Time and memory have faded the details of the moment, but I will always remember the feeling. I had just pulled the temporary paper covers off my newly installed solar electric panels, and then raced to the basement to check the meters—I was actually making electricity! With this new power, my first act was pulling the trigger on my circular saw which roared to life running on nothing but sunshine.

I spent the previous spring and summer clearing land and building my first house. I was in love with the beauty of the place, and the absence of any nearby power lines seemed only to reinforce the sense of remoteness. Why would I need to bother with poles, wires and huge installation costs when I could just make my own power? I had studied all the alternative energy catalogs I could find and they fueled my stubborn idealistic notions of self-reliance. I settled on a mail order company in Massachusetts and selected a complete solar electric kit touted to be the “Cadillac of alternative energy systems” (looking back fifteen years later, an actual Cadillac probably would have made more electricity).

I took an electricity class in high school, had done some wiring, and have even been shocked a couple of times, so I had no fears with putting this kit together. A few deliveries later and I was ready to start making my own power.

First there were the sixteen photovoltaic panels. These got mounted to the side of the house in aluminum frames. Then we can’t forget the storage system—twenty-four golf cart batteries in a basement enclosure, which are wired together to act as six twenty-four volt batteries, and finally the brains of the system, the inverter, whose main function is to take the DC battery power and turn it into AC power, like a “normal” house has.

Given the high cost of making your own electricity, my plan was to have a house that used as little as possible. First to be abandoned was any kind of central heating system with lots of south-facing glass and a woodstove as the replacement. A regular refrigerator used too much electricity; I got a propane model, barely larger than a cooler (as I would soon regret, frost-free it is not). The hot water heater, dryer and range all ran on propane. That left the well pump, washing machine and dishwasher as the large electric loads. Power hungry appliances like toasters and microwaves did not make the cut. However, the luxury of toast was hard to give up, so my family quickly learned to make toast with a campfire-type toaster on the gas stove. For lighting, the only viable option was compact fluorescents, fortunately these bulbs are mainstream now, as years ago they were harder to find and quite expensive.

As my family started living in the house, the reality of living with limited electricity set in. For one thing it’s not as sunny around here as you may think it is. For every clear day we have about five cloudy or partially cloudy days. On a brilliant, clear day our panels put out about a thousand watts—about the same amount of power a small microwave uses. As soon as the skies turn cloudy, that power output drops dramatically. I obsessively monitored the built-in meters on the system, constantly checking how much power was coming in, how much was going out (and who was using it!), and how charged the batteries were. After a while I came to know the power use of every electrical device in our home, and settled in to my role as chief electrical worrier and un-plugger.

As long as we have some decent sun every few days or so, there’s enough electricity for lights, computers and quick showers. For larger loads like the washing machine or dishwasher we need to have full sun, and if that’s not an option, we usually run a propane-fired generator. The batteries could run these larger loads on their own, but lead acid batteries have a finite number of times they can be fully discharged and recharged. So powering large loads with a generator when sunshine is not an option prolongs the life of the batteries. We managed to get twelve years out of our original set before replacing them. Batteries are the weak link in this system, they need constant attention unlike the panels or inverter. Every month you should overcharge or “equalize” the batteries. They also need to have distilled water added every couple of months and have their terminals checked for corrosion. The advantage of a “grid tied” system is you eliminate the need for batteries; you feed your excess power to the grid directly and then draw power from the grid when you need it. The only downside to this system is if the grid power is out your power is out.

I’m pretty sure not all family members share my pride in using such meager amounts of electricity. They are well aware that I value the well-being of the batteries over their personal comfort. I’m known for switching off lights before people have actually left the room, turning off the Christmas tree lights as soon as no one’s looking, and generally unplugging anything I can. Our two oldest children have moved out, and probably won’t be moving back home any time soon. The realization that your average public restroom has more electricity, heat and hot water than your childhood home is quite an eye opener. Our son’s social life is severely compromised, as multiple video game consoles and televisions quickly deplete our batteries. He’s learned to spend weekends elsewhere, plugged in to the great grid beyond. My wife has conceded to only using a hair dryer a couple of times each year. My weakness is that shiny idol of desire, the espresso maker, a true source of alternative energy sin.

There have been some pretty bleak moments where I’ve wished we were just hooked up to the grid. The low for me was one cloudy Christmas break with a house full of people, dead batteries and a generator that wouldn’t start. But over the years, living with less electricity has become routine and I’m still stubborn enough to take on the responsibility of making my own. n

Christopher Smith is an architect and lives in Norwich off the grid with his wife, Dawn Carey, son Tyler and their daughter, Hellie (his older daughters, Hillary and Althea, are grown and living on the grid elsewhere!).