I have a history with Polebridge, Montana.
It traces back over 47 years to when I was a studly American male of 21, bent on adventure. After a decades-long absence, I returned four years ago and visited this unusual off-grid outpost three times during my week’s stay in the Glacier Park area.
A couple of months after landing back in Ozarkansas, I penned a lengthy post about Polebridge — part history, part observation, part reflection. Among other things, I said this:
“…[L]ife in Polebridge is simple. It favors people who arrive with what they need rather than those who come there expecting something. That quality is reflected in the folks who make it their home.”
That crystallizes not only one particular place, but the very core of a life worth living.
This morning, while drinking coffee and cruising Facebook, this showed up in my feed:
Against a backdrop of larch ablaze with autumn color, the Merc announced that it’s closing for the season. Fewer than ten tough and resourceful souls will winter there.
They’ll reopen in April, just as they have 111 times before.
Between now and then, those folks will face challenges greater than anything we’ll experience in Ozarkansas, and yet I feel a certain kinship. It goes beyond specific circumstances of weather or isolation — it’s mindset, attitude, resolve.
Liberty.
In-season or off-season, there’s no entitlement in Polebridge. There’s nothing soft about intentionally living outside the bounds of mainstream society. From afar, it might seem like a dreamscape, but there’s a whole lot more workin’ than dreamin’ goin’ on.
And that’s why Polebridge thrives.
I connect with the place because it’s a living metaphor for a functional human existence — bring what you have, need nothing, expect nothing, and reap the rewards it offers. It represents the attitude I strive to carry into each day.
The big rounds from the trunk of the roadside oak still need splitting, but I also had several largish jumbles of bucked limbs and branches I wanted to stack for seasoning. At least I had the foresight to make my piles on pallets, so the wood hasn’t been sitting on the ground rotting since I brought it in.
I went through the same drill this morning that I had last week — clear a spot and level it, bring over a fresh pallet and level that, and then start stacking.
Though I didn’t finish transferring all of the wood, I made a respectable dent in the job. Maybe 75% done.
The work didn’t go nearly as fast as, say, stacking splits. This was almost all branch wood — never uniform in shape or of consistent size, rarely straight. Being committed to not wasting potential kindling and coaling wood means embracing the suck of putting it up.
That (pictured, above) is what the beginnings of a tidy, stable stack of branch wood looks like — hell’s own Jenga. It may not be pretty, but it all burns.
I adopted this method over 40 years ago, when I first heated my home with wood. It worked for me then, and it works for me now. Sure, it’s more time-consuming, but I accept the process for what it is.
I ‘ve pushed myself pretty hard lately. The first round of sub-freezing temperatures, though brief, has taken a toll on my body, too, as it tends to do every year. That’s a roundabout way of saying that I’ve been feeling a little under the weather the last few days.
The work continues, naturally, but I’ve taken more time than usual for R&R. For me, that means playing indoors with Smudge, writing, reading, watching videos that make me smarter, and general rest.
As for video content, I picked up an unexpected interest in a couple of luthiers — people who make and repair stringed instruments, in this case guitars. Although I play (or have played), I don’t plan to take up the craft here in my golden years. I simply find it fascinating.
The first channel to hold my attention was Driftwood Guitars in Freeport, Florida. Chris Alvarado, along with assistant Matt Miller, build stunning and exotic guitars that can sell for more than my Silverado cost new. Brilliant craftsmanship, presented well and entertaining to watch.
The other is twoodfrd out of Hamilton, Ontario. Ted Woodford has been repairing (and occasionally building) stringed instruments for over 35 years. He does a great job of showing and explaining what he’s doing, and he’s overall a wicked-smart guy. (More than just luthiery, I mean.)
Notably, Woodford’s off-beat sense of humor, biting wit and curmudgeonly nature are an acquired taste. I’ve acquired it.
In a video I watched last weekend, Ted talked about the patience and intense concentration required to do what he does, often involving rare and mind-numbingly valuable instruments. Because each of us has good days and not-so-good days, he said that first-thing every morning he plays Internet chess with an AI ‘bot, to gauge how sharp he can expect to be that day.
I get it. This blog fills a similar role for me.
Anyway, if you play guitar (acoustic or electric), or if you have a passing interest in craft in general or luthiery in particular, I can recommend both of these YouTube channels.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable