By the time most people read this column, the forest road that provides our wheeled access to Mariposa Meadows will probably be closed for the winter. The closure date is always uncertain, determined by the onset of snow that will blanket the high country for several months. Some years, the shutdown comes as early as Halloween, but in others it may take place closer to Christmas. It just depends.
As most of you who are familiar with Green Builder Media already know, we are completely off-grid here and at an elevation of more than 10,000 feet. The winter weather is not to be taken lightly. All of this makes for some difficult choices.
We would like to be able to enjoy the facilities here year-round. The solitude in winter is truly magical. The skies are deep blue, the forests are in repose and the meadows are a vast landscape of pristine white. The sun can be brilliant, but the daylight hours are short, so the solar power generated, even by a 12-kilowatt system, has its limits. The same is true for the passive solar gain that we so carefully oriented to maximize.
High-efficiency, tankless combination boilers provide the radiant space heat, domestic hot water and the cooking fuel for each of the buildings. They are liquid propane fired. We wrestled with attempting to go all-electric. But at the time we specified the mechanical systems and appliances, even the most energy efficient options available would have required a gigantic photovoltaic (PV) system—much larger than practical for a set of three buildings.
It’s worth noting, however, that those boilers and appliances are not operational without normal house current. No power, no heat. At the same time, the battery system, which is routinely recharged by the PVs, relies on a propane-powered generator for backup. So, without enough fuel to last through the entire season, there is no other source of power when there’s not enough sunlight. They are mutually dependent and mutually vulnerable.
Additionally, our satellite Wi-Fi connection, which enables us to remotely monitor and manage the operation, is only functional when connected to live house current. No electricity, no internet.
Therein lies the quandary. We must winterize the compound, which we have done before, or roll the dice and attempt to keep this fairly complex arrangement functioning from afar through many weeks of risky conditions. It could only take a few consecutive nights of the low temperatures here to cause a tremendous amount of damage.
Assuming the main highway is passable, we should be able to respond and gain access via snowmobile, snowshoes, or cross-country skis. Even then, there are no guarantees that we would successfully troubleshoot potential problems and restore all components to working order. Our decision will ultimately come down to how much confidence we have in the reliability of our systems and our ability to deal with possible adversity.
Still, when I pause to consider our situation, I am heartened by the fact that at least we have control of the response that might be needed, unlike the millions of Americans who are grid-tied and simply hopeful that the energy they need to heat their homes, preserve their food supply and provide comfort and security for their families will be delivered when it is needed the most.
Even though whole-house battery backup systems are gaining ground in the industry and market, I can’t resist pointing out that emergency generator sales skyrocket after crises have already occurred, but seem to otherwise represent a much lower priority than, say, home theaters and hot tubs the rest of the time. I suppose you make your choices and you take your chances.
At the end of the day, I reckon it is all a matter of perspective. Consider those souls on the International Space Station, whose very lives depend on a set of technologies and systems that are far more complex than what we’re talking about here. Plus, their odds of encountering a catastrophic collision with some random piece of space junk, or maybe the odd asteroid, must be a lot greater than ours.