Back in 2002 I was working in Northern Saskatchewan, and in the next town over to me, I became friends with a man I continue to admire.
His name was Duane, and he worked as a radiology technician in the local hospital. He was divorced and owned his own house, but had no interest in material luxuries, so rented out the house, and just lived in a room in the basement. At least for a while.
You see, he also owned some otherwise useless woodland along the Saskatchewan River, which he spent far more time in than his small room in town.
Indeed, he would go riding in his own woods, and built himself a small cabin that he ended up choosing to live in instead. One day, he invited me to go riding with him, do some trailbuilding, and to see his place.
He built the entire thing with nothing but a small axe, using the surrounding resources. Everything. Including the furniture. With nothing but an axe.
These are the pictures I took that day.
That’s a younger me in the first picture, with my old Trek Fuel 90, and Duane in the all the others, modelling his handiwork.
He built the entire thing with nothing but a small axe, using the surrounding resources. Everything. Including the furniture. With nothing but an axe.
Judging by the neatly trimmed ends of many of the logs, I reckon that big bowsaw came in handy at times as well… 😉
Stunning place, that’s about as traditional a log cabin as you can get. Just lovely.
What is also cool is that you are still wearing that jacket.
😀 If it ain’t broke…
you know….
I’ll bet that’s not a very nice place to live after a while.
You’d be right if the reason you moved in in the first place was because of the novelty. If you live like that anyway, and are content with reading and writing and collecting wood and appreciating the quiet and beauty of the natural world and fending off bears, then I’m not sure I agree with you.
Famine was an ever-present danger in these circumstances, and in 1961 it snowed in June. The hard frost killed everything growing in their garden, and by spring the family had been reduced to eating shoes and bark. Akulina chose to see her children fed, and that year she died of starvation. The rest of the family were saved by what they regarded as a miracle: a single grain of rye sprouted in their pea patch. The Lykovs put up a fence around the shoot and guarded it zealously night and day to keep off mice and squirrels. At harvest time, the solitary spike yielded 18 grains, and from this they painstakingly rebuilt their rye crop
the fragility of agriculture without having back up.
If you live like that anyway, and are content with reading and writing and collecting wood and appreciating the quiet and beauty of the natural world and fending off bears, then I’m not sure I agree with you.
read that article about the Lykovs…After a while the effort required to just “exist” in those sorts of houses cut off from everything and everyone just takes it’s toll, while one can eschew modern conveniences, the grind of daily existence would soon wear away the novelty. (for most folk, and certainly me, I’d reckon)
Posted 7 years ago
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