An urban, high-rise couple moved to a remote log cabin in Alaska part-time in 2006, full-time in 2012. Bryan loved everything about this lifestyle. Laura was intimidated and overwhelmed. The book's chapters, organized by season, share anecdotes that are often humorous, about float planes, moose, bear, heating by firewood, growing and foraging for food, kayaking, and clearing the land. A companion volume is in process, with more detailed "how-to's."
An urban, high-rise couple moved to a remote log cabin in Alaska part-time in 2006, full-time in 2012. Bryan loved everything about this lifestyle. Laura was intimidated and overwhelmed. The book's chapters, organized by season, share anecdotes that are often humorous, about float planes, moose, bear, heating by firewood, growing and foraging for food, kayaking, and clearing the land. A companion volume is in process, with more detailed "how-to's."
One winter evening in 2006, while I was stirring a labor intensive risotto in our 17th floor high rise condominium in Houston, Texas, my husband ambled into the kitchen and asked, “So, how would you feel if I bought some undeveloped land in Alaska, under market value?”
The question seemed so ridiculous, and my rice needed so much attention, that I said something dismissive like, “Whatever.” Oops. Wrong answer.
By the time dinner was served, I was the co-owner of a 5 acre, undeveloped forest lot, not only 4200 miles north of where I lived but a 20 minute flight from the closest road, in a place I had never seen. Mid-life crisis? You decide.
Mid-life? Certainly. I was 50 and my boy-toy was 46 at the time.
Crisis? Not yet.
Few who knew us would have believed that five years later, we would be living full time in a two-room log cabin with an outhouse, having sold our condominium and given away most of our belongings to incredulous friends, neighbors, and relatives. No need for a tuxedo or a set of golf clubs anymore, no TV, microwave, or “good china.”
For my husband, our new lifestyle was a dream come true – the fulfillment of his happy boyhood spent on his family’s tree farm in Wisconsin. After he built a 120 foot power tower up here in the middle of nowhere, he could talk high finance on a cell phone while peeing behind a tree, followed by some manly endeavor involving guns or chainsaws, and wrap up the day in a kayak with some home-brewed beer.
For me, this life was a tough adaptation. Other than a few years as a less than enthusiastic Girl Scout, this life was W-A-Y off my radar. On a good day, I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder (although her home looked cleaner). On bad days, and there were many, I felt totally out of place, like a character in one of those time warp stories, or perhaps Eva Gabor on “Green Acres” minus the ball gowns and high heels. I had to climb a steep learning curve and drop a lot of assumptions along the way, starting with hygiene, since we had no reliable running water for much of the year.
While my husband has always been content here, despite our many physical and financial mistakes, my enthusiasm depended on increasing competence, and that slowly accrued. I am certainly no Earth Mother expert, but at least I didn’t end up like the Donner Party.
The book that follows is organized by season, grouping stand-alone chapters of misadventures and lessons learned as I morphed from high heels and hats to bunny boots and goggles.
Log Cabin Reflections: Our Off-Grid Life on a Remote Alaskan Homestead is an entertaining look into an alternative lifestyle with chapters organized by season and authentic anecdotes about a former city dweller's determination to get her desired hot tub and the teamwork it took to make that happen. It's about ski planes, frigid winters, medical care, food, family, and the love of a place and the people who choose to live there.
I ADORE so much about this book. Not because I plan to move to Alaska or would survive or thrive in the environment or under the conditions explained, but because I can see myself as the person staring at that plot of land on the internet . . . thinking how beautiful and COLD and the mosquitoes? I loved the stories about people purchasing the land, getting there, and going OMG. Immersing myself in this off-grid world with NO non-emergency transportation to the outside world for four months out of the year was great fun.
I loved learning some basics of day-to-day living, the hardships, and the perks. I was turning pages about making beer with birch sap and a self-proclaimed "terrible gardener" who has seen the process as an aesthetic joy rather than a chore.
What does it take to survive in a remote, off-grid home with six months of winter, a cold water well, and no septic system?
It seems many things are needed for survival, and even more things are necessary if you want to thrive. The book includes a list of things you can get for under $60 and plenty of advice about things you won't need. Emerson shares hard-won lessons about which significant investments are worth it and which are a waste of precious resources.
But most importantly, it seems the answer to thriving in a place like this lies in the person, those who are with them, and a “suck it up" attitude when faced with hardships large and small. In a world where so much is at our fingertips, there's much to be learned and appreciated about this book and the author. I admire her grit.