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!

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).

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!