Survival Buckets and The Great Three Year Experiment, part 3

Shall we continue.

On our first failed attempt to find our buckets we had taken two metal probes. Unknown to us we had at one point been standing atop our stash. We only discovered this small but important fact the day we actually found our buckets and had opened them for the first time in three years. One was damaged, slightly. The bucket belonged to Senior Chief.
When he opened his bucket he found water. After careful examination he found three small puncture holes in the lid of his bucket where someone had indeed probed his bucket and had not felt the probe puncture the plastic lid. The probe cut a hole in one of Senior Chief's plastic water bottles. It dripped water for a month. The only damage was to one previously vacuum sealed package of AR15 magazines, a small tear from the probe, that allowed a bit of water to enter the package.

Above, Senior Chief's water soaked magazines which were fine when dried. Notice his ammo packs.

Above, again from Senior Chief's bucket; bug repellent, energy bars and clothing, I think.

ShooterSteve even included a wrap of tools in his bucket...note, no damage.


We all agree our three year experiment was a success. These buckets were buried on a high sandy slope that had excellent drainage. We selected this site with the full knowledge it would not be disturbed for at least twenty (20) years. Why? It was a fairly young tree farm located miles from the nearest city. Act accordingly if you decide to preposition supplies for your situation.

In part one I mentioned we as a group had a retreat under construction. The day of our road trip we returned to our retreat location to continue our work. Our building, a combination bunk house, kitchen, storage building has been under monthly construction for over a year. We're presently adding small finishing touches to the building. Our plumbing, (we have a well) most of the electrical (generator powered) other than the 12 volt system is finished. We will be adding solar panels down the road when expenses allow. Cash is king in our world.
Last Saturday ShooterSteve, a master electrician, had plans to continue wiring. Duke, Rebel, Senior Chief, Austin and yours truly would drill, paint, and screen ventilation holes in the eves of our metal roof. Sounds easy doesn't it. Took hours. Let's have show and tell.

Pictured above is our retreat building. It has a kitchen, wood cook/heating stove, and a sleeping area. This is the rear of the building. We constructed the building under a grove of trees.  We used construction methods to limit as little damage to the trees as possible, not for environmental reasons, we  just wanted the canopy as thick as possible.

Above, our kitchen cabinets. We've yet to hang the upper portion.

Above is Iraqi Freedom War vet, Duke, at work on the vent screens.

See that sink, we found it in a tangle of brush. It is enameled cast iron. On the back is a metal tag dated September 1929. It took three grown men, a Cub Scot troop, and six donkeys to carry and lift it in place. We hung it just off the edge of our deck and plumbed it with a hose bib. Notice our work station for outdoor cookouts attached to its side. It drains onto the soil underneath.

 

Above we have Senior Chief and Rebel. Rebel is our resident former hippy. He was once upon a time a long-haired, van driving, weed chomping gnome. We changed him. His intellect is spooky. We're lucky to have him as a member. One of our counsel members, Pirate, is on an extended leave of absence for business reasons. Pirate is our medic. We miss him.

Lunch. My knee, and from left to right, Duke, Rebel, ShooterSteve, Austin, Senior Chief (aka Joey) - all are my best friends.

Above we have ShooterSteve on smoke break. He's standing on our front deck. Notice the elevation...we built the 'Boar's Nest' on pilings. Old telephone poles...our location is prone to the occasional one hundred year flood.

My good friends I must leave you now, work awaits. I hope you've enjoyed this little look into my life.

Have a great day.


Stephen