If you鈥檝e ever strayed down a forest service road and watched your cell phone slowly die, the feeling of being cut off can be a little unnerving. But for some, this disconnection is a purposeful, serene way of life.
Maddie and Adrian
As Maddie Fache and Adrian Marcoux journeyed up the dusty Ring Creek Forest Service Road, house hunting, they had no idea what challenges lay ahead.
Five years ago, Marcoux鈥檚 work as a bike photographer brought them to Squamish from Golden and though they both loved camping, neither had lived off-grid before.
鈥淚 grew up at my parents鈥� cabin and just obsessed about being outside,鈥� says Fache. 鈥淲e started finding properties that were further and further away鈥� saw they were off-grid and asked ourselves, what does that mean?鈥�
It wasn鈥檛 long before they found their cabin in the woods, though back then it was just a rudimentary vacation cabin with few amenities. Everything was a learning curve, she says. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 know what a turbine was, what a battery bank was, how an alternator worked, what a battery inverter did. So that summer we just put our heads down and picked projects that we could accomplish.鈥�
The first involved dragging 500 metres of water line up the mountain to secure water-assisted power for the property. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a relationship ender right there!鈥� she laughs, adding she soon become a very familiar face in the plumbing department of a hardware store.
The next project was water, which would freeze every winter. When it did, they鈥檇 have to meet up after work to shower at Brennan Park, then haul water up from town for cooking and washing dishes. 鈥淲e used to get Brennan Park gift certificates from my parents for Christmas,鈥� she says, adding they now have a water holding tank. 鈥淚t never freezes and is constantly full... It鈥檚 probably been the best purchase ever.鈥�
Even mastering the woodstove, their only source of heat, was a lesson in itself. 鈥淗ow much wood, what type of wood, when to start gathering wood, splitting wood鈥� now, we鈥檙e just like hoarders. If we see a tree down and it鈥檚 fir, then you go for it鈥� because in the wintertime it鈥檚 constant. And if you run out, it hurts the ego a bit to call and get a load of wood dropped off.鈥�
The depth of learning has been greater than she ever imagined, says Fache, but the accomplishment has been so rewarding. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a source of pride, for sure,鈥� she says. What was once a rustic vacation cabin in the forest is now a cosy, year-round home with all the comforts you would expect. 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 feel so off-grid anymore鈥� it just feels like a home now 鈥� a home in the woods and not something that requires a lot of constant maintenance.鈥�
Visiting the grocery store or friends may take a little more planning, but Fache prefers their current lifestyle to city living. 鈥淚f I moved I don鈥檛 think I could live in the city again. I think I鈥檇 have to look for another property like this. I couldn鈥檛 do it. It works and it鈥檚 awesome and as much as you want to curse it some days, it鈥檚 just the best thing ever. It鈥檚 just quiet, and calm and soothing.鈥�
Susanne and Nick
Somewhere off the Squamish聽River聽Forest Service Road is a plot of land with a hand-built, 20-foot diameter wood-frame yurt that Susanne Glick, her partner Nick Hamilton and their three-year-old son Charlie call home. Along with resident goats, sheep, chickens, ducks, rabbits, pigs, bees, cats and dogs. There are also several elk (who rather like sitting in the farm鈥檚 plot of rye), two grizzlies, four black bears, a small wolf pack and the occasional cougar.
鈥淢ornings start quite early,鈥� explains Glick, who spends four days a week on the farm, splitting the remaining three between teaching at the Waldorf School in North Vancouver, visiting her daughter in Washington, and selling home-spun fibre crafts at Bellingham farmers鈥� market.
Hamilton remains on the property full-time.
鈥淲e have our first breakfast around 8 a.m.,鈥� says Glick, 鈥渢hen I go out and do all the chores with the animals. I start with the pigs鈥� then I let the chickens out, and go around clockwise the whole way. Then I go over to the rabbits and by the time I get back to the sheep it鈥檚 time to collect the eggs. Then I go upstairs, wash them, package them and then it鈥檚 time for second breakfast, which is at 11 a.m.鈥�
Afternoon activities tend to be dictated by the weather and available light, for there鈥檚 no power at the homestead. However, there鈥檚 no shortage of things to do on their slow farm including general maintenance, tending the vegetables, fibre arts, planning seed schedules, walking the dogs and working on the interior of the barn. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a nice rhythm,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a farm life.鈥�
Of the 140 acres, 2.25 are in cultivation and must be worked full-time 鈥� without using any machinery or automated equipment 鈥� in order to feed their family, and provide for 18 community supported agriculture boxes for other area residents.
Last year 30 per cent of their food came from the farm, a figure she hopes to increase. Cutting back on what they consume has been essential, she says.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 think you can ever be completely self-sufficient鈥�. but building a community around a project like this 鈥� that鈥檚 the key.鈥� To make this work they鈥檙e joined regularly by volunteers, friends and relatives who bring their own skills.
It鈥檚 a great lifestyle but there are compromises, such as hot water, explains Glick. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a good way to live. I鈥檓 having fun. I still get my little hot bath 鈥� in a bucket. A tiny bucket. Just one kettle of hot water. I don鈥檛 mind.鈥� So when the woodstove is on, she explains, so is the pot. 鈥淵ou wash your dishes when it鈥檚 hot, which is about lunch time. So it is all in the rhythm. It鈥檚 quite interesting how little you need.
鈥淣ow that I don鈥檛 have hot water, I measure it carefully.鈥�
Other challenges include predators attacking livestock and the years when it snows so much the family skis in several kilometres just to get to the farm. 鈥淎nd last year, the bear came and sat right in the middle of my corn, then I had no corn鈥� so we have to get the harvest in before the wildlife gets it.鈥�
Escaping the rent trap has been a relief, says Glick, whose father鈥檚 side of the family is Amish.
And for those wanting to do the same, she says, allow yourself time to learn from your experience.
鈥淚f you do it slowly you get to revisit things that are and are not working, and then you don鈥檛 really have the losses of poor investment decisions.鈥�
Glick鈥檚 future is on the farm and she plans to slowly phase out the number of days she鈥檚 away, as well as open up an on-site, home school enterprise.
