Dean Potter jumps off of large high things wearing a ‘flying squirrel’ suit.  Don’t ask.

Last year around this time he was being filmed and sponsored by National Geo in just such an adventure.  He came up our way to jump off of Mount Bute near the head of Bute Inlet.  Bute is a fiord/inlet half-way up the BC coast and the source of our high winter ‘outflow’ winds. Isolated.

The mountain is pretty high. Apparently it is one of the

highest mountains in the world in terms of ‘climb’ because it rises straight up right from sea level.  It is an impressive slab o’ rock covered in snow and ice and located miles from anywhere.  Really inviting, ya know? 

This mountain-climbing, leaping-off-it film made only one thing partly  understandable to me: Dean seems to like that sort of thing.  After that, I watched the whole film wondering, ‘why?’

A friend of ours is a world-class mountaineer-in-retirement.  He has some kind of understanding (if there is such a thing…..my jury is still out) of this.  He has climbed this formidable challenge and was asked to accompany the film crew and climbers to the base camp and provide them with background, history, stories and local knowledge.  I confess that even going to the base camp made me question ‘why?’

Mind you, I feel that way about multiple flights of stairs, too…………

I am obviously not the mountaineering type.  Not a mountain-goat nor a lemming gene in my family, I guess.  Even watching the film induced a fear-of-heights response.  It just ain’t my thing.

But I have to say – it was interesting in a Spider-man-cum-Zen-Yoga-master meets Evil Knevil kind of way.

And the story did have some elements…………..the best part of it all for me was Chuck.

Chuck lives up at the head of Bute Inlet at Homathko camp.  Year ’round. Our previously mentioned friends took us up to meet him and his wife one weekend a summer or two ago.  Very beautiful country.  Very rugged.  Real he-man, mountain-man, can-do kinda place.  He and his wife meet and exceeds that description all the time.  Chuck is an extreme handyman and on a huge scale.  The two of them are way, way larger than life in a Paul Bunyan kind of way.

Diesel (as seen in the film) with Megan and Fiddich

For instance: he made a hot tub.  He used a huge dump-truck bed for the in-rock pool and then put a building around it so as to be usable year ’round.  ‘C’mon…….that is real mountain-man, can-do stuff!  Admit it!’

Anyway, the flying Dean and his crew climbed the peak and ascertained that the leap off the top did not have the required five to seven seconds free fall-without-interruption (so that the squirrel suit inflates into flying shape).  “What to do?”

“What if you had a ramp?  Like a spring board off the top?  You know, it allows you to leap off from a further distance out?”

“Chuck!?  How we goin’ to do that two miles up??!”

“Piece o’ cake!”

And so Chuck fabricated a large aluminum bridge-to-nowhere that could be rigged by a high rigger on the peak of the mountain.  Made it in his shop.  A gazillion miles from anywhere.  Like..in a day!  It allowed for a ‘further out’ leap.  Then Dean, the lucky leaper, would have all of five seconds before flying or well, splattering.

The game was on.

A helicopter flew the parts up to the peak, the guys assembled it and within a day the flying Squirrel-man was set to go.

And he did.  Dean Potter flew like Rocky (of Rocky and Bullwinkel fame) for just half a second under three minutes.  And guys hanging off ropes and stuck in granite crevices 12,000 feet up filmed it.

And we got to see it all happen – nicely packaged and edited – up at the community potluck.  Got a nice dinner to go with that.  Even had a free beer.  It was good.

And that was the only part I really understood.

View from Homathko Camp

Busy two days.  Lots to say.  Too tired to say it right now.  Consider this post like previews on movies.  Coming attractions!  

Yikes!  Starring Dave and Sally, a major FUBAR production…………titanic struggle…….against great odds……..marine mafia wins on points and dollars.  But the fight was rigged.  Damn their eyes!  The second act: the battle is joined,  (just too tired to gird my loins right now (whatever the hell that means!).  Third act: the twist!

Second movie preview: Interim boat was purchased and brought home.  Undergoing a few ‘fixes’ before launch.  No champagne over the bow of this little girl.  Only 15 and a half.  Might call her Lolita.  I’ll keep you apprised.

Community potluck and documentary.  Characters On Parade.

Friends came to stay for a couple of nights.  Kept Better Than Fish!  More on that……..

Cyberslime found my cyberpost and tried to ‘bust’ us.  Spam/phish.  Wow.  Doesn’t take much, eh?

Don’t change that dial!  More after a few words from…………….

Just about finished Misha Glenny’s book, DARKMARKET: Cyberthieves, Cybercops and You.  It’s about a whole new world of evil out there – cyberspace.

‘Course the idea of this isn’t new to any of us.  I suppose we have all had our credit cards compromised at one time or another by some nefarious wrong-doer but, after reading Glenny’s book, Cyber-evil is now perceived (by me, anyway) as a much larger threat than simply defrauding a bank or two.  These bad hacker-boys are into cyber warfare as well.

That can get out of hand.

If it hasn’t already.

I’ll just make one point:  The Pentagon has had four traditional theatres of war – naval, air, space and ground.  Now they have five.  They officially class cyberspace as a ‘theatre’.  It is that bad.  And it is not like the Americans to simply limit their actions to defense of their borders, now is it?  And, anyway, where are the borders in globalization and cyber-space?  There just may be a bit of cyber aggression going on out there.

And not just by them.  Seems the Russians are really ‘into it’ and so are the Chinese and the Israelies.

Shades of the Cold War, eh?  Feeling a chill………..?

You should.

But don’t let me mislead you into thinking this is just a nation-state thing.  It ain’t.  It could be a sub-group and that can get personal in strange and weird ways.  Some years ago, Estonia invited the wrath of Russians (don’t ask – too stupid – about statues, for God’s sake) and Russians ‘cyber-attacked’ the most computer savvy country in the world (on a per capita basis).  Estonia was relatively prepared and held off the botnets, worms, trojans, viruses and DDoS for over ten days before having to shut down the countries Internet system.  They were brought to their knees, virtually speaking.

That ten day war cost Estonia millions.  Maybe more.  It cost the central bank there, Hansabank, almost $15M to keep their doors open for business and two other main banks had to close.  Much of the country’s economy was in ‘hunker-down’ mode.  Not much got done.

But did Russia do it?  Certainly Russians did it but did the nation state of Russia do it?  Did Putin authorize it?  Maybe it was just angry young hackers…who knows?  No one knows for sure but it has been discovered that the attack on just the Hansabank came by way of 80,000 separate computers focusing on Estonian servers.  And there was more attacked than just the bank.  Those computers were ‘Shanghaied’ into service.  Those who Shanghai are hackers.  It is entirely possible (tho somewhat unlikely) that my and Sally’s computers were conscripted against their will to attack Estonia by cyberforces.  We wouldn’t even know.

“Geez, Dave, what has that got to do with living off the grid?  Especially if you are telling me that the definition of the ‘grid’ now officially includes the Internet.  Doesn’t that mean that you really aren’t off the grid, after all?”

So it would seem.  In the immortal words of Al Pacino as the Godfather, Michael Corleone, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in”.

“Oooohhh, what are those?” asked Sal.

Bending close to examine the garden plant in question, L said, “Spitbugs!”  She then picked one off and they both examined it closely.

Not noticing what L did immediately thereafter, Sal asked, “Are they OK?  Or do I have to get rid of them?”

“You have to get rid of them.”

“OK, fine.  Then what do I do with them?”

L looked at Sal like she was an idiot child (Sally’s own words, I swear!) and said, “Squish ’em!”

“Oooooooooooooh, yuck!”

You can take the lady out of the city but it is hard to take the city out of the lady.  Gentility and civility is hard to wash out of jeans.  Despite everything, Sal is still very much a lady.  It’s good thing.

She has always been a bit squeamish about such things as squishing bugs, bonking fish on the head or killing mice.  Anything like that.  And I am talking about when I do it!   But, in fact, if it needs to be done, she won‘t do it.  She won’t even yell at the dogs!  I am not 100% sure that butter will melt in her mouth, to be honest.  So, if we need a little ugly, she looks to me.

Well, so do a lot of people, actually.  Could be me, I suppose……? 

Mind you she has grown somewhat over the years and can now yell at me without any qualms whatsoever.  I take credit for that growth.  Hmmm……..she took to that pretty early on as I recollect.  Made it look easy, too.

I am a good teacher.

This is a woman more than willing to brave the winter elements in a small boat to get to bookclub with her casserole intact, this is a woman capable of carrying and fixing small outboards (within reason) and this is a woman completely unafraid of chicken-busing through El Salvador (well, until she was actually there and doing it!  Then her courage waned a smidge.  Along with mine, by the way.)  This is woman unhindered by fear (or common sense, sometimes, if you ask me).  She’s got guts.

But step on a bug?  Kill a mouse?  Not a chance!  “Too horrible!”

The point?  Some things out in rural land are a bit harsher, closer to the real bone, a bit less civilized.  Harsh.  It can get mean out here.  You just have to get your hands dirty sometimes.  And sometimes they get bloody, too.  It just is.

Sal will get her hands dirty.  She’s a trooper that way.  I should tell you about cleaning out a composting toilet that wouldn’t compost some day.  But she is Ghandi-esque when it comes to life.  Any life.  She just won’t take any.  She just says NO!

So, I have to kill stuff.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am no wanton killer.  I have a heart.  Honest.  But, I am sorry, my house is for us, the mice and ants have to live elsewhere.  If they persist, they will cease to exist.  You can quote me.  I once had to dispatch a mouse with the sharp end of a shovel.  It wasn’t pretty.  I didn’t even tell Sal.

But he got a decent burial.  I’ll go that far.  (It helped with the pain, ya know?) 

I have no real problem even bonking fish.  Seems logical in a ‘wanna-eat-dinner’ kind of way.  But I hate it when it takes more than two bonks.  I feel like a ‘clumsy murderer’ when I am bashing about the bottom of the boat and it is screaming at me in anguish (or so I imagine).  Ugly.  But I cope.  Man’s gotta do, eh? 

The point: Sally is a lady anywhere she goes.  Ain’t gonna change.  Me, I adjust.  As it is shaping up, I am becoming more primal, more brutish.  And, quite obviously, more ugly.  ‘Kill or be killed!  AArgh!’ 

If this keeps up, I may even end up hunting some day……….at this rate…..in my 90’s.  Late 90’s.  Maybe.  Ooohhh.  Yuck!

I have had few mentors in my life – well, none, in fact.  (Maybe my father in one respect.  We lived in bad parts of town and he taught me how to handle a street-fight situation which came in handy now and again, I must say.)  And I have huge respect for some people who have shared with me their perhaps-more-useful-in-overall-life knowledge along with love and support during my life.  My friends and siblings have been great.

But, really?  I have to say that going-off-grid was not one of those fully supported-with-love kinda things for most of my friends or siblings.  They thought it ‘interesting’ sometimes.  They thought that we would ‘make a nice cabin’, maybe.  Perhaps.  (If we got a good contractor.)  Some, in fact, were less-than-enthusiastic and, out of love and support, tried to talk me out of it.  Really?  Most were ambivalent or just didn’t really notice until we were well and truly gone.

So going off-grid was not influenced by my or Sally’s peers, siblings, friends, neighbours or even acquaintances.  Exception to all of that: Sal’s parents.  They were probably the only people with whom we shared the vision that were unequivocal in their support.  Mostly.  I am sure they had their doubts as to our ability but, truth is – any fears or doubts were never expressed.  Only love, support, encouragement and donations of used building supplies.

“So, where did the inspiration come from?”

No question:  Mother Earth News forums.  I made some friends there.  Steve, Davidson, Sarah, Pate/Majere and many more.  They weren’t directly supportive or even inspirational as such.  But they were talking the talk, walking the walk and sharing the dream.  Those guys were and are still great.

But, of course, inspiration is more than that.  It is somewhat more indirectly cumulative in it’s emergence, I think.  A bit like a snowball rolling down a slope, ya know?

Sal and I read a lot.  And one of the few genres that we both seem to like and  share are ‘adventuring couples’.  I know that sounds sucky.  Sorry.  And, in my defense, I mostly read ‘other stuff’.  I’d say my ratio of ‘other stuff’ to travel-writing is 98% to 2%.  And adventure-traveling-in-couples is less than 1%.  Still, if you read a lot, that translates into a dozen or so books on traveling singles or couples.  My guess: we have likely read about thirty to forty such books.

Some were influential.  And that is the point of this post.

Author Chris Czajkowski wrote in her blog: I live off the grid, alone, and have done so for nearly 30 years. The earlier cabins I built are far from a road in the high mountains of British Columbia’s Coast Range. They are accessed by an overnight hike, or a 20-minute float plane ride from Nimpo Lake in the West Chilcotin. They are 150 miles from the nearest banks, traffic lights, supermarkets or cell phone frequencies.

http://wildernessdweller.ca/books/ 

Chris started out in the Lonesome Lake area, I believe and didn’t, I am sure, intend to be a writer or remote resort manager.  As it turned out, she became both.  Nuk Tessli takes guests every year and Chris has published something like 10 books on living off-the-grid.  Her blog is better, really, than mine.  She is 80% pictures for one thing, has thirty years in the woods for another and lives much further out than we do.  And she just plain knows more.

But I don’t know her.  Not at all, really.  I have read a few of her books, I was in touch by e-mail a few times and she was inspirational to Sally and me. We kinda like ol’ Chris.

We also read Ian and Sally Wilson’s books about adventure traveling in Canada.  Not quite the same off-the-grid thing but inspirational too.  Plus her name is Sally.   They aren’t off-the-grid so much as ‘adventuring’ so far off the grid it seemed to have a connection.

See them today at: http://ponderingsofallthings.blogspot.com/

I guess HDT’s Walden has been influential, too.  I seem to quote him now and then.  Henry David Thoreau, tho, is oft-cited by writers mostly because, I think, he touches on some universal themes.  His particular story did not interest me too much but he captured much of what I have come to know as real about living.  And living out here.  I’ve had some experience of it anyway.  So, he counts.

Strangely, I have to say that A.J. Jacob’s book, A year of Living Biblically, also had an influence.  His books are all about him.  Him, him, and more him.  What he thinks, what he eats, how his poop changes.  And that is how I think.  What a couple of dickheads, eh?!?!  But, I must admit that he is occasionally funny in a Woody Allenesque kind a way and so his blend of neurotic narcissism resonated with me.  Gave me confidence to write all about me, me, me, and more me.

Another big influence was working for Linwood Homes.  I spent a year there causing havoc but it was great fun for me.  I got a mental ‘handle’ on building.  No longer was the idea of building my own house just a complete mystery.  It was still a challenge but, after Linwood, I could wrap my head around it.  That was huge!

The biggest influence, of course, was a negative one.  I came to loathe cul-de-sac living. The city.  The traffic.  The rat race.  The rules.  Didn’t feel right.  Wasn’t healthy for me.  Didn’t satisfy me in any way.  And I just began to disengage.

So, as Terry O’reilly describes it: I came under the influence.  And that influence just happened to be living off-the-grid.

Who woulda guessed?

Sally and I got out the old 1975 Mercury Thunderbolt yesterday.  It’s my ‘back-up’ outboard motor.  I bought it second (or more) hand a few years ago ‘just in case’.  Time to make sure it can still ‘back me up’ should the need arise. 

Am I really this well-prepared as a rule?  No.  Of course not.  But I am pretty sure I am gonna need it.  A guy just knows these things.

I now have a reputedly well-functioning Honda 50 coming back from the repair shop – a place I try to avoid like the plague.  I like the products they represent but I just hate the marine dealers and their so-called service centres.  Service just doesn’t really say it, ya know?

‘Course, I hate thinking about the words ‘Health Care’ or the ‘Justice System’ or the ‘Educational System’ for the same reasons: The labels lie and I am expected to believe otherwise.  I prefer my hypocrisy delivered more subtly, ya know?

The way I see it: I have a duty to mitigate my damages when something negative happens. ‘Just don’t make matters worse, Dave’.  So I can only do so much.  I am limited by my ignorance.  But going to a marine dealer is like taking a problem to the mafia.  You just know that things will somehow get worse rather than better.  And it is gonna cost a lot.

I may be biased about marine dealers.  In fact, I am.  But at least – this time – the motor is fixed.  They say.  I hope.  Maybe.  Hard to know.  The word ‘marine’ has some kind of dark magic attached to it.  It’s a curse.

You can buy a length of hose at Home Depot for ten bucks.  But, if the very same thing has the word ‘marine’ written on it, it is in the store down the street and they double the price.  And the likelihood of it working is less than for a usual product.  It’s a crap-shoot.  It’s the marine way of things.

The sponsored, ‘authorized marine dealers’ who can sell new machines and parts?  They are the worst.  These guys are ‘made-men’ in the marine world.  They have made their bones.  The Corleones.  The Sopranos.

And it wasn’t going to be any different this time:

“Oh yeah, Mr. Cox.  Guido pulled the hood off and had a look ($100) and then pulled the (three) plugs.  They were fine but a bit old so he ‘put them to sleep’ and had to put in new plugs ($100).  Then he visually inspected the carbs ($100) but needed ‘Big Al’ and ‘the Rat’ to lend a little influence, ya know? 

” After they had lunch down at the Bada Bing, he looked at them again and decided to ‘pull ém’.  Big Tony OK’d it.  That’s a BIG job ($100) and he then left them overnight in the ‘cleaning solution’ ($100).  Hahaha.  NO one wants to be left in the cleaning solution, yaknowaddiamsayin’ here? 

” Next morning, he blew them dry and replaced them using new gaskets (No, we had them in stock.  What a surprise, eh?  Usually takes three weeks to get that stuff in!  We’re all still shaking our heads over that!  Must be the new kid.).  And that seemed to do it! ($100).  So, all fixed!  With taxes, that’ll be $700″.

And, with the submission of the bill, the clerk’s face turned hard and he put his hand inside his jacket like he was packin’ heat.  I responded by emptying my wallet and all my pockets. 

“So, is there an extra charge for putting the outboard in the back of the truck?  Is there an automatic gratuity charged or should I just add a tip? Are yours or Guido’s kids pursuing another degree after the one I just paid for?  Or are they practising law or medicine already? 

“And, by the way, do you have a good local source of caviar?  We just can’t seem to find any of the good stuff?”

“Huh?  Unh…….I don’t think Guido eats caviar, Mr. Cox.  You want I should ask him?”

A new Yamaha 70 will set you back (with taxes and crap) about $10,000!  You can buy a new, dinko KIA sedan for that!  The Kia has seats, a roof, a radio and everything – including a bigger motor, more complicated transmission and brakes!  You won’t find any of that ‘extra stuff’ on an outboard.  The Syndicate controls the drug trade, murder-for-hire, gambling, extortion and outboard motors.

Back to the crime scene they call a shop:  Guido could have been working hard watching the cleaning solution or analyzing complicated data from his diagnostic machines.  Maybe he, Big Al and the Rat were deep in discussions over my Honda challenge.  I dunno.  That’s where they have you at the disadvantage.  Ya jus’ don’t know.

Maybe he just put the hood back on and ‘called it a day’.  That happens, too.  So there is a real possibility of getting the 200+ pound unit back home, putting it on the boat and ten minutes later, it does the same thing as it did before.  Doesn’t run right.  Trust me – that has happened before!

“Geez, Mr. Cox, sorry about that.  Just bring her back in.  No trouble.  We’ll have another look.  Guess it was more than just the carbs, eh?”

“Oh, OK.  I know where you live cause I was just there  Do you know where I live?  Perhaps Guido would like to come pick it up?  No, on second thought – forget I said that.  Jus’ kiddin’, eh?  OK?  I’ll bring it in.  What was I thinking?  When’s convenient for you?”

“Oh, anytime is OK, Mr. Cox.  We always enjoy our little get-togethers.  But Guido is just swamped, ya know?   And we’ll just have to run the diagnostics again.  No idea how long this will all take.  Hahahaha.  Don’t forget: bring money!”

So, I am slowly getting my head around outboard mechanics.  Have to.  It is simply the way of the remote world.   I need my backups.  Independence in all things.   Kinda.

Anyway, a guy should be able to fix his outboard.  Women, too.  Not many folks out here can do that but we all believe we should be able to.  It is one of the darker secrets in remote communities – we depend on outboard motors and most people have no idea how to fix one when it goes wonky.  And every outboard goes wonky.  Fact of life.

So, to that end, we added a section in the wood-working shop for outboard and small engine repairs.  The ‘Mechanical section’.  MECSEC in ‘merican military parlance. ‘Course, we will also need a MecSecCom (mechanic) but that can wait.

And I am not telling Guido.  I mean………like……who needs a turf war, eh?

I hope we get independent on this.  Marine dealers, eh?…………….can’t live with ’em, trying like hell to live without ’em.

………..and Sal won’t let me live without ém!

Still, all in all, our dogs aren’t all bad.  I like to say, “they are best of a bad bunch!”  This does not garner me many bonus points but a man’s gotta do…..ya know?  Anyway, the dogs don’t know what I am sayin’…………..right?

Still, this post is about dogs.  Our dogs.  Our goofy, weird, whacky duo of canine nonsense, Megan and Fiddich.  I need a scotch just thinking about them.

The point of all this?  Well, I actually do like some parts of their existence.  Not many!  But a few.  Fid is a real man’s man of a dog.  Tough, resilient, up-for-anything, leaps before he looks and thinks he is superdog.  Giant ginger ego on four feet.  I kinda like that. No idea why…………

One time he was running very fast downhill in deep brush and all you could see were the leaves moving and the tip of his tail wagging when he slammed full-speed and head first into a fallen tree.  The ‘bonk’ reverberated in the forest.  A nanoseond later he was over the tree and still charging.  A water buffalo would have been stunned.  Not Fid.

But it is Megan I am writing about now.  She is pretty funny.  She loves to play fetch even tho her back legs are kinda wobbly and it is not like our property is a gentle flat meadow.  This place is steep and anything thrown basically goes down hill.  And she goes after it with gusto.  So far, pretty normal. For a dog.

But if she wants to play fetch and we don’t, she plays fetch by herself!  Bear in mind that we live on a really steep slope.  Our deck is 18 feet off the sloping rock below and it dives more steeply after that.  Anything thrown (or dropped) from the deck will travel pretty far.  And she knows this.  So Meg will, now and then, get her ‘toy’ and push it over the edge of the deck herself.  She’ll watch it fall and roll down the hill and then she’ll run off, tail-a-wagging, and go get it.  If we say, “Meg, you do it!  You do it!” she’ll repeat the process until she is played out.

A Long Way Down

We can play fetch with her without getting out of the chair, without letting go of our wine glass or even having to touch the slimy damn ‘toy’.  That’s not all bad.

And, it gets better………

As she ages, she is getting tired more quickly.  Now she plays fetch for awhile with herself and then, after the panting gets heavy, she just sends Fid to go get it!  That’s right…………..she drops the toy over the edge of the deck and then we all look at each other for a second as if no one knows what to do?…and that is Fid’s cue to run to the rescue.  He retrieves the toy!

Behind every good stud there's a............

Repeat routine until satisfied.

Now if I could just talk them into moving out into their own place…………..

Looking back on it……..

I didn’t do a lot right when building the house.  Couldn’t.  Didn’t know what was right or how to do it.  We did as we learned.  We were just too amateurish to be good or fast or pretty (in the final iteration).  So we settled for being structurally right-and-then-some, following the books as best as we could and having everything we needed.  Of those three things, having everything needed on site before it was needed was, far and away, the best way to be efficient.

Think of it this way: Jack, the expert carpenter who can build anything fast, strong and ‘lookin’ good shows up at the site and there is no wood.  Jack can’t work and you just paid for wasted time.  On the other hand, take Dave (please!).  He is a goofball.  But he not only has all the tools, all the books, all the hardware and all the wood, he has three times the stuff that is needed.  (Plus he has Sal-the-Amazon).  So Dave can get to work.  Even if he is slower, stupider and uses more materials than he should (by doing things twice or doubling up when in doubt), Dave will eventually get the job done.

This may seem apparent.  But it is not.  I have seen a lot of good, skilled workers (out here) who simply say, “Well, we gotta stop.  The windows aren’t here.  The lumber isn’t here.  And we can’t do anything on the roof until all that stuff comes and you find a long ladder.  See ya in a week.  Our suggestion?  Get that stuff in before you call us!”   And they walk off the job.

Once a worker walks off the job, getting them back is like resisting gravity.  They get other commitments, other jobs……..get frustrated with the owner/contractor……whatever.

“Geez, I had no idea I was the one who was supposed to get all the materials.  I thought the contractor did that”. 

Yeah.  That often happens but I wouldn’t put that responsibility in the hands of the contractor myself.  Especially on a remote site.  Usually they have more than one job going and robbing Peter to finish Paul is ‘part of being’ a contractor so long as they get the stuff back to Peter in time.  I’d rather not chance it.

Plus, when the contractor does it, he/she doesn’t do it to excess, doesn’t do it until the contract is signed, doesn’t ‘shop around’ and, basically, expects to use the hardware store as their inventory.  They expect to make runs for materials.

And that is hugely expensive when building remote.  And it doesn’t have to be that way.

The best way to build remote is to collect stuff years in advance.  But not everyone will do that.  Not every garage is big enough.  So, the second best way is to build the workshop/boathouse/guest cabin/storage shed on the property first.  Then start to ‘fill it’ it with tools and supplies.  Everything from several hammers to several types of glues.  From eight different nail sizes to a dozen  different screw sizes.  And buy in bulk.  Order windows and doors months in advance.  Save the lumber purchase till it is closer to the time of building the house.

Contractors don’t do that kind of thing as a rule.  They tend to supply in ‘present time’.  And, anyway, you will not likely have a contractor.  You’ll be lucky if you can find subcontractors out in the ‘sticks’.  And, even if they bring everything they need to do their job (rare), all the tasks are interrelated to some extent and the electrician may say, “Hey, I can’t wire that room because it is not framed in yet.  Where’s the framer?”

And your electrician walks off the job leaving a small-and-almost-not-worth-it-job to come back to.  You just fell off his/her priority list.

If there is one tip that is most important, it is ‘build all your infrastructure first’.  From paths to sheds, from docks to stairs, from energy sources to water supply.  All that has to get done eventually and doing it first makes the house building go faster and easier.  But tip #2 is ‘have everything on site’ before the workers (in our case the workers were usually just us) get there.

“Geez, Dave, you sound like an expert.  I am impressed!”

Don’t be.  Those are the basic lessons learned from doing it the first time.  If I ever did it again (and I won’t), I’d make new mistakes and learn different tips.  That is what experience is all about.  I doubt that I would be an expert after twenty houses.  But, if you are going to do this thing yourself, those are a couple of my ‘rookie’ tips.

I’m a nice guy.  Polite (usually).  Considerate (mostly) and I think I am appreciative of any good will that comes my way and, in turn, extend it when needed by others.  You know……….the Golden Rule kinda thing?  Nice guy?

Well, I have learned over the last few years that I was not, in fact, doing it right.  Not as nice guy as I should be, ya know?  Thought I was.  But I wasn’t.

In a way, it is kinda like knife and fork etiquette.  I had no idea I was supposed to put my knife and fork in a parallel position off to the side of the plate a bit to indicate to the host or waiter that I was finished.  Until my early sixties, I figured that the utensils being NOT in my hands (higgledy-piggledy nearby, as it were) and there being NO food left on my plate to eat was enough of an indicator for all and sundry who had any vested interest in my current state of food consumption.  Turns out I was wrong.

Sal straightened me out one day, “I can’t believe that you got this far in life without knowing about the proper position of your knife and fork when you were done!  You are a Neanderthal, ya know that?”

And so it is that the label fits when it comes to reciprocity as well.  I’ve been delinquent in my evolution.  Seems most people – out here anyway –  expect tit for tat in reciprocity situations.  Except for obvious and immediate situations I’ve never thought that way, myself.  I am naturally more of the ‘what-goes-around-comes-around-school’, myself.  ‘It will all work out in the end’.  Or, rather, I was.  I am changing.

Now I am going for and giving up the tits and the tats in a timely manner.

You see, I grew up without a lot of culture.  Went to thirteen different schools before I graduated.  Lived in over thirty different houses, apartments mansions and boats. Neighbourhoods and cities and even countries were mostly always different, new, changing.  I just didn’t ‘get’ a lot of ‘community habits’ from others.  Just the way it was for me.

Don’t get me wrong – I got manners.  By God, I got manners.  Well, by MOM, really.  My mother and my father were always BIG on manners.  I got manners.

But reciprocity is different from just plain good manners.  It was to me, anyway.  In the city, you don’t really have to reciprocate much.  Typically, it is a paid-for stranger doing something for you (barista at Starbucks, waitress at a sushi restaurant, gas jockey, ticket agent……..you know) and the way to ‘pay back’ is to pay the money.

Even when they are extra good, you give extra money (a tip).  In the city, civil reciprocity is usually done with an exchange of money at the very least, verbal gratitude and repeat business sometimes and, perhaps hospitality, token gift giving (flowers, a free coffee) or even friendship at the extreme end.

People still give, of course, to each other.  It is not that I am saying urban people have lost their humanity.  I would often give to strangers or acquaintances in the city.  Still do.  And I never expected anything in return.  It was just the way it was.  Or, rather, just the way it had to be.  I’d give to Jack.  I’d help Bill.  I’d provide pro bono services to Jill and, so what?  Janice would buy my lunch some day, Terry would help me when I needed it and Brian would become friends.  It was sort of a universal ‘what-goes-around-comes-around’ system that didn’t require payment on the spot. I kept accounts by the feel-good system.

And I felt good.

Looking back on that , I think it is a view held more by urbanites and, perhaps a bit more by people like me – the ones who moved around.  We simply can’t take all the petty debts that accrue with us all the time.  Nor do we expect them to be paid when owed to others.  Same reasons – distance, time, frequency of encounters, community involvement and logistics.  Too fluid.  Too many people.  I think that is why – to an extent – the begging/spare change syndrome happens in the city and not-so-much in the village.

Anyway, out here it is definitely different.  People have a way of ‘settling up’ out here.  I did a guy a favour and forgot about it.  Next thing you know, there is a salmon left for me.  No note.  Just a thank-you salmon.  And I know who left it.  You just do.  Maybe a few weeks later you see the guy.  It is up to me to say, “Hey, thanks for the salmon, eh?”  And the circle was squared.

I remember the first time it happened (and it was in the city, surprisingly).  I had some tires for sale and some wheels.  But the tires were on different wheels and I wanted those ones back.  A native guy came to see ’em, wanted them and was happy to do the swap-over.  So, I gave him the whole lot, shook his hand and said, “Do it at your convenience.  If I am not here, just let yourself in the side door and leave the ‘settling up’ on the counter.”   He agreed.

The next day I went out to the ‘side door’ counter and there was a package.  In that package was a set of carved moose antlers.  I was quite surprised.  I did not expect the exchange to have been consummated so soon and I had no need for carved moose antlers.  I was a bit confused but I just carried on and he eventually came back a week later with my wheels and the money.  And I was there.  I gave him the moose antlers back.  “How come you left me moose antlers, Jack?”

“Collateral.  To show you that I would honour my word and bring back the wheels.”

“Oh.  Thanks.  But I didn’t need that.  I trusted you.”

“Not the way I do things.  Nice doing business with you.  Good bye.”

It was illustrative of a system I was just not aware of.  This guy was one-on-one personal.  And honest.  And ‘in-the-time-frame’.  No group ‘what-goes-around’ crap for him.  For him, it was him and me.  Manno y manno. Like, right now!

And so it is out here.  You do something for a person, they make sure they do something nice for you.  It is never money.  In fact, it is usually something very personal.  Sometimes it is something they made or grew or caught.  Sometimes it is something they know you like (one great neighbour knits people hats!  And they are great!).  And it doesn’t have to be overly timely.  One fellow I assisted ‘gave back’ a year later.

I guess what I am saying is that I not only learned the ‘goes-around method’, I have also now learned the tit-for-tat method and, out here, we tend to the latter.  This is important to know if you are living rural.  It is the norm.  Our new rural world is not really big enough for the ‘goes-around’ method and so, when a favour is done, I have to flick into tit-for-tat thinking or else I may drop the ball.

I still screw up on the knife and fork thing now and then.  But Sally helps me by signalling me with an arched eyebrow, a stern look and a gesture whereby she lifts her own utensils to model the proper behaviour.  I am trying to be more tittish and tattish on the favour-exchange etiquette but it is still a bit foreign to me.

But I am learning.  Weird lessons in life, eh?

One of the most interesting (and, I admit, frustrating) things about building your own house and creating your own infrastructure/environment is that just about everything you do, you are doing it for the first and likely the last time.  Hopefully the last time! 

Well, in my case, I probably built the equivalent of two and half houses since I had to do it the ‘first time’ several times before being able to continue.  And that is the way it is…………let me explain….

Sal and were intending on putting up the siding.  We weren’t sure how to go about it but we started anyway.  After a few hours H dropped by to say hello and stare long and hard at our efforts.

“Siding, eh?  Ever done that before?”

“No.  Never.  Why?  We doin’ it wrong?”

“Well, ’round here, most folks leave a larger space between each board and then cover that space up with a thinner piece they refer to as a batten.  You don’t have a big enough space.  No place for expansion.  Your siding might get tight and pinch.  Maybe break.  Want me to show you what I mean?”

And so after that little lesson, we spent the next hour removing what we had first done and fixing it.  Then – doing it for the second time – we did it ‘right’ for the first time.  And – as we got better at it – we proceeded to work our way around the house improving as we went so that the last wall was much better looking and went up faster than the first one.  If only it was always that easy.  Usually there are several ‘false starts’.

Another friend was helping me one day with a motor problem.  He’s a whiz at motor problems.  We tried several things with no luck.  “The trouble with doin’ stuff out here is that it always seems like it is the first time.  There’s a reason for that – it usually is.  Damn!”

“But you’ve been here for years.  You can seemingly do anything.  I just assumed that this would be stroll down memory lane for you.  No?”

“Well, it is.  Like I told you.  I been in this place a lot of times.  I am very familiar with doin’ it for the first time.  Still, it is the first time almost every time!  Like the opposite of déja vu, ya know?”

So, therein lies the lesson.  There are way too many things that need to be done to ever get competent at any one of them.  It’s as simple as that.  The only chance you have is to get comfortable tackling things ‘the first time’.  There will plenty of ‘first times’.  Get used to it.

Be comfortable, butterfly, with being uncomfortable…….