January 8, 2004

• What to Do when it’s Really Cold

  
  

  Greyfox, in his latest entry, blogged about how to tell when it’s really cold.  When I read his description of what we do to get the car ready to start, along with a passing mention of the old Honda 500-watt generator that used to supply all the electricity at our old place across the highway (oh, and for earthlovinglady and anyone else too busy to look at my main page and see where we live, it is Alaska, specifically the Upper Susitna Valley within sight of Denali, Weathermaker, The Great One, AKA Mount McKinley, tallest monolith, base-to-peak, on this planet, bigger than any Himalaya, all of which sit on the shoulders of a great massif), I knew it was time to write this thing that’s been lurking in the back of my mind for weeks.

  
  

  The bit that has been kicking around inside my head for so long actually was a list of handy hints, outhouse survival tips.  I didn’t write it when it first came to mind because it was sort of a short list and I was hoping to come up with a few more bits of advice before I blogged about it.  That warming-the-car-up stuff will fill in nicely, and may even help convince some of you that I’m not obsessed with scatalogical lore, or at least not obsesssed with only that.  So, here goes:

  
  

  Winter Outhouse Survival Tips

  
  

  1.  Remember the seat, both coming and going.  It’s right there behind the woodstove, or should be unless you or someone else forgot to bring it back in last time.  Leaving it in the outhouse means the next person out has a chilly seat to sit on, and leaving it in the house when you go out means either rushing back in for it, sitting on the splintery and frosty bench, or hovering awkwardly.  Just don’t forget it!

  
  

  2. Always wear a hat.  You lose most of the heat that dissipates from your body through your skull anyway, and with your nether parts exposed to the elements with no insulation you need all the help you can get up top.

  
  

  3. Never wear gloves.  Your good wooly mittens will make you too clumsy to properly perform the paperwork without soiling them, and rubber gloves won’t keep your hands warm.

  
  

  Well, that’s it.  I said it was a short list.  I could have included ones about keeping the walk shoveled and steps cut in the ice so you can get there without mishap.  Maybe some of you recall (I know LuckyStars does) last winter when I slipped on a slick slope, caromed off of the side of the house and shot down into the outhouse in my nightgown.  I didn’t want to think about that, so I decided to leave it out.

  
  

  Now, a bit about some of the ways we coped with winter cold before we were here on the power grid:

  
  

  Our trucks always had engine heaters installed when we got them.  You can tell that by the electrical plugs hanging out from the grilles.  One is for the block heater, the thing that screws into the freeze plug hole.  Another is for the oil pan heater, usually a flat metal high-ohm coil that lays on the bottom of the oil pan, but sometimes a fancy heating pad thingie that adheres to the bottom of it.  Still another (and there are vehicles around here that tool around on the roads with all three plugs dangling, and woe unto him who forgets to unplug them all before backing out the driveway) is for the battery blanket, another fancy waterproof heating pad that wraps around the battery.  That’s because electric juicity doesn’t flow so well in those things when they’re cold, and because if it gets cold enough to freeze the acid solution, it can push the plates out of position, short them out and ruin the battery permanently.

  
  

  I say they always had one or more of them when we got them.  That’s because it’s hard to find a used vehicle around here without any, and I never had a new car in my entire life.  But those dangling plugs were merely cosmetic, just like the fire hydrant I picked up at the dump and set up at the end of my driveway as a landmark to tell people it was my place.  All are non-functional, because it takes electric power to run the heaters and plumbing to use a fireplug, none of which we had.

  
  

  The way we kept our battery warm was to take it out of the car and into the house at night.  And we didn’t set it on the floor, either, because it’s cold and drafty down there.  It usually sat on the corner of  Doug’s desk, right by the ladder to my loft.  If I ran the generator that night (which was also kept in the house when not in use because it’s godawful hard to pull-start when cold), the battery would get a charge while keeping warm. 

  
  

  Next morning, first thing, I’d put more wood in the fire than we really needed, making sure it was smaller splits than usual, to burn fast.  I’d leave the draft open on the stove to make a hot and quick fire, so I’d have lots of coals.  An hour or so before we wanted to leave, I’d shovel about half of my bed of coals out of the stove and put them in a big old wok I kept for that purpose.  Wearing my insulated thick leather gloves, I’d carry the wok of hot coals out and slide it under the oil pan on the truck.  That’s a hazardous operation, both in the doing of it and just in the having it there.  Sometimes oil drips down onto the coals, ignites and burns up the car.  It’s happened to neighbors of mine, but never to me.  Just lucky, I guess, because I certainly had my share of oil leaks and was never a clean-freak about my car engines.

  
  

  Sometimes when it is really cold, that operation has to be performed twice before the car is warm enough to start.  It helps to cover the engine with some form of insulation, like an old quilt or blanket.  That’s best done the night before, when you take out the battery.  If all goes well, the thing doesn’t catch on fire from the coals, and gets warm enough for the battery to turn the engine over fast enough to start, you’re on your way.  If not, there’s always starting fluid, the ether in a spray can that can freeze your hands if they’re not already freezing, so always wear gloves, even if that makes it hard to push the button on the spray can.  Even with all that, getting a car going is iffy at thirty or forty below zero Fahrenheit.  At fifty below, forget it because the tread may break off the tires as they roll or the door hinge may break when you shut it.  Just stay home and try to keep warm.
  

  • 8:50 pm
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