Growing Up Off-Grid in Chilmark

I learned how to turn on a diesel generator before I learned to read. It’s not simple to get grid access at the end of a two-mile ancient way in Chilmark — today or thirty years ago — so my family made our own power. We had a squat teal generator in a shed at the end of the driveway, which fed into a rack of batteries in our basement. In theory, it was a pretty straightforward affair — run the generator for several hours a day and generate enough power to keep the lights on and the water pumping. In reality, it seemed like every other time I took a shower, the power would go out, the water would shut off, and I’d have to run down the driveway in my towel to start the generator before I could rinse out my shampoo. 

I suppose, as a kid, I knew that being off-grid wasn’t common, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. It was how it was, and our combined system of the generator and roof mounted solar panels worked. Most of what I remember are the funnier moments — the stalled showers, the look a beachgoer gave 5-year-old-me after I told him I was building a generator out of sand, rather than a castle. Though I was sometimes scared to open the generator shed door and face the darkness, I liked the familiar smell of diesel, the rumble of the generator acting as my alarm clock in the morning, and the security of our self-sufficiency. 

To avoid misrepresenting our energy system, I’ve done some fact-checking with my dad, Bill Bennett, the person who designed and kept up the systems we used (and continue to use) for alternative power generation. From that conversation, I learned that we’ve always had some number of solar panels, which I’d thought were introduced later. In fact, my mom’s horse farm, Netherfield Farm, was solar powered from day one. The generator powered the well pump, but otherwise the farm was run on renewable energy. 

I also learned that the most efficient way to use a diesel generator — cogeneration — captures both the electricity generated by the engine and the heat from combustion. My dad designed our system this way to maximize our fuel efficiency, and the heat produced by the generator heated the water that swirled through our radiators and kept our house warm in the winter. 

Learning this tidbit led me to consider what I actually knew about all of the undertakings that provided the heat and electricity I mostly took for granted as a child. 

In retrospect, I wish that I’d gotten more involved in systems of power generation, wiring, and efficiency as a young person. Though how often does that actually happen? When my dad’s job was primarily electrical work, I tagged along to job sites, enjoyed sorting wire caps and other electrical doo-dads into their respective boxes, and felt very important riding along in the backhoe when there was a trench to dig. When my dad and uncle Leo did service calls at my elementary school (the Martha’s Vineyard Public Charter School), I went into the crawl space with them to learn about the building’s inner workings, and when my great aunt Marty’s generator acted up, I tagged along to check it out. I wish I better remembered the electrical lessons of these experiences alongside the way they made me feel.

Around the time I was learning to drive, a wonderful neighbor of ours walked through the woods and offered us a grid hookup via his own — or at least that’s how the lore goes. Rather than become more conventional when we gained access, we ramped up solar energy production and sold it back to the grid. This coincided well with the national perception shift toward renewable energy production, and grew into a new career phase for my dad  and — albeit briefly — for me as well. 

As a teenager, I worked a host of interesting summer jobs, one of which was helping install ground-mounted solar arrays alongside my best friend Katherine. We were primarily tasked with setting up racking, placing panels, zip-tying wires — the things best suited for bendy teens with backs unbothered by prolonged crouching. On one of these job sites, at a property with beautiful stone walls and views of the ocean, we got some of the worst poison ivy rashes I’ve ever seen. I smile with pride every time I drive by that array, still making power fifteen or so years later. 

Now arrays like that one are visible all over the Island, and I hope the larger international trend toward renewable energy will continue to grow and spur technological advances in efficiency and longevity. As an environmental scientist interested in Earth hazards and environmental justice, I’m a big proponent of reducing energy consumption and transitioning to renewable energy sources to mitigate the impacts of climate change. One of the biggest tragedies in the climate crisis is that those most responsible are least impacted by the effects of climate change, and the people most at risk of environmental hazards exacerbated by climate change are most often those with the fewest resources. Even though we’re a small Island community, our ongoing efforts to increase renewable energy production count, and because we’re a major tourist destination, what we do can have a bigger educational impact than it otherwise might.

The Vineyard is a community where people tend to help each other out, which is part of what makes it so special here. I think the world can also function in this way, and we can collectively work toward better global outcomes by continuing to diversify our energy sources and embracing renewable energy projects. Even if you’re on the fence about climate change being caused by the rapid emission of greenhouse gasses, you might agree that being heavily reliant on a finite resource unequally distributed around the planet has its downsides. At the very least, what’s not to love about local production and community self-sufficiency? 

Over the years, my dad has continued to upkeep and update the power system of his home, and  of a handful of other arrays across the Island. Today, he still has a generator — apparently it’s the third and best model yet. He runs it semi-frequently to keep it healthy, and it certainly comes in handy when there’s a power outage. The batteries, now sleek and wall mounted, have been upgraded as power storage technology rapidly progresses. They’re primarily charged by solar energy these days, so a sunny day continues to bear extra meaning in our household.

Now on the brink of 30, I’m trying to learn some of the intricacies I didn’t quite grasp before. As I should have anticipated, knowing my father, this morphed into a lesson in tractor driving. (So much for learning how to turn on the new generator…) At the end of September, I drove the rumbling orange machine slowly through the woods, with my dad standing on the trailer hitch behind me, merrily coaching me along. We towed a wood splitter to loan to our neighbor, and I thought about the importance of community, and how special it is to have a neighbor to share resources with — including the intangibly important gift of grid access. As my dad always says “How lucky are we?!”