For a couple years I was the 'caretaker' of a small cabin on a beach on a remote island, where you had to take a half day ferry (in good weather in the summer) to get to it.
The deal was that another guy had the cabin in the summer and we shared the garden. I set up a tent and tarp camp in the dunes beside a
pond that was alive with the sound of frogs. Pretty idyllic.
I did not have running
water, electricity, or even propane. I had three kerosene lamps and made my own beeswax candles. I did intricate bead work. I did a lot of pencil and charcoal drawings. I would carve. I would
sell art, candles, and beaded products near Christmas. I had a
wood stove and for the first year I gathered all my
wood with a wheelbarrow and a hand saw. I kept the barrow and got a chainsaw the next year; a
gift from my dad. It rained a lot there. I had a rain barrel that I could roll down to the beach and scrub with sand and salt water. I would do this occasionally in a big rain storm, and bring the barrel back and fill it up on the same day.
I had a garden which produced a huge amount of
roots and greens, which I stored five gallon pails stuffed with moss in a big pit in a shaded spot in the dunes. The garden was raised beds mulched with kelp that I hauled in my wheelbarrow. I made
compost with alder leaves and kelp. I had a crab trap, and a clam shovel. I would roll the trap down the beach at low tide and then go for a hike, and then come back at the next low tide and check it out. Pretty casual existence. It doesn't take much work to grow potatoes. Carrots beets and salad greens and steam greens like chard were as simple as tossing out seeds.
I would work very occasionally building a deck or a
fence, or something, and then I would buy extravagant things like a bag of avocados, or the rest of ingredients for a potluck feast. I liked to indulge in ginger and lemons and limes and chili peppers occasionally. I was famous for my salsa and guacamole, my curries and my lentil stew, but I tended to eat potatoes and kale, or crab salad, or borsht, or clam chowder. I would invite people over and have home made quinoa tabouleh, and chickpea humous rich with tahinni, olive oil and home grown garlic, onions, cilantro, oregano and basil, with flat bread that was made on the stove top. I also ate a lot of wild berries, and stinging
nettles. I had jars crammed with dried berries or wild tea ingredients, like clover, yarrow, and strawberry or raspberry leaf. I had a hand cranked grain mill. I rode a bicycle or walked or hitch hiked everywhere. The ladder to go into the loft bedroom was actually stepping on the cupboard shelves, and then the counter, and then the windowsill, and then the window lintel, and up through a hole in the ceiling. During the fall I worked the hardest. I hiked around the forest camping with a bunch of like minded people, and gathered wild edible
mushrooms that I would sell; but it wasn't really work since I absolutely loved every bit of it. After mushroom season I would go in with a bunch of people and do a bulk food order, and we would buy large amounts of dry goods for the year. I would get whole grains, nuts, chocolate, seeds, coconut, dates, raisins,
honey, peanut butter, tahinni, and olive oil. I was probably 80% vegan and probably 95 % organic, home grown, or wild. I would sometimes trade labor or garden produce for a
deer haunch or some eggs. I lived on around $3000 a year. This was the mid '90's.
The other guy was staying at the cabin while I was away for a short trip to deal with my prosthetic leg in the city one winter. He was concerned about burning my dry
firewood from the woodshed, and was burning green or wet beach wood. I had not cleaned the chimney before I left. A chimney fire lit the cedar cabin up like a torch and it destroyed everything that I owned, except for my backpack, which I had with me, my bike which I'd lent out to someone, and a couple
books also lent out. I had taken a train north from Vancouver to Terrace, and went to the restaraunt I used to cook at to call my dad. He told me about the cabin. My friend had called him. It was sad, but I had to accept it; what else can a guy do? I surprised my dad by heading out to the islands a few days later. I had to see it for myself. The cast iron pans had folded in the heat, the glazed plates had fused together. My bead collection (probably my most valuable possession) was a melted fused blob of color and texture but completely worthless. Scavengers had found my carving tool and machete blades, my axe and maul heads. The chainsaw was interesting to look at, as a modern
art piece. Some folks got together to rent a cabin for me, but with no gear it felt pretty big and barren. At this time my sister was really needing some help so after a month, I packed my bag. I went back to the mainland, and spent time with her and her three kids.
Life has not regained quite that level of simplicity at this stage, but I can envision myself having an existence which is nearly that simple again. Right now, I have to pay for my land, and then get to building stuff so I'm busy working a lot, but I don't see any reason why my income cant be reduced and my leisure time increased to match that lifestyle again at some point in the relatively near future.
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