 |
| Our view from the front porch |
Seven years ago I sold my home in the San Francisco Bay area and moved to California’s Gold Rush country. And not just to a city or small town (though later on I would buy a house in Placerville), but to my partner’s home in the forest, bordering the El Dorado National Forest. It seemed very romantic and exciting at the time. We would be surrounded by the pines and oaks, out of sight of neighbors and far from traffic noise. Our block-long graveled driveway would be free of other cars. When we needed firewood, we would cut down an expendable tree. On winter evenings we would gaze into the fire while reading and listening to music. We could forget about caring for a lawn, because the surrounding forest is carpeted with attractive bear grass. (Should I have wondered why it is also called “mountain misery”?) Every spring we would look for native wildflowers, and never plant invasive plants from a nursery. Black-tailed deer would be our companions. It would be the ideal lifestyle for us environmentalists.
My first warning came when a 100’ tall tree had to be cut down because it was in the path of a garage we needed for our motorhome. My partner felled it himself, and sawed the branches and trunk into large sections, which was an impressive feat. He explained that before he could split it for firewood, we needed to use a rope and pivot system to lower the log rounds down a hillside. Then we could hand-roll them up the long driveway to the carport. (Who, me? I hadn’t rolled anything larger than a rolling pin in years. We did manage it, though, and I felt quite proud of that accomplishment.) After leaving the rounds to spend the hot summer drying out, he could split them with a steel wedge and sledgehammer. He explained that he was multitasking, getting both firewood and exercise.
 |
| Bringing up a log round |
The spring wildflowers—some of which are quite rare—are indeed a treat. For two or three months I happily climb up the hill to enjoy them. Then summer arrives, and this area becomes beastly hot at times. Our home is partly solar-powered, and has huge south-facing windows; the house gets very uncomfortable on hot summer afternoons. At sundown the lack of surrounding roads and pavement lets the evening breezes cool off the house quickly. Being environmentalists, of course we have no air conditioning. During extreme heat waves, when we run out of ice cream and become sufficiently miserable, we take the motorhome far up the mountain to a campground near a lake. For a few days we enjoy life there, but it can’t last. We need to take care of things at home, so we drive back to our part of the forest.
 |
| More exercise! |
One of the things we need to do is to cut the beautiful but highly flammable manzanita bushes that grow quickly all over the property. I have spent many hours cutting them with loppers, making sure that every leaf is removed to prevent any photosynthesis from restoring them, but new bushes seem to spring up immediately. Though the manzanitas are numerous, at least they can be removed while they are small. Established pines and oaks are much larger and harder to deal with. Though it’s tempting to let them grow, we are required to maintain a 50’ bare area around the house because of the danger of wildfires here. (The house is on a steep hillside; if a wildfire ever comes up from the canyon below, even that barrier may not save us.)
The long gravel driveway is a continual problem. In autumn It has to be raked often, to remove the leaves and acorn shells that can rapidly turn to humus. In the winter any strong rain can wash out sections that must be shoveled back into place. Shoveling gravel is not fun.
Life here has been much harder than I expected, and at times I retreat to the Placerville house, where I have a gas furnace, air conditioning, a road that is maintained by someone else, and an easier life in general. I still love the forest and spend a great deal of time there, but I am now seven years older than when I left the city. How much longer can I keep this up? If we leave the forest, where will we go?
Any one considering moving to a similar area should think carefully before doing anything irrevocable. Life in the forest is rewarding, but it also involves much drudgery. It can also be lonely. For a woman, especially, the lack of nearby neighbors and friends is difficult. Like old age, this life “ain’t for sissies.”
