Sailing

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

The days are growing longer, but hardly fast enough. Living with our own solar energy really has been a wonderful adventure. We don’t have any utility bills, which warms my frugal heart, but when I'd like to undertake an energy-intensive project, such as turning a bowl on my wood lathe, or planning tobacco sticks to fashion into a cutting board, I often have no choice but to fire up the generator. I hesitate to do so. That frugal heart of mine shudders with the generator’s roar.

I keep my eye on the weather. Short days coupled with gray skies stretch out for days, and thus my dilemma looms. I have come to realize that living off the energy grid is similar to sailing. Just as the sailor needs to understand the wind and rigging, the off-gridder needs to understand the sun and electricity.

I've been a sailor my whole life, though we gave our last boat away shortly after we bought the farm. We found that we'd rather spend time building our off-grid home than take off with our 22' Rhodes trailer-sailer in search of the wind. Our farm kept us grounded. The Rhodes sat lonely, so we found it a new home in the Long Island Sound, where she began a new life happily racing across the salt-water spray.

We loved to sail. When the wind blew hard, we traversed the lakes at speeds fast enough to leave a wake. Tacking upwind, our little ship kept a beautiful keel, slicing her way through the water. On a downwind run, she’d jump right up into a smooth plane. It felt as though we were riding on the back of a living thing. I do miss that feeling. Our off-grid life, though, has really been quite similar.
 
With plenty of sun and full batteries, we feel as though our log home and shops really are living things with which we can share the high life. We feel as though we're on top of our off-grid world, living exactly as we please, doing laundry, using the electric coffee pot and toaster, and running our many shop machines directly from the power of the sun. 

Then, in the evening, when the sun has slipped over the hill, we turn on all the lights, listen to the radio, or watch television, and use the energy that has gathered in our batteries. We live fast when the sun shines.

I remember how back in our sailing days, that the mainsail and jib would luff when the wind died down. Their cloth flapped lazily as our ship barely moved through the smooth water. We'd put up our feet, the lines held loosely in our hands. We'd lean back on the gunnels. Perhaps we'd talk. Perhaps our eyes would close. Like the wind and our little ship, we'd rest.

And so, it occurs to me that perhaps my dilemma is not really a dilemma at all. Perhaps my choice is clear. As sailors we learned to take our cue from the wind. As off-gridders, we have learned to take our cue from the sun. When the creek valley is blanketed in grey, and the sun stays hidden above the clouds, we can put up our feet, completely guilt free. Warmly clothed in our winter wear, we can lean back on the porch swing. Maybe we'll talk. Maybe our eyes will close. The warm glow of the oil lamp will flicker through the window. My projects will wait. Like the sun, we can rest, though I confess, I still continue to check on the coming weather.

I also confess that I am dreaming of bringing another Rhodes 22 down to the creek valley. Our off-grid world is built, our project are simply fun pastimes, and the wind and water call.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.