Doing without Electricity

We pride ourselves on our lack of technology and unnecessary appliances at the cabin. But truthfully, over time improved cell signals have enabled some devices to creep into use. I will admit to occasionally checking email myself. And then there was the arrival of wireless Internet at the bait shop. Suddenly the trip for the morning papers took longer than before.

But all that's a moot point without electricity. When the storm took out our power the other night, little did we know that days later we would still be managing without it. The smartphones were the first to go. The storm hit in the evening, when the devices were already depleted from searching for distant signals. Common cell phones fared better. We all switched to airplane mode to conserve what little life was left. iPads without a data plan hung in there, but the Kindles were the clear winners – they can go forever without a recharge. Good thing, as reading is a high priority at the cabin.

On the more mundane side of life, we have bemoaned the loss of our fans in the continuing heat, humidity and lack of wind. But the lake has served to cool us off. Opening the fridge is severely restricted, and has been supplemented with a cooler of ice. We normally grill most of our meals anyway, and have been using up our fresh fruit and salads. By chance, my son brought his camp stove – that's our next option. And thank heavens for the old fashioned outhouse… Without electricity, we have no water pump.

And then there are the creative solutions. We have swapped the usual evening board games for 20 Questions. Booklights and headlamps are in demand for nighttime reading. Our son, the newly minted electrical engineer, fashioned a recharger out of batteries and a dissected charging cord. Since it produced smoke, we opted not to plug in any of our precious devices. We patiently awaited my husband's arrival today, as his car held an electric converter. Although we earlier poked fun at our neighbor who recharged her iPhone in their truck, the idea has since become more appealing. If this keeps up tomorrow morning, we're going to plug in our coffee maker. Communicating with the outside world can wait. There is only so long we can go without our morning caffeine.

Cabin Storms

Boats were absent from the lake, the thrum of their motors replaced by the whine of chainsaws. The resort’s raft floated peacefully out in the middle of the lake. The calm waters belied the turmoil that raged the night before. Neighbors were out inspecting the damage, swapping stories and wondering when power would be restored.

The storm was the worst I’d experienced in 22 years at the cabin. It came up in a hurry, whipping the lake into whitecaps that were then replaced by a horizontal spray covering its surface. We were on the receiving end of the wind, driving straight down the lake toward the cabin. We lost the lights immediately, at the same time we were emptying out the tiny closet in the interior of the cabin for safe cover. Fortunately, we didn’t need to cram into that small space. With flashlights in hand, listening to the weather radio and cuddling two young grandchildren, we could only wait it out. The winds tapered while the rain droned on, but the worst was over. What a relief to be able to reopen some of the windows and feel the cool air left by the storm. At least we would have better sleeping weather that night.

Pine tree down in the yard

Venturing out when the rain subsided, it was immediately obvious that we had been lucky. Nature had neatly downed the big dead pine tree on the edge of our yard, relieving us of the chore. At the lake, we were amazed to see two big birches blown partially over, taking up a huge piece of the shoreline with them creating a watery cavern. Nestled underneath were five sections from the neighbor’s dock. But they suffered worse than that. Three huge trees had come down alongside their cabin, and a fourth lay squarely on their roof. Fortunately everyone was okay.

Birches ripped up the lakeshore
Trees down on the neighbor's cabin

We’re marooned this morning. Cut off from the main road by power lines draped across our road. It looks like restoring power won’t be imminent. But there is plenty of cleanup work to do. And our two year old grandson continues to sing his refrain from last night’s storm, “Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.” He seems pleased that in the end, it worked!