Trial by Solar: Life off the Grid
One of the most taken-for-granted aspects of urban living is turning on electric lights and rarely thinking about where the energy really comes from. For me on the mountain, I've been trying to learn about how to manage my energy, quite literally. My cabin was built around 1980 and is part of a road association of perhaps 80 properties that range from 20 to 40 acres or so.
As I understand it, at the founding of the road association, the CC&Rs (Codes, Covenants & Regulations) specified that anyone buying a property was committing to a life “off the grid,” meaning no public utility would be bringing power poles and lines through these woods. Many people who headed into this mountainous terrain were surely happy to be free of a bureaucratic power company and reliance on fossil fuels, while others were surely hoping that the power would be brought in eventually. Reporting on a subsequent battle royale in these har’ hills years ago over those conflicting goals would require another post.
Suffice it to say that while my neighbors up the hill have electricity pouring in through power lines that go right to their house, I am off the grid (OTG). Hence, I use solar panels to generate electricity. I can also (as do many of my other OTG neighbors) utilize a generator to power the household, but I’m trying to learn to rely on solar alone. It’s not easy!
Like other parts of the cabin, the solar system was rejuvenated in the recent renovations. I’ve referred often to Ralph Pisciotta, the eletrician and solar magician, since he also has befriended me and fed me all kinds of reading, especially on Zen Buddhist topics. Ralph rewired the whole cabin (featured here putting the solar equipment together in May). He also helped me design and understand my solar power system. Techno-idiot that I am, my knowledge is minimal, as you shall see, but more than I ever had when simply flipping a switch while On the Grid.
The Solar Hut and Solar Panels
You can see my solar panels on the roof. Ralph hooked me up with two new panels that generate 400 watts together. I had three older panels which together generate 200 more watts.
In essence, the photovoltaic cell in the panel is composed of a layer of silicon that has been “doped” on one side with boron and with phosphorous on the other side. When sunlight hits this PS&B sandwich, photons throw off electrons, and with conductor wires, the subsequent electrical current flows into the storage “tank” of batteries.
The batteries and the inverter are stored in this adorable Solar Hut on my deck by the kitchen. The Carpenter-Craftsmen added their touches: Mike created an artistically appropriate vent, and Tom made the arch over the hut door, which came from some old pieces of redwood boards off the inside of my shed. (Recycle, reuse, reduce…)
How Healthy Are Your Batteries?
Here are my batteries, which look similar to car batteries. There are 2 sets of 12-volt batteries, meaning each set is comprised of 2 6-volt batteries. The two banks are connected and work “in parallel” and “in series.” You’ll see that each battery has 3 plugs, one for each cell, and each cell generates 2 volts.
The cells require distilled water to cover the metal plates inside. Back in May, Ralph and I used a hydrometer to measure the “specific gravity” in each cell to be sure that the batteries were still viable. With the turkey baster-like hydrometer and the flotation device inside the glass suction tube, we could see what the health of the battery, in effect. We were checking the acidity of the liquid in each cell to gage whether the battery plates had sulfated, which would mean the battery would not hold a charge. We also wanted to know about the comparative charge of each cell.
I have to be sure to refill the cells with distilled water on a regular basis, especially during a sunny week when the liquid in there is boiling from the charge.
Previous to the renovations, the cabin relied on a 12-volt DC system, or a “direct current.” A DC system requires special plugs for all electrical appliances. I had several adaptor plugs and small inverters, the kind you can use in your car by plugging it into the cigarette lighter. In rewiring Ralph provided AC circuitry so that I can simply plug in appliances normally—well, with limits. No hair dryers or any appliances that require more than 1000 watts or that will blow out my circuits.
I am learning about the significance of these batteries, an appropriate metaphor as I have often seen my whole journey into a prolonged stay in this cabin in the woods as a much needed opportunity to recharge my personal batteries. Ralph has been teaching me the importance of keeping my 12-volt batteries charged and the many ways I need to be conscious of maintaining the system.
Ralph instructed me to think in WATTS. As some of us didn’t learn in science class:
Amps x Volts = Watts
Each battery has a 225 Amp Hour Rating; that is, it will put out 225 Amps over 10 hours. So to measure that in wattage:
225 AH x 12 volts x 2 [banks of 12 volts] = 5400 watts total over 10 hours
That means, I could blow my alloted 5400 watts in one hour if I plug in everything I own and go to town on an electric splurge, or I can use up to 540 watts per hour over ten hours or less. It all depends how much energy I need to expend and how I chose to expend it. It’s like driving your car at 75 miles an hour and burning up your gas a lot faster than if you drove at 55.
The Inverter
I only have a 1000 watt inverter, the cute little back pack gadget pictured here. My Magnum (I love saying that more than a pacifist should) takes the direct current (DC) that comes down the wire and gets stored in the batteries and changes that power into alternating current AC.
The inverter is connected to my battery charge montior indoors (below), which gives me a rough idea of how much charge is left in the batteries. During a sunny day, I can use all kinds of gadgets, with the sunlight seemingly flowing directly from the solar panels into my laptop or record, but I still have to allow the batteries enough time to recharge while the light is shining on the panels. That is, I should not turn on all of my gadgets before the sun slips over the treeline and off the panels.
Small Is Beautiful
I chose to get a small inverter for three reasons: I am committed to minimizing my electrical needs; 2) the cabin is too small to host a lot of electrical gadgets; and 1) it is less expensive to go small (that is, I can always add on another 1000 watts later, as necessary).
When reviewing what kind of upgrade I wanted to my solar system, Ralph had me list everything that I thought I might need to run electricity on. Top on my list is my laptop computer, and of course one or two lights at a time. And then I found how much more I kept adding as I asked myself what I really needed and how much I needed to turn it on.
Laptop: Check. But it can use up to 90 watts an hour, so I have to be careful with how long and to what ends I use it.
Electric toothbrush: Check –or my periodontist will be really unhappy with me. So healthcare determines some of our electrical needs.
Television: Chuck. My laptop now serves the same purposes as I used my TV for. I can rent movies and get news and some programs online as necessary.
Modem: Check. I definitely need to get online at home, but I knew that with a small solar system I wouldn’t be able to get online as much as I have been addicted to in a Gridded Life because the modem requires at least 75 watts.
Washer/dryer: Chuck. No room for one, and definitely too costly in terms of electric power.
Printer: Use with prudence. It gobbles lots of wattage, so I have to ration its use.
No electric clocks. As for a blender or other kitchen appliances, I could surely plug one in on a hot summer day, but I also don’t have room to store all that stuff. I do have a CD player, but I can’t always use it.
The 90% Club and the 60% Orange Light of Death
Every time visitors show up for the night, I warn everyone about being prudent in using electricity, especially if it’s been rainy or cloudy. I watch the battery charge monitor frequently to see whether I’m back up to 100% after being plugged in for a while. If I run low, I rely on my paraffin lamps and candles to prevent overuse of the batteries.
I find many of my visitors get into the softer lighting, an atavistic return to the campfire at home, perhaps. I initiated the “90% Club,” referring to the battery charge monitor showing 90%, on the October visit of my brothers and sister-in-law, even after the pouring rain that day. After our candlelit dinner, I suggested we turn on the light over the sink for dishes, but they were adamant that they didn’t want the overhead light. “It’s so beautiful this way!” And by the time we all turned it, we still had a 90% charge.
At the other extreme, I have discovered one way that my system warns me when I have been less than frugal with my stored energy. The first warning was the Orange Light of Pending Electrical Death on my monitor last weekend. It had been raining for days, but I had to get online and print out quite a bit of material for my editing work. I did so during the middle of the day, hoping that I still had left enough daylight time—albeit rainy daylight—to recharge my batteries some, at least to 80%.
Not! The charge only stayed at 70%, and then that evening, after turning on a light for 20 minutes, I saw for the first time the Orange Light on 60%, which means I’m in danger of running down my batteries, which would be terrible for their health.
So it was back to lanterns and candles, along with the firelight. But that’s not so bad…
Today I plugged in/turned on:
ReplyDeletemy toaster - 100% wheat bread, homemade raspberry jam that I helped pick the raspberries on Bainbridge Island.
my over the stove 40 watt light bulb that is rather hearth-like at 6:00 a.m. in the morning - beckoning.
my pole-lamp in the living room, with five bulbs - the Ikea ones, that look like "Foster Freeze" soft-serve ice cream cones, expedient, comparatively speaking. But, jeez, five bulbs at once? Surly extravagance at best.
my electric-start to turn over the gas on my stove for tea. And oatmeal for my charges. And later in the day, zucchini, rice warmed, oven on for pizza muffins. More tea. A pasta dish for dinner with too many jalapeno peppers.
my phone charger enabling me to reach out and touch someone every f**king second of my day.
my crock-pot that simmered for hours today on end, melding potatoes, lentils, fresh thyme, tomatillos, onions, a handful of beans, carrots, garlic....etc, a gurgling fountain of sorts, sucking up energy even on "low".
oh, and speaking of simmering....this here computer, a ticking monolith of connective tissue - my music, my facebook, my huffington post, my match.com, my emails, my after ellen, my slate et al. political zines, my poetry.com, my make sense of the world with a few finger tapping motions and Eurkea, it hums away majestically, 24/7.
the g*ddamn Christmas lights on a timer ringing the duplex I live in - 5:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m., plugged in, unfortunately, into MY socket, adding forty bucks easily to my monthly bill.
so much more as I close - my Rocky Road Haagen Daz ice cream incubating in the freezer, ready for me upon completion of my hot hot long shower with the overhead light steadfastly showing me the way. turning on the dishwasher. throwing a load in the washing machine, transferring to the dryer. on and on I could wax. Soon I will retire. Bedside lamp lit, book nearby. Laptop ready to entertain the idea of 20 minutes with the Daily Show or to enmesh myself in some long distance connection...on and on...I do dearly sing the body ELECTRIC!
SWEAR-TO-GOD Kim - upon viewing the last photo of your latest lively entry, I fleetingly thought your wood stove was a TV! Talk about an on-the-grid mind set - shame on me!
ReplyDeleteHOW GOES YOUR ABODE KIM???? YOUR FANS AWAIT!!!!
ReplyDeleteThe Hut - Susan Howe
Up the hill is a hut made of sound
where two windows rhyme
and the tiles stay on
because they are nailed to a dream.
The dreamer wonders: Can this be mine?
The floor is solid and straight
and is amber from sap.
The walls don't leak or let out heat
from gray embers in the grate.
This is the original home
at the heart of brutalist design.
No storm can slam its shape apart.
No thief can carry it off like a tent.
It dwells in ashen buildings where the present sleeps.