I woke up this morning much like every other morning. 10 minutes before the alarm clock. Another 10 minutes of sleep robbed from me.

I stumble into the kitchen to make the morning coffee and look out the widow that’s over the sink. There she is. Like every morning for the past 2 years Annabel is standing by the water trough staring at me. I have no idea why but she starts her day off the same way. She stares at me for a few minutes, moo’s and then walks off to the south west corner of the pasture. That side just happens to meet up with my neighbor’s horse pasture and where my neighbor dumps her leftover hay when she refills her bails for the horses. Annabel will wait patently for her morning leftovers and then she wanders the pasture. When I get home she meanders over to see if I have a treat for her and then she goes back to her spot next to the horses. I’m not sure if this is social hour but it is a routine for her.

I thought to myself how sad it must be to have your day so repetitive, so scheduled. I then walked to the chickens and threw them some scratch. Went into the house and started supper. The same things I do everyday. So much so it is as if I’m on autopilot.

While at the sink peeling potatoes I looked out to see Annabel playing with the goats. Kinda like a parent playing with their kids. It seems me and Annabel have more in common than I had ever thought. Our biggest difference is the size of our pasture. I run from one end of mine to the other. I have a routine similar to hers and find myself sharing the same simple pleasures of a good meal, a quiet sunset and time with loved ones. Perhaps Annabel’s day isn’t so sad. After all what else do I need but these simple things?

My kids would tell you plenty they need. The latest Youtube video sensation, a new game for the play station or texting their friends. The list is almost endless for them just as it was when I was a child.

It took many years for me to understand that none of these things that seemed so important could replace the beauty and simplicity of the views from my porch. Watching the last of the leaves blow off the black walnut tree. Seeing the dog chasing a chicken around the side of the house, then watching the rooster chase the dog back around to the other side. The shadow of the barn slowly working its way across the field until it fades into the darkness of the night. Kids chasing fireflies and watching the same spider build its web for the 100th time this summer. All the things I used to be too young to care about and too busy to be concerned for are now some of my favorite things and most precious memories.

After spending the first half of my life rushing through it I think I’ll spend the last half sitting on my porch enjoying it.

Thanks BWH for helping me achieve my goal.

Aaron Roots and family
Warrensburg, Missouri

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Dear Ms. Wolfe,

Thank you for writing your wonderful article Learning To Love The High Desert in this month’s issue of Backwoods Home Magazine (Issue #120). Good work – and welcome to the only culture on Earth that you can join simply by proving that you can join it! You are now a Desert Rat, and there really is no going back. Be warned: even if you leave physically, you will never be able to leave in spirit. You will pine in your soul for the vast, lonely spaces of the High Desert until, like an irresistible magnet, it draws you back into its depths.

There are a few things you should know, however. Perhaps you already know them. I rather think you do. If not, please allow me the presumptuousness of being the one to tell you about them, as certain concepts will be of great comfort to you in your new life as a Desert Rat.

In the desert you really can put lipstick on a pig. By which I mean a doublewide doesn’t have to stay a doublewide for very long. Mine started out as a battered castoff that I bought for $1500 in Reno, then had moved to my ranch for another $1000. I gutted it, painted it, re-floored it, and built a mudroom/ porch along the front of it. I added a wood-burning stove, a swamp cooler, spinning vents, and propane heating (well, propane everything, to be honest). Now my wife, child, and our various pets live quite comfortably inside. It’s truly ours in every way, and I love it infinitely more than the home we used to have in San Francisco.

Don’t sweat not having a “stick home.” You can always do the same.

Off-grid power is a journey, not a destination. You will go though “phases” with your off-grid power project as you experiment with various things. It’s a never-ending attempt to figure out what works for you which changes as new technology comes along or you scrape together more cash. I use a combination of solar panels, windmills, and generators myself. My inverter/battery bank setup is a pretty simple one… too simple, to be honest. So that will probably be the next stop of my journey: buying/begging/trading for a more sophisticated system. You folks will go through your own phases as well.

A practical suggestion: new tech makes old tech a lot cheaper. My three Air-X windmills are pretty lame when compared to the nifty new wind spires that are now on the market. They were also one tenth of the price, and work quite well.

The winter will tell you a lot. Actually, it will tell you whether or not you are truly a Desert Rat. A true Desert Rat takes perverse pleasure in the Siberia-like winters of the Inner Mountain West. It separates the men from the boys and the women from the girls. It makes the tourists go away. It cleanses the dusty land. It is starkly, harshly beautiful as well.

It also freezes pipes and 55-gallon drums solid. So consider moving the barrels from that picture on page 81 inside for the winter and make sure your pipes are buried as far down as possible. Or you could do what we do: use easily defrosted hoses instead of pipes. And, while we’re on the subject of water, consider a filtration system for your well instead of hauling water in. A simple but effective one can be made out a 55-gallon drum, clean sand, and crushed charcoal.

You are now truly free. The very lines that provided your old home with power were also designed to hold you down. Living in the desert can be a delightful exercise in severing the lines that tie you to The System (Any system, really. Take your pick.). Your fellow citizens can be easily controlled by their dependency on the power grid, sewer system, water lines, grocery stores, and even gun stores. Your decision to walk away from these things and to recreate the basic structures of society on your own is the only revolution that is now genuinely practical: if the collective cannot control the means of distribution to the individual, the collective cannot control the individual.

Of course, like off-grid power this is a journey, not a destination.

In conclusion, I hope you enjoy your new lifestyle. I know I enjoy mine, and do not miss my old life as a San Franciscan. If you give the desert a chance you will not miss Oregon (though you may miss friends and family, of course). And remember this always: the lower the population density, the greater the personal freedom.

Sincerely,

Jason S. Walters

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Claire,

Great article. I also ended up with a electric bike and I’m loving it.

I’m currently, like you, modifying it to make it better. I have to get to work 15 miles away and have band pratice 40 miles away. Walking it is not really an option. It was just cool seeing someone appreciate the way the electric bike skates around the system a bit :)

No response necessary…enjoy your articles. You think in a very similar way as myself!

Jeff in Upstate NY

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