Dollop of Mayo

Last Friday, there was terrific wind up in the field with the yurt barely holding it's rain jacket on. The few days before I'd noticed the yurt leaning a little more forward toward the door. I kept trying to square the door and had a sneaky suspicion that the whole thing was creeping forward with the lean. I went out on this windy day and pulled the canvas back together in the back & pulled the ropes tighter. I then went to pick Bev up and bring her home. When we arrived back home an hour later we immediately noticed something peculiar about the yurt. It looked kind of like a dollop of mayo on a crust of green bread. The stove pipe had come out the top and it looked like the old man had given up. The door was pitched forward so that it was nearly impossible to enter and it seemed dangerous to do so, but we needed to pull the stove pipe out before taking the jacket and felt off. We were able to pull the jacket and felt off with out it completely toppling over. Then we took the rest of it down with the the new intention of leveling the platform and trying again. I WILL SAY THIS ABOUT YURT BUILDING: A LEVEL PLATFORM MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE!

The next day was bitter cold but we went out and did our best to level the platform by jacking up the side that was low and then see if we could test it for being level. It seemed to kind of work, the platform now sort of taking on a teacup shape. We didn't have help putting up the yurt, so I went in to take my depression nap. That night, I was feeling really down about the situation, but the next morning was sunny and relatively warm, so we decided to try to put it up just ourselves, Bev's dad helping with the tono part. I worked all day to try and get the wall shape right and lay the poles in. The platform still was not making it easy and at sunset I gave up but had made some progress. The next day I saw that if I lined the back up so that all the poles were in line with there corresponding holes and the wall was even height all the way around then I had more success putting the poles in and having them stay in, though I didn't have as much time or stamina on this day or patience, so I worked my patience to the end and then went and did something else for a while. We had a plan to have our friend Christopher help us on the next afternoon with the canvas and tarp part, but the next morning it was snowing so I decided to take it down again and this time store it in the barn. Now we have decided to build a proper platform that will be both level and constructed to last. We are also going to move the operation to most level part of the field. Stay tuned......

What it is & how we deal with it.

A Yurt is a portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia. The word yurt is originally from the Turkic word meaning "dwelling place" in the sense of "homeland"; the term came to be used in reference to the physical tent-like structures only in other languages. In Mongolian it is called a ger (гэр). Afghans and Pakistanis call them "Kherga"/"Jirga" or "ooee".

The yurt consists of a circular wooden frame carrying a felt cover. The felt is made from the wool of the flocks of sheep that accompany the pastoralists. The timber to make the external structure is not to be found on the treeless steppes, and must be traded for in the valleys below.
The frame consists of one or more lattice wall-sections, a door-frame, roof poles and a crown. Some styles of yurt have one or more columns to support the crown. The (self-supporting) wood frame is covered with pieces of felt. Depending on availability, the felt is additionally covered with canvas and/or sun-covers. The frame is held together with one or more ropes or ribbons. The structure is kept under compression by the weight of the covers, sometimes supplemented by a heavy weight hung from the center of the roof. They vary regionally, with straight or bent roof-poles, different sizes, and relative weight.
It is designed to be dismantled and the parts carried on camels or yaks to be rebuilt on another site.

We don't have camels or yaks, so we used a big blue pick-up truck to help carry our yurt into our field. The picture above looks similar to ours and pictures of ours are coming soon. Bev & I joke all the time that we wish we had a Mongolian if only to show us the ropes.

A month ago we travelled up near Montreal to purchase a yurt from a nice man. He is not Mongolian, but Swiss. He has obviously some affinity with Mongolians as he was many yurts. He calls them yurts and not gers or whatever wickepedia says, we are going with yurt because we are probably closer to Swiss than Mongolian, but who knows, maybe soon we will feel very Mongolian.

In this post, I am going to work backward from today in explaining our travails:

Today I woke around 6:45 am as I do most days. Bev was up around 7am & on her way to work by 7:30 am as she usually is with her mom who is also on her way to work. We are living in the sturdy farm house belonging to her parents. Her dad, George, built this house after the house Bev came home as baby to burned down from a chimney fire. A year later, this new house existed. At first we were reluctant to move in with her parents, but since George was giving us the second field, a beautiful piece of farmland with woods, it seemed more practical than paying rent forever. Anyhow, I got Emory off to the bus for school after we both scarfed down some oatmeal. I lit a fire in the kitchen wood burning stove with the intention of baking some pumpkin bread and headed off to drop George off at his friend's woodlot to to pick up the big green International filled with what he called bone dry wood. Early this morning, another truck pulled up with a cord of ash intended for the house stoves. I got back to the farm around 9:30, stoked the kitchen fire and went out to take wood up to the yurt. I've lit a fire in the yurt stove almost every cold day and for sure every rainy day. I carry the wood that's been drying in the basement of the house out to the yurt in a red wheelbarrow. It reminds me of the WCW's poem because it is red & there is some simplicity in the futility of my act and so much depends upon it (like writing poems I suppose). I fill the the wood box, that is really a grain box, that is supposed to be weatherized but still allows some rain to get in. The wheelbarrow fits three armfulls of wood & the box fits three wheelbarrows (of wood). The first time out today I start a fire in the box stove, one of the many gifts from George. It is a box stove made in Bangor, Maine which burns hot and has a top loading system that makes it easy to tend. It ain't easy starting a fire when it is cold and damp from the frost but if you got a half hour and a taste for wood smoke, this stove will start up and how. Soon the smoke is billowing out of the the stove pipe that extends some four feet at an angle with the door above the yurt. I stand back from the yurt and watch it for a few minutes, admiring the slope of the yurt with the field. The door is splayed outward when open and leads onto ramp steps that I put together the first week. With the door open the yurt looks like a cartoon drawing of the face of a dopey kid. Now I wish I'd taken more time to consider the benefits of having a level platform for the yurt to sit on. The cold sweat of irritation hits me for the first time today. It takes me back to all the things I've ever done the wrong way. Still the yurt is standing & will probably stay standing where it is until the spring when we can take our time and build a proper platform. How I wish I had a Mongolian. They aren't Oompa Loompas, however, so maybe I need to stop being snotty American dude and roll with the slouches. I also see the beauty of it. It is made of fabric and beautifully painted wood & if I wanted to take it down it would take but a few hours. There is a problem, though, where to store it if we need to take it down.

After noon, I go to pick Bev up from work after taking the pumkin bread out slightly burned on the top. I'm feeling a bit down in the dumps. I got the yurt blues no doubt. Each day I work a little on the yurt to improve the situation. I didn't inheret this situation but created it, so I suppose that's what's got me down. Yesterday I spent my morning locating the leaks and drying out the rugs. It wasn't so bad, not as many leaks as the last time. The water comes in mostly where the platform extends off of what I call the back side, that is opposite the door. Because the platform is not flush with the yurt, water collects and then finds its way in. I use little woven rugs to sop it up and then dry them on the stove. I tried drying a bigger Navaho-style rug on the stove and burnt a big hole in it. Yes, I am am turning into a stooge. Perhaps, I've always been. That rug now serves as more weather proofing for the wood box. The day before yesterday, I just built a fire in the stove. It was the second fire since installing the box stove, still trying to burn off the paint fumes, so I can't stay in the yurt but go back and forth from the house with wood to keep the fire hot. On Sunday we took out the stove we borrowed from Bev's parents and replaced it with our freshly painted stove. This went easier than expected, we just had to install a little more pipe and switch out stoves. Bev's mom (also Beverly) came out to the yurt for the first time since it's been all set up. She likes it's cosiness and was generally impressed. On Friday I finished painting the floor an orange that matches some of the exterior ribbon. The floor paint made it more comfortable than having it unpainted. Bev says that it makes her feel better about the yurt which was causing some arguments between us. She believes, and I suppose rightly so, that I rushed to put it up, when I was sort of driven to see it standing and not have it take up space in the barn (which is falling down) and Emory's room where the felt was always in danger of cats pissing on it. I also was very stubborn about doing it my way or my interpretation of how it should be done instead of listening to Bev's suggestions. Anyone knowing me will not be surprised. We came to an agreement that it is what is and and when we can make improvements we shall.

The day that I was most frustrated, aside from the days I spent trying to put it up myself with evening help from Bev & my close friends who could see, no doubt, that I was at a loss on how to solve the platform problem but plowing ahead blindly, was a gusty day. Often times that day in the wind the yurt took on the look of a weather balloon. I spent the entire morning trying to keep the rain jacket on it. Everywhere I could see the felt exposed and gaps where rain could make its way inside. When I'd go to the back to snug it up the front side would come untucked from the ropes and when I went around front, the back side would come untucked from where I just tucked. Then the flap that covers the center piece (called a tonol) was flapping like exaggerated bat wings and one of the ropes you use to tie it down broke free from it and needed either to be pinned, or better, sewn back on. I could only find safety pins which worked temporarily until I was able to buy some baby diaper safety pins, which worked much better. I would throw the rope down over the side of the yurt and run frantically out the door and around to try and grab it before the wind blew the whole thing back over the other side like a toupee. This comedy of frustration repeated itself near a hundred times until mother nature decided to quit fucking with me. Later that afternoon the winds died down and Bev & I were able tighten all the ropes. Since then the top piece has stayed put pretty nicely, though we still find ourselves snugging the as it seems to want to come untucked in big wind.

My best times in the yurt have been building a fire and listening to records on my portable record player or the radio while sipping tea or beer depending on the hour of the day. The very best time was on the weekend of my birthday when my good friends all came up to celebrate and we played our brand of caterwauling and ended the weekend with inspired laughter. George was happy to see that I had such a good time after so much frustration putting the damned thing up. More on that subject in the near future.