That's ok. Like I said in the comments, we haven't missed them. Private, volunteer, and local efforts did almost everything; we did have a little help from State DOT that was appreciated. If they hadn't come either, though, we could have handled that too: a surprising number of people up here own what Thomas' post calls "track hoes," more commonly known as excavators. A lot of the heavy work was done by these private citizens with their own resources. Chainsaws are likewise nearly universal here, and generators of one sort or another aren't uncommon as power outages are fairly regular occurrences as trees get dropped on lines or transformers.
They don't usually last for more than a week, almost two weeks now for those still without power. This commentary reflecting on what happens when the electricity dies is worth reading. For me, the loss of power was probably a healthy experience: earlier to bed and earlier to rise, plenty of hard work, and thus I probably physically improved overall.
For our neighbors who are on oxygen, however, it's a potential death sentence to lose power to their oxygen concentrators. As I mentioned in an early post, this has been a major focus of ours: so far, I don't think we have lost even one of them. I would not have predicted that ten days ago.
For others, the darkness is depressing and maddening. Boredom is also a common complaint: it's hard to read by candlelight, and all the usual diversions were gone. The only person who told me that he and his female companion were "suffering" had those kinds of psychological complaints: she was having "panic attacks" because of the early darkness; he was probably mostly suffering from having to be cooped up with her, I would ungenerously speculate based on our brief encounter. It's hard for me not to push those sorts of complaints into the category of "whining," which is forbidden in my house -- my only two rules for my son, growing up, were "No Whining" and "Grow Stronger" -- but I suppose that psychological misery is perhaps the worst kind. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter; but if you do, if you really do, it really does, at least to you. I guess that's a kind of standard for equity.
I was glad to see our local EMC's trucks yesterday and today. The EMC apparently sent its trucks to Florida to pre-position for Helene, which was certain to hit there but not certain to hit here. That's part of why it took so long for power to get back up here: they were busy in Florida, and others had to come from elsewhere until they could return. Today I've seen quite a few of them running around while I was testing out my new motorcycle tire.
Hopefully they'll be able to get the power back on for those still without it. Frankly I'm impressed with them: I expected some of these places to be a month or more given the amount of damage, but they report 90% of their customers back online. That includes some remote farms so far back in the woods that I didn't know they existed -- or sometimes even that the trails that lead to those homes existed -- until this rescue effort began. Bless the linemen, because they're carrying a tremendous amount of weight.
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We keep handy both oil lamps, and a kerosene Aladdin mantle lamp. Decorative antiques and useful emergency gear. Because the whiney lady certainly has a point about the dangers in the dark -starting with stubbed toes on the legs of furniture and working up from there.
A backup battery that can be charged w/ a portable solar panel (along w/ the panel of course) might be good prep for someone who needed an O2 concentrator. I'm not sure what their electrical requirements are, but something could probably be rigged up. It might provide less O2 than prescribed, but enough to keep one alive longer than with no O2.
First the hurricane, and then the unexpected Deep Freeze here, persuaded me of the critical need for O2 backup. I hadn't realized how many folks in this county relied on O2 machines at home.--Grim, I wanted to tell you how strongly your rescue stories affect me. I hope you know the explosive impact you're having on people. When someone cut off by a storm and wondering what the heck is going on out there sees you come up the mountain and check in on them, sometimes bringing life-saving help, they will never, ever forget the moment. Even apart from the help and the rescue, you're changing their lives forever. You're like a ray of light straight from God into their hearts.
That's very kind, Tex. I hope that I was able to perform to some degree as you describe.
We bought one of those, a 2,000 watt battery pack. It was fully charged. When we plugged my wife's CPAP machine and her oxygen concentrator in, the battery didn't last five minutes. They advertise these things as being able to power medical equipment for up to 30 hours.
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