was partly (a small part) motivated along the same lines as the crazy survivalist fringe who hide in buried shipping containers in the hills of Idaho and Montana.  The ones who get a years’ supplies of MRE’s and store them in caves, pack in dozens of guns and tons of ammunition. Store fuel. Try to hide.  Wear camouflage and paint their face black.  That kinda thing.  Real crazies……….

But I’m not that crazy.  Not yet, anyway.  Mind you, I do find myself wanting to store more food.  And a couple of AK47’s with a case lot of ammo doesn’t seem like an over-reaction anymore.  With no road here I can’t really use a blacked out Hummer and no one looks directly at my face by choice anyway so I don’t need to paint anything black.  But I must admit, I think I look good in camo.  Like a cross between Danny deVito and Stormin’ Norman Schwarzkopf.  Kinda.

The point?  Well, the world continues to turn.  The hugely crippled economies still make bread and pump gas.  And most people are just fine, thank you very much.  So the fear levels promoted all day long are hard to sustain against a reality filter.  Sometimes even a Montana militiaman dug deep in the hills has to think, “Geez, what a beautiful day.  Think I’ll go down to the lake, get a burger, take the kids swimming”.  It can’t be all that bad.  Not all the time.  Not really.

But I confess, there is a part of me that feels that way.  It is not a huge part.  But it is a part.  Moving off the grid was – a little bit – getting off the bullseye.  If not getting off the bullseye, certainly shedding some of the cushion, some of the protective padding that comes with living in the embrace of the social comfort systems.

Living off the grid has reinforced my sense of independence and, in turn, it has also increased my awareness of survivability.  It has to.  And it has.

Maybe it simply comes from being a step removed from supportive society.  Maybe it is simply living more focused on basic survival.  Maybe it is a perspective thing – I just see things differently from here.  I really don’t know.  But I do know that I am more inclined to basic survivalism and that, I think, increases one’s sensitivity, one’s awareness, and yes, one’s sense of possible dangers.  I have a smidge of paranoia.  Call me crazy.

When speaking seasonally, there is a time of contemplation that arises every year ’bout this time.   Despite living off the grid and loving it, we still anticipate the need to leave it for a month or so in the winter.  Most winters, anyway.  But it is not a respite from living off the grid.  Instead, it just a respite from the winter.

It can get a bit dreary and bleak out here in the depths of January or February but, truly, it is a cumulative thing.  Dreary starts in November and just adds up.  So, in anticipation of that, it is time to plan a temporary remove and nothing prompts us more than the last few days of October.

So, we are currently in contemplation mode.  To go south or not to go south – that is the question.

Complicating matters is our changing attitudes towards travel.  We have always considered ourselves travelers and, in the earlier years, even adventurers (so long as it was safe and clean with regular showers and a glass of wine at the end of the day, we were game for just about anything…….well, I don’t like too much dirt, heat or bugs either……..but other than that we were like a fat Indiana Jones and Lara Croft.  Somewhat.  Kinda.).

But that seems to have changed.

Travel doesn’t seem like so much fun anymore.  Airports, of course, are a major part of the problem.  I have added them to my hate-and-avoid list.  And our last trip to El Salvador took an extra bit of stuffing out of us.  It was ugly.  Usually we find something or someone redeeming on a trip but El Salvador was memorable for having nothing but fear and loathing as a memory.

Age is also a factor.  Our way of traveling is, despite the comfort requirements listed above, still hardy-ish requiring lots of local living experiences, hiking and immersion in the ‘real’ culture (or so we think).  We don’t do five-star hotels and fancy restaurants.  Or three or four-star, for that matter.  We take chicken buses.  Stay at B&Bs and hostels.  Eat in the local cafe.  In Thailand, we toured on a scooter amidst the constantly wheeling madding melee – that sort of thing.  The point: we are getting on and we have limited endurance for that sort of thing now.  And too limited funds for the five-start method.  And not much interest in that anyway.  (Well, maybe five days or a week of cushy pool-side would be tolerable.  We can try anything once.).

So foreign travel is diminishing as an option, I am sorry to say.  Not counting the USA, I guess.  Technically still foreign soil and definitely prickly and weird in way too many places, the US is also home to many friends and places of genuine interest and fun. I can still enjoy myself in the US but we are talking golf, BBQs and larger-than-life experiences like Mardi Gras, Burning Man, NASCAR and Las Vegas (only one of which we have experienced).  The US offers up a constant smorgasbord of huge and bizarre for me but getting ‘down and local’ doesn’t have much appeal.  I guess I think I know what it is like to be immersed in local US culture.  I live in Canada, after all.

Homeland Security and ‘get-on-the-ground-NOW!’ stormtroopers freak me out a bit but, being old, fat, white and sporting a short-cropped hairstyle exempts me from most of the usual hassle.  I look like a retired one of them.  I even have a few khaki shirts and, when wearing them, I sometimes sport mirrored aviator sun glasses and call people ‘son’ and say ‘Hoo Rah!’ now and then just to establish a little ‘merican street cred.

……but I digress…………….what to do this winter?  It’s a big question.  A challenge.  But, honestly…………?  Isn’t that a great thing in itself?  Our biggest challenge is how to spend the winter?  Gawd!  Even Saudi Arabian princelings  have more responsibilities than we do.  Isn’t that great?  Face it – this is a wonderful dilemma to have.  Do we leave paradise just because the lights have dimmed?  Or do I just start another deck?    

One might be forgiven for assuming that living at the cottage results in better health.  Living simpler, minimalist and hardier lifestyles, eating local, getting exercise and sunshine – these are the staples of the current and prevailing health myth, as we know.  Cabin-man: the new senior’s health icon!

They could be wrong.

By that myth’s promises, I should be gorgeous and robust, a picture of senior health.  I should be the poster boy for CARP.  I am not.  I am still built like a fridge with a face like a potato.  An old potato.  In fact, I seem to be generating a lot of “How are you feeling?’ and “Are you OK?” comments lately.   When I went to see my doctor not so long ago, he walked into the room and, without so much as a ‘howdyado’, almost screamed, “Chest pains!!?” I had to calm him down.

To be fair, my personal health seems good even if it obviously isn’t obvious.  Mediocre to good, anyway.  I think.  I’m pretty much OK but I don’t have a coterie of grey-haired groupies chasing me around, that is for sure.   Just as well.  I can’t run very fast anymore.

And, unlike in my youth, I’d have to run now.  I couldn’t handle a group of groupies.  A single groupie, maybe.  If we were given a whole weekend.   Preferably a long weekend.  But a single groupie is an oxymoron and, to be frank, any old, grey-haired groupie chasing me around would be, most likely, an oxy-moron with failing eyesight who looks like Frank.

I admit that I was kinda hoping for more.  You know; tanned, weathered face, harder muscles and a slightly less Hitchcockian profile?  Sean Connery-esque?  That kind of thing.  But I am not stupid.  That is not likely to happen – even in another lifetime.  And I have taken steps to cope with that.  There has not and there never will be a full-length mirror in this house, I can assure you.

I still think it is a healthier lifestyle, though.  And so it has been somewhat proven these past few years as I have weathered visibly, rediscovered the odd muscle group and hardly bought a stitch of new clothing.  I have come to think of myself, in comparative terms anyway, as being physically better than I was when I left the city because I am now a bit craggy where before I was a bit saggy.  Admittedly, I am also raggedy but there are few who notice that.  Not out here; the recycled clothing centre of the universe.

But I am writing about all this because I am beginning to have second thoughts about the health benefits of healthy living.

Firstly, because I am so much more active, I ache all over.  All the time.  My back has been sore for months.  And, worse, dirt seems to be accumulating in the newly formed crags and I think some things are starting to sprout!  My skin looks like a garden box in early spring!

Forget about eyesight.   Which is not hard to do because forgetting is so much more prevalent, too.  But my eyesight is abysmal.  I can hardly see the forest for the trees.  Literally.  There is no question I am pushing the physical envelope and some parts are pushing back in protest.

For instance, I have inexplicably become selectively hard of hearing whenever hard work is mentioned.  “Huh?  You talking to me?  Can’t hear you!” And hard work is mostly mentioned by Sal so she is taking it personally.  I am becoming one of those old guys who can only not hear his wife.

I’ll be 65 in a few months.  They’ll give me a gold card.  I can ride the ferry on weekdays for free.  But that is just another myth, really.  The car isn’t free and most seniors can’t walk all over Campbell River carrying outboard motors and three weeks of groceries as they go about their business.  So the car is necessary and the car has to be paid for.  And, surprise – the price of the car on the ferry has gone up 100% in the last few years.  So they have managed to claw back the free part of the senior’s ferry ride and then some.  They must think us stupid.

Which brings me nicely back on topic.  You really can’t beat the aging process.  To expect to do so is, in fact, stupid.  Steve Jobs was a health nut his whole life.  Vegan.  Bottled water.  Slim.  And he died young at around 57.  A friend of mine’s father was a war victim and ate every day as if it was his last meal and the more and the fattier the better.  He never walked and even had one of those ‘scooters’ old people use to ride around Walmart.  He made it to 95.

I came out here partly to live a more healthy life.  And it is definitely a more pleasant and enjoyable one.  I think it is even healthier.  But the results only come in when you check out and so you only know if it was healthier when the information won’t do you much good.  So, the point:  live off the grid because it is more fun and interesting.

Healthier?  We’ll see eventually, I guess.