David Masters runs two companies from the off the grid yurt he built on his family’s farm. Lunatic Adventures is an outdoor guiding business and The Luna Project educates groups about their environmental impact.

DAVID’S YURT – ST. GEORGE . . . 5:15 p.m.

Organic cheeses, meats and crackers. Pumpkin soup. Local greens and cherry tomatoes with goat milk feta cheese, steamed carrots from the garden and chicken pie from down the road.

THE CONVERSATION

The approach to David’s yurt is a reminder of how far he has come.  The groups that come for his programs park at the road and walk in along a hiking trail. He leaves the gate open for those who work on the property and they drive down a narrow track through one of the property’s meadows. It is not David’s intention that visitors forget about the hydro lines that are visible behind the family farm. They are as much a statement of his decision to live off the grid as his yurt is.

David explains, “I was a corporate guy and decided to give it all up when my father was diagnosed with cancer. I came home to help my mother.”  Home is a family farm and the ties are strong: “It’s amazing when a death happens in a family. A lot can happen. Our family’s always been able to be there for everyone in every given time.”

David’s father was a broker and David came back from his first trip to the west coast when the company suffered a setback.  David said he would stay for five years. Eight years later he knew he needed to do something for himself.”  He adds, “We spend our lives trying to figure out who we want to be when we grow up.”

He went out west again and opened an outdoor guiding business named after his dog Luna. He says that with a company named Lunatic, “I get a laugh all the time. It’s going against the mainstream. People who were lunatics were people who were out at night bathing in the light of the moon.”

Though he is playful, there is a gravity to the choices he has made. He returned home when his dad got sick. He laughs that if he thought moving into his parents’ home would be bad for his social life, the yurt may have been worse. He is more serious when he says, “I wanted everyone to know that I was just coming home to help. The yurt embodies what I believed in. I loved the outdoors. I thought I’d do it for a year. I didn’t want to build a cabin because it would be altering the land.”

Asked if he misses anything from the life he lived in a three-bedroom house in Toronto, he is unable to think of anything. He says, “We don’t know why we consume. We just do. I’m not a person that judges others. That’s your choice albeit not an educated choice.”

He constantly worries if he is doing enough. He says, “I’m hard on myself. I demand a lot. People are good to me. People are really, really good to me. What do I give back? When I started the company, I had no idea how much of myself it would take.”

David has been learning as he goes.  He describes heating water to bathe in. Then he developed a shower on the deck.  He brought it inside when winter came. “It’s just been a massive learning curve.”  After two years, he built another yurt to house his business. He says, “it was my way of dealing with my dad’s passage. I took out my frustrations building a deck.”

David loves good conversation and food so he is eager to explain the dinner and the source of every item. He says, “finding little places are gems. There are lots of mom and pop farms where you can get your food.” The carrots come right from his garden. “Grade three students plant it every year and they come pack as Grade fours to harvest it.”

He says, “I’m convinced, at the risk of sounding hokey, that it’s not us that are facilitating the learning, it’s the land. It’s the land that’s leading me.”

David’s yurt is in a forest that was replanted because the land had been forested previously. David has recreated two of the meadows that had been on the property historically.  The wetland he has built is a natural filter for runoff from not only his family’s property, but those that surround it. While he expresses some concern that people might think he is crazy, the neighbours appreciate knowing that the land will not be developed and allow David to develop trials through their land as well.

The Luna Project currently has four kilometers of trails, archery, a geocaching course, orienteering, a council fire ring and a yurt for events.  David says, “I never once in my life thought I’d be a teacher, but I have kids coming asking ‘what about this?’ It’s always harder with adults. It’s harder for them to let go and listen.”

David, however, is always listening. He stops to point out when coyotes call or when an owl is nearby. David talks about how much he learns from the old-timers and values the learning that comes from working as a peer with the people he has looked up to. He explains, “I’m not a real book smart guy. I like to read. I don’t retain it.”  He laughs, “If I build it with someone I can build it again. I’ve rebuild my solar panel three times.”

He is always asking for help in the form of advice. He admits it can be scary running a business on his own: “I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend or a father for that matter to ask ‘should I be doing this?’” He laughs that when Peller Estates launched a new wine at his yurt, it was so beautifully decorated that his mom almost cried.  She asked if he was getting married.

He can admit, “my mother loves it because she sees new life being bred into the farm and she sees her son happy.” He says, “to be able to sustain myself and take the things I’ve learned, albeit slowly, to others and have them gain some of my life lessons. That’s kind of what a father does.”

For the people that visit, David explains “it’s a pretty magical experience and I have no idea why.” The 2300 visitors he hosts a year include “a pretty broad spectrum of people.” He says, “I don’t care who we work with. It’s getting our visions across to who we work with. I want people to be aware of their individual impact on the environment and that they have a choice.”

He wonders out loud, “Why do we have to go away from the city to the cottage or camping? Because we are almost ashamed of what we have done. We need to be proud of what we’ve done.  Walk into nature and find out how we fit, not how nature can fit us.”

He continues, “what is it about life that we’re always searching for something? When are we truly happy? We wander here, there and everywhere. It really has to come from within. We’re all very, very disconnected from one another and very disconnected from the planet. That’s what we’re searching for.”

David’s vision continues to grow, including restored barns and an organic farm certification, but he is home to stay.  He says, “my dad is very much a part of the forest and the trees that live here on the farm. I eventually will be a part of that as well.”

It is a pleasure to be a part of the place even for an evening. Though the stars make the transition from the yurt to the outdoors easy, Hamilton’s glare is blinding driving down the escarpment.  David would say it is all about choice.

STILL DIGESTING

While David worries that he does not have a big enough impact on people’s attitudes, he is the first person I have spoken to since I had dinner with my grandfather who is concerned about reducing his impact on the environment.  That is instructive.

David would appreciate the symbolism. He knows a thing or two about fathers and is no doubt learning about grandfathers living so close to the earth.  There is a wisdom we have lost in our quest for convenience.

David is careful not to label himself an environmentalist because the connotations are so negative.  David is a self-identified “conservationalist.”  He can laugh that children remark on how normal he looks.   Quite simply they do not know what to expect. I wonder if that is a reflection on the power of children’s imaginations or the limits of adult thinking.

David had me thinking and talking about expectations in my own life. He reminds me that we are not taking responsibility for the choices we make as consumers where we can expect very clear consequences for our actions. And we seem to try to manage our expectations of ourselves and others so that we do not offend, even if what we need to say is honest and important.

I want to tell David that what he is doing does make sense. It’s not crazy, just brave. And I’m not so sure I want to live in a world where we expect people to be cowards in their choices. Of course, that means I have to ask a lot more of myself.