I shot this inside my hut last week. It’s a little dark, but you can get a sense of what it looks like inside at night. Watch it on YouTube in HD, if you want to see my grainy underexposed face fill your screen. I also uploaded photos I took last week to Flickr, so check those out too, if you haven’t already.
I’m heading back up there tomorrow, hopefully to start a garden, so expect more interesting news next week…
When I started this blog, I assumed that the few people who would read it would be my friends. My friends know me for who I am first, and for them, the part of me who is a gun-owner and a woods-dweller is only a relatively small part of a larger whole. While I consider myself fortunate to have picked up a few readers who haven’t met me in person, I suspect that those of you who don’t know me well may make assumptions about who I am based on what little you see and read on this blog. For instance, a few of you picked up on that short scene in the last video where I was loading shells into my shotgun, and commented on the potential use of force on my land. While you’re free to think of me as you wish, as a gun-owner-blogger, I feel a certain responsibility to articulate my views on guns as clearly as I can. So, here we go…
Unlike many of my city-dwelling friends, I grew up around guns. My father was an avid marksman, and shot competitively for as long as I can remember. There were guns in our house when we lived in Los Angeles in the 80s, and my dad shot air guns competitively when we lived in Germany in the 90s. We even had a 10m indoor “shooting range” setup in our basement, where I often shot air guns as well. I didn’t get into shooting competitively myself until I moved to the Bay Area after college and joined a local club, where we shoot matches similar to NRA Highpower matches (and CMP Service Rifle matches). I started off shooting about 40% of maximum points, and have gotten to the point where I can score about 90%. So I’m not great at it, but it’s something I take seriously.
Though I primarily consider myself to be first and foremost a competitive marksman, gun owners are actually a pretty diverse group. Even within competitive shooters, there are various disciplines that are very different. Some are more “practical” and simulate the challenges of tactical scenarios, while “benchrest” shooters clamp down their guns and compete based on their ability to tune their guns and ammunition and read wind accurately. However, there are tens of millions of gun owners in the US, and most of them don’t even compete at all. Many of them have guns tucked away in the closet “just in case” and rarely actually shoot. Some shoot casually at shooting ranges. Many hunt, for food or leisure. Some have permits to carry concealed handguns. And while the stereotypical gun owner might be a white conservative man living in a small town, some are like me; well-educated, young, socially liberal, reasonably affluent, and/or living in the suburbs or cities. Even in the San Francisco area, known for its liberal population, there’s a thriving community of gun owners, gun shops, and shooting ranges if you know where to look. So, while the label “gun owner” has a certain stigma (and set of assumptions) attached to it these days, stereotyping us is as misleading as stereotyping any other group of people in this diverse country.
Now, with that aside, let me talk a little bit about why I carry a gun on my property. First of all, I’m not certain that there aren’t bears or wild pigs around, and both can be quite dangerous. If a pig were to charge at me, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot it (mmm… free pork). But when it comes to humans, the short answer is, deterrence. Out there, there’s a good chance that anyone who is illegally on my property is also armed. Maybe they are illegal loggers or hunters. Maybe they are illegal marijuana growers. Whoever they may be, by being on my land illegally, I would consider them to be people of questionable moral character. And the reality is, if someone wanted to shoot me and leave me for dead, they could. They’d be far, far away before anyone even noticed I was missing. I carry a gun not because I think I can win in a gun fight, but because it’ll hopefully make someone think twice before shooting at me. If I am unarmed, the equation is simple: if they shoot me, they can get away free. Even if they miss and I call the sheriffs (which I currently can’t since my phone doesn’t work up there), it’ll be an hour before they show up. In fact, there may be more incentive to actually just kill me to avoid the hassle of potentially being identified later (since there won’t be any other witnesses). But, if I am armed, there is more uncertainty: if they try to shoot me, I might shoot back. It’s very, very unlikely I’ll ever get shot at, but anything that makes it even less likely for me to get shot at is a good thing.
Now, I’m a pretty chill dude and do not wish to do anyone harm unless they threaten me with imminent danger. That’s fortunate for me because state law prohibits me from using force in pretty much any other circumstance. I can’t shoot someone for merely trespassing (nor would I wish to). I can’t shoot someone even if I catch them in the act of burning down my hut (nor would I wish to). I can’t shoot them even if they are armed and shoot a hole into my solar panels with a shotgun (nor would I wish to). In fact, I won’t point my gun at another person unless they’ve shot at me or I feel they are about to, and even then, only if I think they can actually hit me (most people can’t shoot worth a damn), and only if I don’t think I can safely retreat.
If I came across someone vandalizing my property, how can I be sure that in my rage I won’t shoot them even though I have no legal basis to do so? I can’t. But I have faith in myself. I believe I am a good person, and that I won’t cause unnecessary bodily harm in another person. Like I said, I’m a pretty chill dude. While we’re on the topic of safety, I should also note that I exercise extreme caution with my firearms. When I carry guns on my property, I leave the chamber empty. That means I can disengage the safety and pull the trigger and nothing will happen. I have to load a round into the chamber, which is a clear and deliberate act that gives me an additional moment to reflect on what I am doing, or about to do.
For me, gun ownership is about more than what the 2nd Amendment says or doesn’t say. It’s about freedom, individual accountability, and faith in humanity. It’s about what kind of society I want to live in. Personally, I want to live in a society where people can do whatever the hell they want, as long as they don’t harm others. And if they do do harm, then they should be held accountable. But as long as I don’t actually do harm, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s business what I might do. I also want to believe that most people are good, and want others to believe that I am good too. I’d like to live in a society where I’m not assumed to be violent or dangerous just because I own a device that could conceivably be used for violent and destructive purposes. In other words, judge me by what I do, not by what I own. And trust me, for I am good.
I hope this clarifies my view on guns, gun ownership, and the use of force. As always, leave a comment if you have any questions or thoughts…
Latest episode of NFSV about my return to Serenity Valley after being away for the winter. Can my new car make it up the dirt road? Will my hut still be standing? What state will my camp be in? Watch to find out.
I woke up this morning to the sound of rain pattering against my window. I thought about what it must be like up on my property. The dirt road would be muddy and slippery from the rain, and possibly rockier with all the dirt washed away. Forecasts for the area predicted occasional snow showers at altitudes as low as 3000ft. My property is at 4200ft.
Lying there in bed, it occurred to me that the truck I was testing might not do so well up there. Truck or no truck, a 2WD is a 2WD. And I realized, as many of you commented in the original post, that I needed a 4WD or an AWD. I haven’t seen any used 4×4 Tacomas for sale, and even if they were, they only get 21MPG which is unacceptably low for me. I decided to step back and look at other options. Subarus were an obvious choice, but all the used ones I could find in my price range all had at least 70-80k miles, and no warranty. Then, somewhere the notion popped into my head to look at Toyota RAV4s. They get good gas mileage, and they come in 4WD/AWD. And as it so happened, the dealer I’d been working with had one in stock, roughly in the right price range.
I drove down to the dealer, returned the truck, and asked to test drive the 2006 RAV4 Sport. It felt right. Actually, it felt great. This was a car I could love. And it had all the right features: A “part-time 4WD” system that kicks in when it detects tire slippage, but otherwise drives in 2WD for better gas mileage. A 159HP 3.5l V6 engine, that provides the kind of acceleration the xB could only dream of, yet still gets 26MPG on the highway. A differential lock for when I get stuck in snow/mud. Cruise control, which I (or rather, my knees) sorely missed on my 10,000 mile drive across the country and back (not to mention, speeding tickets I probably would’ve avoided if I had cruise control). Extra 12V power sockets, including one in the trunk. And all the little things I’d gotten used to in my xB, like power windows, locks, keyless entry. I wasn’t too keen on the color (red), but I’m more of a function-over-form kinda guy anyway. The car has 65k miles on it, but is “certified used” so it has a 100k mile warranty on the engine/power-chain (and I bought additional warranty for other bits).
And, here she is:
Over the last few days, I learned a lot about what my car means to me. In short, it means a lot. And it’s no surprise; the Ryomobile has been my one constant during the last several years. In the last 4 years, I’ve had 8 different mailing addresses, 3 different jobs (or none), friends and girlfriends have come and gone, but the Ryomobile was always there. Whether to get me to work, across the country, to the desert, to the mountains, or to the ocean, I could depend on the Ryomobile to get me there. Or, at least, most of the way there. It took me a while to find a replacement that could do everything the xB could do and more, with the kind of reliability and peace of mind that that little box on wheels gave me. But I feel like I found what I was looking for in the RAV4. When we finished the paperwork, got my keys, and it was time to empty out the old Ryomobile, I didn’t feel an ounce of hesitation or regret. That’s how I know I did the right thing.
Tomorrow, I’m heading down to the dealership for one minor repair, stopping by the gun shop to pick up a 12ga shotgun I got, and heading up to Serenity Valley. It’s been almost 5 months since I was last up there. It’s been too long. Stay tuned for an update on the state of Serenity Valley here on this blog later this week…
I went looking for a truck, and realized that I had to find myself first.
I’ve spent 3 full days doing nothing but traveling up and down and around the Bay Area, stopping at more than half a dozen car dealerships. I’ve driven 3 trucks. One was a ’97 Tacoma with 118k miles under its wheels, being sold by a kid who wanted to buy a VW camper van. Another was a ’99 Tacoma Prerunner being sold by a dealer. The third an ’06 Tacoma with only 22k miles on it.
The three trucks I drove represented three different possibilities. The ’97 Tacoma was cheap enough that, if I sold the Scion, I could buy it with what cash was left after paying off the remaining loan. On the other hand, it was a beaten up truck owned by a couple of kids. It ran well, but it didn’t make me feel safe, and especially not for a long trip into the mountains. It also had small wheels that didn’t seem much bigger than the wheels on my xB, and I wasn’t certain they’d go over the rocks on that dirt road on my property. And to top it off, the kid wanted way more than I think the truck was really worth.
The ’99 Tacoma Prerunner was a nice truck. It had 108,000 miles on it, but it had been reconditioned by the dealer, which was somewhat reassuring. The Prerunners are 4×2 but designed for off-roading, so it would definitely work well on my land. On the other hand, they’re only rated to get 21MPG, which would cost me an additional $30 (50% more) in gas for every trip to my land from San Francisco. The biggest concern for me, though, was that I didn’t feel comfortable trading in my trustworthy xB with 60k miles on it and another 15k miles left on the warranty, with another vehicle that had over 100k miles and only a 3k mile warranty, especially since I had to increase my debt by $2k.
The third truck, the ’06 Tacoma, costs considerably more, but it’s “certified used” and still has 78k miles left on the warranty. It’s the 2.7l 4-cylinder model with an access cab, which gets 24MPG on the highway, and the bigger wheels on them would fare better on my property than the smaller wheels that came on older Tacomas. Since it’s a newer truck, they offered me a longer term financing plan that kept my payments comparable to what I’m paying now. Clearly, this was the best value and lowest risk option.
But at the end, I hesitated. I hesitated not because I didn’t think the ’06 Tacoma was a good deal, or because I couldn’t afford it. I hesitated because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted a truck. The xB implies a certain lifestyle, and a truck another. For driving around the city and suburbs, or even plain old highways, the Scion is obviously a better plan. Granted, the way I’ve used my xB might be somewhat unorthodox, since I’m not sure how many people use it to haul lumber, or mount roof racks on which to haul a week’s worth of supplies, including 5 gallons of gas and a generator, into the desert. But, nonetheless, it’s served me well, and its fuel efficiency, compact exterior, and paradoxically spacious interior are all hard to beat. The pickup? Well, it’s big, and relatively speaking, a gas guzzler. It symbolizes the “bigger is better” mentality that I don’t entirely ascribe to. On the other hand, the bed will be big enough for me to, well, bed in. It can get to my hut. I can tow things and haul things. It’s rugged, and it’ll last me ’til the end of time.
So, which am I? Am I a mostly city-dwelling Ryo? Or am I a mostly land-dwelling and occasionally truck-dwelling Ryo? Once I’ve found the answer to that question, deciding on whether or not to actually get a truck becomes easy.
Noting my hesitation, the dealer offered to lend me the ’06 Tacoma overnight on an “extended test drive.” I make my final decision tomorrow.
Back in 2006 when I was searching for the Ryomobile, I found the perfect match in a Scion xB, and it has served me well over the last 4 years and 60,000 miles. But times change, and now that I’m thinking of spending a significant amount of time this Summer up on my property, the xB’s inability to navigate the dirt road leading up to my hut will be a significant drawback. While wrenching a 800lb trailer up by hand was fun, and hauling hundreds of pounds of supplies using a handcart gave me a great workout (you shoulda seen my abs), I’ll be completely honest and say, I don’t want to do that again. It’d be nice if I can drive up to my hut with supplies and equipment, so that I could spend less time hauling, and more time doing other things. The thought of having to spend half a day just to haul in supplies by foot discouraged me from going up there on a short trip this month, and when my tools prevent me from doing something, that’s when I know I need a new tool.
So, basically, I need a truck. An SUV would do, but pickup trucks tend to be cheaper, and also lighter and therefor more fuel efficient. Seeing how I’ve had the back seats in my Scion folded down permanently for the last year or so, I doubt I’ll miss the passenger capacity. But hauling dirt? Mmm. That sounds useful.
Of course, while trucks are great for going off into the woods, they’re not so great everywhere else. They get worse gas mileage than my puny xB, and they’re harder to park. So, seeing how I’ll probably be a city-mountain-hybrid Ryo for a while, would it make sense to completely ditch the Ryomobile? Also, I haven’t finished paying off the Ryomobile (I have about $4k left to go) and on top of that, I’m not exactly drowning in cash like I used to… So I have a few options:
I think right now, I’m leaning towards either just doing a trade-in, or buying a clunker and keeping the Ryomobile, with a slight preference for the former if I can find a good deal. I saw a ’04 Toyota Tacoma today for a little over $10k. It was one of the smaller trims, which are also reasonably fuel efficient, so I probably wouldn’t mind having one of ’em as my primary car.
What do y’all think?
I just came across this for-sale ad for this piece of artillery. From the seller’s description:
This is a half-scale Napoleon cannon with a just under 1 3/4″ bore… sized for golfballs !!! The wheels are 30″ diameter and designed for live fire cannon use… they won’t be shaking apart anytime soon. The barrel is double sleeved with seamless tubing. It was originally a 2 1/4″ bore and then reduced down to take golfballs. It is approximately 36″ long, just over 5″ diameter at the breech and just over 4″ diameter at the muzzle. Barrel and carriage combined weigh approximately 475 pounds. Comes with everything you need…. powder, ball, fuse, all required implements for loading and cleaning, bore gauge etc. Even comes with a mold for making up 1 pound round shot from lead or wheelweight !!!
At $2750, it sounds like a pretty good deal. If I had that kinda money lying around, I’d totally get this and set it up on my property and lay siege on… I dunno, the other end of my property. Or maybe load it up with grapeshot and go huntin’.
I left Google exactly a year ago today, which also means today marks the first birthday of this blog. But rather than look backwards at the year that was (as awesome as it was), I’m going to look forwards and celebrate the beginning of Year Two. Admittedly, when I started this blog, I had no idea whether there’d even be a Year Two. Hell, when I came down from the woods three months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you if there’d be an Year Two. I might’ve told you that there was a good chance it’d just be Laptop in a Cubicle in 2010…
But here we are. It’s March. The days are growing longer, and even in this foggy city of San Francisco where I found myself taking refuge for the winter, the sun is starting to make itself conspicuous, more often than not. And like a bear awakening from hibernation, I can feel my heart stir. My mind, more so than in weeks past, is drifting back towards Serenity Valley. If there was any doubt in my mind whether I’d go back when I came down from the mountains in November, cold, filthy, and broke, there’s no longer any doubt. I’m going back. With my laptop and a rifle, I’ll go again.
I’ll also bring some soil and gardening equipment. My goal for this year is to start a garden, and the planting season is rapidly approaching. And so is the dry season. That means I need to start collecting water. The area gets 3.5 to 4 inches of rain in March, a little under 2 in April, around 1.5 in May, then less than an inch for a few months after that. So, I need to go set up a water collection system soon. Even then, I might not be able to collect that much water, but hopefully I’ll get enough for a tiny garden. At the very least, I’m sure I’ll learn a thing or two, and probably have some fun.
The tentative plan is to make it out there once this month to setup a water collection system, then go back next month to start a garden. I’m doing some traveling in May, but hopefully I can spend most of the summer months up there. There’s a lot to figure out in the mean time, but I’ll be sure to keep the blog updated… Welcome to Year Two.
In the wake of the devastating earthquake in Haiti in January, I’ve been thinking a lot about earthquakes, especially now that I’m living in an old building in San Franciso; a dense city in one of the world’s most earthquake prone regions. Having grown up in California and Japan, earthquakes aren’t unfamiliar to me. I can remember at least two tremblers when I was a kid, where my parents raised us in the middle of the night and lead us under the dining room table as our home rattled around us. My grandmother’s house was destroyed in the Kobe earthquake in ’95, though she fortunately survived unscathed.
After I moved into my apartment in January, I had to re-build my bed frame, as I’ve always done. Bed frames are so cheap and easy to build, yet so expensive to buy. So building one, to me, is a no-brainer, though for this latest version, it occurred to me that an extra beefy frame could also make a nice earthquake shelter too. It makes a lot of sense. First of all, I spend about a third of the day in bed, which means there’s about a one-in-three chance that I’ll be in bed when an earthquake hits (and a better than 50% chance that I’ll be home). Secondly, a bed frame already needs to be fairly sturdy, and the bed frames I build have ample space underneath for storage, which would make an ideal space to take shelter. All I’d need to do differently is to reinforce some parts, and then stash supplies underneath. You can see some of the results below:
Above is a picture of my frame, mid-construction, flipped upside down. It’s basically a two-by-four frame with one-by-six slats on top. As you can see, the main improvement I made was to reinforce the legs in both axes using diagonal supports. Although not visible in the picture, I reinforced the cross beam in the middle since it spans 50+ inches and is only supported on both ends.
Here’s a close-up of one of the corners, where you can see the front head-board post stick up vertically. The 2-foot long leg and head-board post are both attached to both diagonal supports.
Here you can see the bed in its final place and configuration. You can see that there’s ample space underneath. I also placed the bed in the corner, where the walls will hopefully provide a little extra support, and also where I have a 2nd door that might give me an exit route. Under the bed, so far, I’ve stashed a 1 gallon bottle of water, a full 7 gallon water cube filled with tap water (which I’ll need to rotate every so often), and 2400 Calories worth of energy bars. That won’t last me forever, but should I survive the actual quake, that should keep me alive for a couple of weeks.
The next step is to shore up my supplies. For instance, I need to figure out what I’d do with waste products. I also might want a flashlight, some candles (because nothing warms up one’s heart like a candle light), maybe a space blanket, something that’ll make noise (or a SPOT) to alert rescuers, and so on and so forth. Most of these supplies would be good to have, even if my roof doesn’t fall on me.
To some of you, this all might seem like excessive paranoia. But the thing is, in case you haven’t noticed, earthquakes are real. They happen, possibly without any warning. But the other thing is, just a tiny bit of preparation could go a long ways. Reinforcing my bed frame cost less than $10 in extra lumber, and maybe an extra hour of construction time. A $1 container of water could keep you alive for an extra week or two. One of the last guys to be pulled out alive in Haiti survived under a desk, off of soft drinks, booze, and snacks for 11 days. So, the little things are nothing to laugh about, and the question shouldn’t be Why?, but Why not?. Finally, if you’re still not convinced, this rather sobering article about earthquake preparedness in the US might be a good read.
After spending a month and a half staying with friends, I decided to settle down for a bit and started renting a room in San Francisco. So far, things have been great, BUT that’s not the purpose of this post… In a strange coincidence, I found out that my roommate works for a company that produces a perfect solution to a problem I had/have when I’m up on my property alone.
The Problem
One of the things that worried me most about being alone on my property, and particularly at my camp, half a mile from the road and miles from any other human settlement, was the risk of injury. Out there, even an injury or condition that could be solved by a simple trip to the ER could’ve become a huge issue, simply because I might not have been able to get to the ER or call for help. For instance, if I were working on the roof of my hut, fell off, and broke my legs, that would’ve been mighty inconvenient. I would’ve had to drag myself over to my trailer, dig out the first aid kit and survival manual, read up on what to do, stabilize myself, then drag my broken legs down the hill to the road. There, I could wait for a car to come by and flag it down, or try to drive to the nearest house.
And that’s the best case scenario, assuming I am still mobile and mostly stable. If I suffered a bad compound fracture, I might lose blood too fast, or move too slowly. If I were immobilized, without a way to contact the outside world, it’d be days, or over a week, before my friends came to find me, and there’s a decent chance I’d have died of dehydration or hypothermia by then. Other than trying to signal air craft (who wouldn’t even be looking for me) the only way to attraction attention would’ve been with my handgun. I’d have 16 rounds of ammo; that’s five sets of three shots (a distress signal, if anyone happened to hear it and recognize it as such), with one bullet left over…
(In case you’re wondering, yes, I thought about all this when I was out there. I went anyway, because the things worth doing in life are worth doing even if it kills you. But that’s another post…)
The solution
Well, it turns out that the company my roommate works for has the perfect solution for crazy people like me!
The SPOT GPS Messenger is a simple device that has a number of basic but useful features. There’s an SOS button you can push, which sends your location to a dispatch center, which will then direct the nearest emergency unit to your location, no matter where in the world you are. There’s also a less urgent “help” button, an “I’m ok” button, as well as a tracking functionality so your friends and family can see where you are (if you’re sailing around the world or backpacking across the wilderness, instead of sitting in a hut like I was). Since both the positioning and communication is done via satellite, it works even where cell phones don’t have reception (though, it’s worth noting that GPS’s don’t work in some terrain, depending on the quality of the receiver). My roommate let me handle the demo unit he carries around, and while not tiny, it’s small enough to carry around, and seems pretty rugged. I obviously didn’t try the SOS functionality, so I can’t tell you whether it actually works, but he said several hundred people have been rescued after using it…
The only downside I can think of is cost. The actual unit costs $150, but the service costs $100+/year. Granted, for a device that can literally save your life, that’s not much. Next time I go out there, I’ll almost certainly bring one of these with me (especially since I can get a discount through my roomie 🙂 ). Even if you don’t go on crazy outdoor adventures, it might be worth having one of these next to your bed if you live in an earthquake-prone area. When your house comes crumbling down around you, one of these might be handy to let people know you’re down there… It also might be good for the elderly; I’ve heard of old people who lived alone who died after a simple fall, because they couldn’t get to a phone to call for help.
Laptop and a Rifle 