Hi Permies, I wanted to sort of introduce myself and offer up our story of how we got to be here for your edification. We just closed on a 30 acre piece of property, completely wild and undeveloped, and I am moving my family of 6 onto the property this coming Monday with no savings worth speaking of, no credit worth having, no housing beyond a couple of tents we use for camping, and just what we're taking out of our suburban lifestyle two-story home.
I am a programmer by trade, and a gamer by hobby. Those are not typically the type of characteristics that would lead one to develop their own permaculturey lifestyle/homestead, I would think, but the interesting thing is that those facets of my personality are the largest contributors to my (and my wife's) decision to leave the safety net of "normal" and essentially start our life over after 20 years of trying to do it the way everyone says it
should be done. For one thing, I was a coder (a web programmer to be specific, though I don't know that weighs into it) for the first 20 years of my career, starting as a hobbyist, working my way up and eventually becoming a manager of programmers as well as application-architect and strategist. And along the way, I picked up some of the habits/philosophies that have permeated into my thinking even in non-programming situations: A) Simpler is better. More moving parts means more opportunities to break. B) Self-correcting systems are the shit. Any system that requires regular maintenance is worth one tenth the price of a system that does the same thing, but that corrects its own problems automatically. C) Performing a service and getting paid for it is easy and quick money, but it has no longevity. As soon as you stop performing the service, the money stops coming in. Far better to create a product that you can
sell a hundred times or a thousand times or a hundred thousand times, or a self-sustaining system that continues to produce income even when you're not working. It might take a lot more work upfront, but over the long run, the dollars per effort is way higher than a pay-me-to-do-this arrangement.
That's all pretty obviously supportive of the
permaculture philosophy, and since our own Paul Wheaton came from a coding background, it might not be that surprising that other coders would arrive at a similar place, but it's the way my gaming habits weighed in that really shocked me once I realized it. There were many, but the most obvious and direct tie-in was in 2013 when I picked up a smaller game called Farming Simulator, which - just as it sounds - puts you in the role of a farmer who must choose which crops to grow based on market demand, plant them, fertilize them, harvest them and take them to market - all the while driving and operating and upgrading all the farm machinery. Now understand, I grew up in a very suburban area where farmers were always someone somewhere else who did their job and I was glad for it, but I didn't really want them around me. The one or two farmer's kids we had in school were always uncool, frequently dressed bad and smelled worse, and - let's be honest - usually had a bit of that inbred look about them. I say that not to insult any of you wonderful (I now realize) people, but to make sure you understand that I picked up this video game half as a lark, like "hey watch this! I'm a farmer! Hurr-de-durr-durr" and not because I had any leanings or interest in the industry in the slightest. (The other half was that it was actually a fun game with well-designed game-play).
After playing the game for about 5 or 6 hours, however, something started happening in my brain. I really started to recognize how much I needed something like this to be my real life. Now of course, it was a game, and the crops grew to maturity in 3 days (game-days, which is about 20 minutes real time), and of course, all you had to do to “sell” your product was drive over a yellow square and the money was instantly in your bank account to spend. So, not exactly a stickler for realism, but the point that really struck home to me was this concept of working without a boss, or really even customers in the sense that I knew them (which, in a service business are basically the same as your boss). I could “work” as long or as little as I wanted, and if I did it the smart way and got more done with less effort, I was rewarded instead of penalized. And more than than, I didn’t have to “sell” my work. People always want to eat corn or
beef or broccoli. I don’t have to go up to people in the grocery store and have a conversation with them to convince them why I’m a better corn grower than my competitors or to convince them that I had, in fact delivered their corn to them in the manner that we previously agreed. I always joked that software would be a great industry to be in if you just didn’t have any customers, and while playing this game, while it obviously simplified a great deal and left out large inconvenient parts for gameplay reasons, I began to realize that it was possible to have a job where your product was the only thing that mattered and people would buy it based strictly on the quality or quantity of what you produced.
This began a subtle but profound shift in my thinking and goals for my life. My wife and I started looking for ways to create “farms” - not necessarily literal farms, but areas where we could produce and sell stuff for which there was always more demand than supply, and which would continue to run and produce even when we weren’t actively working. We started with a rather ambitious aquaponics setup in our basement. That had a lot of promise, but eventually failed because, although my wife has a green thumb and has what I lovingly refer to as a “chlorophyll fetish”, it turns out she likes her flora out in the open air and sunshine, and not so much in a damp, artificially lit basement. Go figure.
As all of this is happening however, you also need to understand something about my career path. I was genuinely amazing at what I do, but I was abysmally bad at social skills. I have a tendency to tell people the truth when they foolishly ask for it, even if it’s not what they want to hear. I’ve been fired 3 times by small-business owners when I told them, after having established myself as an expert - that their idea wouldn’t work. Who knows, maybe I’m not a nice guy, maybe it’s truly “not what I said, but the way I said it” that got me into trouble, or maybe I just have bad taste in men who can’t take criticism. Either way, it’s not really important, because I’ve spent years trying to find and correct the problem with apparently no success, and have finally accepted that I’m just not cut out to work for someone else. However, what this meant for our finances is that our income would skyrocket well into upper-class income brackets, and then plummet without warning to literally zero dollars per month. My wife was a stay-at-home mom, so my income was the family’s income, and these firings (as well as layoffs, company closings, etc) and subsequent income crashes all came without warning, The first one took me completely by surprise. I did not have
enough savings in my young career to withstand several months of unemployment, and my young ideals (pride) didn’t allow me to take a government handout or unemployment check. That, plus the enormous blow to my self-confidence (good people don’t get fired!) meant that I ran out of money before I ran out of bills. This
led first to credit card debt, then missed payments, then destroyed credit ratings. My wife and I actually became pretty good at stretching a dollar, and “borrowing” from Peter to pay Paul, but no matter how good you get, it’s still pretty hard to pay $1500 worth of bills with only $135 in the checking account. So, over time, it became harder and harder to get back on the right side of zero. Every time, I would finally get a new job, and we’d start taking all that excess cash and start paying off our debts. Then, just as we’re about to pay them all off, we’d get hit with another layoff, and the debts would pile right back up again.
Twenty years this went on, with multiple different jobs, different tactics and strategies, and the whole time raising four kids and trying to act like we were just your normal middle-class family. Until finally, this past September, I’d had enough. I decided I was going to get off this merry-go-round and start playing a game I had a chance of winning. I first tasted the waters of
permaculture by accidentally discovering rocket-mass
heaters, and the thought that I could keep my family warm on 2 cords of
wood a year was something that tickled a deep, dormant part of me. I’d always understood on some level that our society was wasting like 80% of its effort on things that didn't matter, and the idea that I could tap into that and live on the 20% that did matter appealed to me on a deep, deep level. I then started learning about earthships, and from there, the WOFATI, then the magic of
cob and earthen plasters. I started studying rain-water harvesting systems and composting toilets. I then started to gobble up passive
solar (without the earthship, necessarily) and generating electricity through
solar and wind and micro-hydro. I learned earthbag construction and wood gasifiers and vermicompost and methane digesters and food forests and biodiversity and stacking functions and
hugelkultur and systems supporting systems. i drank it all up as fast as youtube could
feed it to me.
And right around Christmas, my wife and I decided that this is what we wanted. We wanted a life where we knew, no matter what happened to our income, that we would never have our
lights or our heat or our food or our home threatened ever again; where the good times would create excess money that we could use to permanently improve our standard of living, and in the bad times, we would just coast, living on what we had already built. I’ve seen too much to believe that any amount of money is a true security blanket, and besides, we’d been chasing that “American dream” for two decades and were no closer than when we started. So we decided that we would start looking for a piece of
land that we could buy (somehow) and build our own
permaculture home (somehow) with materials we harvested from the land itself (somehow).
I of course let my family and friends know what I was planning, especially because my Dad was the owner and landlord of the house I was renting, and every time our income took a hit, it indirectly ended up hurting his pocketbook as well. So, as I’m sure you can imagine, my family and friends were overwhelmingly supportive of my choices and offered to help in any way they could… No wait… the opposite of that, actually. They all looked at me like I was crazy. They didn’t understand, didn’t want to take the time to understand, and, just assumed I was off on some hair-brained scheme, and in my family’s most cherished tradition, offered “tough love” by patently ignoring the problem and hoping it went away.
I wasn’t ready to let it go away, however, so I kept looking, scouring Zillow daily or every other day for any piece of property that was in our price range (for what I thought we could afford with a simple short-term loan) that had everything we needed. After two months, I found something, and it was really great. It was 30 acres, completely wooded (so we would always have enough to heat with), all gently sloping southern-facing slope. On a dead-end road with only one other family on it and just rural enough that the code office was one guy with 4 office hours a week, while still being within 20 minutes of the mid-sized
city where we currently live. And the cherry on top - a smallish stream that ran right down the middle of the property, spring-fed by multiple springs, also on the property, and big enough to support micro-hydro power, at least supplementarily. It was almost the perfect piece of property that we were looking for - the only checkmark left unticked was staying in our current school district for the kids. And, because the property is in upstate New York, i was able to get it for about half of what it’s worth by agreeing to give up the mineral and gas rights which most people don’t yet realize are never actually going to live up to the promises of riches untold.
I was ecstatic, and knowing that it was a good deal, I went to my Dad and his well-funded friends with a business plan and documentation showing how this small loan would be over-collateralized, paid off quickly and at a more than fair interest rate, while at the same time supporting their other interests (namely selling off the house I was currently renting, for a
profit). Certainly they would help now that it was a good deal for them.
I got nothing.
No help, not even to serve their own best interests. I even offered to solve my Dad‘s biggest stressor in his life at that point - at great personal sacrifice - in exchange for “whatever he could do to help” on the property, but instead he took my idea and hired someone halfway across the country to do it at twice what I would have needed.
Please understand, I hope I don’t sound too “millennial” here. I don’t think my Dad or friends of the family owe me anything, or that I deserve to have them help me with what are undoubtedly my own responsibilities. I just get frustrated when every guide on how to start your own business, or how to start a farm or how to buy land on the cheap all start out with “get a small loan from family and friends,” but I just don’t seem to have the right kind of family or friends, and they seem to have forgotten that they started out with exactly the same type of help when they were in my shoes.
Anyway, I was pretty despondent at this point, and everything I could think of to further my goal was a bust. We definitely didn’t have enough money to pay for the land outright. No bank was ever going to touch us with our credit rating, even if they weren’t all avoiding undeveloped land like the plague. And what’s worse, our finances were in another slump, and the day when we weren’t going to be able to buy food anymore (even with all the government help I was no longer too proud to accept) was fast approaching. My wife had taken a full-time job for the first time in fifteen years, and was now the main bread-winner as I was (though a series of complicated circumstances) having an abysmal time finding any job that would pay half of what we needed to pay our bills. Our main goal was to buy a piece of land, move onto it and thusly reduce our expenses to the point where her entry-level salary could pay our bills while I worked full time on building and improving the homestead until it could support us completely. But it looked like I was going to have to go back to another cycle of working for a company that wouldn’t appreciate me and would eventually fire me at the worst possible moment and just perpetuate the cycle for the rest of our lives.
Luckily, however, there was something in my head that just couldn't accept my fate. That voice that had always told me that I was right and that what I wanted to do was not only possible, but the right path for my life, but which had always heretofore been drowned out by my circle of family and friends convincing me (through subtle remarks and eye-rolls) that my ideas were stupid. This time however, I ignored them and listened to that voice instead. i just couldn’t accept that it was over, no matter what the logic said, and began to try to to think of anyone else who would have reason to want me to buy this land. I landed on my last hope - the seller. It was a long shot, but he certainly wanted to get rid of the land, so maybe, in an extremely lucky scenario, he might agree to finance it for me, bad credit and all.
It turns out, he did. I had to make some sacrifices in terms and take some very calculated risks, and along the way, during the four months it has taken to put this deal together I have had to fight and eventually end-run around the real estate agent who actively tried to sour the deal; educate the seller on property law and financing options; and as a last resort, hire an attorney to write a clever work-around contract to counteract some bad advice given by the real estate agent (I believe) that almost sunk the deal a third time. But in the end, I now have the signed contract, and we will own the land free and clear in 5 years on a payment I know we can afford even in the worst of times.
So who knows? Maybe I am stupid. We are moving onto the property with nothing more than tents for bedrooms and 5-gallon buckets for toilets. I have a budget of about $500/month I can spend on equipment, supplies, and materials for building the homestead, and obviously, winter is coming. We have another couple that we met by chance, and who, though they have no reason to do so, have offered us a free mobile home if we’ll just pay them at cost to move it to the property. Worst case scenario, we ought to be able to survive the winter in that while we build. Of course, first I have to build a driveway so they can deliver it, but I know that I will find a way to make that happen too. In fact, there’s no doubt about it. It is stupid. It’s crazy risky to completely start over in my 40s with a bum knee and no “nest egg” to work with, but the alternative was just more of the same, and we already know where that road leads. I said all along that getting the land was the biggest hurdle. We can’t make this dream happen if we don’t have land. Everything else has multiple options and many different ways to skin the cat, but the land was the must-have and the most difficult part to acquire.
And we somehow managed to accomplish that. So I’m feeling good about our chances.