“You can ignore reality, but you can’t ignore the consequences of ignoring reality.” Ayn Rand
And there it is! Serious business.
Hubby and I had appointments and shopping to do in town today, so we left the house early in hopes of beating the tourist traffic in town. Hells bells, if there is a summer gas and diesel price explosion it’s not keeping the trolls home. (Trolls- those that live down under the bridge.) All this tourist traffic is a wet dream for the local business owners, though.
But the reality of it is that people come here to see and visit, which is all fine and well. Then there are those that come back to scout out a place in the woods to build a camp because “it’s the end of the world as we know it.” Today I saw license plates from Illinois, North Carolina, Texas, Ohio, Florida, and Nebraska. We get a large cross section of the U.S. up here, and you can spot who are tourists because it is 85 degrees sitting in the parking lot of Wal-Mart and there are people with jackets on heading into the store. These are not Yoopers!
Mostly, the encounters out here in my neck of the woods away from town, are folks from Illinois. It’s a 6 or 7 hours hard drive due north from Chicago. They are nice people and all, but so very naive. And sometimes, these nice people are like a swarm of locusts devouring everything in sight as they load up on supplies to take to their camp.
Case in point, during Covid lockdown a gadzillion trolls made their way up here to escape the city. The only Mom and Pop grocery/gas station out this way had to put limits on these “out-of-towners” because they didn’t leave any groceries for any one else. This Mom and Pop shop is only about a 900 sq. ft. building with one antique gas pump and one diesel pump. The beer cooler takes up most of the back wall and was the first to be emptied by the city folks, chips and pizza was second to disappear.
A few of the trolls had built cabins that would put Trump Towers to shame. They paved their quarter mile driveways, put up an array mercury lights and a sturdy security gate. However, once they realise they can’t order a pizza and have it delivered and “we ran out of milk again for the kids breakfast” with no Quick Mart for 30 miles, they get irritable. Next their entitlement begins to show and the complaining starts. The road isn’t snow plowed to their liking, the mail service is slow, the deer ate their prize rose bush and a bear shit in the yard, again. Where is the nearest lawn care service? Who is the best manicurist? Can someone come pound a few nails down on my deck? Who plows the driveway in the winter? My snowmobile ran out of gas and is sitting on the trail, where is the nearest gas station? 2 years of this and their place is up for sale. They’re gone! Shaking off the reality of wilderness living, they run back to civilization kicking and screaming.
Hunters are the worse. They come up here with what they think is a command of the woods and their skill as a hunter, only to find out they left planet earth and landed in a place that time forgot. Talking with some of these guys I got the feeling they figure the wilderness and mother nature favor them because they have boat loads of money and believe themselves to be someone of importance. They throw their trash anywhere they please and shoot cougar out the kitchen window. (Of course, the two guys that shot the really big kitty had to go brag about it at the bar the next day and ended up in jail. The local constable frowns on such activity no matter how important you think you are. The U.P. offers no big game license.)
When I first moved out to the woods, I needed a job real quick so I applied at a watering hole a quarter mile from my cabin. I had never tended bar before but at that time I was cute and the owner was desperate for the help. I learned to serve up beer and cocktails quick and also learned more than I wanted to know about alcohol and human behavior out beyond the sidewalks. I was certainly naive at that time in my life.
That fall during hunting season, (for those that don’t hunt it is two weeks starting November 15) the bar was noisy with a group of hunters from Illinois. It is 10:30 pm on a Saturday and a guy calls me over to the corner of the bar.
“Hey, can I use your fax machine? I need to get this back to my boss, like right now.” He said with a bit of panic.
I started laughing. “You’re serious, right? We don’t have a fax machine.” I said
“Where can I find one?” He seemed pretty desperate to take care of some business.
“Well, there may be one in town but nothing is open there right now. They roll up the sidewalks about 6 pm.” I pointed back to the west.
“Where’s town, would someone have one there? Where else can I find one?” He said obviously not ready to throw in the towel just yet.
I looked him in the face and said with a chuckle, “ Do you have any idea where you are? It’s 10:30 and you are 35 miles between nowhere and nowhere else and tomorrow is Sunday. Sorry, fella’ you’re shit out of luck.”
Of course, that pissed him off and he went back over to his buddies who could care less if this guy found a fax machine. Their only goal was to get hammered and maybe get lucky.
So what does this poor schmuck looking for a fax machine at 10:30 on a Saturday night have to do with the zombie apocalypse? Plenty!
Ten years ago, our then 17 year old grandson was staying with us. My hubby who was in his late 50’s, offered him $40.00 for a days work helping cut and split firewood. He was overjoyed at the prospect of earning $40.00. However, at the end of the day, only that days worth of firewood had been cut spit and stacked he said, “That’s it! I’m never doing firewood again! Never!! Thats hard work.”
Time and again, well meaning, nice people who don’t normally live here tell me that when the shit hits the fan they are going to come here, “to their camps and cabins” or even to my house. They are going to grow a garden and live out of the woods. Hunt and fish and live happily ever after. There is even an apple tree on our property, they say.
As beautiful and appetizing as that fairy tale may be to these unaware folks, I will tell them this;
“You won’t make it alive through your first winter. Plain and simple!”
Mother nature is a strict taskmaster, she will spank your butt if you don’t abide by her rules. If you haven’t been here for 20 years and put in the work, we may very well find your well preserved corpse in the spring. Sounds harsh doesn’t it? I say that because even native born Yoopers may not make it either if we have another really bad winter and there is no diesel or money to run the snow plows. No electricity would be the final kill shot. This is the reality of living far from civilization.
My advice to you is; ( Did I step on your toes with my opinion?) I don’t care how important or tough you think you are, your chance of survival is much better where you know your terrain and neighbors. If you have kids at the University here, get them home, now. Marquette will not be a trending place to be when they open the prisons. If all this doesn’t happen this winter it certainly will by the next. 2023-2024 will be. . . see video below.
Find this guy on Patreon. He is well worth the $1 a month.