Please enjoy this special treat: a guest blog entry from my lovely girlfriend, Jill :)
Since Josh moved into the tipi I have only spent a night or so there, never staying more than one night at a time. Last week I finally got my chance to stay for almost an entire week! I arrived on Tuesday night and didn’t leave until Monday morning.
As Josh has described, life in the tipi is wonderful. It’s simple and relaxed and really does bring you closer to nature. Never have I experienced so vividly the sounds of nature: the sound of rain hitting the canvas of the tipi, the sounds of the wind rushing by, the sounds of roosters starting their calls at 4 am and not stopping ‘til 6pm, the sounds of endless geese migrating somewhere (it certainly did not appear to be south…), and of course the nonstop moans of nearby cows who sounded as though they were being tortured or mutilated or plagued by mad cow disease.
There are also a few perks to living in the tipi that Josh has failed to mention. The first is all-natural hair gel. I discovered this one night as I lay in bed (well something very similar to a bed) and suddenly I felt a little tickle in my hair. I instinctively whacked my head only to find that I had squished a golf ball-sized bug into my hair line (it MAY have been a bit smaller, but I was sleepy so it’s hard to say). This left a thick, sort of gel-like substance in my hair, giving me a nice cowlick, something I imagine looked similar to Cameron Diaz’s hair in There’s Something About Mary. The other little perk is something I experienced early one morning. As I squatted down towards the cold ground to relieve myself, I found myself immersed in a cloud of steam as my warm urine hit the frozen ground. Who knew living in a tipi meant you got your own personal sauna every morning!
But in all honesty living in the tipi is superb. It forces you out of your normal indoor living habits. No longer can you sit on your computer or cell phone for prolonged periods of time-they will die, there is no cable to be watched, you can’t waste precious energy by taking 30 minute-long, scolding hot showers (one of my favorite pastimes I will admit), and no more making a quick meal in the microwave. Preparing meals, washing dishes, reading a book are all more comfortably done outside beneath the sun rather than indoors. And of course, practicing your dance moves at 8pm is an activity best done outside the tipi, under the immense, star-filled sky.
-guest blogger, Jill Wagner
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Testing, 123, testing
"I'm surprised that thing is still standing, those Indians really knew what they were doing." Those were the words of my neighbor, greeting me as I returned from a weekend away from the tipi. It appears the tipi faced its first major test this weekend, and passed with flying colors. There was trash scattered about, a few inches of water (which was presumably snow at one point) in the pots and pans I had left outside, and my canvas door had been ripped away from the opening of the tipi and twisted multiple times around the wooden dowels, the force of the wind causing the rope to rip right through the canvas.
But the tipi its self looked as if nothing had happened. The bricks had blown off of my tarp where I am storing my bike and kayak, but the tipi remained stoic and strong. Not a single stake was pulled from the ground, not a single pole had been shifted. There was about 2 gallons of water collect in my make shift Ozan waiting to be drained. The design was improvised after having earlier trouble with leakage. I cut out a 6 foot circle from a painters drop cloth and tied it to the poles inside the tipi, about 8 feet in the air, to create a sort of inner roof, that would catch any water that might come through the opening at the top. I wasn't sure if it would hold up in a big storm, sure enough it did.
So the tipi has been test, but I haven't. I'm sitting in the tipi, in my sleeping bag, wearing my winter coat and hat, listening to the snow fall onto the canvas, stumbling to find the right keys as my fingers are half frozen. My test will come soon enough. What's it like to live in a tipi in the Montana winter? I'll let you know.
But the tipi its self looked as if nothing had happened. The bricks had blown off of my tarp where I am storing my bike and kayak, but the tipi remained stoic and strong. Not a single stake was pulled from the ground, not a single pole had been shifted. There was about 2 gallons of water collect in my make shift Ozan waiting to be drained. The design was improvised after having earlier trouble with leakage. I cut out a 6 foot circle from a painters drop cloth and tied it to the poles inside the tipi, about 8 feet in the air, to create a sort of inner roof, that would catch any water that might come through the opening at the top. I wasn't sure if it would hold up in a big storm, sure enough it did.
So the tipi has been test, but I haven't. I'm sitting in the tipi, in my sleeping bag, wearing my winter coat and hat, listening to the snow fall onto the canvas, stumbling to find the right keys as my fingers are half frozen. My test will come soon enough. What's it like to live in a tipi in the Montana winter? I'll let you know.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Cool, Clear skies.
Well, today was the first official day of fall in the northern hemisphere and it has been accompanied by the first two mornings of frost in Montana. I've woken up to frost and 30 degree temps the past two days. It hasn't caused any problems as far as sleeping at night. I haven't had any trouble staying warm. It is harder waking up in the morning. The quickly vanishing sunlight and the lower mercury make for a situation better faced from the inside of a sleeping bag. I'm a bit disorganized at the moment, which makes adjustments more difficult to make. I have been doing some cleaning of the tipi and thinning out my things but it's a bit of a clutter. I just need to figure out a system that allows me to adapt to the cold weather. I need to get all of my stuff ready in the evening, while it is still daylight, so I can wake up in the morning, before the sun has filtered into the tipi, and leave for work without delay.
One thing that has been nice is sleeping outside in the cold weather. The great thing about living in a tipi is that you don't forget about the outdoors when the weather turns coold. It's right there. If I were living in a house I wouldn't think to forgo the warmth and comfort of my bed and sleep on my lawn, but since I'm in a tipi, I'm already sleeping on the lawn. I might as well go outside where I can look up at the stars. There's something special about sleeping under the stars in sub-freezing conditions. The air and sky have a sterile, fresh, clean look and feel. The stars are brighter and crisper. Your breath hovers in a cloud then evaporates.
One thing that has been nice is sleeping outside in the cold weather. The great thing about living in a tipi is that you don't forget about the outdoors when the weather turns coold. It's right there. If I were living in a house I wouldn't think to forgo the warmth and comfort of my bed and sleep on my lawn, but since I'm in a tipi, I'm already sleeping on the lawn. I might as well go outside where I can look up at the stars. There's something special about sleeping under the stars in sub-freezing conditions. The air and sky have a sterile, fresh, clean look and feel. The stars are brighter and crisper. Your breath hovers in a cloud then evaporates.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Changes
I've been away from the tipi for a few days, actually, I've been away for an entire week. I hadn't realized it was that long until I thought about it this afternoon. Crouching down to enter the A-frame door of my humble abode I found everything to be the way I left it. The door was open, but that happens sometimes. It could have been the wind that swayed the rock enough to un-trap the string and allow the door to swing open (yes, my security system is a canvas door with strings attached to both sides and rocks to hold the strings in place), it could have been shadow letting himself in for an evening snack. Other than that, things were the same, the grill was still over the fire, the pots and pans were still on the top shelf. My swimming trunks were still dangling from the fence where I left them after my shower (oops)
It's just like living in a house; things stay where you leave them, weather you're gone for a day or a week. That's not to say everything stays how you leave it. I've notice big changes in fact. As I walked the short dirt path through the tall grass from my car to my tipi I noticed a reduction. The number of grasshoppers that chatter and jump has declined rapidly. The second change I noticed when I was doing some cleaning and purging of things around the tipi and looked up at the sun to find it already gone at 7:30, and now I lay, in the dark, at 8:30 typing this message slowly while using the light of my laptop screen to find those unfamiliar punctuation marks. Just one week ago I would have had 15 more minutes of light!
It's hard to fathom how things can change so quickly, yet it happens every year, it's just that usually I wake up one morning and realize that summer is gone and fall is here. Now I'm actually witnessing summer slipping silently out the back door while others may have their heads turn. I'm seeing the day-by-day changes that cumulate into the massive change that is Montana Summer to Montana Winter. Indeed, it's sad to see it slip away, I feel like I’ve only gotten a taste of what this landscape has to offer, but I'm also excited to see it go. As summer slips out fall and winter take its place on the dance floor.
I've been in the tipi for about 6 weeks now. I've got this summer thing down. I can cook, wash up, sleep, I can do everything I need to do in the tipi, and not once have I been discouraged or second-guessed my decision. The Montana summer is a companion, not an opponent. It's good that I've started with such a gentle season, but now I'm ready for the fun to begin. Living in a tipi in winter in Montana is going to be on heck of a ride. Every day I get a minute or two of daylight closer to those 5pm sunsets and bone chilling temps. Let the games begin.
It's just like living in a house; things stay where you leave them, weather you're gone for a day or a week. That's not to say everything stays how you leave it. I've notice big changes in fact. As I walked the short dirt path through the tall grass from my car to my tipi I noticed a reduction. The number of grasshoppers that chatter and jump has declined rapidly. The second change I noticed when I was doing some cleaning and purging of things around the tipi and looked up at the sun to find it already gone at 7:30, and now I lay, in the dark, at 8:30 typing this message slowly while using the light of my laptop screen to find those unfamiliar punctuation marks. Just one week ago I would have had 15 more minutes of light!
It's hard to fathom how things can change so quickly, yet it happens every year, it's just that usually I wake up one morning and realize that summer is gone and fall is here. Now I'm actually witnessing summer slipping silently out the back door while others may have their heads turn. I'm seeing the day-by-day changes that cumulate into the massive change that is Montana Summer to Montana Winter. Indeed, it's sad to see it slip away, I feel like I’ve only gotten a taste of what this landscape has to offer, but I'm also excited to see it go. As summer slips out fall and winter take its place on the dance floor.
I've been in the tipi for about 6 weeks now. I've got this summer thing down. I can cook, wash up, sleep, I can do everything I need to do in the tipi, and not once have I been discouraged or second-guessed my decision. The Montana summer is a companion, not an opponent. It's good that I've started with such a gentle season, but now I'm ready for the fun to begin. Living in a tipi in winter in Montana is going to be on heck of a ride. Every day I get a minute or two of daylight closer to those 5pm sunsets and bone chilling temps. Let the games begin.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Dependency and Perception
The closer I live to nature the more I recognize my dependence on it. But it stops there. When I hear the chime of a grasshopper land on a spoke of my bike tire inside the tipi, sneak over, cup my hand and scoop him up in one quick swoop, run over to my cook pot and throw him in forcefully, to create enough force to stifle his last effort to jump out of my hand, I'm able to realize had that grasshopper not been in that spot at that moment or had he been a tenth of a second faster to jump I would have had to find something else to eat. It is easy to connect the dots in that way, whereas if you go to McDonald's and order a double cheese you lose the connection. Itis still there, but you do not feel it.
You do not get to see the cow roaming free in an open pasture (oops, I said McDonald's, right? Correction: You do not get to see that sick cow crowded in a coral with all the other sick cows) You are still dependent on nature, but you do not realize how dependent you are. It is a dangerous thing. Modern society has allowed us to turn off our brains to think that hamburgers come from a heat lamp on the back counter of a fast food restaurant, that gas comes from a pump at the quick stop, that water comes from a faucet in your kitchen, and light comes from a switch on your bedroom wall. This disconnect negates the natural world to a leisure activity, a past time, a luxury. The rivers becomes for play when we have free time on a hot summer afternoon, the sun is for tanning, the trees are for shade. it is much easier to justify destroying a wilderness when we recognize it as a place for children to build forts rather than the life sustaining entity it is.
Whether you enjoy a lazy afternoon on the trails or you prefer to sit on your sofa and finish the latest season of Curb Your Enthusiasm on DVD you still need that forest, that open land, that lake. Regardless of your love and direct interaction with nature, your dependency on it is fixed, it's only your perception which is variable.
the Cree Indian prophecy says it all:
Only after the last tree is cut down
Only after the last river has been poisoned
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten
You do not get to see the cow roaming free in an open pasture (oops, I said McDonald's, right? Correction: You do not get to see that sick cow crowded in a coral with all the other sick cows) You are still dependent on nature, but you do not realize how dependent you are. It is a dangerous thing. Modern society has allowed us to turn off our brains to think that hamburgers come from a heat lamp on the back counter of a fast food restaurant, that gas comes from a pump at the quick stop, that water comes from a faucet in your kitchen, and light comes from a switch on your bedroom wall. This disconnect negates the natural world to a leisure activity, a past time, a luxury. The rivers becomes for play when we have free time on a hot summer afternoon, the sun is for tanning, the trees are for shade. it is much easier to justify destroying a wilderness when we recognize it as a place for children to build forts rather than the life sustaining entity it is.
Whether you enjoy a lazy afternoon on the trails or you prefer to sit on your sofa and finish the latest season of Curb Your Enthusiasm on DVD you still need that forest, that open land, that lake. Regardless of your love and direct interaction with nature, your dependency on it is fixed, it's only your perception which is variable.
the Cree Indian prophecy says it all:
Only after the last tree is cut down
Only after the last river has been poisoned
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Protein or Pest?
I cooked up my specialty for dinner tonight, hash brown potatoes, green pepper and two scrambled eggs. Typically I'll add butter and cheese to the mix, but I'm all out at the moment. The process is simple. First I shred 1 or 2 potatoes into a glass bowl (I used to spend about 10 minutes cutting them into small pieces until Jill showed me how much easier it was just to shred them) dice up a green pepper, add it to the glass bowl.
Then I start the fire. I've become pretty efficient at this task in the past couple weeks. I'll pick a left over coal out of the fire from the night before, heat it with a lighter for about 10 seconds to get some nice glowing embers, blow on the embers until more and more of the coal starts to turn orange, then I put the coal into the fire in contact with some dry tender (which is usually chips of wood that fly off as I chop my fire wood, and bark from the wood) I blow on the coal to get it hotter and to cause it to spread, it starts to heat up the tender, smoke forms, then BAM, a flame, blow on it a few more times, then add a log.
I've found it takes four pieces of wood, 1 inch in diameter and 8 inches in length each, to cook dinner, these four pieces of wood equate to less than one regular size log. It's quite efficient, it takes about as much time to start as it does to preheat an oven and gives me about 15 minutes of high hot even burning fire. Once the fire is going I oil the pan and put it on the grill which rests on two bricks, and sets directly in the fire. the potatoes and pepper take about 10 minutes to cook. I flip them every minute to avoid burning. right as the potatoes finish cooking a crack to eggs into the pan, the eggs scramble and cook almost immediately and dinner is served.
As I enjoy my meal, the fire is still going. I think about what a shame it is to waste 5 minutes of good flames, but I don't have anything else prepared, and by the time I do the fire would be out. Then, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. It's a grasshopper, they are all over the place. As I walk from my car to the tipi each evening hundreds of them jump in the tall grass on both sides of me, and just the other day I started looking up recipes on how to cook these bad boys up. I had planned to try it soon, and now was a perfect opportunity.
The fire was raging, the grasshopper was hanging out on the tipi canvas. I walked over causally (there's really no need to sneak up on a grasshopper, they don't get spooked until you actually try to swipe them) batted it to the ground and crushed it with my cutting board. Maybe not the most humane way to kill a grasshopper, but there weren't any instructions on that part in the recipes. Then I saw he had a buddy right next to him, so I repeated the process. I took the grasshoppers, put them in the frying pan, added some more oil and put them over the fire. they only took a few minutes to get golden brown and crunchy. Actually, I think I over cocked them a bit, they tasted like burnt popcorn, but delicious no the less, there was no ick factor whatsoever. I look forward to perfecting the cooking of these little guys and adding them to some of my everyday dishes.
Now before you get judgmental and think to yourself (or to me) how gross it is to eat a grasshopper, let me tell you they are an excellent source of both protein and fat and are eaten in many countries (along with hundreds of other bugs) throughout the world. And before you tell me how disease ridden and unhealthy it must be, let me assure you that it's much healthier than the MSG, High Fructose Corn Syrup, trans-fat, artifically colored/flavored, Hormone injected meal most Americans consumed this evening.
Then I start the fire. I've become pretty efficient at this task in the past couple weeks. I'll pick a left over coal out of the fire from the night before, heat it with a lighter for about 10 seconds to get some nice glowing embers, blow on the embers until more and more of the coal starts to turn orange, then I put the coal into the fire in contact with some dry tender (which is usually chips of wood that fly off as I chop my fire wood, and bark from the wood) I blow on the coal to get it hotter and to cause it to spread, it starts to heat up the tender, smoke forms, then BAM, a flame, blow on it a few more times, then add a log.
I've found it takes four pieces of wood, 1 inch in diameter and 8 inches in length each, to cook dinner, these four pieces of wood equate to less than one regular size log. It's quite efficient, it takes about as much time to start as it does to preheat an oven and gives me about 15 minutes of high hot even burning fire. Once the fire is going I oil the pan and put it on the grill which rests on two bricks, and sets directly in the fire. the potatoes and pepper take about 10 minutes to cook. I flip them every minute to avoid burning. right as the potatoes finish cooking a crack to eggs into the pan, the eggs scramble and cook almost immediately and dinner is served.
As I enjoy my meal, the fire is still going. I think about what a shame it is to waste 5 minutes of good flames, but I don't have anything else prepared, and by the time I do the fire would be out. Then, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. It's a grasshopper, they are all over the place. As I walk from my car to the tipi each evening hundreds of them jump in the tall grass on both sides of me, and just the other day I started looking up recipes on how to cook these bad boys up. I had planned to try it soon, and now was a perfect opportunity.
The fire was raging, the grasshopper was hanging out on the tipi canvas. I walked over causally (there's really no need to sneak up on a grasshopper, they don't get spooked until you actually try to swipe them) batted it to the ground and crushed it with my cutting board. Maybe not the most humane way to kill a grasshopper, but there weren't any instructions on that part in the recipes. Then I saw he had a buddy right next to him, so I repeated the process. I took the grasshoppers, put them in the frying pan, added some more oil and put them over the fire. they only took a few minutes to get golden brown and crunchy. Actually, I think I over cocked them a bit, they tasted like burnt popcorn, but delicious no the less, there was no ick factor whatsoever. I look forward to perfecting the cooking of these little guys and adding them to some of my everyday dishes.
Now before you get judgmental and think to yourself (or to me) how gross it is to eat a grasshopper, let me tell you they are an excellent source of both protein and fat and are eaten in many countries (along with hundreds of other bugs) throughout the world. And before you tell me how disease ridden and unhealthy it must be, let me assure you that it's much healthier than the MSG, High Fructose Corn Syrup, trans-fat, artifically colored/flavored, Hormone injected meal most Americans consumed this evening.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Breaking the Cycle
Living in a tipi is an adventure in and of itself. But it's not just about saving money on rent by living in a tipi. It's an adventure. It's an experiment to see how far a modern man, spoiled by technology, convenience and comfort can go in return to a life-style of self-reliance and self-efficacy.
For some background information about myself: I don't have advanced skills in survival or primitive living, I've certainly never lived in anything other than a modern house or apartment. Up until a few weeks ago, I could probably count on one hand the number of times I have started a fire. I have a decent amount of backpacking/backcountry travel experience but nothing more than a few days out on the trails with all the equipment I need. I have no skills, only a dream.
A desire to free myself from some of the things we have come to believe we need in our lives. A desire to show others they could do it, too. It's about finding out what I have the ability to do for myself, and what it feels like to live that way as apposed to how I'm used to living. I have no desire to ostracize myself from society, I just want to know what it's like to be a little less dependent on everything it offers. I want to know what it's like to live in closer harmony with the earth. I want to know what it's like to go back in time. As Jeremiah Johnson says to Del Gue when he suggests Jeremiah gets out of the mountains, back to town to avoid the Indians looking to kill him
"I've been to a town, Del"
Well, I've been to a town, too. And I'm still in a town, but I wonder what it's like not to need anything form that town, not to need anything that you can't do with your own two hands. Some would accuse me of romanticizing a life that is difficult and unnecessary given the advances we have made. They would be right, I have a tendency to do that kind of thing. This is the beginning of my journey. I don't know how long it will last, how far I will go, or what I will discover, but this is the journey I have chosen and it's exciting to be living the life you want to live.
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