Remote living in Alaska - How Long?

Now that we are in our early 60's, friends and colleagues ask us more often “what will you do when you are older?”  

Cutting dead Spruce

This is a fair question for anybody, in any location.  In our case, we live a physically active life in which our health determines the amount of firewood and food we produce, as well as things like a medical license to fly to and from home or the stamina to drive a snowmachine 7.5 hours cross country to retrieve a sled load of supplies.

Fortunately, we are both in fine health: no medicines, no chronic or acute ailments, but I don't take this for granted.  Many people we know in their 50's and 60's take daily pills for pain, anxiety, depression, shots for arthritis, and have undertaken surgery for joints, ligaments, eyes, and spine.  The only person I know older than me taking NO medicines is my 78 year old aunt, who controlled incipient diabetes with diet, exercise, and clearly, lots of will power.  We realize that unexpected health problems derail many people's best laid plans.

So I demur when I hear from readers who say that they plan to move up to Alaska and live like us “when they retire” or when people start a physically challenging business at age 60, or even buy a bigger home than they had when they raised kids.  I hope that those decisions work out.    

Our approach to “aging in place” , such as it is, is to contemplate what can we do NOW to reduce effort when we are 70 or older.  What tools, equipment, construction, plantings and time commitments CAUSE or SAVE wear and tear on aging people, structures, and machines?  We want to SHED the former.  EMBRACE the latter.   

Some of this is as simple as doing a cost/benefit analysis, just as we do in business.  “Do we want to do this task by hand, by ourselves, or with tools or with the help of other people?  Or is xxx a bad idea altogether?”  

Hauling supplies

My husband has been a serial entrepreneur who has started some businesses that worked for decades and others that “seemed like a good idea at the time” only to turn out to be far more time consuming and far less lucrative than he anticipated.  He kissed that time and money goodbye and moved onto other things.  Life is like that, too. There are some things we have done already that will yield GREAT benefits in the future (like planting perennial food crops and building with steep, snow shedding roofs).  Other decisions or lack of attention caused problems or delayed solutions (like (a) not paying attention to a builder who constructed a plywood food shed flat on the ground, without treated lumber or elevated footings.  (b) not planting fruit trees sooner and protecting them better). 

 

 Below are some of the aspects of living remotely that are likely to get harder as we get older, and for which we either have or have not yet figured out alternatives to enjoy living out here longer.  

WINTER CHORES:  Shoveling, snowmachining, and flying

Roof raking

I can understand why many northerners flee south, part time or full time when they reach a certain age.  Winter chores are tougher than most summer ones.  

Shoveling:  We have 9 buildings.  The main ones all have 45 degree roofs that shed snow easily.  No problem.    The 33 degree roofs need more attention, especially after wet snow or sleet which can build up to a dangerously heavy load.  Reaching overhead to shovel off roofs is exhausting to me NOW!   I pity people with flat roofs (or more roof space) in cold climates.  For the future, I wonder if we might steepen the shallower roofs (what an expensive “do-over”) or if we can figure out easier ways to access the tops of the roofs.  So far, we have experimented with rope as a sort of windshield wiper of light roof snow.  Feasible.  We also plan to screw in  bolts and a chain to hold a ladder in place on the high side of shallow roofs, to push off snow with a snow rake.

Shoveling out the fire pit

Snowshoeing and snowmachining:  Because the snowmachines we bought (Bearcat 660) have narrow skis and low bellies, they tend to tip over or get stuck in deep, soft snow, especially on angled terrain but are fine on firm snow.  Therefore, we have to pat out the paths we want in snowshoes after every deep snowfall.  This may be good exercise now, but I don't want to have to do this to walk to the outhouse and chicken coop  all winter when I am 70.   I would like to buy a snowmachine better suited to the grooming we need – either riding high and light or plowing through soft snow.   

Supply Runs:   Even in cities, winter driving hazards can be challenging as people age.  We are alert to our transportation issues, too.  Winter maintenance of the plane involves snowmachine grooming (and regrooming after each snowfall) a landing strip on the lake ice, sweeping snow off the wings and fuselage all winter, preheating the plane before departure, and tying and covering the plane on return.  (in short winter daylight).  Shopping by snowmachine, across country and two rivers, the route is 42 miles and 3.25 hours one way, on short, cold days in January – to about the first week of March, when the rivers are safely frozen and the snow route across bogs and lakes is firm and not slushy or soft.  Winter temperatures and transportation wear down both machine parts and people.    

Applying our cost/benefit calculations, we analyzed whether to buy a beefier snowmachine (about $12,000) or hire a professional snowmachine hauler to deliver supplies (that we have pre-ordered and pre-positioned for him) once or twice each winter.  The latter won.  Roger's machine is much more powerful than ours and can haul 2 sleds, carrying 3-4 times as much as Bryan can haul on one long day's trip.  So this saves time, gasoline, wear and tear on the machine and my husband, so he can spend his time on other endeavors (like shoveling!).  I am sure that our machine would have died an ignoble death somewhere along the route by now, rather than limping along on local projects.  Heck, we know of two people with strong and expensive machines that had to buy new transmissions two winters ago because of terrible (icy hard?) conditions.   

Flying:  Another cost/benefit analysis resulted in leaving our plane in town with our airplane mechanic during the winter.  If we need only one air taxi trip, this decision is cheaper than changing out the undercarriage from floats to skis and back again.  If we need two trips, it is about break even.  On the one hand we lose the spontaneity of flight on spectacularly clear winter days.  On the other, we shed all the work and worry that accompanies an unhangared plane and landing strip on an icy lake during and after storms of wind, snow, and sleet in Alaska. 

SUMMER CHORES:

Gardening:  Gardening is emotionally and physically satisfying but the first several days of constant bending over to transplant hundreds of seedlings is getting uncomfortable now.  Five gallon buckets of water hauled here and there will start to feel heavier and heavier, as will stringing together five hoses from lake pump uphill to the back gardens once or twice a week.  At the end of the season, dragging heavy tarp loads of fallen birch leaves to mulch each garden and fruit tree/bush could become burdensome.  I can envision hiring seasonal help twice a year to help with beginning and end of season tasks for gardening as well as fuel production (below).  We have done a good job of planting many low maintenance edible perennials (like berries, apple trees and cherry bushes, mint, horseradish, rhubarb, sorrel, and asparagus).  Also, our raised bed gardens will keep getting higher as we add to the soil.  I plan to add a triangular seat/table on the corner of each raised bed for resting tools... or me.  We also placed 50 gallon water drums close to each garden.  I sewed a fabric bag that hangs over my neck to hold a plastic bin for berry collection, so I can use both hands and not have to bend down to a bowl on the ground.  Each year we figure out little improvements like these.  I find this sort of practical creativity fun to think about.    

Tree cutting:  Bryan labors throughout the year cutting down trees, limbing and bucking them, lifting them in and out of the deep ATV trailer (or I do that on the lower and open sided winter sled), splitting them, and filling the wood corral with about 11 cords of logs.  Chainsaws have a very uneven weight distribution. The work inordinately impacts one's non-dominant shoulder/back.  Bryan's left shoulder tends to stay sore for several months in the autumn, so that is unsustainable.   This year, he decided to stop after one tank of gas.  Next year, he is going to use my little, lighter 20 inch chain saw for limbing.  Both should save his shoulder.  In the future, it might be useful to hire short term help.  Unskilled labor could load and unload the ATV at the wood splitter. Skilled help could cull the trees.   Still there is a lot that has to happen before cutting, like paths to trees and culling the surrounding devil's club.  I am not sure what we will do about that in our dotage, but we are becoming more attentive to placing our winter snowmachine paths near trees we plan to cut. 

Tower Climb

High work:  I feel nervous when Bryan climbs up to our roof tops on ladders that I am supporting as best I can on uneven terrain at the base.  He wears rapeling gear to climb the 120 foot power tower to adjust antennae and change out dated equipment, but surely there will be some point when such tasks are better handed off to someone more agile.  For this spring, I plan to (have Bryan) attach eye bolts on the logs below the roof wide enough to “enclose” the ladder with a length of chain for his spring cleaning of the chimney.  

As my father says (he may be quoting Bette Davis), “Aging is not for sissies.”  I hope that we can prepare ourselves with prudence and creativity for the challenges that will befall us.   I know that we will still be suprised.  But at least I hope that we will not chastise ourselves for ignoring something obvious that we could indeed plan for.