
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, January 9, 1994                   TAG: 9401070006
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-2   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: STEVE KARK
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

GOING 1 DAY WITHOUT ELECTRICITY IS FUN; GOING 5 IS INSANITY

In the hours before last week's snowfall, I found myself sizing up our woodpile, checking to see that we had enough wood on hand to fuel the wood stove should we lose our electric heat during the storm. Whatever happened, I planned on being prepared for the worst.

Call me a worrywart if you will, but I learned my lesson when Hurricane Hugo blew itself out in Southwest Virginia a few years back. Who would have thought we needed to concern ourselves with a hurricane, tucked away as we are in our peaceful Appalachian hollow?

While hurricanes may be rare for this part of the country, snowstorms, as we know all too well, are a distinct possibility.

After the hurricane finished with us, we were without power for five days. It was no problem for the first few hours and even kind of romantic the first evening, what with the lanterns and candles. We welcomed getting back to the basics. It would be fun, we thought, like camping at home.

By the second day, however, the novelty began to wear thin. I found that reading by candlelight for any extended length of time is next to impossible. And while Coleman lanterns make enough light, they also make a lot of noise. What sounds like a comforting whisper when you're camping becomes an irritating roar when it's inside a house.

I sometimes like to give in to the idea that we're roughing it out here in our rustic little cabin in the woods, but even a medium-size limb across a power line quickly brings an end to such an idle illusion.

We've got one of those little TVs with the 5-inch screens, an emergency backup should the big one go out unexpectedly. In addition to running on household current, it also runs on flashlight batteries or, if needed, plugs into the cigarette lighter in the car. Although I hate to admit it, by the third day we eagerly burned through 10 bucks worth of flashlight batteries watching the darned thing.

We were like moths around a candle. When the batteries started to go and the picture began to fade, we gathered closer to the tiny screen, desperately draining every last bit of energy from what seemed our only link to the civilized world. When the screen finally blinked out, it was as though we had been abandoned to the void.

We also found that campstove meals lose any variety they might have had at the start and rapidly degenerate into bean-and-weenie variations: beans and weenies over rolls, beans and weenies with tomatoes, etc.

By the end of the fourth day, we were ready to call it quits and head for a motel. When the power was restored on the fifth day, we were only too happy to re-establish our links with the modern world.

As a result of that storm three years ago, I harbor no romantic illusions about what it might be like to live up this hollow without the advantages of our electric age. Still, I like to believe there's just a smidgeon of the rugged survivalist somewhere deep down inside me.

Perhaps I can connect with it if I split and stack some wood in preparation for the approaching storm. Yeah, that's the ticket. Real back-to-the-basics stuff.

I'll do it right after I pop a lunch in the microwave and catch an update on the weather from CNN.

Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.

by CNB