With my new home in place, I quickly hauled my stuff inside and somewhat organized the piles where I roughly imagined things would go. There were 4′ deep lofts at each end to store things out of the way, so I quickly cobbled together a ladder to reach them more easily. I made it long enough to reach across from one to the other so that I could store it up out of the way. I thought about sleeping in one. After climbing up and testing it, I decided my head wasn’t hard enough to sustain multiple concussions upon sitting up in a sleepy fog. Nor was my body ready for a six-and-a-half-foot fall while attempting to descend a shifty ladder in the dark. I’d heard that in Australia they would lay babies on a sheepskin on the floor, negating the risk of falls from a bed. That settled it, I would follow suit.
I set my toolbox on a couple of kitty litter buckets, bringing it up to a useable height and keeping it as a safe cooktop. Some plastic shelves salvaged from the shed and pressure washed, a folding camp chair and an old folding aluminum framed table with a thin, sagging masonite top rounded out my furniture. I used a surgical table cover that had to be wasted for a tablecloth and wraps for surgical tool sets that would otherwise be thrown away as curtains. So much waste is produced in the medical business, but it’s necessary to ensure sterility for the process. Perks of the job: clean garbage.
I ran the extension cord up through the bottom corner of the nearest door for the light and heater. One light was plenty since the interior layer of the chipboard sheathing had a metallic layer called TechShield adhered to it for energy efficiency. Its main function was to radiate heat back into the building. The unfortunate side effect would be to significantly block wifi signal from the house. Crouching by a window or open door for phone signal and using the small Kindle I own was and still is an irritation. The computer I now use works much better, and we had Citizens Co-op, our internet provider, come by and help troubleshoot to improve it. Like life in general, everything still boiled down to compromises with every new twist and turn. I really only needed the phone to always work, for nights I’m on call. Everything else was luxury.
The heater knocked the chill off far more easily, and the wind though vaguely heard, was not felt. At night the comparative silence was deafening, but gone was any anxiety over structural integrity. I managed to adapt to that rather quickly. The cats couldn’t find holes in this fortress, so I could sleep peacefully and actually move around in the sleeping bag to get comfortable. I’d never really slept well or comfortably in my life, but that was soon to change.
I started experimenting with hammocks for camping several years ago before they exploded onto the scene for long distance hiking. I tried all kinds, with varying success. In the late ’90s I appraised a house in Fries for an old man with a litany of interesting stories. I was there talking for three hours before ever looking at the house. He was involved with the early formation and building of the Appalachian Trail as a young man. He and some friends decided to travel by horseback as far as Asheville in the late ’40s. Riding through steep mountainous terrain with no shelters and no flat spots, he reasoned he would take a canvas hammock since there were always trees. The horses carried the bulky hammock, wool blankets and heavy gear they had, and he said they stopped wherever they wanted to camp and he slept the best in his life. When a light bulb turns on and you hear a voice, it’s wise to perk up and listen. The best lessons I’ve learned outside of hard-earned experience is from my elders– carefully gleaning from their hard-earned experience.
I had a hammock among my stuff since I was expecting this to be a long term proposition and wanted to try some of the gear out more thoroughly in the process. To be practical it needed good insulation underneath. I’d tried all combinations of sleeping pads and bags, with some success and comfort. A mummy bag in a hammock is a pain that I hoped to avoid on a regular basis. Special under quilts and over quilts are made for camping now that run from the super expensive ultralight versions for gram weenie backpackers(ultralight fanatics) to somewhat bulky and heavier things that don’t make your wallet appear to be on a diet. I wasn’t going to be carrying this down a trail and didn’t want to spend a lot on a regret, so the cheapest set with a reasonable review was soon to arrive.
Two large eyebolts with double nuts and wide washers were bought and installed on four-foot 2 x 4’s which spanned 3 wall studs each to distribute the load. I weighed roughly 200 pounds, but the force exerted in a swinging hammock increases exponentially. A lag bolt in a solitary stud would soon give way to a catastrophic failure and an unpleasant impact with the floor. The proper way to lay in a hammock is with the ends at a 30-degree angle up to the tie-offs if you put a weight in the center. You lay at an angle across the center line, which results in a fairly flat laying position. I put screws at varying heights to test the positioning so it would still be the right height to get in and out of. Too high or low and it was difficult to get in and out, and not comfortable to sit in with your feet on the floor. The thing stretched a lot with full body weight, so it took some fiddling for the next month to get it just right. I tolerated a slippery camp pad and mummy bag until the quilts arrived.
People give me funny looks when I try to explain my particular brand of allergy. Anything man-made with an added scent and many chemicals tears me up. All clothes sent from overseas are covered with insecticides and sundry other poisons that most people can’t seem to sense. There have been times I couldn’t walk into a store of any kind without breaking out in hives and feeling like my nerves were on fire. Those quilts arrived and I quickly put them on the hammock. I could smell the crap on them and felt the familiar ice cold pinpricks through my nervous system, and yet I laid down anyway. Five minutes later the quilts came off. I had to wash them and let them air out for a week while my body tried to get back on track. My whole family suffered from this sensitivity, so maybe I’m not crazy.
It took a while to get the kinks worked out of the whole rig. The final problem to resolve was that the edge of the hammock would give way and let my head fall off. I finally sewed a pleat along the side where my head lay, and it effectively cradled it from the side so I didn’t even need a pillow. I started sleeping like a baby for the first time since outgrowing that phase of life.
Of course, about the time I start sleeping good, a tornado warning came along. I don’t recall if one showed up anywhere. The sky looked ominous, the weather emergency alarms were sounding off and Lydeana insisted I come in the basement. I sat at the bottom of the stairs and they were at the top for about an hour. Nothing like a possible disaster to bring a family together. The building is on runners sitting on flat concrete blocks and isn’t tied down. I just prayed it wouldn’t lift off as soon as I got it.
After the scare I got busy with organizing more and messing with the hammock in relation to where things like shelves and a hanging rod would go. A couple of thick poplar dowels were hung for clothes and towels while a length of bamboo was placed across one end with strings and hooks for various implements. I did and made everything to be temporary as I figured out what I wanted. I hadn’t had any time to apply the 6 P’s: Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. I knew that things would be done I’d regret, so no holes were made in anything and no major permanent items installed that couldn’t be reversed. Some cheap plastic modular shelves were bought and strategically placed. I’d get in the hammock and swing a little to see what I bumped into. This procedure continued into the future until for every addition or rearrangement. Any little irritant resulted in a new game plan.
The major irritants I needed to address were heat and cold. An uninsulated building wasn’t going to be any more fun in the summer heat than in the winter cold. I am usually less tolerant of heat than cold, although the time I would spend working in the driveway in the sun in the following months would cure that temporarily. In the meantime, it was still cold out and I began pricing insulation and different materials for interior wall sheathing. My three criteria for the walls were qualities I considered to be my strong points: cheap, durable and adaptable. My situation was about to receive another upgrade, and the real work was just beginning.
Back Yard Shack 