As we grow with Mashkodens into becoming a living camp we discovered a
need for more winter lodging. With only one winter lodge we would be
unable to host guests comfortably, so we put a plan for a new type of
lodge into the works: a sub-terranean earthlodge.
The first step was picking a
location. We walked around and got a
feel for what was available, and started weighing the considerations.
We wanted it to be close to the other structures in the camp to keep
the sense of togetherness. Also, for the tunnel of the lodge (which we
thought to make like the gradual slope of a snow-lodge tunnel, as a
cold-air barrier) we needed a gradual slope, preferably facing away
from the prevalent winds. We ended up picking a spot on a southeast
slope in between our summer wigwams and winter lean-to, which
conveniently acts as a divider between our winter camp and summer camp.
Then came the start of our big
"power hours." The folks at
Naw'mad'ewining (our support camp) joined us in a flurry of activity as
we dug out sand to sink the lodge into and collected logs (balsam and
spruce for their rot-resistance and straightness) for the beams. The
women of Teaching Drum joined in on debarking the logs (the bark
promotes rot) with draw knives and splitting spruce root. The kids were
there as well, with the older ones jumping in and out of the hole and
the little one being passed from one woman to another as they worked
and caught up with one another. In the end the hole had to be moved and
expanded a few times, as we decided on the circular shape and size of
the lodge (ideally to hold 4-5 people) and made a last ditch effort to
get as much out of our gradual slope as we could for the tunnel.
One thing we did that we might
not do again was to place tarps under
the sand as we dug it out. These tarps became trapped beneath the sand
and were poked through many times. They did - however - keep the soil
sandless in the end.
We wanted a really strong main
support beam, and Brum scouted out a
fresh balsam. It was so big that we needed 8 people to carry it back!
This was quite an adventure, as it was about a 1/2 mile away from camp
- someone suggested a method of tying stout maple poles to the log as
handles and this helped ease the massive load. With lots of breaks,
communication and trading places we got the log back and some stretched
muscles.
In preparation for the vertical
wall poles we sunk split spruce
beams for rot protection beneath them. Rocks were placed under the
upright poles for the main beam and split spruce at the ends of the
main beam for the same reason. We ended up making a frame for the door
with a horizontal beam and uprights as well. This was sized according
to what our friend Coyote could fit through. Coyote is a pretty tall
and stout guy, so we figured whatever he can fit through should be big
enough for another healthy person.
It was getting colder now and
the power hours started fizzling out.
The 3 Mashkodeniens kept at it with occasional help from others in the
community as they were inspired.
Next was to size and chop poles
for the walls of the lodge. We
figured to notch the tops of the wall poles so that the roof poles
would lock into them. In the end we thought twice about this, as it
seemed to have been a lot of extra work with little payoff. There was
lots of discussion at this point, and many others, in putting the lodge
together. We weighed pros and cons, problem-solved, and threw
out/soaked up the ideas that came. Some - such as the notching - seemed
unnecesary in the long run, and may have come out of our own insecurity
at building something new and turning to those who "knew better" to
find confidence. Others, such as Carl's idea of using bent Tamarack
poles as a retainer wall to hold back the wall poles, seemed to give
the project new creative energy. Along with the walls came the roof
poles. The chop-chop-chop of tomahawks and axes was a near constant
every morning into the afternoon.
The main body of the lodge was
done and there was a last power hour for
digging peat - in november (brr!) We layed birchbark around the walls
and shingled it two or three layers thick on the roof and covered this
with peat - a rooty, fluffy soil that lives in the bogs here and acts
as a better insulator than dense sand.
The flow of the project took
people in their own directions now.
One person was inspired to build the tunnel, bending maple saplings
into half-hoops to make the start of a frame and then weaving in longer
saplings between the hoops as if making a basket. Another person
recycled a trailwork technique of using rotted logs as flooring.
Someone else sewed together a birch-bark tube with spruce root to act
as the lodge's air vent.
After covering the tunnel with
more bark and peat our last efforts were
in naturalizing the lodge. The entrance was melded into the roots of a
tipped up tree, and trees otherwise abandoned in sand were rescued and
replanted over the lodge, while other dead-fallen trees acted as
camoflouge and to block possible pathways over top the more delicate
tunnel.
For comfort the floow of the
lodge was carpeted with a birch bark
vapor barrier, then multiple layers of fresh balsam boughs, and then
deer and elk hides. Also, the tunnel of the lodge - which ended up not
as we had planned it (as a gradual drop from the inner door to the
outer door) but as a U-shape with the idea that cold air would sink to
the middle - had a deerhide flap installed to prevent warm air from
escaping from inside.
The white season put the finishing touch on the lodge with a fresh,
insulating layer of Snow!
We find that the temperatures
inside the lodge are 15-20 (F) higher
on average than outside with nobody inside. And usually 35-40 (F) in
the morning (with 2-4 people), even when below 0 (F) outside.
We've been living in the lodge
since completion (we were eager to
try it out) and a number of stories have come of it. We once tried
plugging the inner door with a pillow and learned through our elder of
the dangers of suffocation and brain damage. Sleeping together so
closely brings new forms of communication, like trying to reach over
your friend to rustle the loud-snorer out of his droning. Having hosted
a number of guests we've gotten lots of feedback too, with many of them
appreciating the cozy warmth in the lodge. The lodge itself earned the
nickname "the den" because of how we feel connected to all of the other
animals burrowing underground in the white season. On cold winter
nights we've come to appreciate the luxury of our den, and now that we
have much more winter sleeping space we've been able to accomodate a
number of old friends and guests at Mashkodens as we grow into the
native lifeway.
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