Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   not carrying things in my arms
Monday, July 14 2008
A third of a mile south of the house (41.92588N, 74.10628W) (but not along the Stick Trail) is another old small-scale bluestone mine, one featuring exceptionally thin, flat stone laminations perfect for veneering projects such as my long-delayed woodstove pedestal project. The problem with this particular mine is that it isn't particularly easy to get to. The most direct route takes the farm road for about half the distance and then veers across a wetland and then southeast for the final leg, which includes a climb up a steep forested hillside strewn with rocks. Unlike the bluestone mine near the Stick Trail, wheeled access to this mine is virtually out of the question.
Today I went to the mine with my largest backpack and selected the largest, thinnest slabs of stone that I could fit into it. But the backpack was made for soft things like clothes and couldn't accommodate the sort of shapes I most wanted. In the end I managed to get eighty or a hundred pounds of useful bluestone into it, but in so doing, I somehow managed to rupture a full can of beer I'd brought with me to drink before beginning the homeward haul.
Once I started hiking home, though, the backpack was a revelation. In the past when I've gone into the woods to bring home various natural resources (mostly wood and stone) and I wasn't using a hand truck or some other wheeled assistant, I've found carrying these things in my arms an exhausting ordeal. With the backpack, though, it was easy. I could walk at a comfortable pace and avoid breaking a sweat, experiencing elevated respiration, or having any need to rest. I could even stoop now and then as I walked to pluck and eat a delicious blueberry. All that weight was riding on skeletal and muscle systems accustomed to carrying weight, and to them it was a modest additional burden. Because I didn't have things in my arms, I didn't to keep my arms in a constant state of tension, a state that can quickly exhaust a person. Still, the backpack is poorly designed for transporting raw natural materials. If I want to use this method, I'll need a pack that can easily accommodate awkward shapes.

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