The Mountain is, to us, an intensely private place. We didn’t come here to throw parties or to entertain. We moved to The Mountain for what it is, and we have no intention of dragging the world with us and turning it into something it’s not.
Very few people know exactly where we are. We mean to keep it that way.
There will be exceptions, of course. Not long before we hauled the RV up here, a childhood friend and her husband visited. Family was here for a few days last weekend. And yesterday Deb and I met an old friend and her beau at Blacksheep BBQ, and afterward we came up to the homesite.
Great chemistry — the best of times.
The couple, from the Upper Midwest and visiting Ozarkansas for the first time, were delighted with our little piece of heaven. We sat outside the trailer and talked for hours.
Such moments will be rare. These, yesterday, were wonderful.
At the midpoint now of our second week of living full-time on The Mountain, naturally we’re experiencing a range of conditions and situations. Thursday evening was notable for rain, at times torrential. It tested the rig and exposed a few flaws in our setup.
Water collected on the pop-up canopy sheltering the generator and collapsed a section of the frame. Nothing underneath suffered damage (or even got wet). The canopy still is usable, though I expect it’ll be prone now to holding water in the same spot.
This morning I tried to effect repairs. Time will tell if what I did helped.
As for the site itself, being here is far more instructive, obviously, than showing up hours after the rain stops or the next day. Yesterday’s downpours produced significant runoff in places. For example, we’ll need to keep an eye on the still-bare-dirt area where the leach field is.
The wet conditions also revealed interesting differences in how well the developed areas of the homesite handle heavy rain — rock-solid where the surface had been rolled or tracked, disturbingly soft underfoot where only a backhoe was used. That’s useful information as we plan future work.
Unsettled weather comes with the benefit of cooler temperatures, especially welcome in the evenings. We’ve turned off the AC early the last couple of days, switching the generator over to “eco mode,” which saves gas. As a result, we’re already a half-day ahead on our supply.
After my morning coffee today, I hauled trash to the transfer station, picked up mail at the post office and dropped by the hardware for a new Sonotube®. (The one we had got wet last night and disintegrated to the point of being useless.)
My timing was perfect — I rolled up The Mountain right behind our backhoe guy, there to plant the tube for our temporary meter pole. He unloaded his equipment, I set the tube in place and he got to work mounding clay around it.
Within five minutes, he cut a front tire. Work stopped. He fetched a breaker bar to remove the wheel.
The breaker bar shattered on the first lug nut. He grabbed a spare bar from his truck, got the wheel off and left for a local tire shop (and probably lunch and a nap).
This, my friends, is why impatience is pointless. It’s why we no longer say “soon.” And it’s why we don’t waste time speculating about stuff like “finished” and “done.”
I moved a chair into the shade and parked my ass in it. I didn’t have to fill a water barrel today and we don’t need gas right now. The next two days we’ll be occupied with emptying the shed for its move on Monday, so this is a good day for me to recharge.
I puttered a little. Always lots of small, low-effort things to be done.
Deb did laundry.
Our backhoe guy returned mid-afternoon with a repaired tire. He reinstalled the wheel, shaded by a small canopy I’d set up for him. (I mean, I can’t do much, but I could do that.) He resumed moving clay, while I spotted and stabilized the tube. We were racing inbound rain.
We lost.
We did, however, manage to get the tube set. That clay will settle a bit, and once it does he’ll be back to pile more around the tube and, ultimately, the temporary meter pole.
For now, I’ve covered the exposed (top) end of the Sonotube with a tarp, weighted down with rocks, hoping to block the rain and keep this one from unraveling like the last one did. When the weather breaks we’ll send a photo to our electrical contractor, signaling him that we’re ready (we think) for the pole he’s built.
So no, we’re not there quite yet, but this was a step toward bringing electric onto our homesite. We’ve learned to take things as they come and take ’em one at a time.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB