Buttoning Up

Our last hurrah. Last weekend on the island for this season. Ostensibly to "button up".

If the lake looked wonderful in summer, it looks positively gorgeous in autumn, and once again reminded both us us, separately, of our visit to Lake Placid last September.

Did a few end-of-season chores: lime & fertilizer on the ground, put the Thinking Swing in the shed, but mostly it was just a chance to say goodbye. The thought did cross my usually optimistic mind that who knows what the future may bring, if something will intervene so we can't return, as it did with the previous owners. But for now, I'll just be grateful for the wonderful summer we had on the lake.

More on the Destroilet

It turned out the Destroilet was, in fact, put into production.

Ad for one: http://theimmaculateconsumption.wordpress.com/2009/08/12/introducing-the-destroilet/

Another person's reminiscences:

http://theworldwasturning.blogspot.com/2010/05/arriving-at-cabin-or-destroilet.html

And as recently as 2005, someone was looking for a replacement for his old Destroilet. Apparently it was still working, but he had to replace parts, including his squirrel cage(!)

http://www.kountrylife.com/cgi-bin/viewit.cgi?bd=forum&th=185444

And, the Pièce de résistance, a band which calls itself "Destroilet", which you can check out on youtube.

Scary, but not yet Halloween

Somehow Steven got loose on the island without me. True, the pontoon boat had to be taken out of the water before they lowered the lake level. He took Seth, purportedly to help do that, and "tighten up for the winter".

They were gone all day. I have no idea what I'll find either down or up next trip.

Hustle Time

Over the summer, we've named the major buildings on the island. Besides the obvious Outhouse, there's The Shed and The Shack. Well, ok, that's it. There's not much more there, except the wood piles.

Anyway, The Old Shed is down (now called the Wood Pile North), and The New Shed is up. We've decided to move The Shack forward more, closer to the water, but that's mostly next season's project. Meanwhile, remember those holes Steve dug earlier in the summer? Well, we've poured concrete in them, ready for the foundation of The New Shack.

Yesterday we loaded the barge and brought the old stove and a bunch of other assorted crap that couldn't burn to the dock, unloaded it onto the truck and hauled it away.

Reversing the order, we brought onto the island via a return trip the concrete bags, 6x6 posts, assorted tools, and I can't remember what all else, I was so beat. Steven's a crabby boss, and the pay sucks.

Other people at the dock usually look at us on our barge oddly, but they're too polite to voice their curiousity about the random assortment of flotsam and jetsam we surround ourselves with. Whereas other party boats hold better dressed people and beer, we look like a couple of old hoboes who've gone dumpster diving along the shore. There are only a couple of islands on the lake, and right now we're the only ones doing any work, so people undoubtedly aren't thinking along those lines. But I can still see their unspoken questions as to where the heck we got, and where the heck we're going, with all that crap. Couple of more forward people will inquire how the fishing is. Just for laughs, Steve simply says we weren't fishing, just "out on the lake". I smile, but never offer an answer. Just as with magic tricks, reality isn't as interesting as imagination.

But yesterday was the best. A group of about 5 older guys, all dressed chips ahoy, were taking a beautiful wood boat out of the water while I was sitting docked, surrounded by the detritus of the former owner's, and now my, life. This was their boat's maiden voyage after a summer-long restoration, and the contrast couldn't be more appalling. But they held their collective tongue.

Steven whispered that I should show some leg, and maybe they'd give me a hand hauling. But 1. maybe he didn't remember what my legs look like, and 2. they were all reaching for the hand sanitizer.

I never offered. My leg or an explanation. But just wait till they see the fridge coming ashore!

Plastic drifts onto the Island

Well, not exactly. We brought it on. Deliberately. The days are getting shorter, and there are a few projects we need to button up before winter.

There are three structures on the island: the shed, the shack, and the outhouse. And then there's the woodpile. Every week we find yet another piece of the shed and/or shack on the ground and relegate it to the wood pile. The shed is actually pulling away from the shack, to which it's attached. Or is it vice-versa? We don't know if one is actually holding up the other, or which one, or if they're co-dependent, but they're doing a pretty bad job of it in any case. And since all our tools, gadgets and gizmos are stored in one of those two, we have to "do something about it", as Steve would say.

So in the interest of time, last night we bought a Rubbermaid garden shed plus other wood stuff needed to stand it on, piled it all on the pontoon boat (work boat, party boat, barge, deck, or dining room, depending on what we're using it for) and hauled it out to the island to assemble.

It should be done tomorrow. I'm so ashamed, so very ashamed...

Hot Sh-t!

Was reading bio of Art Rouse, publisher of Trailer Life & Motorhome mags. There's a pic of a prototype self-contained toilet called -- no kidding -- "The Destroilet" -- which attempted to dispose of sewage by incinerating with propane flames!

Whoa! Better know which is the "flush" button!

I'm baaaaccckkkkkkk!!!

Apropos of nothing: Our electic bill at the rink went up 40% compared to last year, so I called the power company to determine the problem: bad meter, old applicance, etc.

She cheerfully told me it was because of two things: additional kw usage ( I get that -- it's been hot and business has been better this year than last) and the large rise in kw hour cost due to increased demand! It happens every summer, she said, but is already starting to come down now.

So I got to thinking: as I sit swinging on the island, my mind, if not my body, is still in motion. Sometimes I think it would be cool if we opened an ice cream stand on the island. It would be a destination for boaters, and just a cute idea. (But then I come to my senses: nah, it would end up too much like another job)

Still, if I were an ice cream vendor, and we had a really hot summer, I'd sell 40% more ice cream and be thrilled with the increase in sales & profit. But I wouldn't raise my prices 40% and then sell more ice cream! The customers would revolt and get their ice cream elsewhere.

Problem is, we don't have another power vendor to go to.

Good Night and Good Luck

OK, so with weeks going by and no new posts, it occurs to me that it's because sitting on an island watching grass grow is about as exciting as, well, watching paint dry. (Sorry for the mixed metaphors.) All in all, nothing really happening. Well, it's happening, but in sloooowwww-mo. So I'll say "bye" for now on this subject. Really want to do the landlord blog some time soon...

The Deadly Duo

Steve & I are The Deadly Duo. Sort of like superheroes in reverse. We feed off each others' visions, both feel the need to make things right -- right being the way we think they should be. And it all creates more work.

Heaving rocks, mind drifting, he would kill me if he knew what I was thinking (so I dare not say it out loud), because then it would become part of his vision, and already, without lifting a finger, it would become another project in his eyes, and he wouldn't rest until it became reality.

....I don't see myself scrambling up this dock in 10 years. He's still enjoying hauling the boat around, but I'd be happier if we didn't have to, and it's only mid-summer. Ditto planning lunch, getting ice, blah, blah. Love the island, but I'd rather have a more permanant situation where we can live all summer, and not need a boat to get to work. But he's tired of paying all those land taxes. There's a property with two little summer cabins on the lake for sale. Maybe we could rent one in summer just to make up the tax money. Look at the pix. Good location, but (here's the kicker) they need work!

OMG! Please let me shut my mouth! At least until November, when prices will be lower...

On the Rocks

Piling stone upon stone is a very zen experience. My mind gets to wander while I'm doing that repetitive thing. It's best not to look up too much, just fling rocks underhand at the shore, or I'll realize just how much there still is to bulwark. I've found it's best to focus on just one tree, and plan on reaching and surrounding that tree with rocks. So as I move from one outcropping to another, in a very real sense I'm saving the trees. Which is where my mind starts to wander...

As opposed to piling rocks around a tree to save it and the shoreline, buying carbon offsets sounds like a first cousin to buying indulgences, which sounds similar to "adopting" an overseas orphan, or naming a star. All those are bought with money, and are intangible and unprovable. As I'm heaving rocks, I visualize W.C. Fields with this stack of pictures of trees at different stages: sapling, one year old, five years old, etc., and his mailing list: "Send this sucker his 2-year old tree picture". Or kids: "Send that sucker his 5 year old orphan picture." And stars: "Sure, your star is 'officially' named. Can't see it with the naked eye? Too bad. Can I interest you in a telescope?"

Meanwhile, I've done about 80' of shoreline already. And you can touch the trees.

Stix & Stones

We have two major problems on the island (well, three if you count the always present logistical problem of getting anything on or off it ) erosion of the shoreline on three sides from the waves caused by boats' wakes', and the large piles of wood & other debris with no place to put it. The biggest pile actually has the demolished old outhouse, complete with toilet seat, various hand towel dispensers and other detritus.

So this weekend was spent putting a dent in both problems. We figured out that, if I started hoisting rocks from the lake bed up on the edge of the shoreline, eventually it would become a smaller version of those old stone jetties we had on the beaches when I was a kid. (Probably now those same jetties would be politically incorrect, and I'm betting those that haven't been boardwalked over now have, besides the Danger signs, maybe a rubber coating on the sharp edges, and soft playground sand to land on if, in the unlikely occurence of a kid actually fishing or playing on them, he should slip -- oops! is "he" too gender specific?). Ow, these run-on sentences and digressions are giving me a headache!

Anyway, I spent two blissful days hauling and heaving rocks. Along the way, I re-learned a science fact I had long forgotten: rocks weigh less in water. At the same time it disproved "no pain, no gain". Lots of rocks, a pretty good start to our erosion plan, and no pain. And I stayed cool in the knee-high water, to boot.

Steven decided to burn the wood. Not knowing if woodburning was "allowed", we decided to call it a campfire, and practiced our mea culpas in case we should need them. By the end of the weekend, most of the outhouse was gone.

But the best part about owning an island is that there's very little government, policing or regulating going on in practice -- it's too hard for them to get there. Might just elect ourselves King and Queen, maybe secede from the Union...

Who Knew?

It's been busy in real life. In "Island Life", we spend a lot of time sitting on the swing, thinking about improvements. I told Steve he might as well decide (yes, it's late in coming to the realization) that he Does Stuff, and is only happy when either doing or planning on doing. So time not spent on the swing has consisted of me pruning every stray vine and burning debris, while Steve has dug holes.

Yes, the man has been happily digging holes by hand for weekends now. If you squint and don't notice the grey hair and other signs of age, he looks just like an 8-year-old trying to dig to China. Dirty, sweaty, and smiling. I mostly just shut up & let him dig.

By now he's decided we need a deck attached to the shack which will eventually morph into a real cabin, complete with glass and a roof that isn't in imminent danger of collapse. I will grant that every time we return to the island, another piece of the building is lying on the ground, which allows me to continue to burn.

Aside: I figured out if I spread the ash from the fire pit, it will sweeten the soil. Only problem is, the island is being eroded by waves from passing boats, and one whole side has lots of fern and other acid-loving plants growing, which are keeping the island together. So I have to be careful where I spread the ash, because we don't want to disturb the ferns. Meanwhile I'm busy searching the net for plants that hold soil and don't need much care, to put on the opposite side. And we're trying to figure out a quick & dirty way to break the waves to stop future erosion. Did I say thank you already to Rachel Carson?

Another logistical problem we've pondered whilst swinging is how to get materials to the island in our little boat. A raft? A barge? A couple of rafts which we could lash together and use as a dock when it's not hauling? But seriously, how much raft, driver, and material can a 35 hp. motor on a 12' boat pull? How about a pontoon boat? That could carry materials, the whole fam damily on one trip, and be used as a raft or deck while stationary! So do we really need a deck at all? Still, the hunt is on for a cheap but water-worthy pontoon boat, and ironically, I've become the one to scour the want-ads -- me, who has never driven a boat or even started a motor on one.

And like that hypocrite Al Gore, who lives in a gigundo house (and soon will need two!), our carbon footprint is getting bigger, which wouldn't be a problem except that now I'm aware of it.

The Accidental Tree Hugger

The hubs had been whining about having a place on the water for ages. (He would call it "pining" not "whining", but that's why it's my blog.) A place where he could just hang out, not have to take care of a house or anything, maybe just a lot with a garage, a place to park his car & put a small boat in.

Now when it comes to the environment, admittedly, I'm a little slow on the uptake. Until last year, I didn't even bother to recycle or return bottles. Sometimes I'd leave returnables in the alley for someone else to pick up if they wanted, but mostly I thought that 5c deposit paid for the haul-away.

So last fall, when I picked up a monthly throwaway & saw an ad for an island in the middle of Kinderhook Lake, I never noticed my life was about to change. No bells clanged, no firecrackers went off, and the little exclamation point never showed up in a balloon over my head. I called the Realtor, got some pics, and told Steve about it, but he sort of grunted and ignored me because he was busy. Finally, on Christmas Day, when we had no other obligations, I made him take a ride out to the lake. By this time the lake level was lowered, as is done every fall, and there was no way to get on the island. So we drove around the lake so we could view thru binoculars from different angles, and I called the broker. Somewhere in the dead of winter we closed on a property we had never come more than 200' near, and waited for the lake association to raise the water levels in spring.

What we envisioned in February as a kick-back place where we had no maintenance, in June is becoming a lesson on micro-environmental systems, interdependency, and recycling, all pretty much born of necessity, because there isn't an easy way to get stuff on or off the island.

It should be an interesting summer.