Living in a Net Zero Home

What it’s like getting off the grid and on the bandwagon

Sleeping in a net zero home has always been a pipe dream of mine. In the dense and buzzing metropolis of Vancouver, they’re hard to come by and even harder to justify. This twentieth-century world runs on technology and the city simply can’t operate without electricity pumping through its veins. Modern men and women need to use their laptops and smartphones to get through their work day. They need to microwave their dinners, heat their apartments, and take steamy showers. Generally speaking, Vancouverites demand the convenience of a lifestyle that leaves a doozy of a carbon footprint on Earth, and I can’t blame them. For my whole life, I’ve done the same.

As a matter of fact, before this month I had never stepped foot into a net zero energy home. That experience came to me at the end of July, while residing on a tiny island off of the coast of Tofino.

A weekend getaway to the island meant staying in a totally off-grid cabin which, for me, would be a highlight of the trip. Outside, a small shack contained a compost toilet and foot-pump sink, the water for which was icy, taken from the sea and chlorinated. Inside, a wood fireplace for heat, a few solar-powered lights, and one propane stove were the only sources of energy.

While the stove kept the cabin from being entirely net zero, it was pretty darn close. The most exciting part of the entire stay was that I hardly even noticed I was living without electricity until a few days in.

The most gruelling setback of living there was what you might expect: survival without access to the internet. As a journalist, that meant I couldn’t work, but it was a vacation, so that could be forgiven.

The more frustrating aspect of going unplugged was the anxiety of not hearing from my friends and family back home for a few days, but that also faded away as time slugged on. Being surrounded by crashing waves, volcanic rock, silence, and serenity certainly helped. If an off-mood struck, we could go for a walk to search for sea anemones and hermit crabs. If we got bored, there were books, board games, and conversations to be had. To summarize, it felt almost like stepping back in time to my childhood, before I became a semi-slave to schedules and notifications. Why many folks choose to retire in net zero homes suddenly made sense. They offer a chance of reversion to simplicity and calm.

Sentimentality aside, what did get old was the fickle temperature inside the cabin, which meant opening and closing doors and windows all day. That, in turn, led to a great swarm of bugs getting cozy between our sheets every night, so we were quite an itchy and whiny bunch during the following week.

Also longed for was the comfort of an electric kitchen. Even with the luxury of the propane stove, there was no freezer, fridge, microwave, or dishwasher. All perishables went in the sopping wet cooler. Otherwise, you devoured it. Everything you use, you wash by hand in freezing water. End of story.

Those are only slight inconveniences, though. If there was anything to prevent me from living there, it would be the bathroom. Call me crazy or spoiled, but I will always love hot showers, running sinks, and flushable toilets. Plus, squatting in the cold darkness at 3:00am is no fun, especially with seaside critters peering at you from every corner.

All things considered, it was a lovely experience and a well-needed break from the gnawing chaos of city dwelling. Alas, once a city girl, always a city girl—the only net zero home I could imagine owning for now would be one for the summer.