Dr. Livingstone I presume
I am not a kooky off-grid libertarian. Although maybe I want to be. I haven’t decided yet. With city living, you tend to become ‘domesticated’ by the convenience of electricity and plumbing, and really, when living in suburbia, self sufficiency feels a little bit anti-social. Metropolitan habitation should be about collective misery, especially when there’s a power failure or a burst water main. Nothing fosters dislike of your neighbor more than when you see their lights burning bright during a blackout.
Now that I live in the boonies though, independence might be something I’d like to experiment with. You know, maybe just the tip (and then see if I like it).
Going off grid is quite a bourgeoisie undertaking though. Not only is it not an easy campaign (especially when your skill-set in this regard is ZERO)… its also feels expensive… especially if you want burn every single light-bulb in your abode and have on demand hot water. But, there is certainly some flex involved in spurning government and doing it all on your own. (also I’d totally level up to the next tier of libertarianism… so level 2 then? *sigh* Yes).
It started with me donning my ‘snake boots’ to trek up to the waterfall behind my house. Well… they’re technically LL Bean Snow boots, but I figure they would offer some * protection if I stood on an errant Puff-adder. The other snakes around here (Green mambas, Cape Cobras, Rhinkals etc) would likely slither off when they heard (or felt) me crashing through fynbos… a Puff-adder, may or may not.. depending on its mood and disposition.
*although knowing my luck I’d get bitten in the knee cap.
Yes… I realize I likely looked a bit… mentally challenged tramping up the mountain in huge clunky snow boots (last used to navigate Tyrol)… but I was off piste and I’ve come across a puff-adder here before when there was a path going up this part of the mountain. Now its all seriously overgrown and quite dense with plenty of dead undergrowth to navigate. Better just to look like a fool I thought.
I appreciate that waterfall might be too strong a term. But there is water… and it does descend the mountain… and it becomes a sort-of stream that flows through my garden until it gets channeled into a concrete municipality-built gully that starts half way up our property which then directs the water for about 50 meters into the storm water drain that runs along our road. From there its all downhill to the sea. I wanted to walk its course… because of… eh… my adventurous boy-scout spirit. Lets go with that.
I realize its not a super profound water source by other countries standards. But I am super enamored by the fact that I have this… stream. And that it is likely quite pristine. This is where it enters my property.
The laws here say I’m not allowed to interfere with a natural water source or alter its course, or hinder it in any way. But its flowing into a concrete channel… and then into a storm water drain. And while I appreciate the down-stream effects of messing with rivers and streams and what not, I can’t help but feel that this is just wasted once if leaves my domicile.
I have no idea how I would harness this phenomenon in any meaningful way. But the fact that there are constructs that say I’m not allowed to… annoys me.
I didn’t quite make it all the way up to the headwaters of my little creek. The going started getting tough and I decided that I’d made a ‘good enough’ go of it… certainly enough mileage to award myself a honorary David Livingstone golden star on my ample forehead. Besides chances of contracting malaria had increased dramatically, and I was sure by this stage another white man had likely ‘discovered’ these falls previously… which would obviously steal my (smoke that) thunders. Better to rather discover something undiscovered.
I tromped back down and took a picture of this Protea at the bottom of the garden. Its not a waterfall… but its not bad as consolation prizes go.