When we're at the cabin, it's all about minimalism. It's mostly out of necessity, but it has important values that we tend to overlook in our regular lives that are replete with endless water out of the tap, refuse bins aplenty, and groceries a mile or two away.
It's interesting how quickly we adjust, and it makes me feel a bit guilty we aren't better doing the same things in ranchlife at home. For example, we don't run the water without purpose. We have to pump it way up the hill from the lake, then when it exits down the drain, it goes into a grey water pit that is close to the cabin. Sure, it will leech into the mountainside and eventually become lake water again, but we are careful not to overtax the pit. Similarly, we don't take showers much (or at all) or use hot water, because there is a finite supply of water in the tank (we can pump more, but that's a pain) and propane for heating. Hauling propane tanks in a boat is no easy task, and you're painfully aware of its cost when you go fill up.
We are exceptionally cognizant of our trash production. There is just nowhere to throw stuff away. You have to haul it all off yourself. Our family has become experts at what we call reverse dumpster diving or renegade trash dumping. We drag trash bags across the lake in the boat, pack in the back of the rental car, and hit a few locations (which I won't name) that have large dumpsters with open hatches. Once or twice a week you can buy trash coupons at the marina and the nice man will take your stuff. Again, it requires bags in the boat and a one mile journey, not just dragging the bin to the curb. We burn what we can when the province doesn't have a burn ban (it's dry up there, so often we aren't allowed to burn for the forest fire risk). We just try to make less trash.
We produce our own electricity as well, so we know exactly how much we use and what we've got left. Solar power is truly a gift and it's free! (after you spend a zillion dollars on the solar panels and batteries to store the sun's energy) When we go to bed, we turn off the power. Like all the electricity. We can charge phones and laptops easily during the day when the sun is high, and there's no need for any juice at night. The fridge runs on propane and if you don't open it, works just fine. In the morning we click on the power again, and we've got enough for a day of lights and cell phones.
It's pleasing to know my first world children with all their modern conveniences can adjust without so much of a whine to the minimalist comfort of lake life. They know how to hook stuff up and be frugal in their garbage production and water usage. They can live without Netflix and the XBox, and they love playing card games and building things out of the endless supply of wood the forest provides.
I enjoy knowing that at least for part of the year, I'm not a fraudulent minimalist. We only have cabin space for our family, I make coffee one cup at a time (pour over after boiling water on the stove!), and I don't bring anything from Costco to the cabin. It's a true minimalist baptism in the mountain fresh water of Canada's Christina Lake.
