After the longest time of insufficient rain, the drinking spring that had been dried up for more than half a year was now being fed. Large puddles formed… the edges creeping out threatening to flood our yurt, meaning we had to dig a channel. Water seeped into the large open cracks of my overworn boots, only bought last year. I pulled off my wet socks and saturated raincoat, as I had been running up and down the hill in the heavy rain, obtaining water from the hosepipes for washing. With a few grunts, I lifted the deep heavy pan of heated water from the cooking stove, and dragged it into the yurt. I anticipated the surge of warmth, as I dipped my feet into the pan of hot salty water. This felt like a long-awaited luxury… to stop and just be with myself. To be able to give myself some self-care both externally and within.
The electricity had cut out and the 10-day weather forecast was showing rain indefinitely. No sun can reach our already-failing solar panels. Just a day or 2 of cloud can often lead to a village black out.
I had spent the night before unable to sleep for a long time, as sudden dread came over me. Knowing how much I had distracted myself, endlessly looking for ways out of the intense discomforts and weak infrastructure of this off-grid abandoned mountain village, situated in the Spanish Pyrenees, that we had been living in for 19 months. How I had finally got myself into a position to work more on SunBeings only for the electricity to cut out. All this time escaping my present reality, chasing goals that kept repositioning themselves, to now have that taken away at the flick of a switch.
The next layer of internal discomforts I had been avoiding were making themselves more known. I noticed there is a voice lurking inside my head, that I had not been paying attention to, but was getting louder in this darkness. Time and space seemed utterly jangled around me, I could see more clearly. A waviness and infiltration in my field.
Someone had just reminded me the other day, to help the nervous system, to slowly look around the room bringing focus to what is in my environment. By the dim candlelight, I scanned the room, my eyes resting on different objects, like the starburst of wooden beams that hold up the yurt roof.
I then noticed time start to slow down. My vision became clearer. It was like my being was remembering that it is safe to be in my body. Living such an uncomfortable lifestyle can make me forget what it’s like to be comfortable and relaxed. Like there’s this shield of tension that is hard to soften.
We didn’t anticipate it would be this physically tough when we came into this village. The energy and enthusiasm we had at the start dwindled slowly as we were met with certain realities. Also, bit by bit, more parts of the infrastructure got worse that required too much to fix. The weather also was being unusually harsh throughout our time here. We have pushed and pulled ourselves… but our bodies are keeping the score… saying no more.
With my feet in the hot water, the red glow through the gaps of the fire stove, me and my partner finally started an overdue Reawaken (www.oraclegirl.org). I collapsed the back of my beach chair to allow my achey spine to rest better, feeling ready to dive deeper into this engulfing blackness.
Replugging…
One of the first things we did when the electricity cut out was go to the river… funny how one gets those bright ideas when we unplug from our usual habits. It was a very cleansing, re-enlivening experience. I felt the burdens that had built up within me wash away in almost an instant. My entire being seemed to be greedily drinking in the sight, the sounds and also the sensations as I cupped my hands into the river and splashed the water over my face. It was the most peace I had felt in a long time. My nervous system was finally slowing down. I was able to take my environment in more… admiring the small details in nature.
Luckily, we did get interspersed bits of sunshine in between the rain, snow and cloud that came. Even if it just came out for a moment, we’d scramble around for our devices to charge them for those brief moments. It was a good job we had just preprepared for this phase by buying extra power banks and torches. It would difficult if we could not see where we are walking or do cooking in the dark.
Almost every night we would be sat in the dark only using torches where necessary, occasionally using our limited supply of tealights. It was less stimulating and quiet in a way but we did also feel the warmth and cosiness come back the times we were able to switch our lights on.
Fires in the yurt were very hard to light too in this damp, humid weather. It would take so much time and went through kindling like crazy causing the pipe block up – easily making it even harder to light fires, as there was less oxygen getting to them. This meant we had to clean out the pipe more often. I had to keep collecting more pine needles and twigs which were very damp from the wet weather and would be on some mission to try get them dried out on time by the fire.
It was hard to plan anything. When sun was forecast, we would know the day before or even just on the day. Always having to be prepared constantly recharging all devices when we could. I found myself socialising less and being quieter online as well.
Because now I was at the stage where I felt ready to do more online work… funnily now I was literally relying on and paying more attention to the sun to work on SunBeings. Extra grateful for those bits of sunshine to help power up this platform.
El Horno
I started working on SunBeings in an outbuilding called El Horno (Spanish for “The Oven” which was its traditional function in the distant past) – ironically “cooking” up ideas and bringing them into form in there. I had to clean out the building first as the place can have a bit of a spider party in the summer so there were lots of cobweb dangling from ceiling to floor everywhere.
El Horno, although the size of a shed and with no connected electricity (I’m so used to living without electricity at this point), felt simple and more spacious for the mind than my own sleeping space. Plus it had a functioning stove whereas my own was no longer functional and not able to be fixed, leaving my room cold, mouldy and damp.
I noticed that along with my stove breaking, my motivation and desire to be in my own room dwindled even more and many times I had felt heavy and down. I see how the energy of the fire helps transmute and noticed the lack of it affected the room. The water seeped in through the ceiling too where the roof caved in due to a badly made chimney, causing mould on the wall. I also couldn’t bear any more times attempting work or personal life stuff in my room with freezing fingers. So literally El Horno rekindled my warmth and light a bit both inwardly and outwardly. Soon, I made El Horno my new official sleeping space… especially as now a mouse infestation had started in my previous room.
Having a working fire stove made such a difference to my being. How much better I worked when the room is warm. No more icicle fingers or having to bury my freezing nose beneath my scarf. I can come out of my cocoon. Somehow, I can focus better on my work especially as I felt more safety and comfort in my body with the warmth enveloping me. Although it’s a small shed sized room it feels extra cosier. Plus, I stuff the windows (not even proper windows) with blankets to keep the heat in.
Although I couldn’t move all my things over there due to the small size, I, at least, brought all my clothes over from the other outbuilding because I was concerned how they would catch mould in a mouldy, damp room I could not heat up.
A break in the city
Things felt as though they were improving for a bit but then me and Owen were met with quite a few days of hell. We were suddenly gripped both mentally and emotionally in a vicious spiral we were unable to see ourselves out of. No space in our heads… the pressures of a physically demanding off-grid life allowing little space in our nervous systems and bodies to relax and we were triggered all over the place.
We finally surrendered to our long-awaited needs and booked 3 nights away in a cheap city apartment – reduced because we booked it the day before… something we hadn’t done before as we wanted to keep money for a vehicle we wanted to buy. But it felt like needs must for our urgent wellbeing needs.
Our neighbour, a very calm, consistent and helpful presence in this village, who we’re reliant on for bringing us food and drinking water, agreed to take us to the city in his van. The bouncing vehicle on the broken off-grid road made me feel very queasy. It was not an easy ride. My body was so unused to the movement of vehicles.
We arrived at our apartment which was at the top floor of a city block. We were greeted with very calm décor. Artificial plants replaced the real wildness of nature we were surrounded by. Images of oceans and animals that adorned the walls replaced our rivers and wildlife.
We went from being in the middle of nowhere, having zero Wi-Fi detectable around us to being submerged in huge Wi-Fi radiation. The difference was very palpable although luckily, we began to notice it less. The maximum amount of WiFi’s that I counted within range on my laptop was 60. The host had left a label on the apartments WiFi that it must never be switched off too. So we resorted to wrapping it in layers of tin foil (literally an effective method – try it on your phone!).
Next we were met with the electric hob. We were pressing like dubious monkeys at the hob buttons unable to get it to switch on. Eventually we gave up and contacted the host who told us there was a button we had to hold each time to unlock the hob functions.
We had been so remote in the wildness with just the sounds of nature, with barely any sign of civilisation… even from our neighbours who we don’t often see… to now hearing bangs, clangs and music from people in the other apartments around us. But we didn’t mind for this break we were on. We just felt very grateful to be here.
Once we got past this “other world” stuff we were then able to settle. Honestly the 3 nights felt like bliss to my being. I had never been so grateful to be in a city and I’ve long hated cities, although I like how this one still has mountain views.
To have access to food shops, drinking water, washing water on tap, hot water, a shower, indoor kitchen, working electricity, consistent warmth, shelter from the weather elements… even a sofa instead of my uncomfortable beach chair… was heaven to my body. I took extra showers when I could as that was something I dearly missed and my body truly needed.
A washing machine there also provided much needed relief so I could do the laundry, as in the village I had to handwash everything, with no hot water on tap, which was especially difficult in all the rainy, muddy weather we’d been getting. To be able to go to the toilet, which is a few min walk in the village, without having to get wet in the rain or squelch through mud and puddles was a luxury to us. Also to be able to brush our teeth indoors. I even so enjoyed being able to wash dishes with a hot tap and sink. We could, at last, walk freely without bumping our heads or tripping over something due to the limited spaces of where we live.
Being in this off-grid village with a weak infrastructure for 19 months was pushing our bodies past its limits. It was a lot to have this much basic comforts not accessible all at once.
During our time in the apartment, me and Owen felt the safety and comfort start to return into our bodies. We started to remember ourselves. To be in a village almost never leaving because we had no transport can feel like too much. The nearest town with shops being at least a 4-hour mountainous walk away which would aggravate some old injury in my leg. I had tried the bike before but, on the first go, the thick mountain bike tyres burst as the roads are so bumpy and full of spikey, hard nature bits. The broken road too meant very few people wanted to risk their cars on it to reach us plus we were so remote… people have had their vehicles stuck in the mud too when they tried to drive over the road, and had to be towed out.
With the space we felt and the reliable electricity, we joined a video call of a support group we are part of. A group that we have formed a dear connection with who really helped us through this difficult living situation, and gave us the idea of a fundraiser. They noted how much lighter and more relaxed we looked that we didn’t seem recognisable at first.
The rivers are alive
The 3 nights in the apartment passed like a dream and we were sad to leave. Our neighbour came and picked us up. I managed to not be queasy on the normal roads but almost as soon as we got to the bumpy off-grid road did my nausea return. At one point, I requested that I get out and walk the rest of the way.
Luckily it was one of the few days when the sun was peaking through. Feeling more space and recharged in my being I was able to take in the nature surroundings more. I felt a deeper appreciation. I heard so much water around me on my walk. All the recent heavy rain had fully reactivated the rivers in this area that had dried up in the summer… even a stream I had never seen before was now sending water down into the valleys to be joined with the main river.
The sounds of the cascading water drew me in and felt myself climbing into the valleys to be closer to them. There was a waterfall gushing noisily into a strongly flowing river. At times it sounded like there was primitive music coming from the water as it meandered around the rocky terrain. I rinsed my face in this. Feeling myself to be closer to the land as I do.
As I walked along the road I saw water trickling down the deep water channels. Where the water had gently worn down the road over many decades which now caused issues for vehicles driving over them. Sometimes gathering into huge muddy puddles that are hard to pass. In some parts it was like the roads themselves are turning into rivers.
Back to the village
Eventually, after a long time, I reached the village. Owen was also feeling the same refreshment from our break. Seeing the landscape with new eyes whilst in the van. We both felt more ready to take on the village… although some of the old realities seeped back in but were able to turn it around by integrating our new outlooks.
We still know we need to leave this place as our lives are on hold here, unable to do what we feel we’re made to do. Like for example, Owen is a musician and wants to be out there performing or be with other musicians. He cannot record music on his computer either without electricity or use his electric piano.
Living this basically has actually made our lives less simple as normal tasks take much more time and effort to do especially when one is often feeling exhaustion. A couple of years ago, me and Owen had spent a week in a luxurious off-grid mini mansion our friend was house sitting although, of course, that was owned by a rich family. You wouldn’t have guessed it was off-grid. So it can be done to have comforts and be off-grid. We’re not against off-grid and wouldn’t rule it out… just we’d have more resources, better shelter, and comforts next time if we ever came across the opportunity again.
The beauty of the nature here though, the less pressures financially and being away from the corrupt systems is what keeps us going… but yes it’s not always an easy ride when trying to do things differently. I have to be real here and glamourising it doesn’t feel right. We have to know where our limits are, know what works for us and what doesn’t, and listen deeper to where nature is truly guiding us. Drop the concepts and forcing things and really listen. Where do we balance that “no” to the system without saying “no” to ourselves?
It’s true this land has given us so much and will always be grateful for that. Being this deeply immersed in the wild nature in all the elements has been a transformative, enlivening and grounding experience. We are stronger spiritually and clearer in ourselves plus feeling more connection with land. Just our bodies seem to have taken a bit of a beating… and a bit scruffier haired and muddier clothed! Even if I seem negative or complainy (I know I’m not exactly speaking from my most prime state) I’m still embracing the experiences, even the difficult ones, and don’t regret being here.
The messages feel clear it is time for us to move on. We have got what we need from this rare gift opportunity. A free land we were invited to turn up on. Would we be sad to leave this beautiful wilderness? Yes, of course. We had dreams and values we tried to fulfil but it seems we are not built to keep living like neanderthals for any longer.
The village requires much more resources than we are able to give both financially and physically. Even many physically stronger, less sensitive people who were here before us, who also tried to start communities, couldn’t do it either and gave up. The energetics of this village seem more of a catalyst for rebirth rather than physically rooting down an infrastructure.
This place has had a long tumultuous history. Let’s just say me and Owen arrived at this village at a very interesting time that caused a lot of stress and turmoil. Luckily, it’s been peaceful and safe for around a year.
Our neighbour couple, who have lived here as semi residents for more than 10 years, who have seen much of what went on, have long felt that the village or a community cannot be built up here as the energetics don’t seem to allow it. Those neighbours at least have family to stay with and sometimes have a break from this place.
Me and Owen did have a couple of remote land clearers work on this land as well as having online group land clearing for here. It felt like a lot of shifts were happening although simultaneously the feeling of closure with this land became very strong which was an outcome we were also open to… like the clearings were helping us to come to a completion with our time here.
A month after the power cuts
It was about a month the consistent wet, cold, cloudy weather lasted for – prior to that we had below freezing temperatures causing our water to freeze. In better shelter with indoor facilities this normally would have been easy to ride out. Despite the discomforts of being so at mercy of the elements, even all that rain was somehow cleansing.
We are now in a period of much sunnier, warmer weather at last (although, first, some crazy high winds which ripped up my porch roof again) meaning we can come out of our small cramped spaces and sit outside.
The warmer weather and being outside encouraged me to ask Owen to cut my hair, which hadn’t been cut for nearly a year and was feeling like it was carrying old energy and also plenty of split ends. I was relying on my semi-blind partner to cut my hair who was saying, “I can’t see properly…” “this is not very straight…” “but no one will see it in this village anyway,” as he chomped away at big bits of my hair.
Spring here, feels like the best season as the land can look extra glorious and stunning in the sunshine, with perfect temperatures, which can make one almost forget what they just had to endure in the winter months. Although, unfortunately, Owen gets pretty bad attacks of hay fever so back into hiding in the yurt he will have to do soon. Yet I am excited I don’t have to handwash laundry anymore with freezing water as the sun heats up the water in the hosepipes.
In summer it’s tough as it often reaches 40 degrees, which feels very intense with no relief or way to escape it even in our buildings. Owen’s yurt is the worst with nothing but the black fabric as walls and ceiling to floor windows. Also the large amount of mosquitos last year was insane (likely due to the record breaking rain we had in winter/spring) and I was constantly inflamed from all the unusually high amount of itchy mosquito bites – I have many scars now as lovely reminders. Even outdoor cooking and washing quickly loses its charm in the summer! I got quite ill because of this and was often heat exhausted that took some time to recover from.
The break away has given us more motivation to feel stronger for a way out… to find more protective shelter from the elements so that we can feel more normal and healthier in our bodies, and reconnect with the outside world again. More solutions have started to make themselves more known. Time will tell which one lands. We’re having to be open to what pathway wants to open up to us.
Maybe it seems backwards, but it did feel like nature was giving us a strong nudge to take a small break in the city. Between being so out in the raw, rugged wild, in a village of high energetic potency and with little comforts to soothe us… yes we feel more aliveness to ourselves, but also the other “stuff” gets pushed to the surface. Although grateful for what did manage to get transmuted… mostly when we decided enough was enough and gave ourselves a break. To weave our energy out of the place and back in. Nature could be all around us, but if not moving or transmuting the energy we can still get stuck, making it harder to appreciate our natural surroundings. It was like some of those old burdens just melted of us when we did so. This way we can give more to ourselves and to the land we’re on.
Our fundraiser
If you feel moved by our story and would like to help us out of our situation you can check out our fundraiser here. We are raising funds for a vehicle so we can have our autonomy of movement back and able to get out of our living situation, so that we can search for a new home.
The author
Kate Alexandra Priestley
Artist, designer, illustrator, SunBeings coordinator
Find more blog posts about her life in the Spanish Pyrenees:
sunbeings.org/category/blog/kates-life-in-the-spanish-pyrenees/
Personal art website:
katealexandrapriestley.com
3 thoughts on “Off grid living: Unplugging – By Kate”
Oh my Kate, what a story! I am just blown away, and weeping!
The determination, guts and fortitude is beyond something else!
I so wish I could help you find a home!! xoxox
I live in Hedley BC Canada on 4 acres right on the Similkameen
River, and have almost 1400 Haskap bushes. It’s been a journey
for me, trying to manage alone, taking care of my 95 year mom….
and I feel it is now time for me to move on too. It has been a lot!!!
But in a different way from you and Owen.
I now recognize this beautiful space, my dreams, my hopes were
really only a stepping stone into being more present in my event moments.
This farm was here to help me heal.
Heal my mind, my heart, my spirit!
I am so grateful and happy in my heart!
Should you ever make a visit to Canada I would welcome you in my home!
Lol :)). Every thought of becoming a Haskap berry farmer?
Big hugs, smiles
much love Judy
Hi Judy, wow thanks for your lovely sharing and allowing my story to touch you. After looking your location up, what stunning nature! I relate… these steps we take, even if we may have to move on, can be so healing. I will still so cherish my time here as being a catalyst of growth.
Thank you for the offer of your home in Canada 😀 A berry farmer does sound nice… although unfortunately we’re not in the position to be able to get to Canada atm.
Wishing you all the best as the next steps materialise for you 🙂
With love ❤️
Kate
Your story and experiences facing nature’s wildest elements and the conditions there is remarkable, Kate. I appreciated the details you shared about off-grid living and surrendering to the land and its natural ways of being. Thank you for writing about this chapter of your journey… Thank you for anchoring the grid at such an unforgiving location… Thank you Kate and Owen for sharing the rawness along with your resilience and courage. I see the vehicle you desire is on its way to you so that you can meet the horizon of your next chapter. Loving warm hugs for you both… and safe and happy travels.ᨒ ོ ☼ xx