There is another basic premise that I have not much mentioned about this living off the grid lifestyle. It’s fear. And, of course, the associated loathing that goes with that. I understand completely how irrational is this fear and loathing but I feel it anyway. I am definitely fearful of what is to come. And I hate it.

I remember distinctly the incident that started this visceral reaction in me and, in itself, it means almost nothing. Almost too trivial to even remember. But, at the time, it was enough to nudge me into a way of seeing things that I have not altered and, to be fair, may have accelerated a bit. It was around 1990.

Near our old cul de sac was the elementary school we had moved to in Tsawwassen to be nearer for our kids access. I wanted my kids to be able to walk to school. I was sickened by the over reaction of parents all over the lower mainland to the fear that their child was going to be snatched and by the subsequent and dangerous collection of cars that swarmed the school areas every morning and late afternoon. Heaven forbid the little darlings should walk!

But despite the madness of it, I could understand it. I, too, felt that I should take every measure possible to ‘keep them safe’ and so we did that by moving closer to a school. Same difference, really. We were all reacting to an improbability that could not be stopped by the actions we were taking. It was stupid but understandable.

But that was not it. It was not the parents. It was not the kids. And it was not even the irrational fear of the one-in-a-million child snatcher in the lower mainland. Instead, it was the school and its actions that somehow catalyzed the feelings of fear of institutional thinking, responses and draconian measures that I still feel deeply.

The school didn’t dispatch teachers to corners a few blocks away to monitor kids as they approached. The school did not even get out and direct traffic out front. The school just sat and there did nothing. Except on one bright morning, they decided that they had a responsibility (to themselves!) and so they had signs posted around the school grounds declaring the area a no-ride zone!

The school decided in their sense of self interest to minimize their own liability by ensuring kids walk their bikes the last 100 yards or so to the school grounds! In that way, when the inevitable kid got run over, they would be seen to have ‘done something’.

To the irrational fear of a kidnapper, our institutions forbade bike riding!?

This, by the way, happened long before 9/11. The stupid, selfish and totally inappropriate tin-pot dictum of the no-ride zone was just a portent of things to come.

And, of course, it went on and on and on from there to the point that one cannot take shampoo on an airplane, a Muslim is guilty til proven innocent and the rest of us are getting ‘policed’ ever more closely as well (did you hear of the old, retired grandmother arrested by Canada Customs and held in a Winnipeg jail for 13 days because she had a jar of used motor oil in the truck that might have been heroin?!).

Yes, I am afraid. And I hate it. And that is partly why I am out here. I think group-think (govt., institutions and corporations) has gone mad. But make no mistake, it is not paranoia. Incidents cited (there are thousands of them) may be just small incursions here and there right now. Inconveniences most of the time. But the government is NOT acting in your or even anyone’s best interests on many (if not all) things (want a list?).

But that is not the issue itself, it is the trend. The trend is toward more inhuman institutions and corporations and governments. The trend is to more control of the people. The trend is toward more exploitation by taxation and the trend is toward an unhealthier life for the common man.

When I was younger, I ranted and raved and picked a few windmills to tilt at. Now, I just leave the battlefield to the megalomaniacs and, fortunately, they all prefer to do their work in the city. I’ll try to do some good albeit small stuff from out here. Please don’t tell anybody where we live.

So, let’s see: you have the prerequisite ‘fatigue’ of the city, a romantic desire to get away from it all (seems, according to Vanity Fair, almost 40% of all Americans of all ages feel that way and a staggering 57% of Sarah Palin Tea Party members feel that way!) and you have even given some thought as to where you might go and what you might do when you get there. Is that it? Have you done it? Are you basically at; step one?

Sure. Why not? Step one can be anything, really, that gets you off the couch but the real step one is when you take concrete steps toward commitment (i.e throw the TV away, cancel cable and buy a pick-up truck). I think step one in the building process is site picking, collecting junk and infrastructure. But that is the building process. Step one mentally is commitment to change and a dream of what that change might look like. I think that step one is always the real step one.

Anyway, however you see it, whatever step you take is not cast-in-stone (until you get to concrete work, that is). You can take a few steps one way and then back up and try another direction. For me, learning and then moving two steps forward and then one back is part of the fun.

But let’s go back to practical matters. Recreational property is not as readily financed as is suburban land. Banks don’t really want five acres in the Chilcotin with a half-built log cabin on it and a pile of junk under a tarp. Even if they did, you don’t want them as your partners in this property. Going feral does not require being mortgage free but it is so much easier that way. SO much.

The main reason is this: you won’t find much work out here. There are, of course, people out here who go into town for small contracts. I have done so a couple of times. But, really, I likely won’t do it any more. It costs me as much as I make. And I hate it. Not only do my business people forget about me when I am ‘out of sight’ but I forget about them. My networks are dissolving. And worse, I don’t want the work anyway. Bottom line: come out debt free.

“But that means selling the house!”

Yup! Even if you don’t have to sell the house, you may want to. Face it – it’s a burden. The house owns you when you are there and it owns you completely when you are away from it. All big investments require inordinate lumps of time, energy, worry and work. And houses are no exception.

“But won’t that be true of the cabin as well?”

Maybe. If you let it. But, if you build it to be simple, small and consider utilizing the living ‘outdoor zones’ as much as the cabin, you can limit the drain on your soul that all big investments make. The key: make a smaller investment! The BIG investment out here (i.e, the nature around you) has already been made is being managed without your help for the most part. In other words: don’t manicure your site, don’t get in a landscape architect and keep the damn house to ‘cabin’ category. Make it so that you can leave it and not worry about it. And that is much easier if it is not 5000 sft with granite counters and an entertainment room.

“But we are so much wealthier than that!?”

Then spend it elsewhere.

When I write about ‘getting started’, I am, for the most part, writing to those who already dream and think about having their own off-the-grid place. Maybe. Someday.

There are, of course, many more who dream of having an off-grid cabin already built for them or even an on-the-grid cabin/cottage/small home that is sufficiently removed from the hustle and bustle of deep-city living. Perhaps just moving to a smaller, slower, quiet community like Qualicum Beach or Osoyoos is what they have in mind? Getting out of the city does not have to mean a remote, isolated island where the wolves and the cougars still roam.

But that does sound kinda neat, don’t you think?

Essentially, I am writing for the audience that already appreciates the concept of a cabin, modern, comfortable and connected or maybe one that is just simple, basic and ‘out there’. I am addressing those who feel the city is just getting a bit too intense for them or, perhaps, is no longer as appreciated as it once was. They are seeking a bit more quiet, a bit less stress, someplace a bit more in keeping with their own aging/slowing pace.

It started out that way for me. I was just tired of it all. I just wanted to live more simply. Work less. Spend less. Worry less. Of course, getting here wasn’t simple at all but the goal was to end up living more simply and I think we succeeded to a degree. I may not work any less (I do, actually) but I sure do worry less. And we spend at a fraction of the rate that we once did.

We tend to see our own way of life out here as connected, comfortable, simple, modest and gorgeous with just a dash of challenge and hardship to keep it interesting. And, you know what? I prefer that to full-on comfort.

Many, however, prefer their well-established routines, comfort zones and urban at-hand conveniences. They worked hard for them and they want ’em. And they like where they are. They don’t need to do this ‘hardscrabble’ thing. I understand. Honest. For those who have such a different agenda, I say ‘vivé la difference!’ It is what makes us all interesting.

But I have to say (and you knew there was a ‘but’) that sometimes one needs to step outside the cul de sac to see what else there is. That’s all.

And, as it turned out, when we stepped out we liked what we saw.

The purpose of this blog: Just to state that there was an ‘irritation factor with the cul de sac’ that came first. I needed to move on. That might be an essential part. I don’t know.

Access and materials handling go hand in hand. In fact, that is the essence of the access problem….’handling’ materials. There is not a single piece of wood, a screw, nail or any other ‘material’ that I have not handled several if not a dozen times before actually putting it in its final resting place. Think about it…….

You pick up a bag of Reddi-mix at the building supply store. That is lift #1. You pull it out of the trailer/pick-up/SUV/backseat at the dock (#2) and put it down on the dock/beach while you get the rest of the stuff. Then you lift it into the vessel (#3). At the other side, you lift it out (#4) and pass it to someone (Sally – lift#1 for her) and she puts it down for you to lift after the boat is put away (lift #5). Then you carry it to it’s ‘awaiting use’ place (#6). Some days later, you pick it up and carry it to where you are mixing concrete (#7) and then it sits there awaiting its turn to become useful(#8). You pour it in and mix and then carry the slurry to the forms (#9) and dump it in.

And all this assumes a logical flow of work that rain, guests, other jobs and accidents don’t interrupt. Trust me, if I lifted a bag of concrete once, I lifted it ten times. And that goes doubly so for wood because stacking, cutting and moving-it-around-to-find-the-right-piece adds to the lifts.

An architect friend of mine told me early on to ‘forget timberframe construction and go with ‘stick-built’ because it is so much lighter and you have to carry everything.’ He (Nick Kokas) was 100% right on.

It is simply not possible for a do-it-yourselfer-to have all the materials handling (mat-hand) tools and equipment at his or her disposal. Lifting is just part of the deal. Get used to it.

Having said that, there are a few mat-hand items that should be employed whenever possible and, if my back is anything to go by, use them even when you think you don’t really need to. There is a drywall lifting device for a few hundred dollars that is worth it’s weight by far. I clearly have a bias in favour of winches, too. Wheelbarrow, cement mixer, block and taykle, come-along, stone boat, log tongs, PeeVee, ropes and chains, buckets and more buckets, tarps, mini-cranes and motorized helpers are a godsend. Get some temporary workbenches, small tables, boxes, totes and I also employed an old BC Hydro steel transformer box or two. I even had a chainsaw winch that did a lot of work for me.

The point: people who build cabins are generally older. People who can lift things all day long are generally younger. If you can’t be both, get equipment and/or casual labour. We couldn’t because we were so remote but I should have ‘set up’ better mat-hand systems than I did. As it is I have a funicular on one side and a highline on the other of my site but I needed more. I really needed some kind of motorized wheel device but the terrain prohibited it.

As you can see, so far we are not even thinking about the cabin. The project is still in the preparation stage.

Firstly: there is a marked lack of sympathy for old fools and there aren’t any old fools more stupid than old motorcycle fools. For most people, I am in a category of stupid unparalleled since Evil Knievel. And Sally is the poor, put-upon, long-suffering Mrs. Knievel. Sally gets sympathy!

Secondly, even I am not sympathetic to me. You know you have been an idiot when you can’t even muster any self pity. Self pity usually comes so easily to me. In fact, I find myself still shaking my head in disbelief. “What kinda nut-bar would crack a wheelie on a bike he has never ridden before?”

Maybe there is more to it at a mystical, spiritual, finding-God level, eh?

As for the back itself, it is a solid, pulsating mound of tension and pain but every day it gets better than the day before. At this rate I’ll be fine by September. November at the latest. 2012.

The leg burn, on the other hand is a mess. It keeps weeping some kinda goo and, when I sleep, my legs stick together until I move. Then, OMYGAWD! There is definitely a price for being a dope and I am currently paying it.

“We don’t feel sorry for you, you doofus!”

Neither should you. Nor am I asking. I am just telling you this so that you do not make the same mistake as I the next time you have a motorcycle at your disposal. If I can save just one stupid senior citizen from the crushing humiliation of a wheelie-gone-bad, my suffering will not be in vain.

Now listen to me: Motorcycles don’t kill people! Stupidity kills people. (‘Course, I am so stupid that you shouldn’t listen to even that!)

And, if stupidity doesn’t get you, your wife might!

PS (ads pop up on my Blogger account and, when I posted this, a confirmation of the posting popped up and it contained an ad. Make a Will.com. Seems fitting, don’t you think?)

This blog is about living off the grid. But naturally there is more to life than just being off the grid and so an honest blog would include other things in my life that may transpire even tho they are unrelated to remoteness. Like my being nominated for an award. Here’s the story:

As you know, I hurt my back last week. Herniated disc. Painful. But, by the time my son and Katie came to visit this weekend, I could walk straight and move around. This should have been a good thing.

Ben brought his trials bike, a motorized version of a mountain bike and something I have always wanted to try. We took it up the old logging road and I went for a spin. When I got to an open field, I tried a few ‘antics’ to get a feel for the thing. It was really neat. Trials bikes are very well-balanced and one can pull wheelies with them much easier than with other motorcycles.

Or so the theory goes.

It was not my finest moment. I cranked the throttle, pulled up on the handle bars and went screaming through a chain-link fence with both wheels off the ground and crashed on a pile of boulders with the bike on top of me.

My first thought was, “Geez, Ben is gonna kill me if I hurt his bike!”

My second thought was, “Geez, Sal is just gonna kill me!”

My third thought was, “Why do I smell BBQ?”

I pulled the red hot exhaust system off my bare leg after it had seared a blob-shaped scar into my thigh and turned my thoughts from BBQ to moving the rest of the bike off of me and then me off of the boulder jamming up under my back.

I managed to get home and have been in bed ever since.

Sally sent in an application to the Darwin Awards people. Seems I made the cut in the ‘still-alive’ category and my name is now on their database to be followed up on the safe assumption that I will soon make the finals.

Life is a bowl of cherries and I just ate a pit.

The sequence in which we built is not quite the sequence I would recommend for anyone else. Of course, a series of carved-in-stone building procedures can’t be derived at without considering the site, it’s location and the cabin owner’s personal situation. It is a judgment call more than a recipe. But, generally speaking, gaining easy access to is likely to be step one.

For instance, our site is on a slope. A fairly severe one. The very first thing to do would be to build a deck (preferably level) from which to operate. That would give us access to balance and order. So, for us, a deck was priority one. It shouldn’t have been. Step one, perhaps, should have been ‘getting-up-the-rock-strewn-beach’. Hard to say. But we definitely erred next and went for a small boat shed for step two. It seemed like the right thing to do. Beach access should have been 1st or at least second.

The boat shed would provide tools and materials storage and a rough and ready temporary cabin. And we wanted that. We built it the same size as the deck it was attached to – 12 x 20. All of this was done with lumber ‘boated’ in and our power source was a ‘gifted’ Coleman genset.

In retrospect, the deck should have been larger by twice, the wood sourced locally and the concrete foundations ‘contracted out’ before we even arrived because locals have their infrastructure, tools and expertise more than at-the-ready. We really did not need the experience of mixing Reddi-mix in wheelbarrows with totes of water brought from a mile away. So a little beforehand research might have saved us a great deal more than it cost us in energy and hardship.

The boat shed was good but a tent would have sufficed a bit longer or, perhaps, the next bit of infrastructure should have come before – like the beach steps, more deck, piped water or just a better beach landing.

If I had road access and any kind of level gradient, I would have a shipping container delivered. Two of them, if the property was large enough. Shipping containers are cheap – even compared to building the same square footage yourself – and they are ‘instant’. Tools, camping supplies, materials can all be stored readily and one of the units can be a temporary ‘live-in’ or workshop or both. Quite frankly, I think shipping containers are the single biggest boon to remote cabin builders going.

Once the shed and deck was ‘operable’, I built the better-late-than-never sea-stairs and then the funicular. The sea-stairs are just ‘level’ steps leading into the sea so as to make beach access possible. That was difficult and necessary and no one could do it but an obsessed owner. Not something to contract out.

Same for the funicular. It is an 80 foot ‘tram’ that carries heavy crap up the hill. This was a good idea. But I should have made it a 120 foot length since materials have to go up past the building site so that one has the room to build. I took it just to the building site and then had to move it all forty feet further to make room for myself. Stupid.

One might think that building steps to the building site should come ahead of the funicular. Nope. The funicular was hard enough to erect on that slope. Stairs would only have gotten in the way. Instead, one (me) should have built a winch pad at the 130 foot mark and used a temporary 12 volt recovery/truck winch to pull up the funicular bits and pieces because even tho the funicular is, in effect, a glorified winch, one really needs a funicular to build a funicular.

It was around that time that the need for piped water began making itself felt. We didn’t do it right then but we should have. In fact, we didn’t pipe in water until our neighbour initiated the project a year later. Stupid us #2.

I guess I am just repeating myself but it is clear to me that the cabin is the last item on the list of things to be built. By setting yourself up properly (which we half-did) you have a much better chance of doing a good job on the cabin of your dreams.

Encouraged by the positive comment, he soldiered on……

If I were to undertake a cabin project again, I would start again exactly as I had the first time. Of all the dumb luck, my first few steps in this venture were, even in retrospect, astonishingly correct. It was an accident of character and circumstance, not rational planning but, however I got there, we lucked out and began properly. Step one was ‘right on’.

Step one, of course, was to buy the property 30 years before I was intending to use it. It was cheap then. Affordable. ‘Course, we couldn’t afford it even then so we had to buy it with a down payment of dumb luck and then struggle to make chicken-feed payments but, no matter, it worked. We ended up with 14 acres of waterfront just a smidge North of heaven.

So, suggestion: you can’t start too soon finding the property. And starting does not begin with a realtor. It begins by driving around areas that you are attracted to. Again, I won’t bore you with my values (otherwise you’d end up next door!) but think about your capabilities, think about your age, think about how you want to use it. Don’t just assume that some subdivision called Angel’s Resort lots are what you want.

Once you’ve picked your area, I’d recommend going there and asking locals about ‘pretty spots’ and local problems, politics, community plans and prices and such. Half the properties we have out here for sale will never get listed. And they each have stories attached that a perspective owner should know about. They will mostly sell by word of mouth.

I remember asking our local realtor (on behalf of a friend looking in the area) to let me know if he came across a piece of south-facing, waterfront with plenty of fresh water and not too far out in the boonies. At least ten acres, well-treed and affordable. “Hell, Dave, that is what everyone wants and there are only about 15% of the properties with all of that and I only get a small portion of them going through me. Count yourself lucky where you are. It won’t happen twice!”

Put more bluntly: if you want something out here, let me know. If you want something more than twenty miles from here, go make some new friends in the area of your choice. It is the local guy who knows the good properties.

I have a lot to say about buying recreational property and some of it has a bias to it and all of it would take up pages so I’ll leave it there. Bottom line: realtors and recreational property developments are not the best way to buy property. It can work, of course. But it is not the best way.

Suggestion #2. Start collecting junk. I asked Sal last night what advice she’d give and her first words were, “Tell ’em to fill up their garage with junk. It seemed like the stupidest thing in the world to me at the time but I now see it as a great way to save money, help design the cabin and build up your stores of materials at a low cost. I never thought I’d say this but you and your stupid junk came in really handy!”

“Unh, Dave, what does she mean by ‘junk’?”

For at least two years before we came out here I was cruising junkyards and salvage yards, garage sales and second hand stores and even spring clean-up piles just to see if I would find something obviously useful. And I did. Lots of good stuff.

But, to be fair, my most useful source of good junk was BC Hydro’s salvage department which is no longer functioning. Never mind. There are still other ‘recovery’ departments of the government, BC Ferries, large construction firms, movie sets, marine and demolition companies that have things whose useful lives at the commercial level are over but which would still be more than adequate at the cabin. I got a bit carried with winches but, generally speaking, I can control the urge to collect junk. Usually.

Well chosen junk is virtually free. Always cheap. Typically, you pay just a smidge over scrap metal values. I got hundreds of heavy galvanized fasteners for ‘scrap’ value that would have been dozens of times more expensive if bought retail. For example: instead of a cheap thinly galvanized lag bolt that would cost $8.00 each at Home Depot, I would get a dozen surplus double hot-dipped lag bolts for less than $5.00. The risk, of course, is that you don’t come to need the ‘surplus’ purchases but, after seven years out here, my stock of junk is down to a couple of wheelbarrows full and I can still envision a use for everything.

OK, I may have an extra winch or two.

I guess the point of this entry is to say: start early. If you think you will be retiring in five years, you are already five years late. Start now!

I am going to repeat myself a bit. Sorry. But it is necessary it seems. People build backwards and then run into trouble. Trust me, I know. I am still trying to move forwards after taking so many steps backward. And I was reminded of that the other day when we met another couple whose story was a litany of doing step five before steps one, two, three and four were even considered.

The tendency when planning and building a cabin is to spend all your time designing and dreaming of the exterior shape of the cabin and the interior decor. The fact that one is building a cabin as a place from which to enjoy the outdoors seems to be, temporarily at least, forgotten and, instead, much time is spent choosing flooring, kitchen cabinets and floorplans as if the cabin was just another tract home in the city. As if being inside was the focus.

The idea is to be ‘outside’!

That wrong perspective would be the most common mistake and tho, goofy in retrospect, not fatal in the long run, just goofy and a waste of energy and sometimes money. But, just to be clear: you likely do not need extra floorspace, you probably do need extra covered and open deck space. You likely do not need extra rooms but you might need outbuildings for all the ‘systems’ you will employ and maintain.

But even that is putting the cart before the horse.

Firstly, you should look to the property and see what it has to offer other than just as a building site. Cabin property is not usually just another niche in a subdivision of niches. It is usually larger, unique and more natural. If it isn’t, get out of there!

I tend to think of recreational property now as having say, 6 zones. The outside zone may not even be in your property but it includes the blackberries, the creek, the lake and the wildness of nature that drew you there in the first place. You don’t necessarily interact with it all the time but it is close and creates the character of your neighbourhood.

Zone five is that area closer to home that is still wild but is useable. It hosts your walking trail and is what you psychologically consider ‘your territory’. Your dog wanders there. Zone four is your yard. It may have a bench or a gazebo, a dock or some outbuildings or it may be left wild but it is definitely within your property line. This is yours.

Zone three is your outside-in-the-summer living space and zone two is your semi sheltered space that allows you to be outside but under cover and out of the wind. Zone two should be huge. Verandas, covered decks, BBQ stations, patios, seating, lounges, benches, potted plants.

Zone one is the cabin and is increasingly functional as the weather deteriorates and virtually unused (except for sleeping) when the temperature and conditions are considered perfect. Think: December and January I am in zone one, the cabin. July and August I am everywhere but. And the rest of the time is distributed proportionately coming and going through the zones.

I won’t bore you with all the things to look for (some are obvious like access and slope and how far from the building supply store) but view, wind direction, sun exposure, trees, rock outcroppings, rain run-off and soil conditions are just a few of dozens of influences that will have an impact on your life should you ever get to build and live there. But when you think about it, they will impact the zones in different ways. Even more than they will the actual cabin.

By the way, there is an interesting but odd syndrome that seems fairly common in cabin situating: “Let’s tuck the cabin out of sight. Nestle it in a crack or something”. I have no idea who these ‘tuckers’ think they are fooling but a B&E artist will find it regardless and usually tucking a building away in the shadows just makes for dark living, extra maintenance and more mosquitoes. I say (and it is just my opinion) keep your cabin open, airy and sun-filled.

The real consideration people get wrong is in the timing of the infrastructure. They build cabins and then build the stairways and pathways needed to get to it afterwards. Just think how much easier it would make building the cabin if the workshop, decks, driveway, pathways and stairs are erected first?

But an even more primary step is a good power source and system. It seems we all start by dragging stupid Coleman or other junk gensets around when we are building and then, later, build a nice genset shed and put in a spankin’ new Yanmar diesel that would have made the jobsite a better worksite from the start. Then we add solar panels and wind turbines and extra batteries. Then we add a larger gas tank that we can get filled by a delivery truck. Then we add a larger propane tank similarly supplied. All those ‘temporary’ measures suck building energy from you when you need it the most. They cost more in the long run and they rob you of the fun of building. I say, get whatever you can get established properly, delivered and get it in the largest quantity reasonable. Water, power, propane, etc. And do it before you build the cabin.

And water? Ohmygawd! We did with packing blue totes for a year. How stupid is that? Piping water from the creek should have been ‘work-reduction’ effort number 1. Believe me, after the first day of work you have used gallons of water and then there is the absolutely essential ‘shower’ and washing up necessary. And each gallon of water weighs ten pounds! Job #1: water supply and storage.

I decided to write this again because my son asked for more ‘basics’ on construction and getting started. If this is a tangent, tell me and I’ll limit it.

It is Wednesday. I haven’t posted for a few days. We had things to do, guests to entertain, jobs to work at and I had hurt my back to the level of not being able to function for most of that time. You’d think that was the beginning of a complaint, but it isn’t. I have enjoyed everything but the pain for the last four days.

Firstly, we had Sally’s sister, Mary, and a friend and they were exceptionally good guests. Many people are good company (especially our friends and family) but not everyone is a good guest. Being a guest is hard work. Being a great guest is a talent. I won’t bore you with what constitutes greatness over good but suffice to say, I have a bottle of Glenlivet here as a reminder of their time with us. And all the dishes are very, very clean to boot!

It was good. Very good.

I also had a friend come to visit in his new boat. He anchored in our bay. Paul has Canadian Shores. Google it! 85 feet of high seas aluminum commercial fish boat complete with all the doo-dahs and toys of a charter boat. Makes a guy drool just looking at it! CS is for charter but the boat is a real work boat as well. It can and does ply the high seas and, when they catch tuna and halibut, it is a real working vessel.

This ain’t no panty-waist, bright-work, fancy yacht we’re talking about! This is really macho!! People who ‘sign on’ for a ride, get a real adventure if the season is on. And, if a thrill is not what you wanted, there is plenty of boat and activity in the summer on the inside passages for anybody. At around $500 a day – all in – it is a bargain.

Speaking of bargains: my community work is done. We finished today. Bunkhouse project, phase one, is done. And I am glad. I have to get on with my own chores and right now I have to do it slowly and carefully for awhile until the back feels good enough to abuse again.