!! In the quiet hours of the bootcamp grind, I found myself: Esteban's Bootcamp Experience

B.E.L. Post # 147

I awoke to a morning that felt gently placed upon the land—soft light stretching across the horizon, the kind of quiet that makes you feel fully reset. The cats, of course, had other plans, their morning chorus reminding me that the day had already begun. After tending to them and a few personal tasks, I gathered my tools—chainsaw, batteries, hatchet—and loaded up the Rav4, setting out with a clear and simple plan.

The intention was to fill the work rig, swing by the lab to harvest a few junkpoles and check in on Melissa, then make my way to Dances with Pigs for a bit of well-earned relaxation with my little dog.

About five miles into the drive, the journey offered a small but meaningful lesson.

I noticed a subtle wobble from the rear—nothing dramatic, but enough to say, “pay attention.” Trusting that instinct, I pulled over right away to take a look. I’m glad I did, because it turned out the rear wheel had worked its lug nuts loose and the drum had shifted slightly out of place.

It wasn’t a failure—it was one of those moments where catching something early makes all the difference.

After gathering the lug nuts and assessing things, I reached out and before long Seth arrived with a jack and tire iron. Together we took a closer look, reset the drum so everything seated properly again, and got the wheel snugged back into place. It was a solid temporary solution—more than enough to get me safely back to basecamp without pushing things further than needed.

From there, the decision was easy: head back, take it slow, and let it be properly looked over.

What stood out most wasn’t the issue itself, but how smoothly it was handled—quick awareness, good communication, and a helping hand showing up right when it was needed. One of those quiet reminders that things tend to work out well when you stay present and take action early.

Back at basecamp, I shifted gears into something more grounded—building.

I spent the rest of the day crafting additional shelving for the solarium. I cut a piece down to 30 inches, flattened one side of the round timber with the table saw, and began shaping it into something both functional and beautiful. The live edges were sanded smooth, supports cut along the way, and I even took the time to wood-burn markings into the surface—adding a bit of story into the grain itself.

To finish, I applied raw linseed oil, watching the wood come to life as the tones deepened and the character emerged.

By the end of the day, everything had come full circle—from a moment of awareness on the road to a quiet sense of accomplishment back at basecamp.

Just another reminder that a good day isn’t about everything going perfectly—it’s about noticing what needs attention, handling it well, and continuing forward with intention.

B.E.L. Post # 148

Today had one of those quietly magical rhythms that seems to carry you along before you even realize how much has been accomplished.

The morning began with the cleaning blitz, and somehow that full hour slipped by in what felt like mere minutes — a sure sign of being surrounded by genuinely good-hearted, easygoing people. There’s something about shared purpose and light conversation that turns even simple tasks into something enjoyable.

Afterward, I made my way to the shop and put a coat of linseed oil on the outer walls of the cat house. There’s a certain satisfaction in that kind of work — slow, methodical, and protective — knowing it’ll help the structure weather time a little more gracefully.

With that done, I stepped out of “task mode” for a bit and spent an hour or two just being — playing with my dog, journaling, and enjoying the stillness woven into the day.

Later on, I helped Melissa move the last of her personal items from the Love Shack over to the Abbey. It felt good helping close that chapter with her — one of those small but meaningful transitions that quietly matter.

Once that was wrapped up, I noticed Roy — our trusty work vehicle — was sitting around a quarter tank, so I took him out for a quick fuel run before heading straight back to basecamp. Always good to keep him ready for whatever the next task may be.

In the afternoon, I shifted focus to the Solarium and installed a couple more shelves — this time near the door leading into the library. It’s starting to come together in a really functional, intentional way, piece by piece. After finishing that, I went back to the shop and began prepping additional shelving materials to be installed later this coming week.

Nothing overly dramatic today — just steady progress, good company, and that grounded feeling of building, helping, and moving things forward one step at a time.

B.E.L. Post # 149

Today unfolded like one of those quiet chapters where skill, curiosity, and a bit of courage all meet in the middle.

After the morning meeting, Rodger and I were given a task that, at first glance, felt like stepping into unknown territory—changing the driver’s rear wheel studs on the Rav4. I had never done anything like it before. There’s always that small moment where you can either hesitate or lean in… so I leaned in. A quick YouTube tutorial became our guide, and before long, we were elbows-deep in the process, learning by doing. What started as unfamiliar quickly turned into something surprisingly enjoyable. There’s a certain satisfaction in understanding how something works by taking it apart and bringing it back together again. We stayed with it right up until lunch, problem-solving as we went, and appreciating each small victory along the way.

After lunch, the pace shifted into something a bit more peaceful. Samantha led us on a garden tour that felt less like a walkthrough and more like being let in on a living story. Every plant had a purpose, a history, a role to play—food, medicine, soil builder, pollinator ally. The level of detail she shared made it clear just how much intention and care is woven into the land here. It’s one thing to see a garden… it’s another to truly understand it.

With fresh perspective, Rodger and I took the Rav4 out for a test drive—always a satisfying moment after working on something mechanical. Everything held up nicely, which felt like a quiet little win for the day.

We wrapped things up by returning to the cat house and continuing work on the roofing. There’s something grounding about ending the day building—measuring, fitting, adjusting—watching a structure slowly take shape under your hands. We worked steadily until the light began to fade, closing out the day with that good kind of tired that comes from learning, creating, and contributing.

Another day of small skills growing into something bigger.

B.E.L. Post # 150

The morning began, as many good tales do, in a quiet gathering of minds—where intentions were set like seeds in fertile soil. From there, Stephen, Rodger, and I ventured into the courtyard, armed with our hori hori knives, like humble guardians reclaiming ground from the slow creep of green invaders. We knelt to the earth, carefully freeing the cracks from their grasp, each root pulled like a whisper undone.

But the work did not end with removal—no, we followed with a touch of quiet alchemy. Wood ashes, the remains of past fires, were scattered and swept into the cracks. It felt like returning memory to the land… a protective layer, sealing the spaces and discouraging future encroachment. A simple act, yet one that carried the wisdom of cycles—fire to ash, ash to protection.

As Stephen departed for his weekly council with Paul, I continued onward, drawn to the horseradish berm. There, beneath the midday sun, I worked steadily, peeling back the stubborn grasses that dared compete with what we intended to grow. The rhythm of it carried me to the edge of lunchtime, where effort met rest.

In the afternoon, Seth and I made our way to the lab, gathering round timber as if collecting pieces of a future warmth. Each length of wood held potential—soon to be part of a firewood build that would serve others down the line. There’s something grounding about working with timber in its raw form… a quiet respect exchanged between hands and tree.

We closed the day alongside the fence line, reinforcing and shaping it—one more layer of intention made visible. Not just a barrier, but a boundary with purpose. A line that says: here, we are tending something meaningful.

And so the day folded in on itself, as all good days do—leaving behind small marks of care, effort, and quiet progress woven into the land.

B.E.L. Post # 151

This morning during boot shift, Rodger and I got back on the cat house roof to finish it up. We kept laying shingles for a while and finally got the last one fastened in, which felt pretty good to wrap up.

After that, we snapped a chalk line and trimmed the excess down to about a 4" overhang so everything looked nice and even. Once that was done, we gave the roof a coat of raw linseed oil. Planning to come back later and do a second coat once it soaks in well.

While we were working on that, Seth was inside the cat house putting in some quilt-type material for insulation, which should help keep it nice and cozy. Stephen and Jessee were off doing a gravel harvest at the same time.

After lunch, Melissa, Rodger, and I headed over to the Abbey to work on the junkpole fence. I focused on getting the horizontal pieces up and ended up harvesting about six trees to use as supports. I managed to get all but two of the horizontals in place by the end. While I was doing that, Rodger and Melissa were working on filling in the panels.

Overall, it was a solid day—felt good to make that kind of progress and see things coming together.