Winter 2010

We spent the past 2.5 days without power. A very strong storm front passed through and the strong winds at its command swept through the Cascades with a vengeance leaving carnage in its wake. One of our friends had a large tree fall and take out 1/3 of the new shop he was building. Tree limbs and debris was littered everywhere. On my way home I came across downed power lines that were arcing so fiercely that you could see the glow from a good half mile away. The brush and grass were on fire despite the rain coming down. It was about 6 meters off the roadway and I passed by quickly. I knew full well that this meant there would be no power at the cabin.

It is very interesting how the loss of electricity changes your life. We so take it for granted that when we hit the light switch, the lights will come on. That we will have heat and a stove to cook on. When those things are taken from you, your life style changes immediately. For us, the loss of power also meant the loss of water since we rely on a pump to get water from the creek. No water, no toilet.

I have to say though that it some fundamental way I really enjoy these times without all the luxuries that surround our daily lives. Without power there is absolute silence. No "white noise" emanating from the micro-wave, DVR, wall heaters, refrigerator, etc. Even the very slight hum associated with lights is eliminated. The quiet is complete and envelopes you like a soft comforting blanket. It reminds me of the times I have spent in wilderness areas. The quiet is so complete it is almost palpable and takes some getting used too.

We have been through this before so we have all the necessary supplies readily at hand: candles, firewood, flashlights, headlamps, water, etc. With the new gas grill we bought this summer we even have a very convenient method of cooking without electricity.

Coming home to a dark cold cabin should be unconcerting and a little daunting but for me it is not. The dark is like an old friend to me. When I was a teenager I used to go into the woods at night and run the trails, human and game, and end up in a little clearing far from my house. I would sit there and listen to the night sounds and try to identify them. I would gaze up at the stars and moon and have wonderful thoughts of "life out there". I like the dark. Coming into the cabin I found the 2 cats, also night creatures, at the door to greet me. With my headlamp on I could see their eyes glowing green as they watched my approach through the glass of the front door. Very cool. Once inside I light the candles that are at the ready and then get a fire going in the cast iron stove. It only takes about 30 minutes before the heat from the fire takes control and forces the chill to find another place to lurk. I then make myself a Powers and coke, sit down at the oak dining room table and enjoy the total lack of man made noise. That noise is replaced by the sounds of nature: wind, rain, scurrying little forest creatures, trees whispering to each other (and to you too if you only listen), the creek water against ancient stone. Very comforting.

When the power came back on it was almost with a bit of regret that I hit the light switches and turned the heaters on. The refrigerator buzzed back to life and the micro-wave beebed loudly back into existence.

Oh well, the winter of 2010 has just begun.