Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts

Tuesday, 23 April 2024

The Porcupine Saga, Part 8, When We Met Jack, Part 2

Allan Harper, midday, Wednesday, April 10, 2030

The three of them walked side by side down the laneway that led to the back of Jack's farm. Allan stayed quiet and concentrated on following what the old guys were saying. They were deep in conversation but stopped abruptly when they came to the fence at the south end of Jack's farm, looking out over Porcupine's hundred acres.

"I gotta say," said Jack, "I was wondering why you'd pick that particular farm. The creek runs right through the middle of it, and maybe half of it is in bush."

"The buildings are part of it, but all that bush is actually the main reason," replied Tom. "We're expecting the energy situation to get even worse and planning to run things mainly off firewood and muscle power."

"I see what you mean," said Jack, "surely not this year, though. I've got a 200 gallon tank just sitting there full of diesel fuel...."

"That could come in handy," said Tom. "It may take us a few years to get set up with work horses, and convert existing equipment for use with them. In the meantime we'll need to make the best possible use of every drop of diesel and gasoline we can get hold of."

"I'd suggest getting a couple of 200 gallon fuel tanks, one for diesel and one for gas. McCullogh Fuels in Inverpen would be glad to sell them to you and fill them up when fuel is available" said Jack. "I could also introduce you to some people who keep work horses as a hobby. Might be interested in selling you a team or two and harness to go with them. In the meantime, if diesel isn't available, canola grows well hereabouts and it isn't that hard to set up an oil press. Diesel tractors will burn it OK if you warm it up first to thin it out. Or, with a little more trouble, you can make it into biodiesel. Gasoline engines run fairly well on wood gas, and a gasifier isn't hard to set up."

"Yeah, we probably will do most of that at one point or another," said Tom.

Allan noted that there was a large pasture field on the other side of the fence, up the hill from the creek in the northwest corner of Porcupine's hundred acres—the bush only occupied the middle of the farm, on either side of the creek. Figuring that they would soon be crossing the fence, Allan started to climb over it in the middle of the span between two posts.

"Hey Allan," called his Dad, "not in the middle. Always cross a page wire fence next to a post, where it is well supported."

"Sorry Dad. I'm not much of a farm boy. ," said Allan, moving to the nearest post.

As the crow flies the distance to Porcupine was about a mile and a quarter, but when they left Jack's farm, the route grew complicated. After climbing the fence they headed southeast across the pasture field toward the bush. Jack led them straight to a footpath that took them into the bush and to a point where the north slope of the ravine wasn't too steep. The path went down that slope to the bottom of the ravine where a crude timber bridge crossed the creek.

There was a fallen tree just to the east of the bridge, it's trunk level enough to make a decent bench. Tom sat down and patted the tree. "Let's take a break."

Jack and Allan joined him.

By this point Tom had finished giving Jack an abbreviated version of what he'd covered the night before, outlining what The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative was all about and how Tom expected it would operate. "That's the idea of the thing, anyway," said Tom. "It's pretty clear, but the practical details, not so much. Besides being an electrician, I've got a bit of experience with gardening, woodworking, basket making, baking bread and cheese making. I learn well enough from books, but I've found it's a lot easier to have someone on hand who has some actual experience with whatever I'm trying to do."

"I can see that, for sure," said Jack. "And there are a few areas where I may be able to help you on that score. You were talking about firewood? Just take look around here."

He pulled a folding knife out of his pocket, opened it and jabbed the tip of the blade into the tree trunk they were sitting on. "This wood hasn't gone punky yet and I'd guess there is a lot of fallen deadwood here much like it, that would make decent firewood. Enough to last you through next winter, maybe longer. Clean it up and it will be a lot easier to access the rest of the wood in this bush. Looks to me like there's quite a bit of standing deadwood as well. Do you for another year before you have to cut any live trees, maybe."

"That's what I was hoping," said Tom. "We passed some ash trees that look like they haven't quite succumbed to the emerald borer yet. I've seen ash in that state put out a lot of new shoots from the stump after they were cut down. And the shoots get pretty big before the borer starts to bother them."

"Yep, I've seen that happen too," said Jack. "Coppicing, they call it—a great way to get a perpetual supply of firewood."

"Yes indeed. So it looks like with some care we can be well set for firewood," said Tom. "As for lumber... near the creek here I can see cedar, hemlock and willow. Further up the hill, where it's not so wet, we just walked by maple, beech, ash, birch and some cottonwood. All we need is a sawmill. I've seen some portable small scale ones that would do the job. We'll just have to add one to the list of things we need to acquire. So, given that, food would be the next thing to think about, and then textiles."

"Yep. I gather you don't need me to tell you how to grow a garden?" said Jack.

"Well, I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but I have done quite a bit of gardening in my day," said Tom. "I've got a book back at the house where the author, Carol Deppe, talks about what to grow if you want to feed yourself. Five things, she says—potatoes, corn, squash, beans, and a laying flock. All those (except the chickens, of course) can be planted and harvested with hand tools, and a fairly small plot of them will produce a lot of food."

"A good plan for people with limited access to land," said Jack, "but aside from the bush, you've got fifty acres or so and access to powered machinery, so I think you might want to go with a longer list—more variety, and more diversity and resilience in case one thing or another doesn't work out during any one year."

"Yep, I agree," said Tom. "We will have a big garden, with herbs, greens, tomatoes, peppers, cabbage and kale, onions, leeks and root crops other than potatoes. I've good a bunch of them started under lights already. And I think we'll treat Carol's list as field crops and add more types of grains, as well. Wheat, oats and barley at a minimum. I take it that would be your area of expertise?"

"Well, I've got some experience," said Jack. "Don't know if I'm really an expert. For instance, I've never grown potatoes on a large scale and I don't have the machinery."

"Well, my dad used to use a single furrow walking plow hitched behind a tractor to make a furrow to plant them in and to cover them once we planted them. In the fall he'd use the plow to turn the ground over to get at the potatoes," said Tom, "So maybe you can be more help than you think. But we'll cope one way or the other. I'd like to plant quite a lot of potatoes, a even if we have to plant and dig them by hand. Just for diversity in our starch crops."

"I haven't done much work with a walking plow," said Jack. "Your dad was from an earlier generation, sounds like."

"He sure was," said Tom. "Now about field crops...."

"You do like to stay on track, don't you?" said Jack with a chuckle.

Allan laughed, "He's got you there Dad!"

"Yeah, well..." said Tom, with a rueful look on his face "I've been told I can be a pain that way. Not a problem, I hope."

"Oh, hell no," said Jack. "A solution, if anything. It's pretty easy to sit around talking all day and not get anywhere. Good to have somebody to keep us out of those rabbit holes, eh? I think I was about to start one about our fathers, but that can wait for another day. So... yeah, corn, wheat, oats and barley are no problem. I've grown all those. I have machinery to plant and harvest them and I know where to get seed. I don't have a huller for the oats and barley, or a grinding mill to make flour."

"But you'd lend us the machinery you do have?" asked Tom.

"Sure—it's just sitting idle now," said Jack.

"That would be a big help," said Tom. "Several of us at Porcupine brought hand cranked flourmills with us. I even have one that's been adapted to be turned by an electric motor. A bigger, heavier duty one might be a good idea, though. I guess we'll have to add that, and a bunch of other stuff to the list."

"I'll bet that's gettin' to be a long list," said Jack with a grin.

"It sure is," said Tom. "Now, I'm guessing the corn you're thinking about would be a hybrid like everybody around here grows?"

"Yes it would," answered Jack, "Not so good if you're wanting to save seed for future years, I will admit."

"Not to worry," said Tom. "We can plant the hybrid corn this year for immediate use. I have a gallon jar of non-hybrid white flour corn seed which we can plant well away from the hybrid corn this year and get enough seed to plant a few acres next year. May do the same thing with some non-hybrid sweet corn and popcorn too."

"Might be a bit of a trick to keep those different types of corn separated enough," said Jack. "It's pollen carries a long way on the wind."

"Yep, we'll have to be careful about that," agreed Tom. "There are a few other crops I am interested in...."

"Yeah?" said Jack.

"Well, there are eight crops that people don't usually think of, that I'm convinced are pretty important" said Tom. "Bamboo, willow, hazel, flax, hemp, sorghum, sugar beets and Russian dandelions"

"Well, I've grown flax and sorghum," said Jack. "and before the depression hit, a few people around here were growing hemp. The new, simpler licensing requirements that came in after pot was legalized made it easier to get started. I could call a few people, probably get you started on hemp too. I presume you want the flax for the fibre as well as the seeds, and the sorghum for the sweet juice as well as the grain. If I were you, I'd probably try canola, too. But I have to admit I know very little about the rest."

"Canola and maybe sunflowers would be a good idea," said Tom. "As for the others, well, bamboo is a useful building material, and in the spring the shoots are a nice treat. Willow coppices really well. If you cut it every year you get thin shoots that are good for basket making. If you cut every three to five years the shoots get big enough to use as firewood. Hazel you grow mainly for the nuts, but it too has shoots that can be used like willow. We'd grow sugar beets for the sugar in them. And you can make rubber from latex in the roots of the dandelions. It's amazing the number of things that rubber is used in, and there's a fungus that destroying the rubber tree plantations in the far east. Plus shipping from that distance is going to get chancy."

"If this goes well, I might learn a thing or two here," said Jack. "So, anyway, I take it you folks ain't vegetarians?"

"No, we certainly are not," said Tom.

"OK. When it comes to stock, I have had some experience with cattle, pigs and sheep on a fairly large scale, and chickens on a small scale—just a few for eggs, you know," said Jack.

"That would do for a start," said Tom. "Some beef cattle—cows and a few steers. And three or four dairy cows so I can get back into cheese making. Preferably Holsteins, young ones who've just had their first calf and are still milking. I'm assuming the artificial insemination people are still in business?"

"So far, yes," answered Jack, "though I think you'd might want to look at having a bull in the long run. I don't think we can rely on any business to survive for long if the depression continues. Sure, some will, but enough won't that you wouldn't want to count on them."

"Yep," said Tom. "We'll want sheep too. My main interest there is milking sheep, since it's the best milk there is for cheese making. I'm not sure if milking sheep are much good for wool or meat—I guess we'd have to research that."

"I know some of the Amish people hereabouts that keep milking sheep," said Jack. "I think they'd be interesting in selling you some."

"Good. I'd like you to have a look at our barn and see if there's room for all this stock," said Tom, "If there is room I'd sure like to have some pigs and chickens too. Definitely laying chickens, but some for meat as well. There are only twenty of us for far, but I'm thinking we'll add another 100 acres later this year, and see about finding another twenty people with some of the skills we are missing. So we'll want to be set up to feed that many people."

"You're looking at 5 acres per person, from the sound of it?" said Jack.

"Yeah—that may sound like a lot, but remember we are planning to be self sufficient in firewood, lumber and fibre at least, as well as food, and feed for the stock," said Tom. "We'll want to have some surplus too, to get us through bad years. With climate change, I think we can expect some of those."

"Seems reasonable," said Jack. "You don't happen to have a butcher among you?"

"Not yet," said Tom. "For now, we'll be trucking anything we want butchered to Bluewater Meats, on the highway just north of Inverpen."

"They do a nice job," said Jack. "Now, excuse me for jumping back, but I guess we'll have to have a closer look at what acreages you want of the various field crops."

"I'll have to draw on your experience there—I have some ideas of how much we need, but not what we can expect for yields," said Tom.

"Good. Seems like we've covered food, fibre and building materials," asked Jack. "Is there anything we've missed?"

"There are other grains we might want to try," said Tom. "but let's leave that for another year. I'll want to talk to the people at Busy Bee Honey in Inverpen about getting a few hives of bees out here for pollination and honey. The other big thing I want to try is setting up an orchard. There's a nursery down near Alma that specializes in fruits, berries and nuts suitable for this climate. They take a few years to get going, so I'd like to get that started ASAP."

"I don't know much about growing fruit," said Jack. "Clearly possible, though—every farm around here used to have a orchard."

"Yep," said Tom. "I guess we'll want to make sure we can get the hides back from the butcher, too. Leather is useful for so many things, it's worth putting the effort into learning how to tan and work it."

"That's ambitious," said Jack. "But it's not like you're talking about doing anything that people haven't been doing for millennia."

Up until this point Allan had only the vaguest idea of how Porcupine was going to feed itself, but it seemed that Jack, with his experience and equipment, was just what they needed. Still, it sounded like a lot of work. "How many of us is it going to take to grow all this stuff and raise all this stock?"

"Sounds overwhelming, does it?" said Jack.

"As I said before, I'm no farmer," said Allan, "but yeah, it sound like a hell of a lot to take on."

"It may seem that way," said Jack, "but it isn't really. The kind of operation your dad's thinking of has often been done by one family, using horses instead of powered machinery, working hard while they are at it, but with lots of downtime too."

"Your grandfather would be an example of that, Allan," said Tom. "He switched from horses to a tractor when I was a little kid. But the farm he had was about the size I am thinking of, and run by one family of five, three of us kids, with occasional help from my uncles. I think the hard part isn't the growing, but the next stage where it all has to be processed into food, clothing and so forth. That will keep us busy."

"Looks that way to me too," said Jack.

"You guys would know, I guess," said Allan, somewhat skeptically.

"Well, I hope we do," said Tom. "I probably am missing a few things, but they'll become obvious as we go along. For now, maybe we should get moving."

They got up, crossed the bridge, and soon came out into the field behind Porcupine's bank barn. From there they continued past the barn and into the parking lot.

Jack looked around the parking lot. "You folks sure have a bunch of vehicles here."

"Yeah, most everybody so far has come with one or two," said Tom. "I guess we need to sort them out and sell the poorer ones or store them somewhere for parts. Since they all belong to the commune now, nobody wants to take the first step, I'd guess."

Just then, Andrea and Terry pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of the pickup truck they'd taken into Inverpen. "Hey Dad," called Andrea, "what's up?"

"This is Jack Collins," answered Allan, "our neighbour to the north. Grandpa and I went to his place to say hello and he's come back with us for supper. Jack, this is my daughter Andrea and the guy with her is Terry Mackenzie."

Andrea and Terry shook hands with Jack. "We're planning to put a sign up over the gate, and we got most of what we need," said Terry. "But anything big enough for tall gate posts was either out of stock, or God awful expensive. I'm wondering if there might be some big straight cedars back in the bush?"

"You know, just now we walked by some trees that might do nicely," said Allan. "I don't think we have a chainsaw yet though."

"No need to worry about that," said Jack. "I've got a chainsaw and a tractor to haul the logs back here. Maybe a bit late to start at it today though. What if I show up tomorrow morning with the tractor and saw?"

Andrea, Terry and Allan all looked to Tom for an answer.

"I know the sign was my idea, but it's your project now. What do you think?" said Tom.

They looked at each other for a moment and then nodded. "Sounds good to us," said Terry "Could you guys give us a hand unloading the truck?"

Soon the materials were all stashed in the second pole barn and Tom said, "Am I right in guessing that we've all missed lunch?

There was general agreement on this and they headed for the house. They were standing in front of the fridge with the door open when the housing crew (Karen, Erika and Cindy) came in.

"Looking for a snack?" asked Karen after the introductions were done.

"We'd like to dignify it by calling it a late lunch," answered Tom. "Not sure what to have though."

"Why not keep it simple," said Karen. "There's bread and peanut butter in the cupboard and jam there in the fridge."

"OK," said Tom. "I've invited Jack here to supper. Hope that's OK."

"Sure," said Karen, "with this many, one more doesn't make much difference.

They set about making themselves sandwiches and a few minutes later joined the housing crew in the dining room. Allan sat down next to Erika.

"You mind if Jack joins us?" Tom asked.

"The more the merrier," said Erika.

"How'd the measuring go?" asked Tom.

"Pretty good," said Erika, "we've got pages of numbers and more questions than we started with."

"That's just a sign that you're doing it right," said Tom.

"Maybe so," said Erika. "We've realized we aren't clear on what level of accommodation we should be providing for people."

"That's a good question, and one we'll need to address as a group," said Tom. "It would be good if you had a few suggestions though."

"Yeah, I think we do," said Erika. "We're also wondering what resources we have to draw on. Just the buildings right here, or if we are eventually going to take over the whole concession and occupy all the buildings?"

At this, Jack cleared his throat and spoke up, "One of those sets of buildings is mine, and I don't plan on leaving until they take me out in a pine box."

"Sorry Jack," said Erika, "we're just brain storming here—didn't mean to step on any toes."

"It's OK," said Jack, "don't mean to be grouchy, just wanted you to know how things are."

"Yeah, we understand," said Tom, "In any case, I think we want to keep everyone living right here, within easy walking distance of each other, with a common kitchen and dining room and so forth."

"OK, that gives us a basis to work from," said Erika. "I guess we'll need to get together after supper and talk this over."

"You should find Angie and let her know about that," said Tom. "Well, guys, maybe we should leave these folks to it and go have a look around the place."

As Allan stood up he caught Erika's eye. She just shrugged and shook her head.

They picked up their sandwiches and drinks, and headed out the back door onto the porch which ran along the north side of the house.

"I think we're going to see if we can get started on that sign. Right Andrea?" said Terry.

"You bet," answered Andrea, and they headed off toward the pole barns

After an awkward moment of silence, Jack spoke up, "Figure you guys got sent to my place to see if I wanted to sell out."

"You're not wrong," said Tom, "but it was clear to me once we got talking that that wasn't the thing to bring up."

"You're right there," said Jack. "Maybe we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial understanding, though. Just give it some time—I don't like to be rushed." After a moment of silence, he went on, "What about you, Allan? You're pretty quiet. Where do you fit in around here?"

"I find I do better with my mouth shut," said Allan, "at least until I get to know you better. Don't take it personally."

"Nope, no problem there," said Jack. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Well, I'm an industrial electrician by trade," said Allan. "I guess my job is to keep the lights on. We haven't had a lot of outages since we got here, from natural causes or sabotage. But that could start up again anytime. And in the long run we don't want to buy power from the grid even if it is available. So far, we've got three generators and a bunch of jerry cans of gasoline. And the generators are hooked into whatever building they supply with a transfer switch, so it's even legal and safe. Long term, the problem is prime movers to spin those generators."

"And that would involve firewood from what Tom was saying earlier?" asked Jack.

"Yes. The challenge is how to use burning firewood to spin a generator," said Allan. "Like you were saying, the simplest approach would be to build a wood gas generator and use the wood gas to fuel the existing gasoline engines on our generators. Our metal working guys are pretty sharp and they seem to think that would be easy. Beyond that, I guess we could replace those gas engines with steam or Stirling engines. Again, the metal guys are keen to try, but it's all on paper at the moment.

"Where've you got these generators stashed?" asked Jack.

"There's one just around the corner of the house," said Allan. "Let's have a look."

He led them down the steps and to the left around the corner of the house. There was a wood pile there and a small metal storage shed. Allan opened the door of the shed and pointed inside. "Here's the generator that feeds the house. The shed protects the generator from the elements. There's this sound deadening stuff on the inside," he said, pointing, "—heavy foam rubber, basically —and the exhaust is vented to the outside through a muffler to keep the noise down. The sheet metal is all bonded together and solidly grounded, and the connection to the house is protected by MOVs—little lightning arrestors— so it should be fairly well lightning/EMP/solar flare proof. The connection is via an extension cord, so we can move the generator and hook it up anywhere else it's needed."

"Ten kilowatts, eh?" said Jack, after taking a close look at the generator.

"Yeah," replied Allan, "we don't normally need that much—we heat the house and cook with wood—but we're still using an electric water heater, which takes about 4500 watts. When we're off grid, we don't run the water heater continuously, just for a while when we need hot water. Eventually we'll switch over to heating water with wood too. The generator is only about 25% percent efficient, so burning fuel to make electricity and then turning the electricity back into heat is pretty dumb."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Jack. "What about your wood pile? Where did it come from? You said you moved here in February—it's pretty hard to buy firewood at that time of year. And anything you took out of the bush wouldn't be dry."

"That's true," said Allan. "Dad, the Mackenzies and the MacGregors had wood piles and brought them with them. Enough to get us through this winter, looks like. Fortunately, it hasn't been cold."

"Would you eventually try to do without electric power?" asked Jack.

"Eventually is a long time," replied Allan. "And that amounts to never, if I get my way. Yes, eventually our generators will break down, even though we bought top quality ones. And so far we've bought identical ones so we can switch out parts when we need to. Most of the parts we'll be able to repair or build from scratch, except for the solid state stuff which I'd guess will be beyond us. But we'll buy spares of what we can't build, and that will extend the amount of time that we can keep things running. For quite a few decades, I hope. And remember, people were building generators in the late 1800s and early 1900s using technology that is well within our reach."

"The thing is whether we want to make that reach," Tom said. "We've only got so much in the way of materials and energy. Energy both in terms of firewood and of human focus and effort. There may turn out to be other things that are more important."

"Maybe so," said Allan, "but electric power is so damned useful—for a number of pretty basic things. As you yourself were saying just last night, Dad. Some of those things you can do directly with mechanical power from a heat engine, of course. But if you give up on both electricity and heat engines, it's a big step down. And if you've got heat engines, electricity is only a small step further.

"I think the real limitation with be the amount of time it takes to cut and dry firewood and build and maintain the infrastructure to use it. If we set out to use a great deal of energy, we'd end up spending all our time cutting and stacking firewood and none enjoying it benefits. Clearly, there's a sweet spot somewhere in the middle."

"You would certainly hope so," said Jack. "So let's see—steam engines date from the late 1700s so you'd be talking about going back to pre 1800s tech, I'd guess, if you gave up on electricity and heat engines altogether."

"Exactly," said Allan, "where I think we can maintain late 1800s tech at the worst, more likely early 1900s."

"I hope you can," said Jack. "It'll be interesting to watch, anyway."

The conversation paused for a moment, then Tom spoke up."Well, let's have a look around the rest of the place."

It was getting dark by the time they'd done the full circuit and arrived back at the house. "The bank barn is in surprisingly good shape," Jack said, "The steel on the roof is fairly new, so it's just a matter of pointing up the mortar in the foundation wall and replacing a few broken window panes, and it should be good to go. And there's lots of room for all the stock we were talking about.

"All the pole barns need is a good cleaning up if you plan to use them for human occupation. You'll want to get a pressure washer and a few big jugs of soap. Should be easy enough to build in interior walls and ceilings, with lots room for insulation."

"This house is the most amazing part," he went on, "if my memory serves, it was built back in the 1960s, when the McConnell family outgrew the little stone farm house that used to be here. Lots of bedrooms and storage space in the original design. Then in the 80s, they put on that addition and beefed up the insulation on the whole place."

"Like I was saying, the buildings were part of the attraction of the place," said Tom. "I used to take photos for real estate agents and while I've photographed a few farm houses this big, they aren't common. This one is ideal for our purposes—big enough, but simply built rather than some kind of damned mansion."

They went into the house to find supper almost ready and were soon sitting down in the dining room with rest of the Porcupiners. Allan thought that sounded better than "Porkies", but he decided to let someone else broach the subject.

The Porcupiners loved both talk and food—during a meal it was hard to tell which was really their favourite. Even Allan, who preferred eating to talking, enjoyed listening. And he observed that Jack joined right in with lots of intelligent questions and comments.

It didn't seem like long before they had finished desert and cleared the tables, loading the dishes into the one built-in dishwasher that had come with the place, and two portables that a couple of them had brought with them. That done, they adjourned to the addition.

Coming soon, The Porcupine Saga Part 9, When We Met Jack Part 3.


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

Maintaining the lists of links that I've been putting at the end of these posts in getting cumbersome, so I have decided to just include a link to the Porcupine section of the Site Map, which features links to all the episodes I've published thus far.

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Tuesday, 16 January 2024

The Porcupine Saga, Part 7, When We Met Jack

Will Harper, late afternoon, Saturday July 21, 2040

"Well," said Will Harper, "I guess he must have talked you into it, 'cause there's the sign."

"Oh, we gave him a hard time, just to remind him that he was no longer the boss," said Allan. "Some thought it was a silly name, but they had nothing better to offer. So it didn't take long to reach a consensus. We became the Porcupine Refuge Co-operative, and a couple of days later the sign went up.

"That evening, before shutting down, we agreed to adopt Dad's suggestions about direct democracy and communism, and to get some training for everyone in consensus decision making, ASAP. We came up with a list of decisions that needed to be made soon, to be investigated by a number of new crews over the next few days, and agreed to meet every Tuesday night after supper, unless events called for a meeting sooner than that. Dad and I agreed to visit our neighbour the next day, with an eye to buying his land and equipment. That's the next story I should tell. Right now, probably, since the tour I've promised you would include some spoilers. It's not as long as the last one, so I think we've still got time."

"OK," said Will, "we don't want to be late for supper, but go for it!"

Allan Harper, morning, Wednesday, April 10, 2030

Allan Harper got out of bed, stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Erica had risen earlier, leaving him to sleep. For most of his working life Allan had been a shift worker, and pretty seriously sleep deprived. He'd promised himself that here at Porcupine he'd make a point of getting enough sleep whenever he could, even if it meant being the last one out of bed. He dressed and left their upstairs bedroom, made his way down the stairs and down the hall into the kitchen.

The breakfast rush was over and the big pot on the back of the woodstove contained only the dregs of that morning's oat porridge with dried fruit. It looked like enough for his purposes though, so Allan started spooning porridge into a bowl and soon found there was indeed enough left to make him a very adequate breakfast. He grabbed a jug of milk from the fridge and a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and, managing to hold onto all three, headed for the dining room. He found his dad, also not an early riser, alone at one of the big tables, reading. Tom was sitting part way down one side of the table and Allan sat down opposite him.

"Morning," said Tom. "You're eating porridge?"

"Good morning to you, too," said Allan. "You remember I didn't like it when I was a kid?"

"Yes, actually," replied Tom.

"Well, here at Porcupine, I'm making a point of trying new things and some old things that I didn't like before," said Allan. "This porridge, for instance. And it is much better than what we had thirty years ago. Which is odd, since Mom made this porridge too. Different texture, different taste."

"Well, that's made with steel cut oats, instead of rolled oats, and it's got an assortment of dried fruit in it. It's also cooked in a pot on the stove rather than microwaved. Which is your mother's idea—I'm the microwave guy," said Tom. "But I suspect your tastes have changed, as well. I know mine have over the years. Anyway, it's a good thing you like it, since oats are easy to grow around here."

"Glad to hear it," said Allan, and spooned up more porridge.

"You ready for a walk?" asked Tom.

"Soon as I finish eating and brush my teeth," said Allan. "We're heading over to see the neighbour?"

"That's what was decided last night," said Tom. "I seem to remember you volunteering...."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to contribute to the effort," said Allan, "diplomacy has never been my strong suit."

"In my opinion you're too modest," said Tom. "But maybe you're supposed to watch out for me—I'm getting old."

"Nah, you're hanging in there pretty well... for a guy your age," said Allan with a wink. "So what exactly is the plan, anyway?"

"Plan may be too strong a word. We're going to walk over there," said Tom, "And check out the supposedly closed bridge on the way. When we get there, we'll introduce ourselves, feel him out and play it by ear. The fact that he's still there indicates to me that he doesn't want to leave, but you never know."

"OK," said Allan, "What's everybody else doing while we go for a walk?"

"Again, pretty much what was decided last night," said Tom. "At breakfast earlier this morning people split off into a number of crews. It's a bit of a job to keep track of them all, but I think I've got it straight...

"Oh yeah?" said Allan.

"Yeah," said Tom. "Our legal crew, Mark and Angie, are in the living room with the door closed, looking into getting us registered as a non-profit co-op, and checking how what we want to do here will fit into the local zoning regulations, and what more we need to do to make it fit."

"Our education crew, made up of Nora, Jane and all the school age kids, is in the addition. Again with the door closed, setting up for some home schooling.

"The metal working crew—Jim, Don, Wilf and Miles—are moving their stuff into the machine shed and setting it up ready to use.

"Andrea and Terry have headed into Inverpen to pick up materials for the sign we're going to put over the gate.

"Erika, Cindy and your mom are the housing crew today. They're out measuring the barns and outbuildings, and have already measured in here. All this with an eye to finding accommodations for everyone, including those who'll be joining us as time goes on, and to setting up a central kitchen and dining/meeting hall."

"So, it's really that simple?" said Allan around another mouthful of porridge. "Everybody just gets together and organizes themselves?"

"It seems that it is," replied Tom. "Especially without a bunch of management people with stupid ideas. A good thing, too—if it wasn't that simple, it might be practically impossible. Then someone like me—probably me, in fact—would be stuck trying to do it, and failing. As it is, I don't have to organize one bit of it."

"You sound pretty happy about that," said Allan. "Somebody's going to do it, though, right?"

"I suspect we all have a part to play," said Tom. "It's certainly not done yet. Right away we need a building crew, and we're missing a carpenter, a plumber, an HVAC guy and an electrician who specializes in residential wiring, instead of industrial and power maintenance guys like you and I. Pretty soon we'll need a garden crew, a farm crew, and a forestry and firewood wood crew, at least.

"But again, I don't have to organize finding those people or putting them to work. Anyway, I'm going to get ready for that walk. Meet you on the front porch shortly."

"OK." said Allan. He tucked into his porridge, finishing it in short order and heading up stairs to brush his teeth and put on a pair of hiking boots, his light jacket and a Blue Jays ball cap. He stuck a pair of leather work gloves in one of the jacket's pockets and headed downstairs. Moments later he found his father sitting on the front steps of the old farmhouse, in his khaki safari jacket, with an olive coloured Tilley hat on his head. "You're looking pretty spiffy. Ready to go?"

"Yep," said Tom, "let's head out."

As they crossed the parking lot towards the front gate, Allan noticed several people moving equipment from a trailer into the machine shed just to the east of the barn. Wilf the welder, Don McPherson, Jim MacKenzie and Allan's step-son Miles were all there and seemed to be working together quite effectively. And having fun while they were at it, to judge from the occasional outburst of laughter. The metal crew, hard at it. Allan found it encouraging to watch.

They went out through the front gate and headed east along the shoulder of the Seventh Concession. Allan couldn't help thinking how much the climate had actually changed over the last few years. When he was a kid in Inverpen, even with the moderating influence of Lake Huron, it had been common to have temperatures below freezing for weeks at a time in winter. And lots of snowfall during those times. Some years the lake even froze over. A few miles inland, like here at Porcupine, it was usually at least a few degrees colder. But this past winter there had only been a few days below freezing and what snow fell melted quickly. The grass in the pasture fields was already turning green and the buds on the row of maple trees along the fence line were opening up.

Looking back at the group of buildings at Porcupine, Allan's thoughts turned back to the work that faced them at the co-operative. "You know, if it's just putting a few partitions inside existing buildings, I'll bet the tradesmen we already have could manage it," said Allan. "That sort of carpentry isn't hard. And you did some drywall work when you built our house back in Inverpen, didn't you?"

"It was a bit of a comedy of errors, but I ended up doing all the drywall finishing in that house," Tom replied. "I hired some guys to put the board up, but they did a terrible job, and the prices I was getting to do the finishing were way too steep. So I decided to do it myself. Started in the closets and by the time I was done I was doing a pretty decent job. It's not really hard. I could show you the basics in a day—the main thing is to work in thin coats. And to do a good job of installing the drywall itself so you don't have too much of a mess to hide with the mud. You're right about the carpentry too. I'm sure we could put in some partitions, even do a bit of wiring and plumbing with the guys we've got. But we need to see what exactly the group wants to do first."

"Sounds like we've got another meeting coming after supper tonight to sort that out," said Allan.

"Maybe so. I know what I'd like to do, but I expect I could be talked into whatever the group prefers" said Tom. "Anyway, this is our turn up ahead here."

They turned left and headed north along the side road. Almost immediately, they came to the "Bridge Closed" sign.

"Where's this bridge?" asked Allan, since it wasn't visible from where they stood.

"I've never been further than this," said Tom, "but I suspect it's a ways ahead yet and then down in the ravine."

"OK, lead on," said Allan

The road went downhill a little and then leveled out for half a mile or so. Then it turned a little to the right to head straight down a steeper slope, at the bottom of which was the creek, with a typical township road concrete bridge across it. Allan couldn't see anything wrong with the bridge, but there was another sign: "Closed to vehicular travel".

His dad went down to the edge of the water on the west side of the bridge and had a closer look. "Yeah, there are some cracks down here, alright," he said. "I don't think she'd stand anything very heavy, but we should be OK. One at a time, if you're worried."

"Sure, why don't you go ahead," said Allan. "I'll stand by to either fish you out of the creek or follow across."

"Nothing to that," said Tom as he reached the other side of the bridge and set out up the higher hill to the north.

Allan would have sworn he could feel the bridge shifting as he crossed, but he made it and caught up to Tom by the time they reached the top of the hill. The land to the north of the creek was at a higher level and it was easier to see how the concession was laid out. The creek meandered southwest, crossing the Seventh Concession just before the next side road to the west, with a good growth of bush along both sides of it for most of the way.

"Now, where I grew up, the farms were square, with two rows of five making up a rectangular concession, about eight tenths of a mile wide by not quite two miles long, adding up to a thousand acres. Here the farms are rectangular, a quarter mile wide along the concession roads, by five eights of a mile deep, with two rows of five making up a square, a mile and quarter on a side. A total of a thousand acres again, but a different shape."

"Interesting," said Allan, "I didn't know that was how it worked. So that's why the locals use 'a mile and a quarter' as a unit of distance all the time."

"Yep," said Tom. "Now that's where we are headed." He pointed to a set of buildings about half way along the Ninth Concession toward the next side road to the west.

"Should we cut across the fields?" asked Allan.

"Well, maybe not," answered Tom. "The ground is still wet and the grass and weeds from last year look pretty tangled."

"OK, by the road then," said Allan.

Even going the long way, it was less than half an hour later when they reached the laneway they were aiming for.

"Looks like his truck is here, so he's likely home," said Allan as they turned in and started toward the house.

"Hope so. I'm just wondering which door we should go to," said Tom. "Probably the side one, nearest to where he parks the truck."

Allan followed his dad up the steps onto the porch. Tom pushed the door bell button and they could hear it ringing inside, but it brought no immediate response. After a minute or two, Tom tried again.

A gruff voice responded almost immediately from inside, "Keep your drawers on, I'm coming."

The door opened, revealing a skinny fellow about Tom's age, dressed in a grubby T-shirt, bibbed overalls and bare feet in ratty house slippers. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and it looked like he hadn't combed his hair in just about as long. He had an old double barreled shotgun in his hands, fortunately pointed downwards and well away from them. Allan noted with some relief that while the hammers were cocked, the old guy's finger was well clear of the triggers.

"Who're you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"We're your new neighbours to the south and we just wanted to introduce ourselves," said Tom. "I don't think you'll need that gun to keep us in line."

"Don't worry about the gun," he replied, releasing the hammers, breaking it open, removing both shells and putting them in one of the pockets of his overalls. "It's not intended for you. I'm Jack Collins. Been living here for the last 75 years. Who'd you say you were?"

"I'm Tom Harper and this is my son Allan," said Tom. "We moved into the old McConnell place back in the winter, along with some other folks."

"I see," said Jack, offering his hand, which both Tom and Allan shook in turn." If you'd like to come in, I can put some coffee on."

"That'd be great, Jack," said Tom, and they followed him inside.

Allan was wondering what or who the gun had been intended for, and what exactly they'd interrupted. Jack paused for a moment in the hall to lock the shot gun in his gun safe, and then showed them into the kitchen. "Have a seat at the table there while I put the kettle on."

The place was a bit of a mess and smelled like little effort had be spent on cleaning recently. Allan and Tom sat down and watched while Jack puttered away making coffee in a cone and filter setup. "Yeah, this is pretty old fashioned—got it back in '81, a couple of years after we got married. The darned thing lasted longer than my wife. Still works though, and no need for anything fancier. Actually, I used to say the same thing about Mary," he said, "But now that she's gone, it's not so funny."

The kettle came to a boil and Jack poured some water over the coffee in the filter. "I hope you can excuse me for being kinda rude when you came to the door, I'm not having a great day. Now you said your name's Tom Harper. I've been reading a blog for nearly twenty years now, written by a guy of that name. You don't mean to tell me that you're him?"

"Yep, I am him," said Tom.

"And you just show up at my door, out of nowhere, after all this time, " said Jack.

"Kinda like, yeah," said Tom. "I'm as surprised as you—I don't meet many people around here that follow my blog, and I don't believe you've ever commented."

"Nah," said Jack, "I don't usually comment on social media—guess I'm pretty shy. I can see how my interest in your blog might surprise you, most folks around here voting Conservative and all. But I spent 26 years in the union down at the plant and it changed my attitude, I can tell you. I'd guess that I am as much of a leftist as you, and something of a kollapsnik, too. It's nice to meet you—there's not many neighbours left and none with sensible politics."

Jack shook his head, then poured some more water in the filter cone, set the kettle down and gave the liquid in the cone a stir. "Should be ready in a few minutes."

Allan was interested to see his dad somewhat at a loss for words. It had been happening a lot lately. To be fair, this was unexpected—not the way they'd been thinking things would go at all. He perched on the edge of his seat, eager to see what might happen next.

Before Tom could say anything, Jack cleared his throat and spoke, "So what are you folks doing at the McConnell place—setting up some kind of damn commune?"

Allan thought it was a good thing Tom didn't have his coffee yet—he might have choked on it or spilled most of it on the floor.

"Well, uh, actually yes," said Tom after a moment. "Some kind of commune is exactly what we're trying to set up."

"Don't be embarrassed," said Jack. "The way things are going, that's probably a good idea. Provided you can find the right people to join you. I don't have the connections anymore. Is it just you two so far?"

"No, no—there are twenty of us as of yesterday," said Tom.

"Coming along then. You got a name for it?" asked Jack.

"Yep, we just decided that last night," answered Tom. "We're calling it The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative. The reason for the Porcupine part is a bit of a long story. The Refuge Co-operative part is more straight forward, what with all the people—basically refugees—coming back to this area 'cause things are going so badly in the big cities."

"Uh huh," said Jack, turning to grab a trio of mugs from the cupboard. "Looks like the coffee's done."

He poured the fresh brew into the mugs and set them on the table. "What do you take in it?"

"Just something white," said Tom, "whatever you got."

"Same here," said Allan.

"Well, there's milk in the fridge," said Jack. "Let's see what shape it's in." He pulled a carton of whole milk out of the fridge and gave it a sniff. "Seems OK, even if it is past the 'best by' date. Help yourselves."

As Tom and Allan took care of that, Jack said, "well, if we're going to be neighbours, we should get to know each other a bit. What about your family, Tom?"

"Well, my wife is with us at Porcupine, and we have three kids, including this fellow here," said Tom, nodding at Allan. "And counting Allan's step kids, we have 6 grand children. Allan, his wife and her two kids, grown up now, are at Porcupine too."

Jack nodded. "My wife passed a few years ago. We had two kids, both of whom moved to Alberta for work and aren't talking to me anymore. They're hard right wingers now and part of the 'let the eastern bastard freeze in the dark' crowd. So I'm pretty much alone here. Sold the last of the stock last fall and buried my dog a month ago. Lucky the ground wasn't frozen."

"That's too bad, Jack. A fella can get mighty attached to his dog, not speak of his family" said Tom. "You worked at Bruce Power for a while?"

"Well, yeah. Grew up here, went to high school in Inverpen, apprenticed as a carpenter with a local contractor. Worked for him for a few years, then got a job as a scaffolder at the plant. Those guys have scaffold built for anything you can't reach off a 3 foot step ladder. So it's steady work and the pay and benefits are great. The organization is kinda crazy though, so I retired as soon as I had the rule of 82 and farmed here every since. What about you?"

"I grew up on a farm about a hundred miles east of here," said Tom. "After high school I got a job as an apprentice electrician with Ontario Hydro, doing maintenance work in their switchyards. Ended up in the switchyards here at the plant and eventually got promoted to Crew Foreman. Like you, I retired as soon as I could, by which time the company was called Hydro One and was a separate outfit from OPG and Bruce Power. Still a crazy outfit, though maybe not quite as bad as Bruce Power."

Allan couldn't help chuckling silently at these two old guys grousing about how bad the companies they had worked for had been. During his working life he'd seen some privately owned outfits that were damn poorly organized. And even though he had worked mainly in union shops, the contracts he'd worked under had, at best, included only "defined contribution" pensions, not the gold plated "defined benefits" pensions that Ontario Hydro and its successor companies had. The "rule of 82" had allowed Tom and Jack to retire as soon as their age and accumulated years of service added up to 82, with only a slight discount for each year of service under 35. Allan knew his dad had been 51 when he retired, and gladly accepted that discount in order to get out. Allan had been laid off twice and had cashed out his pension both times to spend the small amount that had accumulated on rent and food.

"The last few years I just been farming for fun," said Jack. "Started collecting old farm machinery too. Which may come in handy if you're right about collapse. What have you been doing since you retired from Hydro One?"

"I had a little print shop the last few years before I retired and expanded it after retiring," replied Tom. "Sold it eventually and got into gardening. Like farming, but smaller, you know. I ran the Community Garden in Inverpen for a few years. Quit that when I turned 70.

"We sold our house in Inverpen to my younger brother and rented a place in Port Elgin. I read a lot, science fiction and non-fiction, write for my blog, do some woodworking and a bit of gardening still. And of course, spend time with the grandkids. Lots of fun there, although with gasoline not available sometimes and expensive when it is, we don't get together as much as I'd like."

At this point Allan twigged to what was guiding this conversation. Tom and Jack were both doing the "FORD" thing for making small talk with a new acquaintance—family, occupation, recreation, dreams. And it seemed to be working pretty well, so far. But he doubted that a couple of old working men like Tom and Jack would be keen on discussing something as airy-fairy as "dreams".

"Anything left you're hoping to do?" asked Jack.

"Well, I'm not much of a bucket list guy, but surviving collapse was my plan. Then this depression hit. Not that much of a surprise, really. But before long Allan here and a lot of other people I know were out of work and in a bad spot, things collapsing around them and nowhere to turn. So I started this 'refuge co-operative', actually putting into practice what I'd been talking about for years on my blog. We're just getting started, and it looks like it'll keep me busy for the rest of my life."

So, Allan observed, it's OK as long as they don't actually say the word "dreams".

"That sounds great, Tom," said Jack. "Myself, I'm kinda just sitting around wondering what I should do with the rest of my life. Not that many years left, I'd guess, but a fella would like to think he's doing something worthwhile with the time he'd got left."

"Well, maybe you could help your neighbours a bit," said Tom. "we're fairly clueless about farming and we'd like to get some stock and plant some crops this spring. Hoping to feed ourselves next winter, you know."

"Feeding yourselves would be good," said Jack. "I'd have to look your operation over, but I would guess I could give you some advice and maybe lend you some machinery. It would give me something to keep going for, if nothing else."

"Well, there's no time like the present," said Tom. "There's always a place at our table for one more—why don't you come back to Porcupine with us when we're finished with this coffee. I could show you around the place and introduce you to the rest of us."

"It's not like I had big plans for supper," said Jack. "There's a back way that cuts across the concession to your place. Saves a bit of time. Let me show you the way and you can fill me in on Porcupine while we walk. Just a minute though, I should change into something more presentable before we go."

Allan watched Jack disappear upstairs and Tom call home on his cell phone to warn them there be one more for supper. Then he just had to ask, "Hey Dad, what do you think we walked in on here?"

"I'm not sure, but maybe it's a good thing we arrived when we did," replied Tom.

In a few minutes Jack came downstairs dressed in brown cargo pants, a checked shirt, and work boots (with socks). He was freshly shaved and had combed his hair. All of which made a big improvement. He grabbed a coat and a feed store cap off a hook in the hallway and moments later they headed out the door and towards the laneway that ran down the center of Jack's farm, pointing straight towards Porcupine.

Coming soon, The Porcupine Saga Part 8, When We Met Jack Part 2.


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

Maintaining the lists of links that I've been putting at the end of these posts in getting cumbersome, so I have decided to just include a link to the Porcupine section of the Site Map, which features links to all the episodes I've published thus far.

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Friday, 24 February 2023

The Porcupine Saga, Part 1

Last June, when I published my last blog post, ending the series I'd been working on at that point, I concluded with the following words:
"The other thing I have been thinking about is writing some fiction. I have not written any fiction since I was in high school (50 plus years ago), so it would be nice to give it a go again. Story telling is a big part of human communication, and might serve as a better way of getting across some of the ideas that I'd like to share."

It took a while to get started, but finally, I am now publishing the first in a series of fictional stories about adapting to collapse.

A Celebration at Porcupine

Allan Harper, July 21, 2040

Allan Harper felt rather amazed to have made it this far through his father's eulogy. Tom's death at 85 had come as no great surprise, but still, it hit Allan harder than he had expected. So many things left unsaid, with no chance now to ever say them. He knew that his dad would have told him this was always the case, and that he had no option but to carry on. Allan could almost hear him saying, "Best get at it."

He cleared his throat and continued, "Before I finish I guess I should say a bit about Dad's role in the founding of Porcupine. He'd been blogging about collapse for years, and had always maintained that a time would come when the capitalist system could no longer supply our daily necessities and we'd have to look after ourselves. Further, he maintained that a time would come, before then, when the system had weakened enough that it would be possible to set up something like this without too much official opposition, but not so far that the resources to do so were no longer available. For many people that would have been nothing more than talk, and it would have been easy enough for Dad just to continue talking. He'd always claimed that timing wasn't his strongest suit, but in this case he kept his eyes open for an opportunity, and when one came up, he went for it.

"By the late 2020s offshore investors owned most of the land in this area. It seems that the great majority of them went bankrupt in the crash of 2028, and stopped paying taxes, or doing upkeep on their farms. Many of the local people who'd been renting the land didn't plant a crop in the spring of '29. By that time local government received essentially zero support from the province, which had downloaded the responsibility for most services onto them, leaving them desperate for income of any sort. With shelves often empty at the grocery stores due to supply chain problems, they also badly wanted the local land farmed rather than going to thorn bush, and farmed by people willing to sell locally. Dad got this first hundred acres that we are standing on today for a fraction of the taxes owing, and the rest is history."

Allan paused, noting how the audience in front of him filled all the seating they had set up in the hall. His father had had quite a network—family took up the front row of seating, and close friends a couple of rows behind that, many from Porcupine, but also from the Inverpen and Port Elgin areas, with a few from farther afield. Even some from his working days at Hydro One. And of course most of the residents of Porcupine and many from its more recently established daughter communities had come as well.

Very few people these days would attend a large indoor gathering without wearing a mask, and these folks were no exception. Still, even with their masks on, he could tell they were hanging on his every word. Out of respect for his father, he assumed, rather than anything to do with his skills as an orator. Time to wrap this up, he thought.

Taking a breath, he said, "Well, I guess that concludes the formal part of our celebration of Dad's life. Please do hang around and visit. Drinks and snacks will be served shortly, outside at the back of this building, and you can get there through the kitchen. Supper will be served around six, in the same area."

Relieved to have that done with, Allan came down off the stage and sat between his wife, Erica, and Will Harper, his uncle and Tom's younger brother.

"That really was a fine eulogy—not an easy thing when you're talking about your own father," said Will.

"Living here at Porcupine one gets a lot of practice at public speaking. If you want to have any say in how the place is run, anyway," said Allan. "I miss the old curmudgeon, though, and more than I ever imagined I would." his voice caught a little on the last few words and he wiped a handkerchief across his eyes and blew his nose. "I hear you're interested in the two-bit tour, Uncle Will?"

"Yes, I am," replied Will, and turned to his wife, "Sue, Will's going to show me around the place. I take it you want to stay here and catch up with some of the family that we haven't seen for a while?"

"I do, and we'll manage without you somehow," she answered with a wink. "You two make sure you're not late for supper."

"Little chance of that," Allan said and turned to his partner. "Erika, I am off to give Uncle Will the grand tour. Is Mom OK?"

"Yep," replied Erika, "she just went back to the kitchen to make sure they've got everything under control."

"Eighty years old and still hard at it," Allan said, shaking his head and smiling.

Will stood, and gestured to Allan, "Lead on."

Standing up, Allan looked around the room, mentally putting himself into the "how this must look to someone who doesn't live here" mode, always the prelude to giving a tour, of which he had done more than one.

They stood near the south end of a sixty by one hundred foot pole barn which had started its life as winter housing for cattle. Early in the history of the place, they had cleaned it up, framed in the walls and the ceiling, insulated and put up vapour barrier and drywall, anticipating that it would be a challenge to heat in the winter with just the bare metal sheathing.

The north end of the building contained the kitchen, separated from the main room by a counter that served as a buffet. Just visible through large screen doors at the back of the kitchen, the summer kitchen bustled with the hot work that happened there at this time of year.

Both east and west walls had several doors leading outside. Between those doors stood shelves stuffed with books. On the east side people had started to file by a display of photos and memorabilia from Tom's life.

Windows near the top of the side walls let in enough light at this time of day to illuminate the place, and ventilator fans moved air through the building and out vents in the attic. They were in a lull between waves of the current pandemic, but keeping indoor spaces well ventilated had become an accepted necessity over the past twenty years of pandemics.

"Where would you like to start?" asked Allan.

"Well, the beginning always seems like a good place," Will replied with a chuckle.

Allan grinned and could not resist saying, "You mean like, 'The lord said let there be light and you could see for fucking miles' kind of beginning?"

"I wasn't thinking of quite that far back. You're quoting your father there, you know, and he was quoting the guys he worked with as a first year apprentice," said Will.

"I always wondered where he got that from. So, seriously then, in one sense it started next door in the old farmhouse, where we lived during the first months while we were getting this hall cleaned up. And getting our feet under ourselves, organizationally speaking. In another sense, it started in discussions I had with Dad years before that," said Allan.

Conversation had started in the background, so he said, "It's going to get loud in here—let's go outside where it's quieter."

He led out through one of the doors in the east wall, on through an entrance lean-to and into a large yard surrounded by farm buildings—the hall to the west beind them, an old-style bank barn to the north, a large garage to the east of the barn, a fram house dating frm the 1960s at the southeast corner of the yard, and a wind mill tower with their water well at the base between the barn and the house. An unusually large number of vehicles occupied the yard between the buildings, indicative of the number of people who had travelled more than walking distance to get here. With fuel rationed when available and more often not to be had at all, it looked like people had been saving up for a while to make the trip. That would certainly have been the case for Allan's older sister Arlene and her family, who had come all the way from Ottawa.

The short school bus belonged to Porcupine and it had brought people from Inverpen, Port Elgin and points between. It had been modified to burn vegetable oil, of which Porcupine produced quite a bit for culinary uses, and occasionally diverted some for use in vehicles. There were also a few cars, mostly small 2 seat electrics, some older gasoline powered cars, and quite a few bicycles, about half of them electric. A few people had even arrived on horseback, and their animals stood in the field east of the house, in the shade of a row of maple trees along the fence line.

"Let's sit here," Allan said and indicated a bench in the shade under the eaves of the lean-to they had just exited.

They both sat down and removed their masks. "We should be OK out here in the open," Allan said.

"I forget I've even got it on," said Will.

"I know what you mean," said Allan, "So, how'd you and Aunt Sue get here today?"

"We rode our electric trikes." Will pointed to a pair of three wheelers, with solar panels propped up next to them. "We've had them for about 10 years, along with those folding solar panels. They should be charged back up before sunset."

"Don't get me wrong, but that's pretty impressive for folks your age."

His Uncle Will was 75, ten years younger than Tom. Allan had turned 55 not long ago. Will was around the same height as him (and as his Dad had been), 5 foot 9 inches, with the same light brown/dark blond hair (now very much salt and pepper) and pot belly. Both sported white beards that had originally been reddish brown.

"The electric assist makes it a whole different thing. You're right—pedaling the hard way this far would probably be beyond us."

"Those hills can be a beast, for sure," said Allan. "So, this isn't your first time here, is it Uncle Will?"

"No, I've brought busloads of hungry folks out from Inverpen a few times, to the feeds you folks put on when the pandemics aren't raging. Much appreciated, too, I must say," Will answered. "But I've never really had a chance to stay and have a look around."

"We can fix that today. And since the free food here definitely doesn't come with a sermon, you may not have heard much about how this place is organized," said Allan.

"Well, Tom and I did discuss what you're doing here, on the phone and in emails," said Will. "But it's different seeing it up close and in person. And the damn pandemics have made that hard to do."

"That's for sure. Anyway, for me, I guess it all started in 2011 or so," Allan said, "I was still in Kitchener-Waterloo back then. I'd dropped out of school, and I taught violin and drove school bus for a living. I was between partners and things got lonesome in the evenings, so I'd call Dad and we'd talk."

"About politics, Peak Oil... that kind of thing?"

"Oh yeah. Dad was just then figuring out the ties between energy and the economy, so he bounced a lot of ideas off me, and it was interesting, in a dark kind of way. Then he started to write it all down and send me these long emails. And the next year, when he started his blog, for the first while most of it was straight from those emails."

"I read his blog from the start, but I didn't know you'd been involved," said Will.

"Don't get the wrong idea," said Allan, "I was NOT a 'kollapsnik' in the sense that Dad used the word. But given how things were going, even back then, I figured there was a good chance that what he expected would actually happen—or maybe worse. I sure didn't look forward to the world turning into a smoking hellscape, though, or taking up a life of manual labour on a subsistence farm. To be fair, Dad didn't really look forward to it either, but he was an avid gardener and while he claimed not to romanticize country life, he did look back with some nostalgia to his childhood on Granddad's farm. So he wasn't afraid to try for a more or less self sufficient set up like we have here."

"And like me, you were pretty sure that there'd be a technological fix before things got too much worse?" said Will.

"Well, at the time I was a typical young leftist," said Allan, "and I thought that if you were talking about carrying capacity and overpopulation, you had to be an eco-fascist. And here Dad was talking about those very things. It made for some heated discussions that had settled down into a tense truce by the early 2020s."

"And as you say, I still believed that a lot could be achieved with technology, if anybody bothered to do the work," said Allan. "The fucking crunchies recognized the problem, but feared many of the technologies that could have done some good—nuclear power and genetic engineering, for example. Those who didn't fear technology wouldn't believe what the real problems were and capitalism went right on cannibalizing the planet. Most poor or middle class people knew their own problems very well and saw that rich people didn't have those problem. So, obviously, the solution was to get rich. The majority of them had little chance of success, and even if they had succeeded, it would only have made the real problems worse. Like I said, we could have done much better. But...."

"But that's not the way it turned out, eh?" asked Will.

"Well no," Allan said, "As you know, I met Erica in the mid twenty teens and we moved to Guelph because she wanted to attend U of Moo. I found a job in a car parts factory, and then started an apprenticeship as an industrial electrician. After a couple of moves, we finally found a nice place with pretty reasonable rent, and things looked good. Especially after Erica graduated and got a job with a biotech company, and I finished my apprenticeship."

"Yeah, I remember your Dad being pretty proud of you," said Will.

"Yeah, I think he was. But then late in 2028 the economy took a definite turn for the worse, and settled in for a real long term, capital D depression," said Allan. "By the fall of '29 there was no end in sight, with things actually getting worse rather than better. I got laid off and the company that Erica was working for went tits up, so she was out of a job too. EI was far from enough to cover our expenses. In January of 2030 we missed our rent and the landlord started grumbling."

"Sounds like you were between a rock and a hard place," said Will.

"Very much so. I agonized for a while about calling Dad for help, and then one day the phone rang and it was Dad, asking how we were doing. He didn't seem surprised when I told him, and said that he could give us a month's rent, but couldn't afford to pay our rent on an ongoing basis. Then he said that he had a better plan for coping with the whole situation. He offered to pick us up and show us around. On the ride here he detailed what he hoped we could do. Much to our surprise he convinced us to give it a try, and to get some of our friends involved. There's a lot more to tell, but none of it would have happened if the economy hadn't fallen apart. Like I said inside, Dad had perfect timing on this one."

"It seems so," said Will. "Much of what he expected has come about in the last ten years, and the adaptations he recommended seem to work pretty well for you here."

"I have to admit that this life suits me better than I had imagined," said Allan, "Dad was one of the crunchiest among us, so we haven't shied back from any technology that fits in under the limitations we're working with. Technology uses energy, and only a limited amount of that is available—but enough to keep us from toiling in the fields from dawn to dusk every day."

"That's good. Maybe just for a few days during planting and harvest though, eh?"

"True, and there's quite a bit of weeding to be done in late June and early July," said Allan. "But many hands make light work."

"I would have thought that a setup like this might have some social advantages that make up for any other shortcomings," said Will.

"Yes, indeed," said Allan, "no feudal overlords or fat-cat capitalists to support and no stupid bosses to contend with either, or rent to pay. The conservative politicians are at arm's length and seem to have other things to worry about. The grub's mighty good, as is most of the company. I still wouldn't have jumped at Dad's invitation to join him here, except that by that point we were looking at sleeping under a bridge."

"And it turned out that Tom wasn't an eco-fascist after all?" said Will.

"No, I have to admit he wasn't," said Allan with a sigh, "I hadn't been reading his blog after the first year or so, or listening well to what he was saying, so I missed the part where he explained about that. He wanted to decrease the consumption of the top 30% of people in the world, and increase the standard of living of the bottom 70%. He maintained that if we did this we could reduce the burden we placed on the planet by a factor of two and largely eliminate the overshoot situation."

"And what about limits?" asked Will. "I've never been able to understand why leftists hate the idea of limits so much."

"That's easy—we think it's a lever used by capitalists put up prices, and to force austerity on poor people," said Allan. "And sometimes it is, but it turns out that there really are limits to growth, after all. It's a finite planet and we had already come a lot closer to filling it up than I realized. Anyway, I read Dad's series of blog posts about "The Limits to Growth", and then finally got around to reading the book itself and a few others. All of this with Dad standing by to respond to my questions."

"And I'll bet he had all kinds of data and examples of how overshoot is damaging the biosphere," said Will.

"Yep, and eventually he convinced me that carrying capacity is a valid concept," said Allan, "I'd always seen it represented as a constant value and I knew that was wrong. Traditionally, we have always modified our environment to increase its carrying capacity. I think that led me (and many others) to believe we'd always be able to so."

"But... limits, right?" said Will.

"Yes, limits," said Allan. "This is a finite planet and finally here in the twenty-first century we've just about reached the limit of what can be done in that direction. The Green Revolution was a step too far, leaving us dependent on dwindling non-renewable resources. Dad emphasized that the impact we have on the planet is dependent on both population and consumption. The eco-fascists don't want to change their lifestyle, and they think that getting rid of the poor brown people, or at least stopping them from breeding, would fix things. In fact it would do very little—hell, take them right out of the equation and we would still be solidly in overshoot."

"Didn't Tom maintain that the immediate need was to reduce consumption in the developed world?" asked Will.

"Yeah, and before 2028 it looked like it would never happen. But the way the economy has ground to a halt since then has helped a lot. We're no longer spewing so much carbon into the atmosphere, or chewing through natural resources so quickly." said Allan, "and places like this set an example of how to live sustainably, and even give some back to the planet, if I do say so myself. It has been damned hard on people living in the big cities, though. To the point where they aren't so big anymore...."

"Yep, it has been a lot easier on small towns in the middle of agricultural areas. Places like Inverpen. I was in touch with your dad quite a bit when things began to go downhill," said Will, "trying to figure out what the hell had happened. It seems to me that it all started with a power outage. I can still remember the day...."

Coming soon: The Porcupine Saga, Part 2: When The Lights Went Out, Will Harper, July 19, 2028


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

Maintaining the lists of links that I've been putting at the end of these posts in getting cumbersome, so I have decided to just include a link to the Porcupine section of the Site Map, which features links to all the episodes I've published thus far.

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