Water Water Everywhere

And not a drop to drink until you boil it 5 minutes or run it through a filter.

If you get your water from a well, you are effectively a water-quality manager who oversees a water-treatment facility.  And when things go wrong, you learn about hydraulic engineering, geology, and pathogens.

For the past three weeks that has been our life, since seven inches of rain fell in a few days' time. Our dug well had developed a crack and a bit of missing casing, most likely from the earthquake of 2011, and that meant fecal coliform bacteria in the drinking water rose to levels that are not necessarily healthy. We had a water test last year, through a Virginia Tech extension agency program, and that proved marginal for coliform. The heavy rain changed things, fast.

Soil filters rain water, and coliform bacteria are present in most soil. Yet that can present an issue for Dug wells, commonly found on older properties, which are more prone to contamination; I understand that some banks will not issue a mortgage to a home that does not have a modern bored, deep well.

That's not us. Our well is only about 30 feet deep and 3 feet in diameter. I tested again when the heavy rains made our water cloudy. Test kits are cheap, and the consequences of not testing regularly? Serious illness in the worst cases.

In my home test after the rains, we failed. So what to do if you suddenly find yourself living in the 1840s? Digging a new well or even repairing this one would cost many thousands of dollars we do not have handy.

Time to boil and filter, as I would on a backpacking trip or, more ominously, after some disaster.

There's an entire section at Cabelas I call "The Doomsday Aisle" full of "survival" rations and gear, including some serious water filters and purifiers. The the distinction is critical; the latter remove bacteria from water. Most simple filters do not. I have used prefilters when camping, if rainwater has debris. An old Melita coffee filter does the trick.

I suppose The Doomsday Aisle gives suburban preppers the same false confidence that a backyard bomb shelter provided in the late 50s or, today, a seldom-fired handgun tucked in the nightstand or worse for the untrained, waistband. But I have found that these same folks also vainly try to "tick proof" their manicured lawns, killing helpful insects in the process, and panic at every tick bite; I keep a jar of the four or five that get me, weekly.

Thus I have decided to give up on telling such people that you cannot buy skills. But if you are still reading, here's a tip: only buy gear that you actually use sometimes, not tuck away in the utility room. The test of such supplies and, in our case, water filter, need not be the coming of Mad Max. It might simply be a hurricane that interrupts power and potable water for two weeks, as happened in 2003 during Hurricane Isabel. My nephew Chris, with Homeland Security, gets blue in the face trying to explain that two weeks of supplies are all one needs to mean the difference between life and illness or death.

That photo is so reassuring looking, isn't it, to those fretting about apocalypse? Yet no supplies will help you without potable water. I got a $60 purifier at Cabelas, made by Sawyer; I like their backpacking purifiers a lot. Like the smaller units, the big one is reverse-flushable and good for 100,000 gallons. More than enough! I like that it could be mounted to a bucket and gravity fed into a container to drink.

The first step in addressing problems such as ours was to "shock our well." Those of you on city water may imagine me sneaking up and yelling "boo" into the well house, or telling an off-color joke to the plumbing. As the Centers for Disease Control's site makes plain, however, it's a rather lengthy process.  You make a bleach-water solution (in our case, 3 gallons of bleach), pour it in the well, wash down the inner casing, and run the taps. A lot.

Eventually the bleach smell vanishes, and our shower tiles were cleaner. But a week later, I tested the water again for bacteria.

Another Epic Fail.

We had our well service visit, the folks who fixed the well several years ago. They suggested that short a very expensive repair, we install a UV light in the well, at the cost of $1100 and with an annual maintenance fee of $150.

Of course we said "yes. NOW." As for timing, we are still about two weeks out from installation, perhaps another from when I test the water again.  We have gotten adept at filtering drinking water nightly, using tap water to wash pots and pans, and running the dishwasher on "sanitize." So it's less 1840 and more an inconvenience. We could, in theory, go on this this forever.

But I am thankful that we do not have to.

Old School Tools: Apinol

Since 1903, "America's Oldest Green Product" has soothed and cleansed those who work or play outdoors. Until I met my wife in 1989, I had never heard of this strange product from Alabama.

When Nancy began to talk about "Alpine Oil," which is how she and her family pronounce it, I thought it was something from a pine tree. Sure enough, Apinol is made from pine oil, and when you put it on a mosquito or tick bite, sore toe, or big scrape the sting is brief and the relief is long-lasting. You do, however, smell like pine-scented cleaning products.

We say around here that "it will help anything but a broken heart," and I'm not sure it would not  help in those cases, too. I have made a poultice from it, using cotton balls and medical tape, and let it sit on a blister or wound overnight. It relieves swelling and quickens healing.

Apinol can be hard to find. Locally, an Westbury Pharmacy carries it, and I have seen it listed on Amazon. I suspect this product, which has only changed from a glass to a plastic spray bottle in my many years using it, will be with us until 2103 and beyond.  Unlike many legacy brands, Apinol knows how to build a customer base and has a decent Web presence.

Tell your friends this summer, when the critters bite and scratch. I have not tried it as an insect repellant, but it's a soothing friend to have in a miserable time of year down South.

Pressed into Service: Bring Out the Antiques!

I've read in one of the coffee-table books about old tractors that unlike other collectibles, antique tractors often get pulled out to do useful work. This happens most frequently at planting or harvest time on a large farm.

Our property is modest in size and ambition, but when a broken hydraulic connector on our new tractor put it into the shop, the grass and weeds would not wait for it to return. Thus a 1950 John Deere M, very much in need of TLC scheduled for this summer, got to bask in the glory of a lovely Virginian April. It's a unique machine, having been modified by a local contractor so my father-in-law could step into the saddle after his injury. An M is no easy mount, so I am very thankful for the "back stairs" it now sports.

A big adjustment from city life is the need to stay on top of a large property. To fail at that means a cascading set of failures when it comes time to harvest one's food. With little "critters" eager to get into our new garden if they could be sneak close enough, I wanted a big "kill zone" for hawks and other predators, including snakes, to cut down on our squirrels and mice and voles. I also wanted said snakes at the wood's edge, not near my back door in tall grass. We mostly have non-venomous black snakes, but last year, on open ground and in plain sight, I nearly put my foot down on a Copperhead. Grass too tall only would increase that possibility.

I hold true to my earlier post about tractors: all but the most experienced farmers need a modern machine with safety features to work rough terrain. Luckily for us, only billiard-table flat spots and one gentle slope needed mowing.  The old tractor, despite a seeping oil pan, crazy wiring setup, and leaky carb, did admirably. It's earned a long-overdue servicing and a new set of front tires.

Thus a new homesteader might consider a back-up plan and equipment if one's primary tractor is out of service. An M like the one I'm riding would only set an owner back a few thousand dollars and give many years of service. Now that my new tractor is back, I'll still run the M weekly a bit for light duty. Old farm machines, like older skilled people, seem grateful to be of service.

The Best Tractor: One That Does Not Kill You

They are so lovely, but they can be so dangerous.

Ken Johnson presents several excellent recommendations in "Thinking About Buying An Old Tractor For Your Homestead?" in the March/April 2013 issue of Countryside Magazine. He only short-changes two essentials for new homesteaders contemplating a tractor purchase: horrible injuries and death.

What follows here grows out of a letter to the editor of that publication.

I maintain two rural properties, one in the process of becoming a homestead, with both antique and modern equipment. Both pieces of land feature hills, gullies, and stream beds. Any of these can equal a roll-over, especially if a row-crop tractor with a narrow front end gets employed improperly.

Even a low-slung tractors with a wide front axle, such as my 1952 Ford 8N, can roll sideways when used incorrectly on a hill. I'll never forget my first experience when a front wheel lifted off the ground on an incline. It was a moment of stark terror I won't repeat, because I never mow that spot now except with a weed-eater and push mower.

Here I am mowing, carefully, with this fine old tractor. The biggest problem nowadays is getting it to start after too long a "rest."

New rural residents without much experience on tractors need an apprenticeship, something I gained in two decades as a city-boy working with my father-in-law. That taught me the rudiments of old equipment and its use. I'm still learning. But for the most serious uses, I use a new tractor with several features I love and that reduce the likelihood of injury when something bad occurs.

So while Johnson's article does note how side-mount tractors and PTO systems can save both effort and injury, much of his other advice works best for old hands who already know tractors. I'd recommend the following specs for those who haven't put in too many hours in the tractor seat:

• Roll-over system (roll bar), seat belt, hand brake. Our 1970s and 80s John Deeres all feature them, and I am fairly certain that similar vintage Internationals,  New Hollands, and other makes do, too.
• Wide front axle, period. For most hobby farmers and homesteaders, the triangle setups for many row-crops invite disaster unless the property is really flat and level.
• Utility tractor for small properties. Tractor owners, in their red or green caps, will disagree for hours over the merits of a particular setup or make, but a modern utility tractor will be lower to the ground than a row-crop. That center of gravity, plus weights as needed, can save a novice's life.
• 4WD if the tractor will use a loader or work wet ground. Getting stuck in mud is a pain, but flipping the tractor by sliding sideways down a hill is worse.
• Volunteer work and classes. Seek out a local farmer at the farmer's market, dial up the community college or extension agent, and just ask.

These have been my methods. I ended up with a new John Deere 4WD utility tractor for $25K, far more than Johnson recommends, though good tractors of the sort, as well as 4WD earth-moving equipment, can be found for $10K.  But, hey. The Deere dealer gave me some free hats.

If I were to employ only one tractor, I'd save up to spend the extra money. My antiques now pull wagons or mow grass on the flat spots.

All that said, no tractor, modern or old, is safe if not used safely.

My father-in-law, with all his years of experience, still got pinned under the rear wheel of a 1970s vintage tractor set up with a backhoe, and featuring both a seat belt and cab. I still use that tractor for digging holes, moving tons of dirt and stone, and more. It's the sort of machine that should NOT hurt you. In this photo, I was working on drainage around a barn, with that machine in the background. Note how its is parked, with the front bucket down to prevent rolling on its own, if the shifter got knocked into neutral. That happens! 

Once the Ford 8n, unhooked from any mower, decided to roll away on its own. I watched first in horror, then in amusement, as it took a little trip down the hill, finally coming to rest, gently, against the very tree to the right of the backhoe below.  Nothing was hurt, but to see a tractor run away on its own teaches more respect than any words here could.

When the accident happened to my father-in-law, after he came out of his coma he explained that he tried to move the tractor a foot or two, engine off, by operating the clutch with his hand and standing beside it.  A tire-tread caught his trousers and pulled him under the machine.

Had he climbed into the seat to do the job, he'd not have been hurt. He barely survived the accident, and was never the same man. Moral to newly rural folk: buy as safe a tractor as you can afford, take lessons from responsible old-timers, and use the equipment properly.

Woodsmoke and Work

Making the fateful decision to heat with wood is not one lightly taken, we've found.

While we have a two-zone heat-pump system to keep the temperature at something above freezing, as well as a restored and tight house, there is much more to do to keep things cozy.

A great part of the transition to rural life involves the constant splitting and storage of wood. I opted to make the side walls and part of the back of a three-bay tractor run-in into wood storage. With sustainability and lower costs in mind, I made the racks from the crates in which the farm house's new standing-seam roof arrived.  Even with that much ready storage, consider that a home in Central Virginia can use up to four cords of seasoned wood in a winter; that is not far off the figure given for upstate New York given in Bryan Alexander's Scaling the Peak.

A cord of closely stacked wood measures 8' x 4' x 4'; quadruple that figure for one heating season.

On the plus side, a single stove can heat an entire home, especially when it gets paired with a stovetop fan. We purchased the larger of two models available from Plow and Hearth, then added a stove thermometer. Finally, after I stupidly broke the glass on the stove with an overly long log, I ordered not only replacement glass (at nearly $200) but a spare piece. Our stove is side-loading too, so unless I am starting it from cold, all wood goes into the side and the glass should be safe. Should be.

I've mentioned Audrey and Michael Levatino’s book The Joy of Hobby Farming and the authors' list of farm essentials. They advise against a power splitter, and there we must, well, split company as we split wood. In town, splitting was a hobby and exercise for me and my maul, but in the country, I split when chores and day-job do not interfere. This means volume and speed become essential. The $1200 invested in a 27-ton Troybilt seems like peanuts now. I got the oak for this and next winter free and I'm probably saving at least $200 per month in electric bills, when compared to what we spent in town with our heating system.  One caveat for all small engines these days: either find ethanol-free gas or run the tool until it's dry, to avoid crystallization in the lines and carb. It's a terrible and mostly preventable problem for small engines, and locally I've two sources of petrol without the ethanol.

On a good day when we are home all day, the heat pumps now never come on, and the farm house maintains a temperature of 65 degrees or more just from the one stove.

And when time permits, I heft the maul and split by hand, using my axes only for kindling. Yet even stacking and moving wood from the gas-powered splitter provides a workout to rival any gym.

The Perfect Farm Truck?

Audrey and Michael Levatino’s book The Joy of Hobby Farming provides a list of essential gear for the would-be rural homesteader. I think "hammer" and "tape measure" are on there, forged from the author's experience at Ted's Last Stand farm, up the road from us in Gordonsville.

It was pleasing, in a culture that often makes a fetish of the pickup truck, to see the vehicle in the book as just another essential tool.

So which truck should a Tractorpunk own?

First off, there probably is no such thing as a perfect truck. I could also care less about brand loyalty. I'm partial to Fords because my dad drove big ones to haul produce, but any truck that runs well is a good truck to me.  Every truck owner can describe the truck that felt right, that did the best work before, sadly, it  had to be "put down" like a beloved farm animal who had reached the end of its life.

Second off, I've never owned that perfect truck. My closest-to-perfect one was a '95 white contractor's F-150 called "The Bull" (that's me and The Bull outside Brewer's General Store in Camp, VA). It came pre-dented and lacked four-wheel drive. It also rode like a buckboard wagon, though in the end getting stuck in mud too many times in the back parts of the property, even with a locking differential, meant a change had to come. I'll probably buy it back one day if Jimmy, the present owner, tires of it.

My current truck, an '03, Chevy, has 4WD but also the personality of a recliner. It's unassuming and useful, but rather bland. I miss the old buckboard ride and hand-cranked windows of The Bull or a '98 Dodge Dakota that was great on gas and the right size, not too big or small, but very unreliable.

I'm surprised how few miles we drive our truck, which is good because it drinks gas. I'm also surprised how often it hauls things about. It would seem that work-trucks have three categories:

• Small four-cylinder haulers for dump runs or moving stuff from house to barn or field. Often I see older 2WD  trucks in this role, since compacts are scarce on the late-model market. These trucks won't tow much.
• Larger contractor or used trucks like The Bull or my Chevy. They are great for lots of purposes, including light towing. The 8' bed on many of them makes hauling lumber, gravel, or firewood a reasonable chore.
• The big dogs, often full-sized diesels of the "one ton" category. These can tow a big tractor or haul lots of gear in the bed or on a trailer.

I don't include any ideas about trucks for commuting. In fact, I think that to be a great waste of money. Buy a car. The older rural folk I knew scoffed at the idea of trucks for "going to town," partly because when they came of age, all trucks rode like The Bull.

I suspect that many new homesteaders would love to go straight to the big dog, since it could do anything, but we decided against that sort of expense ($40,000 plus). We do occasionally move farm equipment, but we found that for $100-$200, the guys who service the tractors (when I can't) will transport them.

In time, I'll find the perfect truck. It would be something like the diesel Hilux Toyotas I see in England, or my dream Jeep pickup, like the J12 concept they rolled out last year. . . maybe one day, and used, given my budget and propensity for punishing my trucks. I don't want to put in the first scratch.

Before buying a truck, my wife and I made a list of what we absolutely needed. It ran:

• 4WD: not everyone needs it, but if you go back into the mud to work the truck, you'll thank yourself for the extra expense
• Extended cab: even with a nice roll-down tonneau cover, water seeps into the bed. Things that need to stay dry could go into a tool box (especially on a beauty like the J12) but extended cabs still permit a truck bed that is not a joke
• 8 Foot Bed: at the time, we planned to renovate our farmhouse. I saved thousands of dollars by running the crew materials. When I ran into 16' lumber, however, I had to have it delivered. But a 6.5' bed would still have worked, had I installed a ladder rack on top.

Your list will be different, but if you farm, you are going to need a truck in the toolbox, along with a hammer and tape measure.