With the temporary meter pole in place and the grading around it complete, our next step was to send photos of the work to the electric utility’s engineer. I composed that e-mail last night, attaching a shot of the pole, plus the cleared right-of-way and the access ramp we created for the truck that’ll set the transformer pole.
I’ll be honest — none of the images showed the RV (or even hinted that it’s here). When I met with the engineer in May, he was decidedly unreceptive to any discussion of bringing a camper onto the site, the implication being that it made this a temporary residence, and the power company doesn’t run electric to temporary residences.
Once he got this latest e-mail, I expected to hear back sometime this week about scheduling an inspection. Instead, just after 6:30am today I received this reply:
“Ok, I will release your job to construction. They will have up to 15 working days to complete the job. It will be done on or before 8/14/23.”
That means we’re three weeks (or less) from putting electric to the fifth-wheel and retiring the generator to emergencies and outages. No more thrice-weekly gas runs. We’ll use propane only for the stove and (when the time comes) the furnace. Our power costs will drop by 75% and we’ll be able to run both air conditioners at the same time.
Electric also means that we’ll be able to equip our well with a pump, but for now we’ll be hauling water until our finances can accommodate that project.
The experience of living mostly off-grid has been invaluable. It’s taught us lessons that’ll continue to pay dividends as our American Life on The Mountain takes shape.
We still have a long way to go.
In related news, sometime between Thursday and the end of next week, our site contractor will be here to prepare the pad where our house eventually will go — fill, gravel and grading. Though that may seem a bit premature, we struck a deal for work and materials in partial return for the house kit we won’t be using. Now’s the time, as good as any.
Deb came along with me on my Monday errands this morning — drop off trash, pick up mail, buy gas. We stopped at Dollar General for soap and, on a whim, we hit a pop-up yard sale in a dirt parking lot along the side of the road.
Between the transfer station and the post office, spontaneously I turned down the narrow road leading to The Fred. We lingered awhile along the north bank of Crooked Creek near Kelly’s Slab.
The creek is low but flowing strong. The elderberry bushes are loaded.
In Flippin later, and once we’d filled our gas cans ($3.099), we enjoyed our first meal at Gray’s Diner. (The restaurant’s slogan: “We’re Flippin Good!”) Each of us had a traditional Southern breakfast — eggs, hash browns, toast and bacon or sausage. Not gut-busting portions, but tasty.
We’d finished eating when Deb observed that the whole time we’d been there, we hadn’t given a second thought to our Silverado parked outside — two big Amazon boxes and a couple of cans of gas in the open bed, and an unlocked toolbox. We couldn’t imagine doing such a thing in the world we came from, but now it’s common as can be.
That’s worth noting, I think.
Three years ago today, life changed. Deb, Scout, Dipstick and I took our “maiden voyage” in the Bumper Bunker — three days and two nights at a KOA in the Hocking Hills.
There’s no way we could’ve imagined (much less predicted) where the path would lead. I’m pretty sure that if someone had told us that within two years we’d be chucking everything for a woodsy mountain in The Ozarks, we would’ve laughed our asses off. Still, even then we knew that we were charting a new course. We had a strong sense that our life would never be the same again.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB