As most of you have heard: it's been a devastating weekend here in the nation's capital. "Windmageddon" took out power here in Alexandria for just shy of two days. This afternoon I had my first shower since Thursday morning, which: no, it's not a huge deal. I don't do manual labor for a living anymore, but it's still nice to have everyday. While it was below 50º inside of my apartment, it was nothing compared to the outside temp of around 28º.
The time away from the internet was nice, as was the time away from electricity in general. It reminded me of my trips up to our family cabin in a remote part of the Rocky Mountains back in Colorado. I say remote, but it's become a haven for affluent isolationists in recent years. Up there, there is no internet, no cell service, there isn't even reliable electricity. It's your basic A-frame cabin with a second story:
(Circa 2009)
The only distinguishing features are: a wraparound wooden deck that goes halfway around the whole house, and the Colorado State Flag outside the front door. We used to get our power from a diesel generator (that has since been converted to a more conventional hard-wire setup), which spent many months in hibernation. Surrounded by massive pine trees on top of a hill, via a dirt road overlooking a lush aspen-grove. The heat inside comes from a small, albeit very nice, wood-burning stove made of iron and brass in the downstairs portion of the cabin. The upstairs is a smaller, single room with just enough space for a fold-out bed and small, orange flip-top desk near the window.
At night it's virtually silent. I used to be afraid of the silence, and the crushing darkness. Not only because my sister would read me scary stories just before we would go to bed, but because when you're up there at night, you can't see your own hand in front of your face. It's a primal sort of fear. You can imagine how scary it must've been to be one of the early men and women: without fire, or walls to keep them safe. Out on the prairie, or the savannah. To be completely alone. It's useful, and in my view: a little refreshing to remember that every now and then. This weekend wasn't as dark, nor as silent, but it was closer than I've felt in years. Driving back from work on Friday felt a little bit like I was driving through the set of The Walking Dead.
In light of how fast things unfold now-a-days, and how quickly life can get away from you: escaping the city and being able to go to such a remote place is something that I took for granted. Living 2,000 miles away from the cabin now, it's not practical for me to go there for a weekend. This break from our most basic of modern conveniences, was a nice reprieve.
We all have a way of cherry-picking our past for the good experiences, but the cabin remains an oasis of almost entirely pleasant memories for my family. Rarely was there ever a bad time, or a fight up there. And the stars: you could see almost every star in the sky up in that place. I used to fantasize about going up there with a proper telescope and search for the moon-landing site, when I was a kid. Being able to see the moon without any smog, haze, or light pollution from even a modest city like the one I grew up in, would be a treat for any amateur astronomer. It's also the kind of place that you'd be able to write an entire novel in a week. One of those romantic, and devastating war epics culminating in a gut-wrenching climax that they eventually make into an oscar-winning movie. Like "Birdsong" or "Mudbound" (neither of which won any oscars, but should have).
The wind out here in Alexandria wasn't as bad as the wind I've experienced in Colorado, or my many excursions into Wyoming. The area just simply doesn't get a lot of wind, and it's so humid and damp that the trees don't have as secure of a foothold. As the climate continues to change, I'm afraid that this sort of hardship (that I've done a great deal to romanticize) will become all the more common out here. How can the area deal with it; when it can barely handle the rain? One of those questions that we have no real way of answering, I suppose.
If nothing else, it was inspiring; as far as storms go. My goal of completing my first novel by the time I turn 30 in June is very far behind schedule. Time to get cracking, and maybe make a trip out to see the cabin in the process.
