How Does a Remote Home Get Mail?

Almost home!

Living 42 miles from the nearest road, we receive no mail service.  A frequent question we hear is, “How do you get mail?”  The short answer is “infrequently.”

Maybe in the future people will receive deliveries by drone, but in the meantime, we maintain a P.O. box in a nearby town and check it every few months.  For several years, when we acquired frequent products on-line, a UPS type shop was convenient because it would send us a note when a package arrived and hold it for us for several months, if necessary.  But their price doubled from $150 to $300 per year and we decided to switch to a local post office that charges only $95/year, since our purchases had declined.  However, I did not realize at the time that their policy is to return any packages too big for our box after 14 days - and not notify us.  The first year, a friend called to say that her birthday gift to me had been returned!  I felt so bad.

Unfortunately, one type of bulky and time sensitive purchase can ONLY be shipped to me during the fall and spring months - a time of year when we have NO means of transportation to town.  These are the live roots, rhizomes, and bulbs of vegetables and fruit that I grow.  I missed a entire year's season when we first switched to the Post Office box because I did not know their “return without notification” policy.

Since then, I made arrangements with a dear friend and fellow gardener who will take delivery of such seasonal plants as asparagus crowns, seed potatoes, horseradish root, and garlic bulbs for me, in exchange for a few of the items.  I am grateful for her assistance.  And the purple asparagus and blue potatoes are great!

Do I miss mail service?  No.  Important items, like checks, taxes, and correspondence with clients, friends, and relatives are all conveniently done by email.  Most of the paper that fills my P.O. box is  a plethora of unsolicited catalogues... which I repeatedly call to cancel.
The only personal mail we receive there tends to be from older friends and relatives who send thoughtful cards for birthdays and Christmas, which we retrieve... eventually.  Plus seed catalogues, which I do love.  Any untreated paper is transported home to start fires in the woodstove or hot tub. 

 

Twelve Homesteader Live Gifts that Keep on Giving

In the spirit of the season, I offer a “Twelve Days of Christmas” list of LIVE gifts that keep on giving to us here, at a remote homestead. 

1  Gallon of red wiggler worms, divided among my food gardens.  They eat the kitchen scraps I toss there and rapidly improve the soil.   

2 Years' worth of seeds (many degrade after that: check with a float/sink test each year).

3 Rabbits (1 buck and 2 does).  They can be mated at about five months and over the year, fill our larder.

Winter Snow Challenges at a Remote Home

We had to dig out the hives so the bees
wouldn't suffocate

Many people who do not live in Alaska are leery of our long, cold, dark winters.  Others flock up here for winter sports, such as races for dog mushers, snowmachines, hikers, cross country skiiers, and even fat tired bicycles (!).

We tend to say that “There is no such thing as bad weather, just poor clothing.”  I respectfully disagree.  To “There is no such thing as bad weather” I would add that there is also poor construction, poor judgment,  and inadequate (or inaccessible) tools.

Variable Food Production Results at a Remote Alaska Home

Please click on this link to an article we published on survivalblog.com.

Summary: 
Raising (including hunting and fishing) food (meat, fruit, vegetables, herbs, and honey) yields highly variable results from one year to the next so we are not cavalier about a good harvest.

Here are some of our successes and failures, lessons, and mistakes.



Photo: Nasturtium vinegar.  So beautiful, and tasty, too, with a horseradish like bite. 

Freeze Up Thwarted

Freeze Up begins in fits and starts in mid-October.  I envision Old Man Winter playing tag with three lively grandchildren - Wind, Water, and Ice.  He lets them chase each other back and forth across the lake until he wearies of the game and declares Ice - his favorite grandson-  the winner so he can move along to other seasonal tasks.

First, ice forms in the still water below and behind our docks and then extends in the shallows on either side.  One night,  I awoke to a lovely, evasescent sight.  A full October moon was reflected in the inky water, framed by newly formed silver ice floes.  As soon as the moon moved, the image vanished.

The next day, my husband and I kayaked among the shifting ice.  Some stretches were gossamer thin, patched together with visible icy stitches.  Others were thick enough, even after only one day's formation, to withstand a paddle's prodding.  The windward side of these floes had developed a curb, higher than the shallow center, where gentle breezes blew laminar sheets of water over the surfaces, thickening them, millimeter by millimeter.

Alaska Ecosystem Changing

Pike from a few years ago

Our eco-system is changing in obvious ways.  Because we spend so much time outside, raising and foraging for food, cutting trees for firewood, and tending our bees and animals, I am certainly more attuned to it here than I ever was when living in, transporting by, and going to various air conditioned cocoons in Houston, TX. 

Perhaps the following examples at our home will be useful to people considering moving up here or anywhere new to them.  Advice:  call the Department of Natural Resources to confirm any long-distance assumptions about the location that interests you. 

Beautiful Frost

Termination Dust- first snow

Yesterday, September 25, was the end of summer.  Mid-afternoon, rain turned to wet, sloppy snow which then pelted the flower beds.  The long white streaks were stunning against the purple, candelabra-like anise hyssop, and blended into the tufts of feverfew below.  Sure enough, once the clouds parted, I could see the layer of termination dust on the mountains.

Termination refers to the end of warm weather.  Dust?  That is far too unattractive a term for the initial cap of snow.  One of my favorite sights here is the double image of snowy mountains reflected in the still lake, divided by a row of yellow birch in fall or bright green foliage in spring.

Frost on a fern leaf

Despite the undulations of the hillsides, the snow etches a razor sharp line.  As autumn warmth wanes, the snow will descend to ground level, where it will stay until next May.

Frozen cosmos

Today, I awoke to 28 degrees and the loveliness of a frost covered world.  The tops and edges of all plants are decorated in white.  I particularly love the delicate transformation of lacy ferns.  Flat leafed plants appear dipped in sugar.  Pink and purple cosmos seem frozen in time, as though the White Witch of Winter froze them for her winter garden.

Frost is especially delightful because it lasts for such a short time.  The moment the sun warms a patch of foliage, the icy molecules melt, returning the plants to their everyday garb.  Thus continues the autumnal decay.  The leaves and flowers will mulch and warm the soil below, bedding the nursery for the next generation.

Butchering Chickens: Slow and Effortful

For five or six years, we have raised laying hens and enjoyed them immensely, for their eggs, foraging for bugs, and alerting us to predators, as well as for their entertaining antics.  We have kept 4-6 at a time, and named them.  I have never been able to kill any or eat those that died.

However, I do like to eat chicken, so I thought it time to explore raising and butchering meat chickens.   A friend  had the same idea.  So she bought 25 Cornish cross chicks, which are the ones  most commonly raised for meat in the U.S.  We agreed that she would care for them for 6-8 weeks, we would split the cost of purchase and feed, and then my husband and I would join her for the butchering work.  

Restraining cones with occupants

Here is what I learned and what I will do in the future.

When we arrived, my friend was fuming that the development of this breed is unconscionable and she will never buy them again.  The Cornish cross is bred to gain weight so rapidly that by 6-8 weeks (6 weeks for us), they are unable to live with their unnatural weight distribution.  Their hearts, lungs, and legs cannot support them.  Many had respiratory problems, three appeared to have died of heart attacks, and one had a broken leg.  None behaved like her laying hens, which are active, social, and curious roamers.  These chickens were listless and sedentary.  They also SMELLED BAD – which is apparently a known trait.   Her daughter cried at the state of them.

We set up the butchering area outside for five of us to work:

Interview by James Wesley Rawles of Survivalblog.com

Click here to read an interview of us by James Wesley Rawles of Survivalblog.com.

 It begins with summaries of key topics, followed by specific questions, such as the biggest challenges of living as remotely as we do.

 His website includes lots of articles that may be of interest to readers of this blog.

Enjoy. 

Alaska Chicken Care

My sister provides  “Four Seasons” Hotel treatment to her pets.  My animal husbandry, on the other hand, is more rudimentary.  Maybe a "Motel 6" analogy is appropriate, or, since eventually, we kill and eat our animals, perhaps, the Bates Motel.

Son with chickens

She has a dedicated LIVING ROOM for her huge puppy, and thrones in each room for both dogs so that they can survey their domain, as well as supervise the ministrations of their human minions.  The puppy attends Doggy Day care one day a week to enhance his socialization with peers.  Her dogs take allergy medication.  I think they may have health insurance, too.

For her guinea pigs, she provides freshly laundered linens EVERY SINGLE DAY, and delivers organic cilantro, no doubt picked by happy, free-trade farm workers. 

If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want to return as one of my sister's pets.

Here:  not so much.

Three Recommended Winter Tie Downs for Ski Planes

Black Diamond Ice Screws

For remote flying in Alaska - which includes rural airports, private strips, and landing on frozen lakes and rivers, prudent pilots create means for tying down a plane to protect it from sudden wind gusts with quick release for departure.  We use the three methods described below: for tie downs elsewhere, we stow ice screws and rope in the plane. For the tie down on the frozen lake at home, we shove boards through holes in the lake, and for easy and fast departures, we park the plane's skis on slick covered planks.

Ice screw

ICE SCREWS:
In our plane, we keep a 75 foot length of heavy duty nylon rope and three ice screws, which are really designed for ice climbing.  Made of aluminum with a steel tip to shed weight but remain strong, they weigh less than one pound each.  Ours are about 8 inches long.  We paid about $55 each.

https://blog.weighmyrack.com/black-diamond-ultralight-ice-screws/

Once he has taxied to a stop, Bryan picks three points (under the U brackets on the wings for tie downs and near the tail), hand turns the screws (easily) into the snow and ice and then lashes the plane to these anchor points with the rope.

He has done this at transient parking spots, for example, at Willow Airport (in Alaska) that lack permanent tie downs, as well as off-airport locations.

plane plugged in and tethered with ice screws

They are a cheap, light, small, and easy tool for winter safety.

NOTE:  These screws are not appropriate for mud or soil.

We received this excellent tip from long time flyers, George and Dorothea Murphy, who used ice screws over decades of Alaska bush flying.

SUBMERGED BOARDS:
A  second tie down is one we use all winter at home.  Here, Bryan uses our 8 inch diameter ice auger to cut two holes through several feet of ice on either side of  where we plan to park the plane.  Into each of the open holes, we drop a board through which a thick nylon rope has been looped and knotted.  We poke and prod the board until it pops horizontally beneath the ice.  When the ice hole freezes solid, the rope is locked in place until spring.  We thread the above surface lines through a pair of orange traffic cones set over the holes, so they are easy to find after snow storms.  We learned this useful technique from Larry Schachle.  In May, the lake ice breaks up and the boards float to the surface.  We retrieve them by kayak.

Podcast: Episode-2405- Bryan and Laura Emerson on Life in a Fly In Only Location

Please click here to listen to a recent interview of us by Jack Spirko of www.thesurvivalpodcast.com.  It focuses on what it is like to live in a fly-in-only location in remote Alaska.  Enjoy!

Want to Buy a Remote Property? Think Again or Think Ahead

We routinely hear from friends or colleagues who say that “one of these days... I too will move out to the boonies.” Are you sure that is what you want to do? Developing a remote property is challenging and perhaps that is good, because living there is too and it is not for everyone. In fact, it may appeal to one family member immensely and to another not at all. Below are seven suggestions based on our experience buying and clearing woodsy land for a cabin and various outbuildings in the middle of Alaska, 42 miles from the nearest road.  However, several of the points are also valid even for people who decide to move across the country to a condo in Boca Raton.

In general, the suggestions are to take stock of what you do and don't know about yourself (and your spouse), the land, and the people in the targeted area before you commit to move long distance to an isolated property.

16x24x2 + porches

1. SPOUSAL COMMUNICATION:
   
   a) Do not buy the property before your spouse sees it. He/She will never let you forget it.
   b) If you make the mistake #1, make sure that the property looks REALLY GOOD when you take your spouse to see it. Do not, as in our case, take your Texan wife up to Alaska in her little Land's End jacket when it is 30 below zero and windy and act all enthused about walking around the property in snow shoes. (When my father-in-law showed his wife his proud, rural purchase, the appealing log cabin was obscured by several rusted cars up on blocks and empty barrels of diesel). I promise you, your spouse will never let you forget that first impression, either.
   
   

2.  LEARN ABOUT THE LAND AND WEATHER before you build, garden or buy virtually anything.

a) If circumstances allow, visit the property in different seasons before committing AND TALK TO LOCALS. Ideally, rent a property in the vicinity first. This information absolutely will save you money, time, and regrets. Before even considering the obvious importance of seasonal variations for future buildings, gardens, landscaping, clothes, and activities  is the relevance of allergies!  If you have never lived in the region you are now contemplating, you need to find out first if you are allergic to anything there or if you will be miserable at certain times of year.  In Alaska, for example, the trees bud out so quickly (in Fairbanks, literally overnight) that the pollen count is astronomical during that period, but it is brief.  My sister's dogs are on allergy medications in Phoenix, AZ (!!!) 

Relative to more mundane building placement possibilities, are assessments of where does the sun rise and set at various times of year?   From which directions are the prevailing winds (and rain and snow)? (See websites such as www.suncalc.net).   Such data will impact your desired activities,  your placement and sizes of porches and windows, the angle of your roofs, positions of gardens, trees to keep, and many other decisions. Our location is protected by the ridge behind us, but the hunting cabin at the end of this lake had to have the roof tied down with pulleys to the ground because hurricane force winds tunneled up between the ridge and the mountains!  

Some places that are particularly beautiful have tortuous rainy seasons.  If that was the time of year you most wanted to be there, think again or ask early about adding on huge porches that can function as outdoor rooms.  Add grow lights for plants, etc. Long rainy or dark seasons can be depressing for people.  Research precipitation by month. Plan ahead.    

Favorite Remote Cabin Purchases under $50

 Favorite Purchases under $50 for our Remote Home

 

(no compensation for any of the following testimonials) 

Living far from any store means that any rural or remote property owner relies on supplies on hand.  Some of our least expensive purchases have been worth their weight in gold because we use them over and over, or in a variety of ways, or they specialize in increasing our safety or comfort in a way that no other item can do as well.

IceTrekkers.com cleats

I have purposely NOT included obviously important items, like matches or an axe, that anyone should know.   

 

 Here, I just wanted to illuminate some of the “unsung” products that we rely on to great advantage in the categories of attire, home, yard, tools, and communications devices.  Perhaps this list will be of interest to readers considering a move to a rural location, particularly in a four season locale.

 

I encourage readers to respond with their own "best"purchase lists for various eco-systems and climates.

Windsock Value in an Era of GPS? Very, Sort of, Sometimes.

Our windsock in front of cabin and plane

A contemporary pilot, outfitted with GPS and other equipment, might understandably wonder why a simple, old fashioned airport windsock is still useful.  Who cares?   Bush pilots, among others. 

For one thing, even GPS systems rarely show ground speed at destination.  For another, ours conks out below about +10 degrees on winter flights in our cold Piper PA-20.

The first time this happened, my husband stuffed the tablet between his body and his quilted Carharrts to warm up, but it still did not turn on for 20 minutes, which happened to be the duration of the flight from the nearest airport to our home.  Fortunately, this was a familiar route.  But the mountainous terrain, rivers, glaciers, woods, and bogs result in very different wind, ice, snow, and temperature over very few miles, here.  It is not safe to presume a condition at another location.  The bright orange windsock next to a runway is, therefore, a welcome source of at least one piece of critical information.

Remote Alaska Healthcare

Among the top questions people ask us about living on our own in the Alaska Bush are,

“What do you do for medical care? What would you do in an emergency?”  These are insightful inquiries, especially since four months a year there is NO transportation to/from our cabin, except, when feasible, by an emergency helicopter.

Obviously, we can't take care of every awful scenario, but we have endeavored to assess health risks here and mitigate them where we can.  I imagine that our approach might be prudent for any home, anywhere, especially since national statistics indicate that about 30% of all emergency room visits are the results of injuries, https://www.nsc.org/home-safety/tools-resources/odds-of-dying/emergency-room-visits, particularly falls. For us, I imagine that dirty cuts by power and passive tools could be a problem, and possibly burns and lung issues, too, since we heat the house and hot tub with wood fires every day.

Alaska Earthquake Effects at Remote Cabin

Alaska is VERY seismically active.  At our place, we feel the earth shudder several times a year.  On November 30, South Central Alaska suffered a 7.2 earthquake, followed, in the ensuing month, by more than 6000 aftershocks, some of which were strong enough (above 5.0) to cause additional damage. 

Ceiling earthquake damage

At the time, we were out of state, so we nervously contacted friends in Anchorage and the Mat-Su Valley – on either side of the epicenter – to see how they fared.  One man said that everything on any shelf, wall, or mantle came crashing down, and his house is now riddled with cracks.  He was particularly devastated that his sons’ clay mementos, like their hospital footprints, had been smashed to smithereens.  A woman lost only one wine glass… and an entire 30 gallon aquarium (on carpet, of course!).  An acquaintance said that her home was fine but that her father’s house was totaled and he barely escaped when his two story stone fireplace buckled, smothering  the couch on which he had just been seated, seconds before.   The closest school to us – some 20 miles by air – is closed for the rest of the year.