Living off grid means using a generator for power. We need electricity to power either the Toyo heater or the propane heater. Electricity powers the heat tape that prevents the propane from freezing in the line. Electricity powers the heat kit that will allow my truck to start after a night of -20°.
When so much basic comfort relies on a device you tend to pay attention to it. You start to know all it’s quirks. You get a sense of when something might be wrong. And when you rely on a generator the worst sound you can wake up to is silence.
Silence means the generator quit. Silence means no heat. Silence means you better get dressed and bring it inside to figure out what killed it.
Ice in the carburetor bowl is a bad thing.
If it didn’t run out of gas, the reason the generator quit is usually related to water. Water in the fuel turns into ice in the carburetor, fuel line, or filter. Or, like this morning, condensation can build up frost on the air intake and choke it off. You quickly learn exactly what tools to pull out of your kit to take it apart for diagnosis. Hopefully it’s something that can be fixed quickly.
Living away from city sounds is a beautiful thing. It’s nice to hear nature. But in the extreme conditions where you need to rely on power, silence is a terrible sound.
I just got a text from my son asking me to put some coffee on the stove. He had to go out for a while and wanted a hot beverage for when he came back. Back in Oregon coffee on the stove would mean Cuban coffee (super strong espresso) but here we have started doing it a bit different.
Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?
We have a regular coffee machine. It makes just enough for a cup each and does a decent job. It’s easy to clean by dumping out the paper filter and also does double duty as a generator fill timer. If we want to know how long the generator has been running we just look at the clock. Often we will unplug it after filling to reset the timer. We get 8 hours per tank of gas, and then we need to refill.
My friend works as a move out house cleaner. Sometimes people leave interesting things behind. One person left three of these stovetop percolators. She gave us two. They have proved useful for simply heating water for dishwashing and don’t put a strain on the generator like the electric one does. As long as we have propane flowing we can have hot water or coffee.
Just yesterday my son told me that he really prefers the coffee from the percolator to the electric one. If you get the grounds right and let it boil the right amount of time it can make some really nice coffee. It can be as strong as espresso but not so bitter. Add in sugar and cream or some condensed milk and you have a wonderful drink to warm up with.
…but this one has been floating around the book of faces for a couple of weeks and it makes me want to tell stories.
So far I have refrained from hijacking people’s posts with my reactions to this one, but there are so many things I want to reply! Fortunately I have an outlet that can’t be called hijacking. I just stole the meme to start with.
These are the roads I have been driving for the last month. They’re going to be like this to some degree until March or April. This being my first winter in Alaska, I have had to do some adapting. My knowledge of snow driving only came from the crap we got in Portland, Oregon. Most of the time snow there came at 30-34° and we never knew what portion of it would be snow vs freezing rain or what order it would come in. The city, county, and state barely knew how to clear it if they even had the equipment. Last time we got a big snowstorm in Portland we discovered that the city had sold off most of its snow removal equipment to avoid the storage and maintenance expense. Seattle had to send down plows to help, but by the time they arrived it had all frozen into rutted ice on the roads that made driving an absolute misery.
Here in Alaska it’s a different story. Downtown still gets some rutted ice, but the DOT doesn’t mess around on the highways. Even the smaller rural roads (like the one in my picture) get plowed. Some of them are plowed by the people who live there and use the road. It makes a huge difference when there is a significant snowfall like last Friday. I had to pull my friend’s Prius out of their own driveway because it got high centered on the unplowed snow. They ended up parking near their road where I was able to pack down the snow with my truck. There was talk about asking the neighbor with a plow to make a pass through for them.
Temperature makes a big difference in traction and snow behavior. When giving me driving advice everyone told me that if it’s warmer than 15-20° the roads are going to be more slick. Colder than 15° and they aren’t so much to worry about. The friend who drives the haul road (ice road that doesn’t go across frozen lakes) explained that the colder it gets the better your traction can be. At -20° the weight of his truck will melt a bit of the ice on the road, which then immediately refreezes, causing the tires to stick to the road. Kind of like if you were to try licking a frozen metal fence post. (Don’t try that.) The traction comes from constantly freezing and unsticking as the tires roll down the road. Even with my considerably lighter weight van I can feel the difference in traction at those colder temps.
This doesn’t mean that everyone has great traction. Good tires help. Good driving habits help more. Last week when we got a foot of snow we counted at least 9 cars in the ditch on the way into town. I tend to drive the speed that the road and my vehicle tell me is safe. If I feel a bit of sliding wobble I let off the accelerator until I’m stable. I feel zero need to go the speed limit on the sign. But I get people flying past me all the time. I haven’t yet seen any of them lose it but I’ve had other people tell me about watching someone hit the ditch in a cloud of snow after passing recklessly.
Now for the towing story. It isn’t entirely snow related, but I found it interesting. I got to spend time with some co-workers after work. One of them brought her husband who has lots of stories and loves to tell them. He was describing how he wants to get a property farther out from town and set up a mechanic shop with maybe a couple of tow trucks. An encounter with a disabled vehicle during hunting season made him think it might be a useful venture.
He was way north of Fairbanks, maybe a hundred miles or so. There’s a whole lot of nothing up there in a way you can’t imagine until you see it. He saw a guy stopped alongside the road in a pickup with a trailer. He had two moose carcasses in the back of the truck and more on the trailer. It turns out the guy was bringing back the results of the hunting party but the alternator went out on the truck. He offered to help get the truck running enough to limp back to town, but the guy declined. He was waiting for a tow truck. He had been waiting for 11 hours and the bears were starting to circle, attracted by the moose meat, but he had been required to prepay $1000 just to get the truck sent out and by golly he was going to get his money’s worth.
After making sure he couldn’t do anything to help the mechanic continued down the highway. After a while he came across a tow truck that had a different pickup loaded up on the back. He flagged him down and asked if he was looking for a disabled truck of a certain description. The tow driver said yeah, but he couldn’t find it. But there was this truck left on the side of the road so he wasn’t going back empty handed. At this point the mechanic was like WTF! The truck he had loaded up probably belonged to a hunter who was going to come back to no vehicle while the guy who already paid for the help was literally going to be abandoned to the bears. The tow driver had not even considered that the vehicle he grabbed might not be abandoned. He was persuaded to put it back and was given directions to find the right vehicle. The mechanic took this incident as proof that there is a need out there.
See? Too much to hijack someone’s post. But it makes a good post of my own.
It’s still 23° though. We got more than a foot of snow and the temps are up in the slip-and-slide range. When it comes to driving colder is better. I’m new up here and I already understand. Once there is snow on the ground the driving conditions only get better as the temperature goes down. -20° lets your tires grip in ways that +20° can’t.
I posted about my ride along to Prudhoe Bay back in June. Part of the experience was the stories told by my trucker friend about what the drive is like in winter. He tells me that traction in the cold actually comes from your tires constantly freezing to the pavement, then breaking loose again as the tire rolls forward. The weight of the truck causes moisture on the road to briefly melt then freeze again. That odd fact combined with experience with the road and great confidence allows the big trucks to go cruising at summer speeds.
We still haven’t gotten a roof over the pit. There is a good path worn into the snow to point the way. My friend Missi and family is waiting for a proper roof and seat to be built over their new pit. Some time soon the ladies will give up waiting and make it happen. The guys just aren’t as invested in a proper outhouse experience.
There is something to be said for roughing it. Or, as I once heard it phrased, voluntary hardship. It isn’t comfortable while you are in the middle of the rough parts, but you will always come out the other side stronger. Whether you want to improve your physical strength or your emotional strength, it is worthwhile to choose the more difficult path.
So here I am, dealing with temperature extremes, ice, and uncomfortable outhouse experiences. I keep repeating what an adventure it is. I’m enjoying myself. I hope you are enjoying the stories I tell along the way.
The RV is back up to 55° again, all thanks to my dear son and my friend’s slave-driver of a daughter. Our outdoor temps have warmed up to -7° and it’s snowing. The forecast calls for it to come up as high as 30°. If you’re keeping score, that’s a 60° swing in just a couple of days. Crazy! But it’s all cold.
Cold nicely summarizes the last few days. And let me be clear, it isn’t just people who don’t like cold. Generators don’t like cold. Propane doesn’t flow in extreme cold. Vehicles don’t like cold. But everything hinges on the generator. I can plug in the block heater on the truck if the generator is running. We can wrap the propane tubing and valves in heat tape to keep it working if the generator is running. We plan to install a small Toyo heater in the trailer, but again it needs the generator for power. The generator needs a box to keep warm. It’s been on the list for weeks now, but Chris doesn’t have enough experience to wrap his head around making one. That’s where Nena comes in.
I’m happy to brag on Nena any time. She’s 17 going on 37 and takes no nonsense from anyone. She has plenty of experience keeping her family warm when things break down at -40° and knows what needs to be done. So when she tells me “here’s what you need to do” I’m going to listen. Luckily Chris is also willing to listen and learn.
So far we have had a couple of generator parties where Nena walked us through the process of troubleshooting. She has taken apart and put back together more generators than I have seen in my life since they have been living this lifestyle for almost 6 years now. I figure she has a clue.
So anyway… back to the first picture. It’s a bit messy but I feel like it sums up everything. It got dark by 5pm but things still need doing. They needed more light than headlamps can provide. So Chris used the moose light mounted on the Scone. Yeah, that’s our storage area under the front of the trailer. We have bins that came up from Oregon, spare propane tanks, generator gas, diesel for the truck, and other stuff. It’s not pretty but it does what we need for now.
I guess the generator hut is done enough. We shall see how well it works. We are a few more parts away from being able to install the Toyo heater. That will happen this weekend. I might even get the porch and steps I want so I don’t break something by slipping on the RV folding stairs.
My generator is running again. My truck is running again. My heat is working again. It might still be cold but life isn’t bad and I always live in hope of better things.
I think today is the second day with no rain in the last two weeks. I keep getting told how unusual this is, but it’s still keeping me from working on my property. The runoff avoided a couple of the culverts and eroded big holes. We need to get the excavator back out there to redo some of the road before I can even bring materials to make my cabin. We have the sawmill available, but cannot put it in place to cut lumber. It’s all held up by the damaged driveway.
Erosion on the driveway that must be repaired.
Another blockage to progress has reared its not so ugly head. The person who knows how to operate the excavator and sawmill has been called back to work. He hauls diesel fuel up to Deadhorse on Prudhoe Bay to keep vehicles moving on the oilfields. When oil prices dropped they shut down some of the operations, but now prices have come back enough that they won’t lose money by working so they need fuel again. He’s back to work, running loads north from Fairbanks and coming back for more. I got to ride with him on a trip last week.
It’s 500 miles to Prudhoe Bay, crossing two mountain ranges and a lot of wilderness on gravel roads that are bumpy at their best.
We got started in the evening. My friend had just returned from a trip to Valdez and back, bringing a load of a different fuel up. He took a break and fueled up his truck. His daughter gave me a ride into town with a stop at Walmart for some snacks and drinks. We had to wait for his buddy to arrive and fuel up so it was about 11pm when they went to fill the tankers with their loads. We headed out of Fairbanks at about midnight, only to run into trouble on the first hill north of town. The other truck was misfiring and losing power. The guys debated for a while and ended up heading back to the yard to hook up another truck and leave the bad one for the mechanic. I went to sleep somewhere along the way and didn’t wake up until we were bouncing along the Elliot Highway.
Here’s what I very quickly learned about highways built this far north. Gravel is your friend. Asphalt is not! With the freeze/thaw cycles the roadway will heave and slump. Asphalt ends up having ripples in it that will bounce and jounce you and try to throw you out of your seat. Gravel can be the same, but it’s easy to run a grader over it to smooth out the surface again. I quickly learned to cringe when we came across asphalt and relax for gravel.
The Dalton Highway starts on gravel. I was awake enough to get out of the truck and stretch my legs for a bit before deciding the mosquitoes were too thick. I’m pretty sure there’s a photo of me in front of the sign, just not on my camera. I got my pic of it the next day on the way south. The highway was finished in the fall of 1974 to facilitate the building and servicing of the Alaska Pipeline and oilfields. The pipeline runs parallel to the highway and can be seen from the road for the most part. The farthest north section uses the pipeline miles as mile markers.
I slept off and on as far as Coldfoot, which is at about the midpoint. It was originally a camp where supplies were staged. When construction was finished and the supply camp was no longer needed a guy took the leftover pallet materials and made a building for a saloon and cafe. Now it’s a good place to stop for food and fuel and to take a nap or get a shower. The guys slept for a few hours while I got to eat and explore and sit to watch the show I had downloaded while I still had service.
I forget the name of this mountain, but every angle was different. I wish I could have caught the light shining on it like liquid gold. Going up The Shelf. Looking up the valley to the left of the road. It’s easy to lose sense of scale up here.
I took a lot of pictures. Not many of them were good. It’s hard to get a good shot while cruising down a bumpy road with rain on the windshield. The scenery is impressive and I hear that the wildlife is too. I didn’t get to see any of the wildlife though, except for a few caribou just outside of Deadhorse.
I got to hear a lot of stories too. Various spots have distinct names, some for the nature of the challenge, some for events, some for people. Names like Beaver Slide, Surprise hill, Oil Spill, and others that I can’t remember. I got to hear stories about wrecks and near misses. And I got to hear about drivers who lost their lives to the highway. Anyone who drives this road successfully will have wrecks and mechanical failures. The code of the highway will not allow for anyone to pass by another driver who is stranded. They all know that they might be the one with whatever part or tool or bit of knowledge needed to get the other back up and running. They also know that they might be the next one in need. The highway and the weather can be unforgiving.
11 pm as we approach Deadhorse. The sun is nowhere near the horizon and never went lower. And these caribou were the most wildlife I saw on the entire trip. Leaving Deadhorse. Heading south to the mountains again.
Deadhorse is not a normal town. Every lot is leased by one company or another. There are no houses. There are equipment yards, wellheads, shops, and hotels that look like mobile homes stacked end to end and three or four stories tall. Nothing was open when we were there, not just because of the hour but because of quarantine restrictions. Nobody needs an outbreak so far from civilization. It would interfere with productivity, among other things. We parked in the yard where the fuel was to be delivered, ate food that we had brought with us, and took turns sleeping in the back while the other day and watched videos on the phone or iPad. The sun was just as high in the sky at 11pm as it was at 3 or 5am. The only change was which side of the sky it filled. Midnight sun, indeed.
Fuel got unloaded, some minor maintenance on trailer brakes was done, and we were heading south by 9am. Apparently the level of road grit experienced can be bad for fittings. You have to know where to keep it clean. Heading toward Atigun Pass we passed a few cyclists. One was northbound on his own, another two were southbound. Both drivers were as courteous to the cyclists as they were to other traffic. If you can, slow down to 25 mph or slower to avoid throwing gravel and breaking windshields. I heard plenty of grumbling about tourists. The cyclists were referred to as “Meals on Wheels” by the guy who almost ran over a bear to keep her from prying his truck open to get to his food. One can only hope that the cyclists were well prepared and carrying more than bear spray.
It took almost 24 hours to make the trip north due to load, mechanical trouble, and rest breaks. The trip back took 12 hours. I managed to stay awake for most of it. I’ll admit that sleep is my favorite cure for motion sickness. I chose to nap through one of the roughest sections of road. I had to brace myself while I dozed, but it was better than bouncing around in the seat.
We only stopped a few times going south. Lunch, bathroom break, once for the dogs, and once for a paving crew on the Elliot Highway. For miles we drove through swarming dragonflies the size of my hand. They didn’t show up in the video I tried to take of them, but they covered the grill of the truck. I can only guess that they were hunting mosquitoes.
Rough roads and lack of sleep aside, I am so glad I tagged along on this trip. I got to see things in person that very few people get to see. I would gladly go again. I want to see it all in sunlight. I want to see the moose and bears and musk ox that hid from me this time. I only have one limitation. After hearing all the stories I don’t think I want to ride along in winter. I don’t know if I can handle that. Yet.
