Saturday, January 29, 2011
Phenology
Another foot of fresh snow. The trails are in perfect condition for whatever recreational pursuit you see fit! The snow, however, has depressed the lake ice and created slush issues for lake travelers/anglers. Working daylight until 5:30pm.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Phenology
Break in the cold streak. Highs in the twenties! Snowshoed through a solid four feet of snow. Spotted a pileated woodpecker atop a poplar above Osier Creek. A black mange-ridden wolf showed up this afternoon. Evidently it's been a tough year in the Devil's Track Pack... 1/23/2011 Windy, clear, cold, high temp of 5 F. Nights are stormy: lake effect snow averaging 1/2 inch per night for the past week or so. Spotted the mangy wolf that has been hanging around during the day scavenging on the road; too tired and cold to run through the woods. Probably won't make it through the winter.
Sub-Zero Motivation
Fresh wolf tracks guided my way up Wood Mountain Road on a bright, cold winter morning. The temperature hasn't creeped above zero in days. A frigid northern air mass has blanketed the upper midwest of North America. Light lake effect snow falls during most afternoons. At night, the winds howl and leave the previous day's snow accumulation in dunes for folks to dig out.
On this particular morning, it's 20 below, minus 50 when you factor in wind chill. In the Northwoods, there is really only two things beyond food that one needs: water and heat. I've got water, but if I want to get anything done on the homestead in weather like this I need some heat!
It's funny, I shopped around for the wood stove like I did my truck. I had to find just the right "rig" for our use. Like the truck, the stove is probably a little overkill. However, who wants to underestimate how much heat you need. I'd rather error on the side of too much heat when it doesn't get above zero all day. Needless to say, a good efficient stove is crucial. I'm not messing around here; the one I chose is 77% efficient!
The wood stove was sitting in a warehouse in Duluth, 110 miles down the North Shore of Lake Superior along the "Dylan-famous" Highway 61. We headed out to pick it up under clear skies and a full thermos of green tea. By the time the tea was empty (and I have the jitters) we had made it to Castle Danger (about two thirds of the way there) and it was apparent that we weren't going to be returning home tonight. A strong low wind brought snow off the lake and was dumping over an inch a hour. Within a matter of miles, I took off the shades and popped the good ol' Toyota into four wheel drive.
Arriving in Duluth, we got up and over the hill to pick up the stove. With the help of a fork lift, the stove is moved from warehouse dock onto the truck bed. Then we were off to get the chimney. By the time we had picked up the chimney it was official: we were snowbound in Duluth! Thankfully Duluth has two critical things that any weary traveler needs: chinese food and the house of a dear friend with an extra warm bed...
By morning, plows had cleared the way for our return. We returned home and with the help of my visiting family, we unloaded the stove to its new, much-debated location. We agreed on the center of the south exterior wall.
I figured out one thing very early on in this homesteading thing: owners manuals are my best friend. As with most of the new gear that I have been using since this project began, I have little to no experience doing most of these tasks. Helping out a friend with a project over the weekend is one thing: designing and building a homestead from start to finish is another. Read the directions!
Installing a wood stove isn't rocket science but you have to do it right. Once the stove is situated in it's home, you have to figure out where you're cutting the hole. There's something very nerve racking about taking a saw to a brand new metal roof. However, you can't psych yourself out! It's just another cut. That's at least what I kept saying to myself as I ripped through the pretty red roof...
Then you install the chimney support. Support installed, the work goes upward to the roof. It was then I was fully reminded in what climate I live. Climbing onto the roof in the pitch-black early evening with twenty below wind chills; I might as well have been deep in the Alaskan Interior (no disrespect to the hardy Alaskans who regularly endure much colder temps for longer spells). My point simply is that it was cold!
The wind howled yet I was determined to get the stove installed and put some heat into the equation. On the ground I planned it all out: I had the right bit for the metal screws set, screws, wire snips, level in my pockets. I even pulled the sealant from the cab of the warm truck and had it under my shirt (still miraculously unfrozen).
I hauled the chimney up the roof and very, very gingerly crawled up on the slick metal. After setting the chimney in the support down below, I cut a slot for the flashing to slide under the upslope side of the roof and wrestled it in. That was the most difficult task of the entire project. I was standing on the roof, cold, tired, using climbing moves to avoid slipping off and trying to slid a cold piece of metal through a slot that is barely wider than itself. Finally after a few slips, a couple of choice words and some logic, I had the flashing properly in place. Flashing fastened I quickly pulled the sealant out of my shirt and sealed the edges. Bitter cold fingertips pushing me on, I then wrapped the storm collar and sealed it. I installed the rain cap and got off that frozen perch as fast as I could. In all, I think that I spent a solid hour and half up there (not bad for a amateur I thought).
Inside I put together the adjustable-length black connector pipe. And then, the game drastically changed. We have fire!
Now that we have heat, I'm going to shift my thoughts to framing interior walls for the bed and bathrooms. From there I can wire, insulate and sheet rock.
This cold streak kicked my butt. I learned a lot of things. I gained appreciation for owner's manuals. Most important, I once again was reminded that the elements are boss. All that we can do is motivate ourselves to overcome the conditions and work our way towards our goal. Heat! It's well worth it...
P.S. I can tell you this much; I'm not going to make it successfully through a metal detector until this homesteading project is complete. Every time I grab a glove out of my jacket pocket I'm coming up with metal screws, roof nails and bits!
On this particular morning, it's 20 below, minus 50 when you factor in wind chill. In the Northwoods, there is really only two things beyond food that one needs: water and heat. I've got water, but if I want to get anything done on the homestead in weather like this I need some heat!
Luna, in her super hero cape! Reserved for the bitter cold.
It's funny, I shopped around for the wood stove like I did my truck. I had to find just the right "rig" for our use. Like the truck, the stove is probably a little overkill. However, who wants to underestimate how much heat you need. I'd rather error on the side of too much heat when it doesn't get above zero all day. Needless to say, a good efficient stove is crucial. I'm not messing around here; the one I chose is 77% efficient!
The wood stove was sitting in a warehouse in Duluth, 110 miles down the North Shore of Lake Superior along the "Dylan-famous" Highway 61. We headed out to pick it up under clear skies and a full thermos of green tea. By the time the tea was empty (and I have the jitters) we had made it to Castle Danger (about two thirds of the way there) and it was apparent that we weren't going to be returning home tonight. A strong low wind brought snow off the lake and was dumping over an inch a hour. Within a matter of miles, I took off the shades and popped the good ol' Toyota into four wheel drive.
Arriving in Duluth, we got up and over the hill to pick up the stove. With the help of a fork lift, the stove is moved from warehouse dock onto the truck bed. Then we were off to get the chimney. By the time we had picked up the chimney it was official: we were snowbound in Duluth! Thankfully Duluth has two critical things that any weary traveler needs: chinese food and the house of a dear friend with an extra warm bed...
By morning, plows had cleared the way for our return. We returned home and with the help of my visiting family, we unloaded the stove to its new, much-debated location. We agreed on the center of the south exterior wall.
I figured out one thing very early on in this homesteading thing: owners manuals are my best friend. As with most of the new gear that I have been using since this project began, I have little to no experience doing most of these tasks. Helping out a friend with a project over the weekend is one thing: designing and building a homestead from start to finish is another. Read the directions!
Installing a wood stove isn't rocket science but you have to do it right. Once the stove is situated in it's home, you have to figure out where you're cutting the hole. There's something very nerve racking about taking a saw to a brand new metal roof. However, you can't psych yourself out! It's just another cut. That's at least what I kept saying to myself as I ripped through the pretty red roof...
Then you install the chimney support. Support installed, the work goes upward to the roof. It was then I was fully reminded in what climate I live. Climbing onto the roof in the pitch-black early evening with twenty below wind chills; I might as well have been deep in the Alaskan Interior (no disrespect to the hardy Alaskans who regularly endure much colder temps for longer spells). My point simply is that it was cold!
The wind howled yet I was determined to get the stove installed and put some heat into the equation. On the ground I planned it all out: I had the right bit for the metal screws set, screws, wire snips, level in my pockets. I even pulled the sealant from the cab of the warm truck and had it under my shirt (still miraculously unfrozen).
I hauled the chimney up the roof and very, very gingerly crawled up on the slick metal. After setting the chimney in the support down below, I cut a slot for the flashing to slide under the upslope side of the roof and wrestled it in. That was the most difficult task of the entire project. I was standing on the roof, cold, tired, using climbing moves to avoid slipping off and trying to slid a cold piece of metal through a slot that is barely wider than itself. Finally after a few slips, a couple of choice words and some logic, I had the flashing properly in place. Flashing fastened I quickly pulled the sealant out of my shirt and sealed the edges. Bitter cold fingertips pushing me on, I then wrapped the storm collar and sealed it. I installed the rain cap and got off that frozen perch as fast as I could. In all, I think that I spent a solid hour and half up there (not bad for a amateur I thought).
Now that we have heat, I'm going to shift my thoughts to framing interior walls for the bed and bathrooms. From there I can wire, insulate and sheet rock.
This cold streak kicked my butt. I learned a lot of things. I gained appreciation for owner's manuals. Most important, I once again was reminded that the elements are boss. All that we can do is motivate ourselves to overcome the conditions and work our way towards our goal. Heat! It's well worth it...
P.S. I can tell you this much; I'm not going to make it successfully through a metal detector until this homesteading project is complete. Every time I grab a glove out of my jacket pocket I'm coming up with metal screws, roof nails and bits!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Phenology
Cold, minus 20 F, minus 40-50 F wind chill, light lake effect snow in afternoon, fresh lone wolf tracks and scat on road.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Icy road leads to the castle
It was the first cold snap of the winter. Temperatures had finally sunk well below zero, never mind the wind. The difference between this deep freeze and most others is the fact a quarter inch of rain had fallen within the last 24 hours. The remote gravel roads of the North Shore were luge courses. Wood Mountain Road was no exception. Our driveway was worse and we had a date with the cement workers to lay our slab. This was the last opportunity to get our garage slab poured until spring time.
I'm lugging up the Lindskog Road from Highway 61 in four wheel drive when I see the first known "victim" of our road. The crew hauling a trailer to pour the slab was unable to get up the "steeps" section of the road and slid back down the slope into the ditch. It was still early on this December night but I already knew that it was going to be a long one.
The next few hours were spent carefully and slowly digging and pulling. We finally got the trailer out of the ditch and hauled up to the garage site where a furnace was thawing the ground where the slab would be poured. Crawling into bed that evening I schemed up my early morning plan to sand the entire stretch of road from the garage to the Taylor Lane, just shy of a quarter mile.
The darkness continued as I crawled out of bed that morning. Venus was prominant in the northern sky.
I was determined to get these cement trucks up the road to pour the slab. Once the slab was poured we would be home free. The garage could be built within weeks and we would have all winter to finish it off. The only thing between us and that reality was a couple of yards of sand and salt and a quarter mile of ice.
I began on the top. Working with the long spade shovel I threw my sand mixture just in the wheel wells to conserve. By daylight I was at the base of the driveway. The young crew showed up shortly thereafter. They were "concerned" about the cement truck's ability to make it up the driveway. I think "no shit, it's concerning" but I know its not their call. It's not mine either. The decision to drive the cement truck up the ice-glazed road rests entirely on the driver of the cement truck. You see, once cement is poured into a truck someone is paying for it. I wasn't influencing anything about this call, limiting my liability. Thankfully the driver was a seasoned old timer, he checked out the road, declared it fine and returned to get the cement truck. I left before he came back with the rig. I didn't want to see it happening.
So here I am; my back sore from cutting out our lake view. (We waited to thin for a view until we had windows to see where it was blocked.) This week I'll continue cutting, burn a pile or two of slash, seal the cement floor and drive to Duluth to pick up our new wood stove.
My list of things to do is only getting longer...
I'm lugging up the Lindskog Road from Highway 61 in four wheel drive when I see the first known "victim" of our road. The crew hauling a trailer to pour the slab was unable to get up the "steeps" section of the road and slid back down the slope into the ditch. It was still early on this December night but I already knew that it was going to be a long one.
The next few hours were spent carefully and slowly digging and pulling. We finally got the trailer out of the ditch and hauled up to the garage site where a furnace was thawing the ground where the slab would be poured. Crawling into bed that evening I schemed up my early morning plan to sand the entire stretch of road from the garage to the Taylor Lane, just shy of a quarter mile.
The darkness continued as I crawled out of bed that morning. Venus was prominant in the northern sky.
I was determined to get these cement trucks up the road to pour the slab. Once the slab was poured we would be home free. The garage could be built within weeks and we would have all winter to finish it off. The only thing between us and that reality was a couple of yards of sand and salt and a quarter mile of ice.
I began on the top. Working with the long spade shovel I threw my sand mixture just in the wheel wells to conserve. By daylight I was at the base of the driveway. The young crew showed up shortly thereafter. They were "concerned" about the cement truck's ability to make it up the driveway. I think "no shit, it's concerning" but I know its not their call. It's not mine either. The decision to drive the cement truck up the ice-glazed road rests entirely on the driver of the cement truck. You see, once cement is poured into a truck someone is paying for it. I wasn't influencing anything about this call, limiting my liability. Thankfully the driver was a seasoned old timer, he checked out the road, declared it fine and returned to get the cement truck. I left before he came back with the rig. I didn't want to see it happening.
Once the slab was poured everything happened real fast:
The slab with an insulating blanket on top so it maintains an even temperature while it cures.
Three walls, the roof trusses and sheathing on.
The fourth wall completes the shell. The perimeter is wrapped and the windows are cut.
The red metal roof, facia, windows set, and the start of the beveled cedar siding.
Finished castle: our new home!
A proud new owner enters...
Check out that cedar!
My list of things to do is only getting longer...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
3 Walls, a Roof and 20 Huskies!
January 1, 2011 - It has now been 1 year since we purchased our 5 acres of raw land - and what a year it has been! In the sleeting rain of the last week of December, the crew put up 3 walls and the roof sheathing of our garage! David will write more about the building of the garage in another post. But here is a picture of the progress to date!
Luna and I went out to inspect the garage after the first day of building. We headed out after dark and as we climbed the driveway, Luna's nose picked up the scent of fresh wood. She enthusiastically sniffed the air and when we reached the top, the outline of the new building loomed in the dark. After a year of memorizing the empty space of our property, Luna must have been shocked to see something there. She sheepishly sat down on my foot and started barking at the garage, hoping to scare it away. Now if you know Luna, she rarely barks, so this was very unusual behavior. Together we walked into the garage and still she barked, a little more timidly, listening to the echo reverberate off the walls. We walked every inch of that new space and she continued to bark, so, I decided it was time to head home. The next day I took her during the daylight and this time, there was no barking.
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| Mukuk (meaning birch bark basket in Ojibwe) and Sitka (in back) Besides the excitement of the garage construction, David took the week off to guide dog sledding trips with Eric Simula up at Bearskin Lodge. With a good base of snow and cold temperatures, it was a beautiful week to be on trail. I spent New Years Day up the Gunflint Trail with David and the dogs. |
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| David with his leaders Moose (jumping up) and Tonsina It is hard to describe the pure exhilaration of being around and running the huskies. Each animal has its own distinct personality and yet the pack morphs into the vibrant energy of one being. When you are out in the serene winter landscape this energy radiates through the cold. The sounds of the falling paws, the exhale of breath and your own motion amplify in the stillness. You are one with your surroundings. |
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| Just out of the chute, heading down an arm of East Bearskin Lake. Eric Simula & team in front, David & team in back. |
Happy New Year Friends and Family, may it be filled with wild joy and serene stillness!
Amy
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