Time flies, and somehow, I’ve already spent nearly a month living on my land and close to three months in my Airstream, more than half of which has been completely off-grid.
Sure, while I don’t have water, power, or septic installed, I’m also hardly in the middle of nowhere. I’ve got a septic service that comes every few weeks, generous friends who help me fill water containers, and all the power I need from a solar panel and backup generator. I have strong cell service, easy access to town, and just the essentials—nothing more, nothing less.
Even in a tiny 19’ Airstream, life feels surprisingly comfortable. It’s kind of amazing how little you actually need when you strip things down to the basics.
This way of living has required a lot of preparation and problem-solving, but it’s been deeply rewarding. Whether I make it through the entire winter or not, I know I’ll never regret this experience. I hope?
Making big winter decisions.
By the end of last week, the forecast made it clear: real winter was on its way, and this time, it was here to stay. That meant it was time for the decision I knew was coming: stay on my land, or hook up and head to the town RV park?
I’ve spent enough winters in the Methow—some mild, some brutal—to know what I was getting into. Many people told me I was crazy to even consider staying off-grid. The general consensus in online RV forums about winter living goes something like:
“Can you spend a winter in an Airstream? Yes. Do people do it? Yes. Would I want to? Absolutely not.”
“RVs are not designed for serious winter conditions.”
“Unless you have full hookups, you won’t last very long.”
According to the internet (and maybe a few concerned friends), I was doomed.
Yes, the RV park would be easier. Full power, water, and septic. Showers and laundry on site. No worrying about frozen tanks or battery drain. I could plug into 30 amps of power and blast the heat without a second thought.
But where’s the adventure in that?
So far, my system was working. Cold days tend to be clear and sunny, which means my solar panels could recharge. Cloudy days were usually warmer, requiring less energy for heat. I had a generator for backup, plenty of battery banks for electronics, and a giant pole barn for shelter. Plus, I was in a part of the Valley that generally gets more sun and less snow.
But the real deciding factor? The freedom to wake up every morning, step outside, and have my own beautiful 10.5-acre playground. To play frisbee with Hudson. To soak in the views. To be here.
Dark winter days can feel a little claustrophobic in an RV. But here, I can stretch my legs, breathe fresh air, and watch the sunrise paint the hills. After a year like 2020, I couldn’t bring myself to give that up. Not yet.
Digging in for winter.
After weighing the pros and cons while also ignoring a lot of unsolicited advice, I decided to stay. No surprise there.
Of course, I have backup plans. If things go south, I can hitch up and move. I don’t love the idea of towing an Airstream on snowy roads, but I could wait for a break in the weather. If needed, I could winterize the Airstream and head elsewhere. I have options.
Since any major land development is stalled until spring, I decided to invest in a windbreak for the pole barn. The north-northwest winds had already proven they meant business more than a few times. A small wind wall along the west side wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but it might offer some protection.
A carpenter friend of mine offered to help and managed to sneak out between snowstorms. I spent the days before his arrival clearing the rest of the barbed wire and fencing from the west side of the pole barn. I have to admit, after going it alone for so long, I was never so happy to see someone pull into my driveway.
We immediately got to work measuring and planning. He suggested an 8′ wall. I still wanted to enjoy my views, so we compromised at 6′.
Pole barn revelations.
As we were measuring, an unknown truck pulled onto my property. It was a neighbor who had previously owned the land, stopping by to say hello. He asked about our plans, and when we told him we were putting up a wind wall on the pole barn, he immediately frowned.
“You don’t want to wind load this structure,” he said. “The posts are only two feet in the ground.”
My friend and I exchanged looks. Two feet?!
This massive 30-40’ tall structure was anchored only two feet into the ground.
Oh. My. Word.
The neighbor pointed out the diagonal wire bracing with turnbuckles, explaining that’s what actually kept the pole barn standing. Except, as he inspected them, they were all loose. Really loose. “You should tighten those up,” he added before waving goodbye.
Nothing like learning that everything of value to me—my Airstream, my truck, my dog, myself—was parked under a giant structure with possibly loose supports.
Luckily, the contractor who had previously fixed the roof had left his 40′ ladder. My friend, undeterred by the height, climbed up and tightened every last cable.
We also decided to scale down the wind wall to 4′. Better safe than sorry.
Signs of progress.
By the time my friend left on Thursday, I had cleared out the remaining east side of the pole barn and accumulated a significantly larger junk pile, but also a much cleaner-looking property.
The pole barn had tightened cables and a nice, clean, freshly installed 4′ wind break.
That same day, the local broadband company came out to install my internet. The technician took one look at my Airstream and sighed. “Oh boy. Airstreams are sealed up tight. I can’t run cabling through that.”
His plan was to run a cable inside, but drilling into the Airstream wasn’t happening. Instead, we agreed to run it under the front rug. My solution? Stick a battery and router inside an insulated cooler, powered by a separate solar panel, and store it outside under the RV. Hopefully, the cooler would keep things from freezing.
Hey, it seemed like a good idea and thus began internet in a cooler.
For now, I have internet! I can even sit outside with my propane heater, laptop hardwired in, pretending I live in a high-tech igloo.
Welcoming the snow.
True to the forecast, snow arrived Thursday night, and by Friday morning, the land was transformed into a winter wonderland. Hudson and I wasted no time getting outside to play. By the afternoon, the clouds parted, the sun beamed down, and my solar panels happily soaked it up.
This.
This is why I stayed.
Seeing my land blanketed in snow, feeling the sun on my face, reveling in the absolute silence—it was magical.
With a lot of big projects complete I finally felt like I was getting ahead of the 8 ball for a change. Hudson and I grabbed the Hoks and spent most of our Saturday and Sunday out and about, skiing and taking full advantage of all the fresh snow. After many weeks of learning new skills, preparing for winter, working on the property, dealing with challenges from Mother Nature, and getting settled in, it felt so awfully good to get out and play without thinking about all the things I had to get done. It was a welcome break.
By Sunday, I had wrapped up my final task: vacuuming out tons of feed from the old grain silo. That evening, I threw my yoga mat into the silo and stretched out in a 14′ diameter space much bigger than a 19′ Airstream. I laughed at the idea that I felt like I was living large and luxurious in my grain silo, on my yoga mat, in front of a Mr. Buddy propane heater.
It’s funny how your definition of luxury changes.
I took a few minutes to reflect on the past week and all the wins. I had completed clean up of the pole barn, installed a wind break, set up high speed internet, and survived my first real winter storm. It felt like things were falling into place.
The beautiful simplicity of winter.
A lot of people dislike winter, but not me. I love the quiet, introspective, and restorative nature of winter.
Back in 2012 during my first winter in the Methow, people told me that most folks don’t survive more than one winter in the Valley. I have already stayed for several and have loved every one of them.
This year, people told me I wouldn’t last a whole winter in an off-grid Airstream.
Well, I just might.
And even if I don’t, I sure as hell am enjoying the ride. ❄️
