Yes - it’s brilliant, but it’s not for the faint of heart. We started with walls, threw a roof on in a few weeks this summer - only needs to last a few seasons as we want to extend upwards slightly. our water is coming from a spring about 300m away, 60m vertically up - gravity feeds through filters into a tank, going to do reverse osmosis this year so we can drink it - just cooking and washing right now. Power is currently a solar array, and I intend to add hydro and possibly wind to the mix - hydro is going to be tricky, as the river is ridiculously variable, as are the streams nearby.
It has been an intense few months, just getting the place habitable - and when winter arrived life turned into a cycle of gathering firewood and plugging holes in masonry with rags - and then the whole place flooded in December, so the last six weeks have been muck-shovelling, hosing, repairing and reclaiming chattels which got flooded - we moved everything up to a shed with its floor level 5m vertically above the mill’s floor, which is 4m above the normal river level - still flooded - almost a 10m surge! Thankfully, it was only 75cm deep in there, and stopped 5cm short of trashing the solar batteries, inverter, etc., but got all the power tools and electronics (pcs, tv, NAS, routers, etc.) - which miraculously all still work after a wash and dry, barring CMOS batteries. Worst flood in centuries, apparently. We waded out in the darkness, in torrential rain, in thigh deep swirling muddy water, as the river had already burst its bank onto our track, the cats screaming bloody murder in their bag, and walked the 5km up to the car that I’d had the foresight to park up by the paved road... had nightmares for weeks - not something I care to ever repeat. Good we did evac, even if late, or we’d have probably ended up hypothermic and/or drowned.
Anyway. Ultimately, we want to use technology and automation to live off grid without reverting to medieval peasants - and the last four months have underscored that necessity, as I don’t think I can sustain this level of physical activity indefinitely. Today, after my conference calls, I’m heading back down there to keep on rebuilding the road, in the bloody freezing rain - but I have to get it done, as it’s about to be a blocker on getting anything else done. I comfort myself with the probable lie that I’ll be lying in a hammock listening to the birds and the river in a few months, and this will all be a distant memory!
The pros definitely outweigh the cons. We’ve met one other guy in this area who is doing the whole off grid thing - and he’s been doing it for years, and it’s still an incessant struggle - from components of his solar system failing (Chinese crud. Sorted him out with victron gear), to a donkey getting in and eating his crops, to his water ending up poisonous (Christmas vomit buddies), to his road also washing away - but he also wouldn’t trade it for the world - it’s the feeling of freedom and agency that is the attraction - nobody is doing these things to you - either it’s your own mistake, from which to learn, or just nature being a harsh mistress. Also, it’s really goddamned nice to just walk out of the front door in the morning, straight into wilderness. I start each day at home sitting on a rock with a coffee, just observing. Even with the stressors, I’m happier than I ever was behind a desk.
I see, your story matches those that I've read online. I'm in a very stressful job field and if I can't make it till pension I'm considering doing the same. Thanks a lot!
It has been an intense few months, just getting the place habitable - and when winter arrived life turned into a cycle of gathering firewood and plugging holes in masonry with rags - and then the whole place flooded in December, so the last six weeks have been muck-shovelling, hosing, repairing and reclaiming chattels which got flooded - we moved everything up to a shed with its floor level 5m vertically above the mill’s floor, which is 4m above the normal river level - still flooded - almost a 10m surge! Thankfully, it was only 75cm deep in there, and stopped 5cm short of trashing the solar batteries, inverter, etc., but got all the power tools and electronics (pcs, tv, NAS, routers, etc.) - which miraculously all still work after a wash and dry, barring CMOS batteries. Worst flood in centuries, apparently. We waded out in the darkness, in torrential rain, in thigh deep swirling muddy water, as the river had already burst its bank onto our track, the cats screaming bloody murder in their bag, and walked the 5km up to the car that I’d had the foresight to park up by the paved road... had nightmares for weeks - not something I care to ever repeat. Good we did evac, even if late, or we’d have probably ended up hypothermic and/or drowned.
Anyway. Ultimately, we want to use technology and automation to live off grid without reverting to medieval peasants - and the last four months have underscored that necessity, as I don’t think I can sustain this level of physical activity indefinitely. Today, after my conference calls, I’m heading back down there to keep on rebuilding the road, in the bloody freezing rain - but I have to get it done, as it’s about to be a blocker on getting anything else done. I comfort myself with the probable lie that I’ll be lying in a hammock listening to the birds and the river in a few months, and this will all be a distant memory!
The pros definitely outweigh the cons. We’ve met one other guy in this area who is doing the whole off grid thing - and he’s been doing it for years, and it’s still an incessant struggle - from components of his solar system failing (Chinese crud. Sorted him out with victron gear), to a donkey getting in and eating his crops, to his water ending up poisonous (Christmas vomit buddies), to his road also washing away - but he also wouldn’t trade it for the world - it’s the feeling of freedom and agency that is the attraction - nobody is doing these things to you - either it’s your own mistake, from which to learn, or just nature being a harsh mistress. Also, it’s really goddamned nice to just walk out of the front door in the morning, straight into wilderness. I start each day at home sitting on a rock with a coffee, just observing. Even with the stressors, I’m happier than I ever was behind a desk.