I have about two more days of deadlining before I can get back to serious posting. In the meantime, here are some pix from the Montana ranch where L. and I stayed over the weekend.

Here’s our cabin:

The cabin featured solar power, a composting toilet, a claw-foot bathtub, on-demand hot water, and despite the satellite dishes, a blessed absence of all electronic media.

It was a short walk from our hosts’ house, but our nearest neighbors weren’t human. This is Ben, a rescued Belgian draft horse, and one of his buddies.

In the same pasture were Highland cattle. They’re a hardy breed that can endure a brutal climate. Because they keep warm with their heavy, almost bison-like coats, they produce lean meat, closer to game than to grocery-store beef.

Here’s the father of the late (but absolutely not lamented) steer who now occupies several freezers, including L’s and mine.

Despite their fierce looks and long horns, Highlands are known for being gentle. One morning the family’s two teenage girls (who are responsible for the livestock) took us into the pasture. We were surrounded by horses, cows, calves, steers, and Papa Bull, many of the animals crowding in for attention, others just watching while hanging back cautiously, but nobody (including Papa there) minding the intruders. I was more concerned about where Ben might accidentally put his dinner-plate hooves than what Papa Bull might do.

The ranch was beautiful and serene. In the mornings we went outside with cups of tea or chocolate and watched deer watch us then calmly return to their browsing.

Our hosts were great people — and what amazingly nice, mature children. It was good to be back in rural Montana, even though it was even better to arrive back home Monday night.

—–

Thanks, L, for the use of your photographs.

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… and on private property.

Though I’m trying to move the blog away from knee-jerk reporting of Bad Government News, when S. sent this, I realized it said as much about the resilience of the victims and the obvious fear “their” government feels toward them (armored teams for code violations?) as it says bout the outrageousness of L.A. County bureaucracy.

So read it and weep: “A County’s Private Property War.” You desert rats might want to take special notice.

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Back from the Mother Earth News Fair. It was a huge, fantastic event. If Mother throws one of these anywhere near you, you might consider attending even if you have to travel quite a way. I was also fortunate enough to connect with several delightful “friends I’ve never met” and to enjoy my time with Dave and Ilene; this is the first time I’ve met them despite all my years of writing for BHM, and they are great people.

I’ll have tales (and tails!) from the fair later this week (and will also continue blogging “Middle-class shrugging”). But for your Monday morning perusal, I thought I’d point you toward one of the best discoveries from the weekend: Earthineer.

Earthineer was actually Dave’s find, but I hope he won’t mind me blogging it as he and the lovely Lenie travel home. Dave will have lots of his own fair impressions to blog, you can bet.

I passed the Earthineer booth several times, noting only the banner name and ASS-U-MEing it was a construction/engineering company (despite the dead giveaway of prominent computer monitors). Only after they bought multiple Backwoods Home subscriptions for Dave and Lenie to give to lucky folks who showed up at our booth wearing Earthineer tee shirts did I Get A Clue. Then I went over and talked with them.

“Yes, yes, Claire,” you’re saying. “But shut up and tell us what Earthineer actually is.” Well, Earthineer is a social networking site. It’s what Facebook could have been if Mark Zuckerberg had actually considered making Facebook useful and interesting. Except that it’s all for people who are involved in (or hoping to get involved in) sustainable farming and gardening and the rural life in general.

Earthineer is bright and well laid-out. Even though it’s new, still in beta, and some functions aren’t yet activated, it’s rich with information from people walking the walk. It’s a place to share practical knowledge and experience (it will soon also have a community questions & answers feature, which I think is going to be a huge asset).

Dan Adams, the young man whose concept it is, is a long-time Backwoods Home reader and software engineer. When the recession and India-outsourcing hit his job, he decided to use his skills, interests, and considerable supply of entrepreneurial enthusiasm on a project that couldn’t be outsourced away from him. His dad Don Adams (who was also in their fair booth and known by the handle GrumpyOldMan on the site) is also a long-time creative DIY guy. Together, they charmed me. And they gave life to a terrific and very promising site. I’m looking forward to watching it grow and I expect you’ll like it, too.

Hooray for Earthineer. Long may it flourish!

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Dirt-Cheap Survival Retreat: One Man’s Solution
By M.D. Creekmore
Available from Paladin Press
Available from Amazon.com
$12.00, 79 pages, 2011

While many would-be survivalists were waiting to win the lottery or planning to discreetly bump off a rich uncle to build their Ultimate Survival Retreat in Idaho (complete with underground bunkers, escape tunnels, a decade’s supply of dried lentils, and customized Super Whizz-Whacker 3000 rifles at every lead-shuttered portal) … a handful of authors have been telling us how to do it another way: cheap.

First came Brian Kelling with his Travel-Trailer Homesteading Under $5,000

Then along came Phil Garlington with his witty, irreverent, charming, and surprisingly practical Rancho Costa Nada: The Dirt Cheap Desert Homestead

This year they’re joined by one of the blogosphere’s most noted survival writers M.D. Creekmore of TheSurvivalistBlog.net.

Kelling and Creekmore both talk about travel-trailer living. Garlington leans more toward primitive structures. All three offer voice-of-experience advice suitable for both low-budget emergency retreats and year-round living. All three bring their own varieties of sage advice: Kelling gives the Cadillac plan (albeit a used Cadillac that’s probably been up on blocks for years), with details on how to create an in-ground homemade septic system and convert a travel trailer to wood heat. Garlington’s lifestyle and advice is for the real don’t-give-a-damn desert rat who loves to scrounge and improvise and doesn’t pay much heed to civilized amenities.

Kelling and Garlington’s books were published by the late, great Loompanics Unlimited and to the best of my knowledge are both out of print (though they’re available via the Amazon links above). So Creekmore is your #1 contemporary option for this sort of book.

And that’s good because his advice comes from a nice, comfortable spot in between his predecessors.

—–

When Creekmore bought a couple acres of junk land and a travel trailer, he never intended to live there full time. He intended the place to be only a campsite and weekend getaway. But a layoff, a divorce, and increasing financial desperation drove him to the country. So he set about adapting his place as a permanent retreat.

He starts off by making one hugely important point about why a cheap retreat might be the way to go: If you don’t own your place outright, then you risk having a bank take it away from you just when you need it most. (Score one for M.D. Creekmore.)

He then goes on to give brief how-tos on:

• Acquiring inexpensive off-grid land
• Selecting and buying a trailer
• Building a simple solar power system
• Getting water and dealing with waste
• Establishing security
• Stockpiling water, food, guns, and other supplies

His writing style is clear. He definitely knows what he’s talking about (I, too, have lived in a travel-trailer on off-grid land and would spot any bogus advice). The slender book contains enough good information that you could slip it into your back pocket and consult it as you carried out your plans.

The subtitle is “One Man’s Solution” — and that it is. The book tells what Creekmore did and most of the detail he gives relates to his own experience. For instance, he talks at length (and shows photos) of his own solar power setup but merely mentions wind power in passing since he has little experience with it. That may be a drawback, but in a way it’s also a strength, since you can be sure that Creekmore knows what he’s talking about.

Some of his systems are simpler than what you might want. For instance, he tried Kelling’s homemade septic system, then found that it didn’t work for him because of local soil conditions. So he switched to a portable toilet and a labor-intensive “humanure” composting system. (His garden probably appreciates the change.)

Yet (with only a minor exception) he remains on track when it comes to guiding his readers toward their own goals. IMHO, the most useful thing about Dirt-Cheap Survival Retreat is that it lays out a pretty comprehensive outline of everything you need to consider in building a retreat. Your solutions might (and probably will) be slightly different than his. But he gives you a framework — a guideline to follow from start to finish.

He delivers some excellent reality checks: you will be chilly in cold weather; you will steam inside your tin-can refuge in the summer. You can mitigate these problems, but you won’t eliminate them.

The one place he went astray made me laugh. On the penultimate page, in a list of otherwise very well thought-out miscellaneous items you might want for stocking your dirt-cheap retreat, he recommends “$1,000 worth (face value) of pre-1965, 90% silver U.S. dimes.”***

In your dreams, M.D. Creekmore! At the moment my review copy arrived from Paladin Press, $1,000 worth of pre-1965 U.S. coins was selling for close to $40,000. Even at the currently reduced “bargain” price of $37+ per ounce of silver, that bag of coins would set you back more than $27,000. Would it be a lovely, lovely asset to possess? You betcha. Will it become even a more blessed thing as the U.S. dollar tanks? Oh, indeed. But how it fits into a dirt-cheap plan — now, that’s another thing.

Try to budget for a $100 face bag of those coins. Or buy $10 face every time you get a little extra money in, or even $1 face. You’ll be glad you did. But don’t intimidate yourself by thinking that a “dirt-cheap” plan should include a small fortune in coins. With the lifestyle implied by a dirt-cheap budget, when the really hard times hit you’re more likely to scrounge, barter, make do, or do without than you are to whip out a fistful of silver dimes and impress your neighbors (and any burglars or tax-leeches who may be around) with your newfound wealth.

But that’s a nitpick. Creekmore has produced, and the good folk at Paladin have published, an inexpensive, useful guide to both budget-minded living and inexpensive retreat building.

Above all, as the author writes, don’t be afraid to live as he does or prepare a retreat as simply as he did — if the idea intrigues you:

Some people prefer a life of simplicity to a “normal” stressed existence. Others want to eliminate debt and the possibility of homelessness after an economic collapse or personal economic downturn.

Some people may be reluctant to embrace such a stripped-down lifestyle for fear of what others will think of them. …

To those who fear the hardships involved or doubt their ability to live off the grid, let me assure you: your fears are unfounded. Before making the move, I too had thoughts of ruination — yet I suffered no hardships to speak of. In fact, I’m actually content for the first time in my life.

*** ADDED: Be sure to read M.D. Creekmore’s comment below. And heaven save all us writers from awkward typos.

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I can now confirm that the rumors are true. The rumors aren’t as exciting as the ones about Arnold Schwarzenegger’s love child or even the ones about Botox Mom. But they are true.

I’ll be with the Backwoods Home gang at the Mother Earth News Fair in Puyallup, Washington, on the weekend of June 4 & 5.

I’ll be there signing copies of Hardyville Tales and (if the Duffys permit) taking orders for any and all of my books from other publishers. (I can also take advance orders and hand your autographed copies to you at the fair.)

The event should be a great one with tons of displays, demonstrations, and workshops. Covered topics include “real food, renewable energy, small-scale agriculture, gardening, green building, green transportation and natural health.”

BHM and TMEN readers have a lot of interests in common — and a lot not in common. So accepting TMEN’s invitation to appear at the fair is an experiment for BHM and all of us who staff the BHM exhibit. Whatever happens, it should be interesting.

So c’mon down!

The Duffys kindly offered to pay my expenses and let me keep all revenues from sales of Hardyville Tales. Book sales will be my only income from the event, so if you can see your way to buying a copy or two from me, great. Even better if you also grab yourself some other BHM goodies for your pleasure and edification and to support the Duffys.

I’ll be announcing some show specials in the next few days.

But the main thing is, just come to the Puyallup Fairgrounds, south of Tacoma, enjoy the fair, and stop by the BHM booth and see us! I’ve already heard that a few “old friends I’ve never met” will be there. I’m very much looking forward to putting faces to the names and personalities.

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Let me tell you about the people in this high desert gulch — and the people connected to it, though they may be far away.

Neighbor M. needed the footer space dug for some retaining walls. Though M. is a tireless worker, this was clearly a job for a backhoe, not muscles.

Neighbor Joel also needed backhoe work for the septic system on his Secret Lair.

Without a word to Joel, M. arranged to have both jobs done at his own expense last Saturday.

The work was done by our neighbor L. If you read Joel’s blog, you’ve heard about “D. & L,” but what you may not know is that L, the backhoe owner/operator, is a small, tough, but fragile-looking woman.

She trundled over on her tractor and labored all day in blazing heat to dig Joel’s septic system and M.’s footers. Her pay? Well, all she would accept was a bottle of wine and $20 for fuel. (She and D. always say they’ll get their time paid back when they need others on some stage of their own monumental building project; but they rarely ever ask.)

Alas, as she rolled home, somehow she lost the $20 in the wide, sandy wash between her place and Joel’s. We saw her husband combing the sagebrush in search of it. As with a lot of us here, $20 is no small matter to D. & L. Especially when it’s about the only pay you’ve accepted for a hard day’s labor. He had to return home to tell L. he hadn’t found it.

I went to M. and offered to contribute a new $20 if one of the guys would tell L. they’d found it caught in a bush at the side of the wash. (Her pride might not have let her accept another $20.) But M. said no. It was already taken care of. L. would be reimbursed.

“If you want to,” M. said, “just get your $20 to Joel in some covert way.”

Since Joel’s net worth was, as of that moment, reduced to double digits, I took that to be just a kind thought and a good idea on M.’s part. Joel works very hard for the whole community but he has little and asks less.

But Sunday morning, I learned that M.’s wish for me to sneak the money to Joel was more than it seemed. Joel came by. He was on his way to D. & L.’s. He was going to replace L.’s lost payment, even though it meant giving up about a quarter of his resources. There was no arguing. Joel wouldn’t take anybody else’s money, not M.’s, not mine; he felt it was his responsibility because most of L.’s work had been done for him. And so he did.

Now comes the part about the neighbors who don’t live nearby, but are very much here in the spirit of the place.

The very next day I received $75 dollars in the mail. It was a gift from the ever-generous and good-hearted T. — and it came with a note telling me to split it with Joel. Now I happen to know that T. doesn’t have a lot, either. He lives simply on his own primitive homestead in another, greener state. But what he has, he shares in freedom. And in this case, he couldn’t have shared at a better moment. Joel is up to triple digits again and feeling bolstered by the gift (the second great, well-timed gift he has gotten from a blog reader far away, and one of many I’ve received with gratitude over the years).

T. once wrote as we were emailing about preparedness and survival, “Remoteness is not the answer. Community, peace, love and acceptance is the answer.” Although I wouldn’t put it in exactly those terms, he’s right, without a doubt, that the people you chose, and the people who chose you, are more important than the location you select or any bunker you might ever build.

There are times I hate this desert with a freaking passion. But I know what richness I have in the people in my life. This community is as great as anyone could ever wish.

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Today in 1943, “pay-as-you-go” income-tax withholding began. (Oh thank you, Milton Friedman.)

Today in 2004, Marlon Brando died, age 80.

There was probably no connection between the two, but I have friends who could spin conspiracies proving me wrong. Today is also the day the Battle of Gettysburg began (1863). I had a Confederate cavalry re-enactor friend who, with his comrades, almost won that battle once. It was very embarrassing for the event organizers. Not to mention the Union troops.

—–

The wind has been howling more than usual lately. Making me crazy. Makes me dream of northwest forests. But some evenings it goes still and then it’s pleasure to pull up a chair on the hillside and sit gazing over a sun-setting vista. Watching thunderstorms off in the distance that somehow never seem to come here. In the high desert you learn a use for that otherwise obscure word, “virga,” meaning rain that starts to fall but never reaches ground. Curtains of it everywhere.

This time of year it’s cloudy and the storms seem to be all around us, in a circle. They’re dry and dangerous with lightning strikes. Then when the rains come, they come in wash-filling torrents that even the dogs are smart enough to avoid.

And the junipers. Suddenly they’re all in berries without having given a sign of blossom. I can see the little purple buds when I look close. But only real close. I wonder how many juniper berries it would take to flavor homemade gin? Hm. Not enough of a drinker ever to try that experiment.

And yesterday afternoon I had a chat with some horses. A family on the road in has three, including a gorgeous palomino Morgan mare — the very horse I’d love to have (although geldings seem to be a little more sensible — if the word “sensible” can ever be applied to a horse). For the first time ever they were moderately close to the road as I drove by. And surprisingly, when I slowed down, all three strolled over to the fence. I stopped, got out, and said hello and scritched them all behind the ears and on the forehead. If they were disappointed that I didn’t bring food, they were too polite to say. If I stay in this place I’m going to have a Morgan horse one of these days. A dun or a palomino, maybe even that very horse I scritched today. Don’t care whether it’s a mare or a gelding. But I want sensible. That’s why I want a Morgan.

—–

Monsanto lost a Supreme Court case yesterday on GMO faux food. Or animal feed grains, in this case. I don’t quite know what I think about genetically modified foods. On one hand, I can see the possibility of there being excellent plants, modified for drought resistance or higher nutrient content. But any company that produces a product called “Roundup Ready Alfalfa,” specially designed to do well with Monsanto-produced poisons, and goes around threatening hapless farmers who have Monsanto seeds blow into and take root in their own fields … I like to see them lose, just on principle.

Besides, they’re too tight with the fedgov. They’ve given me the creeps ever since I learned that the gov owns part of the patent on Monsanto “Terminator” seeds. Ugh.

—–

This is an interesting NYT op-ed on Alcoholics Anonymous that — surprisingly — has something to say about limited government and personal freedom. When you have some time, be sure to follow the link to the Wired article that got David Brooks to musing. I haven’t finished it yet myself but it takes a pretty interesting tack.

I don’t quite know what I think about AA, either. Although I believe the “surrendering to a higher power” bit is just a mind game, I know it works for some when nothing else has. But the whole model of permanent addiction seems so toxic. I know there are permanent addicts, for sure. I’ve known many of them. Unfortunately one of the most “hooked” people I ever knew was hooked on AA. She’d had a five-year career of drinking. But she’d been in AA for 12 years and if she couldn’t go several times a week, she felt as if her world would collapse. Sad woman. Tons and tons of promise. Everybody liked her upon first meeting her. She seemed interesting and unique. But nobody ever wanted to be around her very long because every dinner party, every trip to the beach, every card game would eventually turn into “The Tragic Tale of Francine,” as she halted all the fun and told the same, endlessly repetitive story of her woes. All attempts by friends to show her another side of life failed; she was so addicted to her addictions, including sorrow and AA.

I think it makes more sense to see addiction as a complex phenomenon that starts and ends with personal choice. I think at least it helps to give an individual addict more eye-opening choices.

—–

Tumbleweed Tiny Houses is giving away free plans for one of their simplest little wheeled abodes. You just have to buy a copy of The Small House Book. (NFI, BTW.)

This particular house, the Popomo, is a super-modern cube. I like that, but I know it’s not for everybody. They estimate materials costs at $20,000. I’m betting any 10 BHM readers could build it for under $5,000. Maybe way under, with some good scrounging.

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… and some more miscellany.

The confession

The astute among you who’ve followed my links to Joel Simon’s blog, The Ultimate Answer to Kings, have noticed, shall we say, a few similarities between Joel’s life and mine.

I think it’s time to reveal the secret.

No, I am not Joel Simon. I have more hair and I’d look just awful in that beard, not to mention that Jayne Cobb cunning hat.

But I am the neighbor Joel refers to as W. or Uncle W. — and I suspect his attempt to turn me into a person of the male persuasion for literary purposes has fooled very few readers.

So there you have it. Yes, Joel is the hermit neighbor who lives in the next trailer down the ridge. It’s nice having a crotchety old one-legged hermit for a neighbor. They leave you alone, which is good. Except when you don’t want to be left alone. Which is also good.

Joel is very much like his fictional character Shadow, from stories like this one. And he and Shadow are both more suited to being desert rats than I.

So that’s that. Joel, you can now quit your unconvincing attempts to hide my identity.

… and the miscellany for today

• Awwwwww. This is so sweeeeeeeet.
• On the other hand, this isn’t sweet at all. It’s crude. In the oily sense. Yet it’s strange how something so terrible can look beautiful when captured at the right moment, in the right light.
• And if you’re interested in a good site for following oil spill news — with speculation, but speculation by very knowledgeable people — The Oil Drum is a good place to start. The link goes to a current article that supports the viewpoint (that we’ve been hearing increasingly) that the well structure itself is compromised and the leak will keep getting worse. But no Alex Jonesy stuff this time.
• Oh, just what we need! “A Fannie and Freddie for Food.” Government-grocery store partnerships, all across this great land! That’ll ensure that we all have full bellies and healthy nutrition, won’t it? Ya sure, you betcha. (And really, while I knew I lived in an actual desert, I had no idea that living 10+ miles from the nearest grocery store put me in a “food desert.” Geez, should I just curl up and die, or what? You poor folks who live above the arctic circle somewhere or in rural Wyoming just ought to shoot yourselves before you starve to death, I guess.)

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