I came down from the mountains earlier this week to buy some supplies, I powered up my phone to find a few text messages from friends, one asking, “How’s your new life? What are your days like? I want to know everything!”

It occurred to me that, while life has finally fallen into an ‘every day’ groove for us here at the cabin, to our family and friends (and friendly blog readers) back home, it must feel like we’ve fallen off the face of the earth. Some inquiring minds really do want to know, apparently. As such, I made it a point during our one-month cabin-versary yesterday to chronicle what a “typical” day in the life in the Sierra really looks like.

4:43am – I woke up just a little bit earlier than usual this morning, mostly because I’d had to pee for hours. I find myself forgetting to drink enough water throughout the day and end up guzzling a bunch just before bed in order to avoid dehydration and any possibility of developing the dreaded kidney stones at this high altitude (also, because of how dry it is, you don’t realize how much you are sweating throughout the day). So, still fairly dark with the slightest bit of twilight to the east, I got up and peed outside in the bushes. Why? Because I’m a man and I can, dammit! (Oh, and the bathroom is up the hill in the dark where the boogeyman hides.) You’d think it would be quiet out, but it’s still fairly noisy due to the rushing creeks on either side of the property.

4:48am – I go over to the “kitchen” cabin. It is 48 degrees inside, but we’ve already pretty well acclimated to the daily temperature shifts and I’m fairly comfortable in a polar fleece, pair of shorts, and flip-flops. I    light the burner under the kettle so I can make coffee for Megan, eventually. (Water takes forever to boil at this altitude, so I leave a full kettle over the pilot light overnight to pre-warm which also means it is ready in case our water system isn’t working the next morning.)

4:52am – While waiting for the kettle to boil, I go down to the dock to stretch away yesterday’s aches and to say “good morning” to our amazing view in the early morning light.

4:58am – I’ve fallen into the habit of fishing for a few minutes while waiting for the water to boil up in the cabin. On my third cast into the glacier stream that passes next to our dock, I caught a nice rainbow trout and gently place it in a large cooler filled with fresh water. Then another rainbow. Then a smaller brown trout – three casts in a row.  I wonder, why do all of the fishermen camping at the head of the lake wait until 8:00 or 9:00 to get on the water – this is the only time of day I ever catch fish.
5:02am – Three very boisterous otters pass by the dock (there are usually five) as my daily reminder, “Hey, idiot – your water is probably boiling!” I haul my cooler of fish back up the hill to the cabins.

5:06am I finish making coffee (the old-fashioned way) and check the mousetraps for the nightly slaughter. Only one? That’s progress! And then, sure enough, as I’ve come to expect with the heavy runoff this year, I confirm that our water isn’t running, so I don’t bother going through the mess of “cleaning” the fish in the streams and take the cooler back down the hill to release the fish back into the lake.

5:15am – I write “Up The Hill” on our message board in case Megan wakes up and I’m gone. It’s getting just light enough out now that I throw on some shoes and head to the top of our waterline, through the trees along the steep granite creek bed. After having a couple of bear interactions this week, I carry a small gun in my pocket – not to actually shoot the bears, but to scare them away from humans (in order to hopefully avoid having them shot for digging through trash at nearby campgrounds or homes).

5:20am – Sure enough, all of our wire screens are completely clogged and no water is getting to the top of our feed pipe. I swap my shoes for the rubber boots Megan brilliantly purchased this year (after 40 years of mind-boggling, toe-numbing pain). I take a few deep breaths before forcing my bare hands into the nearly-frozen water to clear pine needles and silt from our filters. JESUS! The water is F***ING*** COLD!!! As in, there are still tiny bits of glacier ice floating through it type of C-C-COLD!!! Who needs coffee? (But, seriously – Megan’s rubber boot upgrade is a game changer!)

5:30am – I somehow make it back down the granite boulders without dislocating anything, still a little paranoid about bears wandering in the mornings, swearing that I can hear twigs snapping all around me. I push through some trees and come face-to-face with, just inches from a large fuzzy brown… deer – that bolts and crashes past me into the forest just above the cabin. Proud of myself for not pooping my pants, I get to the cabins and sneak a peak through the window of the “library” cabin to see that the dogs are still cuddled up, snoring on the couch. (This means Megan is also still sleeping, hidden around the corner.)

5:35am – I check the sink faucet and confirm that we now have a TON of water pressure. I pump some coffee out of the thermos and make myself a mocha with some Swiss Miss because, well – I earned it. As usual, I then just stand at the window for a few minutes and enjoy one of my favorite, quiet, private, secret views of the earliest morning sun that makes the birch and aspen leaves glow like Christmas lights. Then I pull out my computer and get to work on one of my freelance assignments for a couple of hours until…

7:25am – I hear the pitter-patter of paws on the deck followed by the telltale slam of the spring-loaded wooden screen door – Megan’s up! As usual, poor silly, sweet, geriatric Annie poops on the deck without even realizing she’s awake. And, as usual, I act like I didn’t notice as Megan cleans it up – before her coffee! (I’m a monster, I know – but, I made the coffee!)

7:40am – Awake for almost three hours now and starving, I do my best to let Megan’s coffee bring her back to life as I get to work on breakfast. After living on boats with small galleys, we’ve devised a number of ways to make a number of really good “one pan” meals. This morning; french toast with blueberry and turkey sausage.

8:00am – After a leisurely breakfast, it’s time to get to work. Megan hand washes the minimal dishes, not even noticing that the water is magically working as I get to work on my “manual labor” chores early in the day before the sun hits the deck between the cabins, often in the 90’s. Megan makes sure to refill our water purifiers (though, nobody has ever gotten sick off the glacier water) and opens her computer to do some morning work as well.

9:00am – After a solid hour “in the gym,” I’m whooped. We’ve been slowly removing the boulders, rocks, and sand that pushed its way into our boathouse during a landslide years ago. We’re using all of the debris to extend a breakwater jetty in our cove to protect our boats from slamming into the docks when the wind picks up. Back and forth with buckets of sand and rock, followed by the backbreaking work of hauling boulders. Megan comes down and I can’t believe the size of some of the boulders she is “granny bowling” across the beach. Meanwhile, Gracie, always in the way, has already claimed the spit as her own private sunbathing spot.

9:15am – Back to working on my computer from the upper deck, trying not to wave at every boat that passes, staring awkwardly without waving back. (Seriously… what is it with Californian’s inability to wave?)

10:00am – I remember that I never installed our new 12v “charging station” to allow us to charge all our gear from the solar system (without having all our expensive electronics laying on the floor next to the old 12v receptacle). So, out comes the mitre box, clamps, drills, soldering iron, and multi-tester as I look for a couple scraps of wood to make a solid face.

10:45am – It’s already surprisingly hot on the deck and now the table is taken up with my woodworking project as the glue dries, so I take my computer and head up to one of our super secret “office tents” hidden up in the woods above the cabin. It’s nothing special – but a comfortable Ikea chair with footrest and a side table. However, it isa  cozy dark oasis in the shade, protected from the wind, and away from the distractions of dogs, boaters, and projects within sight.

12:00pm – Lunch time! Megan is heating up some leftover spicy red beans and rice I made the night before, adding some dehydrated broccoli we got from Augason Farms. Part of our new lifestyle is adhering to a realistic food budget. We used to eat out 10-12 times a week at about $20/meal (including tip and tax), today’s lunch – about $.50/serving.

12:20pm – The glue is dry on my little project and I start drilling holes and running wire to install…. Ta-Da! Our new DC charging station, complete with dual USB chargers and a voltage readout to protect our solar battery array from every getting too low. After tricking Megan into complimenting my handiwork, I clean up all the tools.

12:30pm – It’s getting hot (92 on the deck) and I have a bunch of research/reading to do for a freelance project. What better place to read than a hammock in the shade with a light breeze from the lake passing through?

1:30pm – I awaken from my “research” when Megan walks by with Gracie whining and yelping with excitement; it’s time for the daily swim in the lake. Megan throws the toy, Gracie swims out and brings it back to me. I throw the toy, she swims out and brings it back to Megan. All with lots of wet shaking in between.

1:45pm – Megan is at it again, rolling boulders down the beach to bolster our new breakwater. I get a bee in my bonnet and rig two of our firehoses together (yes, our water system is still working) to use the water pressure to hydraulically blow sand, silt, and smaller rocks out of the way, uncovering more boulders. It sounds like work, but it’s actually a  lot of fun and certainly beats bending over and doing it by hand with a garden shovel, etc…

2:45pm – The sun has come around enough that the huge Jeffrey pine is now starting to shade the porch and cool things down. So, I make camp in one of the comfy reclining chairs and get back to work on my computer. Megan does the same in the library, as the dog hop back and forth between shade and sun, shade and sun.

4:45pm – Megan has the wonderful idea to make some cookies for tonight’s dessert which reminds me that I haven’t checked the propane tanks down by the lake in a few days, so I head down the hill. Sure enough, one of the redundant tanks is empty, so I swap our extra full tank into the second spot on the regulator and put the empty tank in the boat for our next trip to town. Each tank seems to last us 9-10 days. Then I realize that I still never finished wiring our outdoor (porch) speakers to the new (space-saving) stereo, so I grab some tools and get to work.

5:00pm – Cocktail hour: Meg’s cookies are baking and she made a nice spread of apples, grapes, cheeses, and crackers to go along with our wine on the porch. I debut our new speaker system and we enjoy a live Sarah Bareilles album as a backdrop as we continue to wave at boaters who rarely wave back. We then play a couple rounds of Blokus while we snack, no need to announce the winner (Megan, always Megan). She asks if I remembered to thaw the chicken for dinner. Oops. We’ll figure something out.

6:00pm – Megan goes up to take a hot shower while I head to the “lower office,” an Adirondack chair on the lakeshore where I seem to do my best work. Most of the boats are off the lake now (as the rentals have to be returned by 6pm), the wind has completely calmed and it is just… serene.  I find myself making a list of things I need to look up on the internet the next time we are somewhere in cell range.

6:30pm – Megan comes down to say hello and decides to fish across the rushing creek flow, determined to break her curse of catching nothing but twigs, nets, and shoes in her entire life. Being the master fishermen in camp, I can’t help but try to give Megan a couple helpful pointers, doing my best to avoid mansplaining. Just as she’s about to call it quits – BAM, she catches the first fish of her entire life, a little (but perfectly legal) Brook Trout. The curse has finally been lifted – Megan is now officially a fisherwoman!

6:50pm – Back up at the cabin, I show Megan how to clean her fish – she does all the work with the precision and interest of a nerdy college anatomy student (with a healthy dose of, “Oh, sorry little guy…”). I fry it up with some butter, spices and shallots – becoming a master at removing skin and bones, and serve it alongside some quinoa and veggies from the water-cooled stone cooler built into the hillside 3/4 of a century ago.

7:15pm – The sun snuck behind the mountains a few minutes ago, but it will be light for another couple of hours and we have a lovely meal on the porch. Who needs frozen chicken when you can catch your dinner? (Thanks, Megan!) We chat about various work projects, cabin projects, and all of the logistics for our trip to finalize our boat purchase in Mexico next week.

7:45pm – Since we still have water pressure, Megan does the dishes (I cooked, dammit!) and re-fills our water purifiers and kettle to warm on the stove overnight.

8:00pm – It’s starting to cool off a little bit now, down in the 60’s and we retire to the comfy chairs of the “library” cabin, In the background some instrumental Bluegrass is playing quietly as Megan cuddles up with the dogs to read while I do some final work of outlining and planning on some freelance work. I try not to notice the annoying humming blue light coming from the last 12v fluorescent fixture that I keep meaning to replace with a warmer (and more efficient) LED.

9:15pm – Fighting a case of the nodding-offs, I give in and head to bed, plugging my computer in at the new charging station on my way.  I’ll be snoring within five minutes, unfazed by the glow of Megan’s Kindle as she’ll read for who knows how many hours.

11:30pm – I awaken from a hard nap, feeling completely refreshed. I get up and walk outside, not because I have to pee, but because it’s a clear moonless night and I’m excited to see the show as the Milky Way stretches across the entire night sky, from one jagged mountain peak to another. It is truly remarkable and indescribably just how, at this altitude, in the desert of the High Sierra, so far from any town – just how brilliantly vibrant the stars appear. Even at anchor in the San Juan Islands the night sky, though beautiful, is muddied by distant radiating light pollution of Seattle, Victoria, and Bellingham. But here – well, you can really start to feel the earth moving through the vast darkness as you try to even make sense of the immensity of the universe.

I watch the free on-demand lightshow for a few minutes when a blinking star makes its way across the horizon, the International Space Station. I imagine the astronauts from various countries working together, looking down on this pale blue dot from their temporary home in the cosmos and I wave to them, “Safe travels, goodnight.”

Here’s to life (and every joy it brings),
Steve