This is another great set of tips from my online buddy, Bob. He is a genuinely self-sufficient soul, living off the grid somewhere on the North American continent.

This time around, Bob discusses the optimal backpacking setup.

——————–

My standard list of backpacking gear has changed very little in the past twenty years.

I favor fairly heavy leather boots that just cover the ankles, with Vibram soles.

In fine weather I’ll generally wear shorts, a long sleeve shirt with two button-down pockets, the sleeves rolled up, and I’ll always have a bandana around my neck. A broad brimmed felt “cowboy” hat tops it all off.

Don’t forget a hat. On our last 50 mile hike my wife didn’t bring one, so she wound up stealing mine and I wore a bandana on my head the whole time. Even if I’m going without a shirt, I’ll keep the hat on to keep the sun out of my eyes or the rain off my face and so forth, and it keeps my brain from frying in the sun now that my hair is thinning…

A boonie hat is comfortable enough and I have used them over the years, but they don’t shed rain and the brim isn’t wide enough to shade the eyes. I simply despise ball caps.

Do not wear a pants belt. Now, normally I feel naked without one, but most of the load rides on the pack’s hip belt, so don’t put anything under it that will be ground into your waist all day long; like a nice, thick leather belt would.

In my pants pockets I’ll carry a small locking knife like the Gerber LST, and a Bic lighter. It is not uncommon for me to have another bandana in my back pocket.

In my shirt pockets I’ll carry a compass and maybe a much folded map, and a pocket pack of Kleenex for toiletry purposes.

The heavy gear starts with an old Karrimor 75 liter internal frame pack in dark green. For me, this is just the right size. Not to big (and I seldom stuff it tight) and not too small. This pack has a bottom compartment and zipper, but I cut out the divider long ago, and have never once used the lower zipper. To me, a pack should be just one big bag. It has two side pockets big enough to hold a quart water bottle and a few odds and ends besides. It has a big top pocket built into the top flap.

On the pack’s hip belt on the right side I’ll clip a stainless steel Sierra Cup, and on the left hip rides the holster for my Ruger Bisley .44 magnum.

This heavy 7-1/2 inch revolver rides pretty good in a modified Uncle Mike’s shoulder holster. The holster has only one strap, and it goes around my right shoulder. The back of the holster has a strap with a snap that connects to the back hip belt. I can adjust it to put the weight on my shoulder, on the hip, or to share the load, depending upon my mood. On side trips without the pack I can simply sling the holster over my shoulder.

I’ve carried all sorts of sidearms while backpacking over the years, carried in all sorts of ways. Everything from small .22 autos right up to my .44 magnum boat anchor. I experimented with various drop-leg holsters that carry the gun below the hip belt but gave up on ‘em. Shoulder holsters work well enough with small guns like .38 snub-nosed revolvers and .380 autos. A great many times they simply wind up as dead weight in the pack.

Now, I do hike where the big bears may roam so I mostly do take my .44 caliber Boat Anchor with me, but it’s really just for moral support. In all the miles I’ve tramped I have never needed a gun. Of course the one time I leave it home is the day I’ll need it…

A pistol is a big problem to a backpacker. Ordinarily, a backpacker would never in a million years carry two pounds of dead weight! And if having it might throw ya in jail to boot, ya better think long and hard about taking one. If open carry where you hike is illegal, move out west — just kidding, stick it in the top of your pack, just under the flap; it’s the best you can do.

Now we finally get to what’s in the bloody pack!

In the bottom gets stuffed my sleeping bag. All my life I’ve drooled over nice down bags. But things being what they are, it’s often as not a synthetic bag of one type or another that I stuff in there.

Don’t bother with compression stuff-sacks. The silly sacks alone can weight half a pound or more! Use a big oversized stuff-sack for your sleeping bag so that the thing will conform to the shape of the pack. This way, you can stuff it right in there and fill all the corners at the bottom of the pack that would otherwise go to waste; not to mention it’s much faster to do than trying to contort and compress a bulky bag into a small brick. It’s also better for the bag. Just make sure the stuff-sack is pretty waterproof, or line it with a plastic trash bag.

The bag will be the bulkiest thing you carry by far, and may well take up half the pack. That’s OK, don’t skimp on your bag. A fella can survive almost any kind of day, so long as he gets a good hot meal and a warm, dry, comfortable bed at the end of that miserable day. So don’t scrimp here. And, above all else, that sleeping bag must stay dry!

Then a small stuff-sack that contains my spare clothing goes in. What you’re carrying is just an extra pair of socks and some supplemental clothing.

Next goes whatever I am using for a shelter.

Then my kitchen bag goes in next, and the folded-up ground cloth on top.

My pack has a kind of open pocket sewn into the back inside, right below the top flap. Into this is usually slid my rain gear, where I can get to it easily.

That’s it!

Into the very top pocket in the flap goes a one-gallon-sized zippy-bag that contains my “office;” which contains all the little, miscellaneous gear.

The side pockets each contain a quart water bottle, and whatever snacks I’m nibbling on that day. On trips with longish dry spells, I’ll also stash a flattish G.I two quart plastic canteen under the top flap of my pack (minus the cloth canteen cover, of course).

Under the flap straps outside the pack is where my sleeping pad goes.

So, you see that the pack contains just a very few sub-units, kitchen bag, clothes bag, rolled or stuffed shelter or tent, and at the bottom the stuff-sack with the sleeping bag. It’s easy to pack and unpack, and it stays organized. All the individual stuff-sacks add protection — one may get wet, but never all. They also keep things cleaner, by containing the mess from sooty pots, and so forth.

I despise packs with thousands of pockets, flaps and zippers all over them. At first glance they may seem a boon to organization, but they are not. What they are is more costly, less robust, less water proof, heavier, and instead of a few tidy sub-units, you get gear strewn all about the place.

My kitchen sack is pretty simple:

• Old sleeping bag stuff-sack
• 2 qt. Aluminum cooking pail with lid
• WhisperLite stove and fuel bottle
• Spoon
• Bic lighter
• P-38 can opener
• Plastic mug
• Plastic bottle for sugar, and one for powdered milk (For my tea, of course. These bottles are empty honey containers. Remember, I also carry a Sierra Cup on my hip belt)
• 2 one-quart plastic water bottles (carried in outside pockets. May also carry G.I. two quart canteen under top flap of pack)

Right now I’m using a USGI “mountain cook kit”

I’ll usually take only the big pot, and an aluminum lid from an old Palco cooking pail that died years ago. If I’m melting snow for water, or think I might want a separate pot of tea, or I’m cooking fancy meals, I’ll bring both pots. They are quite light. What I almost never ever take is the heavy stainless steel lid/fry pan.

You don’t need blackened, Teflon coated, titanium plated stainless steel pots in odd shapes with clever folding legs, patented detachable handles, and built in temperature regulators that cost a week’s pay. Take a simple aluminum pail with a lid, and make sure it’s at least two quart size.

The bigger pot has a wide base that is very stable, and covers the whole stove to absorb the greatest amount of heat, rather than a tall narrow pot perched atop a tiny wiggly stove. Even if you only plan to boil two cups of water, take the big pot. The small amount of water in the bottom boils almost instantly. Not to mention the bigger pot makes a much better pail to lug water from a creek to douse a camp fire, and on more than one occasion I’ve made an impromptu pot of stew for all to enjoy with contents donated by several backpackers met in camp.

The lid is well worth it’s weight because a covered pot boils much faster, saving fuel. If you cook over a fire, the lid keeps flying ash and bugs out. Besides, it’s useful for scooping snow, setting your cup down on when your done cooking, playing Frisbee, and other things.

The stove folds up and is kept in a small stuff-sack of it’s own. Inside this sack also goes the aluminum foil wind screen these stoves use, the spoon, Bic lighter, and a tiny plastic bag with the P-38 can opener and usually a vent pick, extra jet for the stove, and a tiny sheet metal jet wrench.

The pot lid goes in the bag first, then the pot, then the little bag with the stove and the fuel bottle fit in the pot, and the food is piled in on top of that. I can get three day’s or so worth of food in there. on longer trips I’ll use a second stuff-sack for the bulk of my food and use the kitchen sack for the gear and one day’s worth of food.

I simply love my little WhisperLite stove and can’t say enough about them. One little fuel bottle has lasted me five days, cooking three hot meals for two people every day, plus a few extra pots of coffee or tea thrown in! It simply can’t be beat for fuel-efficiency/heat-output/weight.

If your worried about TEOTWAWKI, you can get the multi-fuel version, which will burn gas, diesel, white gas, and what have you.

My clothing bag is even simpler, it’s an old stuff-sack containing:

• Extra pair of socks
• Pile jacket
• T-shirt
• Knit watch cap
• Another spare bandana (OK FINE! SO I’M A BANDANA FREAK! Remember, I also have my rain gear carried elsewhere)

Those are the basics that don’t change. Even in the summer I’ll run into snow pack up high, and it gets quite cold at night. I just don’t sleep comfortably without a cap on my balding head… and the same for the cotton T shirt. I use it only to sleep in. I’m more comfortable that way and it’s just one of those quirks I’ve developed over the years.

Of course the contents vary according to season.

I often carry my shorts and wear BDU trousers if I know I have to do lots of bushwhacking through nasty brush.

In the winter I’ll wear wool pants, and pack long johns. I have carried a very light set of long johns, and put them on under my shorts and my rain pants on over that when things got really cold and windy.

I use heavy, short, mostly wool socks that hold their shape when worn day after day after day…

For river crossings I go barefoot, and possibly even naked, with all my clothes stashed where they will stay good and dry.

Shelter:

• Black Diamond Megamid, pole, stakes, and ropes (carried an yet another stuff-sack)
• Sleeping bag (in oversized, waterproof stuff-sack)
• Ensolite pad (carried outside the pack, under the top flap straps. In wet weather, this is encased in a plastic garbage bag)
• Ground sheet (carried in top of pack, right under flap)

I think the Megamid and similar designs like the Sierra Designs Origami are the ultimate tent. It’s very light weight, and is the modern day equivalent of the teepee. It has no floor and plenty of head room so you can easily cook inside, yet has a door to keep out the wind (and windblown rain). You can sit up inside! I find it easier to set up than a tarp, and they offer more protection, even offering some protection from bugs. For TEOTWAWKI, they are the only lightweight tent that is comfortable to live out of for extended periods of time.

Always carry your pole and more stakes than you think you’ll need. They are lighter than a hatchet, and you’ll always have them right when you need them without having to chop up the surrounding greenery.

Bivy sacks and ultra-small tents are an abomination to be avoided at all costs.

Tarps are OK if you can set them up quickly and properly in all types of terrain and wind when fatigued, and the bugs ain’t too bad. I certainly have made great use of them in the past, but not anymore.

After a long and difficult day spent climbing a mountain in the rain, you can set up your Megamid, and go in with your pack and shake off the wet. Lay down your ground cloth in the back of the tent and set yourself down. Change into some dry long johns, slip into your pile jacket, and lounge on your sleeping bag while you fire up your stove and enjoy a hot meal while listening to the storm howling outside. Your wet gear gets to dry a bit on the other side of the tent, off the ground cloth, and all your equipment is close to hand.

Or, you could be battling with a flapping tarp (which is usually too small), looking for just the right trees to tie it to, fumbling in the dark with cold hands to cut stakes and poles, trying to rig it to get some semblance of shelter.

Or, you could drop your wet pack to the ground, grab a cold snack while shaking out a bivy bag (body bag), and crawl in to spend a miserable night.

You pick.

I have also made very good use of a truly wonderful tent by Eureka, but it is too heavy for solo use.

I do have two inflatable Therm-A-Rest pads, and have made good use of them, but they are simply much to heavy for solo use. I’d rather have an extra pound of food, and prefer to use a simple Ensolite pad such as the green G.I. pad one often comes across. I do like a full-length pad though. The sleeping pad is to provide insulation, and a dry spot to put your sleeping bag on. It isn’t intended as a mattress away from home that rivals the comfy bed you left behind, so don’t be tempted by heavy, bulky pads. When you lie in your bag, you compress the insulation under you which renders it much less effective at keeping you warm. The pad is to compensate for this. You soon get used to sleeping on the ground.

A word about rain gear:

Mine is a brand called “Spray Away,” I purchased it in ‘86 in England, so don’t try and find the same brand [the company does seem to still be around, see link — ed.]. It’s a very simple nylon shell with Gore-Tex inside. No liner! Don’t get rain gear with cloth shells, fabric liners, a zillion zippers and extra pockets. The more crap built into it, the more expensive it is, more likely to leak and will take longer to dry. You can shake the rain off a bare, impermeable nylon jacket. A soaked fabric liner or shell will take days to dry.

All you want is a durable, light weight, wind proof, water proof shell jacket and pants. Make sure the jacket has a good hood, and is quite large — if not downright huge — on you. I got mine big enough to fit over a bulky down coat. The pants don’t have to be so oversized.

Don’t mess with ponchos. I sure as heck did in my youth, and would use it for shelter and as a rain garment. The trouble was they do neither task very well, and if it rains all day long you’re wearing the silly thing, so now how do you set up your shelter? Take the silly, soaked thing off and rig it as a miniature tarp in the driving rain? You might just as well, because after a day in the rain wearing one, you’ll be soaked anyway.

It doesn’t have to be breathable stuff. Inexpensive impermeable stuff is just fine, if it’s durable. Starting over, I might pick Campmor’s Cascade II rain gear.
The jacket costs 23 bucks, weighs 12.8 oz. The pants run 15 bucks and 9.6 oz.

Office (carried in the top flap pocket, contained in a gallon zippy-bag with a heavy rubber band around it to compress it):

• Sewing kit/repair kit
• Match safe
• Fishing kit
• Flashlight (these days usually a small LED headlamp)
• First aid kit (packed in it’s own sandwich sized zippy bag)
• Extra set of eyeglasses
• Paracord
• Bic lighter
• Notebook (small spiral bound kind, usually with most of the pages missing. May have bit of fine sand paper taped to cover to sharpen knife with)
• Pencil stub
• Toothbrush

The list does change from trip-to-trip as I add things, but that’s about the basics that don’t change.

The fishing kit, sewing kit and match safe are contained in identical small plastic tubes with snap tops, maybe three inches long. I’ve used the sewing kit a time or two, but never needed the others. Still carry ‘em though.

I’ll usually add an item or two to this “office,” but it is never allowed to overflow, or even completely fill, that gallon zippy bag.

Some things it might also hold:

• Candle lantern (heavy, but nice on winter trips)
• Paperback book
• Extra ammo (usually six rounds rubber banded into a consolidated lump. Usually only carried on long trips in real back country)
• Very small container of Dr. Bronner’s soap
• Bug repellent
• Small flask of rubbing alcohol (empty bug repellent container)
• 35 MM film container of foot powder
• Extra Kleenex or toilet paper (uh, I often use empty instant oatmeal packets instead of toilet paper… you probably didn’t need to know that, huh?)
• Space blanket (carried for years, never found a use for it, finally left it home)
• Space blanket sleeping bag (much better than the blankets. Used to cover sleeping bag when sleeping under dripping poncho during howling storm, or inside sleeping bag when it gets freaking cold)
• Pipe and tobacco
• Garbage bag

The alcohol and foot powder is used to pamper your sore feet several times a day. The alcohol will toughen your feet and cool them, and the foot powder keeps ‘em cool and helps prevent blisters. Few people carry this stuff but it makes good sense on long hikes.

Well, the list goes on-and-on. The Office is where you stash all the little odds and ends and gadgets you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave at home. The gallon-sized zippy bag ensures that they will stay dry and organized. In use, I pull the whole bag out, and since it’s transparent I can locate what I need, then open it and pull it out.

Remember that with these little gadgets, less is more! Don’t carry a ton of stuff that you just never use. Some small bits of “survival gear,” such as extra matches, a tiny sewing kit, and a few feet of paracord are fine. Just don’t go overboard there. Do carry extra eyeglasses if you wear them!

My top flap pocket is pretty big, and in the past I’ve also crammed in a camera, binoculars, flask of booze, or something along those lines. Not very often though.

Rather than take my old heavy 35 MM camera, or our newer, delicate, battery munching, digital camera, I’ll buy a small disposable camera just for that trip.

As you can probably tell by now, I despise having gear loose in my pack. As much as possible, it all goes into sub-units.

Water purification:

I just strain the stuff through my front teeth. Seriously, I have tramped many miles all over the place, and have never once in my life used a filter or chemicals. Often I’ll throw my bandana down on a muddy bit of water and laying down, suck the water up through the bandana to strain most of the chewy bits.

Everyone has a different comfort level, and has to make up their own minds. Me, I’m comfortable sucking water from muddy hoof prints, and have never has so much as a hint of trouble doing so.

I live without running water. In the winter we melt snow, filter it through a strainer lined with (you guessed it) a bandana, and drink that.

In the spring and fall, we drink rainwater from our roofs. In the summer, we drink from various springs around our homestead. I’ve never lived on chlorinated water, and I drink gallons and gallons of raw goat milk. I suspect I may have some pretty tough intestinal bacteria. Maybe I’m just lucky. Either way, I don’t bother with filters and crap, and never will. One less thing I need to carry.

I know folk who are just simply horrified at the thought of going out into the woods and drinking water right from a stream! They are positive they will get sick… so naturally they do every time they try it.

Now, I’m a northerner. My backpacking beat has been from New Jersey north through Maine, and out west, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. I’ve hiked northern bits of the Appalachian trail and had no trouble with the water. But I can’t say if a filter on the southern Appalachian trail is a good idea, or if you’ll get sick and die without one.

So there you have it, my very opinionated version of what to carry on your back.

Everyone’s list will differ. The best way to figure out what you’re comfortable with is to practice as much as you can. Sleep out in the backyard a lot. Especially on rainy or snowy or windy winter days. Don’t wait till you’re miles from home, it’s dark, the rain is falling and the wind is howling to try out that tarp or sleeping bag.

Remember to travel as light as you possibly can. It is a joy to ramble with a 20 pound pack, still fun with 30 pounds but it’s work at times, not really fun anymore with 40 pounds and the sweat is pouring off you, and a downright chore with 50. The lighter you pack the freer you’ll be, and that’s a good thing.

Backpacking is about the-getting-there. You can go and camp in one spot by a lake and have fun, but you’ll not have the same feeling of fun, self-sufficient, complete contentment that wandering about with everything you need to be perfectly comfortable (well, almost, anyway) right on your back brings. Traveling at your own pace, where you will, and having fun doing it is what it’s all about.

————-

(post photo by Jef Maion)

This time around, Bob breaks down the art and science of building a quick-and-easy teepee (tipi).

—————–

A few days before Christmas I had a sudden hankering for a Teepee. Don’t ask me why. It was just a sudden and strong urge. I had to have one!

It’s been years since I’ve had much to do with teepees. During the summer of ‘78 I spent two weeks high in the Colorado Rockies living in a teepee, and ever since then I’ve had a soft spot for ‘em.

Now the trouble with teepees is they are expensive to buy, and take a lot of sewing to make. Way to much work for this lazy bum. But still, I needed a teepee bad. What to do?

Then it popped into my mind how some folk make tents from cheap tarps and glue ‘em together with contact cement! What a brilliant idea! Could I do something like that with a teepee?

So, the day before Christmas I stopped on the way home from work at Harbor freight to buy a tarp and 100 feet of cheap cord. Another stop at a hardware store for a can of contact cement and I was all set.

I’d already downloaded more traditional teepee fixin’ directions and a diagram from this site.

This is to be a ten foot teepee. Big enough to sleep two adults or a pile of kids. You need a tarp about ten feet wide by twenty feet long to make a teepee this big.

You could get material by the yard and sew it all together, but by buying one big tarp to start with we save most of the work involved in making a teepee!

Teepee fixin’s —

Christmas day I went out to layout my teepee.

First, lay it out and hammer big nails in the corners to hold it in place. The ground was frozen hard and ice covered so ordinary tent stakes were out of the question.

Then, find the middle of the tarp, bang a nail in and tie a cord to it.

With the cord and a magic marker, draw a semicircle on the tarp.

In the corners, draw smoke flaps. Back at the top center, mark two triangles.

Cut it all out, and because it was so cold out I dragged it all inside to glue-up.

I pushed the table back and got to gluing the smoke flaps on, a cord in the bottom hem, and a cord at the top center.

I also cut about a dozen 12″ lenths of cord for stake loops.

Finished!

The next day was the family gathering at the in-laws’ place. Eleven of my nieces and nephews showed up. None had ever seen a teepee, some didn’t know what one was. I commandeered four or five of ‘em and went to the forest to cut poles. I sawed down 12 green grand fir saplings and had the kids drag ‘em up to behind the house.

Then I passed out hatchets, machetes, and other implements of mass destruction and we all set about trimming the branches, piling the brush for a floor, and cutting poles to length.

Up went the poles. The teepee was tied onto one pole and raised up over the frame. We cut slits in the hem for the stake loops, and tied the loops in place. Again, we had to use log spikes for stakes because of the frozen ground. Somewhat surprisingly, nobody lost a finger.

Before long the teepee was up, darkness fell, and we had a fire inside with about eight kids crammed in with me toasting marshmallows on sticks.

I barely made it out alive….

Imagine that many kids stuffed into a small teepee. Half are industriously poking at the fire making it smoke and spark, the rest are waving flaming marshmallows around. I thought I’d get nailed in the head by a flaming marshmallow for sure!

Well, the kids had fun and it kept them out of the house. The adults looked through the windows at the brightly glowing teepee, but didn’t venture forth into the night.

I took the teepee home with me that night, and set it up in the woods at my place the next weekend. It’s been up ever since.

The smoke flaps fell off after a week or two. These flaps are held up by their own poles and staked out. They take allot of stress. If you make one have a care with gluing the smoke flaps. I’d kinda rushed the whole thing and I reckon they might hold up if done right.

The lack of smoke flaps doesn’t seem to make any difference though. Surprisingly, despite several fires inside the tarp shows no burn holes or signs of melting. I’ll leave it up all winter long and see how it fares.

My next project is to build some camp beds of poles, rope or brush to outfit the teepee and wrangle up some of my nephews for a campout.

Now I know this tarp teepee will not last like a canvas one will. I did use a heavy duty tarp and am surprised at how well it is holding up. I reckon it’s fine for camping with the kids, or to set up in the yard for the kids to play in. It’s also nice to know how to make one should an earthquake demolish your home and you need a fast shelter…

All-in-all a fun project.

The poles —

The fire was lit before the teepee was even up! The poles are set up smaller than you think the teepee will be.

Lay the last pole on the cover and tie it on.

Raise the last pole into place and wrap the cover around the poles. Tie the ends together.

From the inside, move the poles out to stretch the cover tight.

This picture was taken at night with a flash. Outside a freezing rain is falling, but it’s nice and cozy inside.

The teepee glowing in the dark of night —

I was worried about the fire damaging the tarp but so far the thing has held up perfectly, except for the loss of the smoke flaps.

This is a shot taken with a flash at night, lying flat on my back looking up. No damage at all to the teepee cover.

It does show how much smoke you get up top. This can be a good thing though. In the spring the smoke keeps the black flies away, in the summer it keeps the mosquitoes away, and you can hang meat up to smoke.

Not sure I’d carry one about in my truck for emergency use though. I think a smaller tarp tent that I could carry in a pack on my back might make more sense. You know, if ya gotta ditch the truck and walk home.

I don’t think if my truck got stuck or broke down back up in the hills that I’d shelter in place for more than one night before I simply grabbed my GHB and started walking. So I prefer to carry the stuff needed to walk home, not homestead on the spot.

There are quite a variety of tents you can make from tarps and contact cement. I’m thinking about experimenting with a “miners” or pyramid type tent. Much easier to cut one pole than a dozen. I’m thinking a small pyramid type tent that you could open up one whole side and set up a fire in front of for heat and cooking.

Or maybe one of Rustums “convertible A” tents, which were intended as lightweight tents that could take advantage of a fire.

This inspiring documentary is about Michael Reynolds quest to build self-sustaining homes, using trash gathered from the local environment. Called Earthships, he uses tires, dirt, plastic and glass bottles as building materials to craft these uniquely designed houses. Earthships have the ability to stay at 70 degrees ambient temperature, even in freezing weather without gas or any heat source. His eco-architecture designs are completely off-the-grid using solar for power, and uses the roof to catch rainwater for drinking, bathing and sewage water.

One of the most interesting parts of the documentary, is his struggle in New Mexico with the state bureaucracy over building standards for his novel housing designs. This documentary shows the ingenuity we have as humans to create a self-sustainable living environment using nature and our imagination, if the state wouldn’t hinder us.

Synopsis

What do beer cans, car tires and water bottles have in common? Not much unless you’re renegade architect Michael Reynolds, in which case they are tools of choice for producing thermal mass and energy-independent housing. For 30 years New Mexico-based Reynolds and his green disciples have devoted their time to advancing the art of “Earthship Biotecture” by building self-sufficient, off-the-grid communities where design and function converge in eco-harmony. However, these experimental structures that defy state standards create conflict between Reynolds and the authorities, who are backed by big business. Frustrated by antiquated legislation, Reynolds lobbies for the right to create a sustainable living test site. While politicians hum and ha, Mother Nature strikes, leaving communities devastated by tsunamis and hurricanes. Reynolds and his crew seize the opportunity to lend their pioneering skills to those who need it most. Shot over three years and in four countries, Garbage Warrior is a timely portrait of a determined visionary, a hero of the 21st century.

WebUrbanist posted this fantastic compilation of old railroad cars turned into living and working spaces.

With the mortgage industry in trouble and more people making the shift toward green housing, reusing train cars as homes is a logical step. Like shipping containers, it’s relatively easy to do the conversion yourself, provided you have the resources to get the car to its new location. Cabooses seem to be the most popular choice for train car homes, but there are plenty of dining and sleeping cars being converted as well. If you’re able to shell out between $8000 and $45,000 for an old car, another several thousand to transport the car and put it into place on your property, and whatever it takes in material and labor to transform it, you can have a home for much less than a conventional house would cost. And best of all, it will be completely unique and as green as you want it to be.

These cars have been turned into everything from homes to hotels, and there seems to be no limit to the creative ways people are making the transformations. From the cabin-in-the-woods style above, to posh and modern dwellings like this one in Portland, OR:

Check out the original post for many more examples, and further information about each.

For a good overview of the concept, visit the Seasteading entry on Wikipedia.

“Featuring Patri Friedman, Executive Director, Seasteading Institute; with comments by Doug Bandow, Senior Fellow, Cato Institute; and Arnold Kling Adjunct Scholar, Cato Institute.”

Uniquely designed, self-sustaining, and made of recycled or natural materials, these homes are the brainchild of renegade bioarchitect Michael Reynolds. Based in New Mexico, his goal is to create self-sufficient, off-the-grid communities where design and function converge in eco-harmony. He uses discarded modern by-products found locally, and integrates them into construction materials that can be used to build a sustainable home.

Earthships can be custom built or purchased, just like typical real estate through an online network of individual sellers. These homes have been built worldwide and varying environments, highlighting the versatility of this concept.

Earthship Biotecture is described as:

Earthship n. 1. passive solar home made of natural and recycled materials 2. thermal mass construction for temperature stabilization. 3. renewable energy & integrated water systems make the Earthship an off-grid home with little to no utility bills.

Biotecture n. 1. the profession of designing buildings and environments with consideration for their sustainability. 2. A combination of biology and architecture.

To specifically design and build homes that…

• Heat and cool themselves naturally via solar/thermal dynamics.
• Collect their own power from the sun and wind.
• Harvest their own water from rain and snow melt.
• Contain and treat their own sewage on site.
• Produce a significant amount of food.
• Are constructed using the byproducts of modern society like cans, bottles and tires.

Highlights of Earthship homes include:

• 100% solar with battery backup that provides power for up to two weeks without a drop of sun.
• Maintains 70F internal temperature w/o any heating or cooling system whatsoever (solar gain and passive geothermal)
• Catchwater and cistern – requires 9 inches of rainfall per YEAR to provide adequate water for home use
• Massive room for indoor plants (grow bananas in Alaska), as well as greywater and blackwater for large outdoor gardens.
• Costs less and lasts longer than traditional housing

Find out more about this revolutionary building concept at Earthship.com

They cover not only the various design types, but also ways to choose the right one for your particular climate, tips on financing these homes, and a variety of other useful information.

Be sure to check out Build It Solar’s handy list of solar analysis tools, which are indispensable for designing or choosing a house plan that makes the most of the climate you plan to live in.

Passive solar design refers to the use of the sun’s energy for the heating and cooling of living spaces. In this approach, the building itself or some element of it takes advantage of natural energy characteristics in materials and air created by exposure to the sun. Passive systems are simple, have few moving parts, and require minimal maintenance and require no mechanical systems.

Operable windows, thermal mass, and thermal chimneys are common elements found in passive design. Operable windows are simply windows that can be opened. Thermal mass refers to materials such as masonry and water that can store heat energy for extended time. Thermal mass will prevent rapid temperature fluctuations. Thermal chimneys create or reinforce the effect hot air rising to induce air movement for cooling purposes.

Wing walls are vertical exterior wall partitions placed perpendicular to adjoining windows to enhance ventilation through windows.

Got $60,000-$90,000 lying around? You might want to consider decking out your Ford van in style. Sportsmobile West is offering this conversion for “Ford E350 Regular/Extended Body Vans.” It looks like the total package: Camper, off-road-vehicle, heavy-duty transportation — the ultimate bug-out HQ!

The Sportsmobile 4WD Vehicle is for the most discerning of off-road enthusiasts. Only the best heavy-duty components are used to give the absolute best off-road performance while maintaining exceptional on-road performance.

Here’s what’s included in the conversion:

• Ford E-350 1 Ton, GVWR 9,500
• 6.8L V-10 or 6.0L Diesel
• Advanced Adapters Atlas II All Gear Driven Transfer Case
• Dynatrac Pro-Roc 60 Front Axle
• Dana 60 Rear Axle
• High Knuckle Front End for Extra Tie Rod Clearance
• Extra Heavy Duty Steering Arm
• Horizontal Drag Link Eliminates Bump Steer
• Spicer 1350 One-Ton Rated Driveline Components
• Your choice of Open, Limited Slip, or Locking Differentials
• Partial Military Wrap Springs Designed Specifically for a Sportsmobile Conversion.

In case the whole “it’s a camper” thing didn’t sink in, here’s another photo of the van in action:

Seriously, go check out this beast. If you get one, let me know, I want a ride…

The Buddhist monks began collecting bottles in 1984 and they collected so many that they decided to use them as a building material.

They encouraged the local authorities to send them more and they have now created a complex of around 20 buildings using the beer bottles, comprising the main temple over a lake, crematorium, prayer rooms, a hall, water tower, tourist bathrooms and several small bungalows raised off the ground which serve as monks quarters.
The bottles do not lose their colour, provide good lighting and are easy to clean, the men say.

A concrete core is used to strengthen the building and the green bottles are Heineken and the brown ones are the Thai beer Chang.

The monks are so eco-friendly that the mosaics of Buddha are created with recycled beer bottle caps.

While this method may work well for a large complex if you have a team of devoted (and devout) builders with a lot of time on their hands, construction of this magnitude is not required to make use of those shiny beverage containers left spread all over your lawn on Sunday morning.

You might try building a Shed or Greenhouse:

• • Garden Shed Made of Disposable Bottles
• • How to build a greenhouse out of bottles

A Home:

• • Eco-friendly beer bottle house
• • Tom Kelly’s Bottle House
• • Doc Hope’s Bottle House
• • A lot more bottle house examples

Or a Palace:

(ok, well, that’s a big project too)

Some found their way to this mobile life by accident. Others, like Easy (person number five in the article), for different reasons…

“‘The system stopped working for me, and I stopped working for it, baby.’”

Then there is Exile, a self-described anarchist vegan with a penchant for run-ins with the law. He lives in a van down by the river, but is not eating government cheese… for two obvious reasons.

Exile:

[Other so-called anarchists] talk a good talk, they advertise all their causes in patches and walk around looking like a marketing campaign. But what are they really doing to provoke change?

And Suzanne — actually, yes, that Suzanne, of Leonard Cohen fame — who lives in a truck camper (that she built herself) in Santa Monica.

Suzanne:

I had to have the camper clean, neat, the bedding fresh. I got very creative with cooking. I always kept my clothes fresh and looking good. No one would believe I was homeless. My hair was always neat. I didn’t want to buy into that stigma of being downtrodden, part of the great unwashed, as it were, in the eyes of the world.

Then we meet Raven, a wandering (and absent) young mother who doesn’t consider herself a vagrant; but seems to know she is one. She finds herself living in an abandoned Airstream in LA.

Raven:

I guess you can say I fell off the grid… It kind of happened and I’m okay with it.

Finally, we’re introduced to Easy, a black man in his late 60’s who’s been there and done that through some pretty tough times — and has lived up to his monicker the entire time:

Well, my home was towed today… [but] they’re only things, baby.

Each of these stories has an element of sadness; and some of their actions viewpoints are not what I would personally consider to be right — but, overall, I think their experiences are valuable insights into the hardships and joys of life outside of a traditional Home & Hearth setting. Perhaps this article can best be summed up with the following quote from it:

“I miss having a girlfriend to come over and hang out with,” he says. “It’s hard to find someone who wants to live outside the bounds of culture. I’ll meet someone who seems interested in me, and eventually where I live comes up. I see them look at me like, ‘Oh, you live in a van.’ And usually that’s that.”

Still, Exile isn’t ready to sign a lease anytime soon. He believes that being “situationally poor,” or “poor by choice,” offers the greatest advantage: freedom.

Poor, rich, or in-between; life on the move is a reality for many people already. With the economy on the decline, I feel we’re likely to see a lot more of them. Perhaps, if viewed in the right light, it doesn’t have to be an entirely catastrophic experience.

Read the full article at LA Weekly »

(post photo by Serendigity on flickr)

I love this type of architecture. Clean, simple, unique. Sadly, there’s not too much information I can find about the thinking behind this design; but to my imagination it is one that could take advantage from natural light and passive solar heating, based on its orientation. More photos and a little more information can be found at the architect’s website (translated from French): Nunatak Architectes – Zufferey House

Regardless of the scarce info, it is a stunningly elegant build, and I would love to find more information about both the thought and construction processes behind it. At least there is an architectural drawing of the house in the image below.

UPDATE: Here is a PDF from Daylight & Architecture magazine, that has some more details about the house, as well as a few more photos.

Designed by Nunatak Architectes, this amazingly unique house is located in a picturesque valley of Switzerland. Inspired by a mountain, this house is like a huge inclined block – sloping roofs epitomize mountain slopes and the lovely grey color of the house blends in perfectly with the hilly terrain. The most interesting thing is that some walls are made of simple stones that simply gives the entire house a more “eco-friendly” feel…

Click any photo to see the larger version.

Apparently some folks in the neighborhood don’t like the relatively pricy real-estate’s arrival, and so decided to make a statement to that effect:

The words “Die yuppie scum” were scrawled across the project sign… That sign is gone and replaced with a new sign that has a spray-painted anarchy symbol over a picture of one of the future homes.

But apparently the builder considers himself to be a bit of an anarchist himself:

Nikolai Usack, a principal with Pragmatic, laughed off the vandalism, partly because he said he relates to the message.

“When we were younger, we were in that camp,” he said. “Now we’re on the receiving end.”

But Usack took it a step further. The anarchy symbol on Pragmatic’s sign reflects the message the company is trying to impress upon a housing industry reluctant to take on truly sustainable building practices.

“We’re trying to bring anarchy to regular construction,” Usack said, “so it’s appropriate.”

Anarchy, as practiced by Pragmatic, is building two homes that will have monthly utility bills less than $30 combined. They will have steel roofs that last 50 years, sustainable siding requiring no maintenance, triple-pane glass windows and highly insulated walls. They’ll boast reclaimed doors, fixtures and hardwood floors, and use less than two 30-yard Dumpsters for all of the waste from building both homes.

I like this builder’s style – and not only because of his building methods. He doesn’t run and cry to the law about the defacement of his sign by misguided “anarchists,” but handles it like a real anarchist:

As for vandals who may strike this summer, he said, Pragmatic has a secret weapon. Rubbing his finger over the anarchy symbol, a small section of paint disappears from the sign.

“It’s a graffiti-proof sign,” he said. “We’ll have it cleaned off once the homes are up for sale.”

That’s style, right there. If you want to check out the stuff this builder does, head to his company site: Pragmatic Construction.