ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, January 17, 1996 TAG: 9601170020
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: FLOYD
SOURCE: TOM MOATES SPECIAL TO THE ROANOKE TIMES
Keeping the snow shoveled off sidewalks and driveways has been a full-time job for a solid week in the Roanoke area - but not for some of us in Floyd County.
Why? Our homestead, like many others in these rural mountains, is accessible only through more than a mile of driveway, another mile of gravel state road, and then several miles of hard-surface secondary roads. Anything short of a bulldozer won't do, so shoveling more than the porch is pointless.
Luckily, central to homesteading is the idea of self-sufficiency. The one path we keep shoveled and clear is the 200 feet from the front door to the solar panels at the top of a southern slope overlooking the Little River. Without any connection to the power company, our current is generated by sunlight striking the panels. Keeping them perfectly clear over the last week or so has allowed us to catch the intermittent blasts of sun and to make power, thereby replenishing our battery storage.
The electricity produced here is the same as normal current, so we have the same appliances as any house. Faring a storm means rented movies, news broadcasts, music and computer usage, as it would most anywhere.No power outage can affect us, which is a plus in both winter and summer storms.
upbefore the storm. But even with all this, we had to get out for fresh supplies after days of blizzard and with a new storm approaching.
My wife, our two teen-agers and I wrapped up in layers and strapped on backpacks. Wading through snow, much of it drifted into shoulder-deep mounds resembling sand dunes, we crossed through a valley and up a ridge for more than a mile and a half to our truck buried at the end of the gravel road. It took more than half an hour to reach the main road, which, having been dug out with a large front-end loader, looked more like a long trench silo than a road. Some drifts were taller than the pickup.
Our 3-year old granddaughter spent the week snowed in with us. Deeper than she was tall, the snow elated her to wild cackles as she jumped around in it. Watching her wonderment (and lacking a need to be anywhere else) brought about delight in me.
provided both mental and physical outlets.
The telephone has been the key to a tremendous amount of networking. Folks who live close to cleared roads make dozens of trips to town and then rendezvous with others who come out of the frozen wilderness on foot to acquire food, medicine, kerosene and other important items. Bands of wrapped-up people pulling sleds and wearing backpacks full of supplies are still a common sight.
People in this rough terrain have worked together in ways that must have been essential to survival a century ago. A hog farmer told me he got badly needed feed through a series of four-wheel drive and tractor relays. Through several handoffs, another family acquired medicine for a daughter who was running a fever of 103. The owner of Cockram's General Store in Floyd has stayed at the store and kept it open on even the worst days to meet people's needs and provide a central spot for networking information.
Now the thaw is bound to begin. Mud won't cover the solar panels or block roads, but our driveway will remain impassably soft for some time. Waist-deep snow will seem like a pleasant dream as I walk through ankle-deep mud. But the days are getting longer, providing more electricity, and on the homestead it is time to go through the seed catalogs that are already pouring in.
The recent weather pattern has been potentially deadly. Yet the tradition of self-sufficiency in these mountains has blended with an amazing spirit of cooperation that I now realize is also no stranger to the region - and that helped us survive the blizzard of '96.
Tom Moates is a free-lance writer who lives in Floyd County.
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines ILLUSTRATION: GRAPHIC: Robert Lunsford. color.by CNB