Mud

I couldn't teach another lesson. Nor could I tolerate another day with a boss, a punch card and the indigestion I suffered from bolting my muesli. This was why I'd spent the past five months camping in a remote Turkish field. I'd been happy despite the lack of power or running water. Then the first winter storm crashed through the valley, turning my tent into a canvas pole dancer. It dawned on me I might need a house. There were only two problems: I had just $6000 left in my account, and 6 weeks before winter.

Due to a lack of funds and burn out, Atulya K. Bingham found herself camping alone on a remote Turkish hill. There was no power or water on the land, and she knew nothing about outdoor survival. It was the start of an adventure that profoundly changed her understanding of what life is about. Eventually, she built an earthbag house and installed solar power. In 2012 Atulya began to document her experiences in 'The Mud Mountain Blog'. She continued until the day she had to leave. This is an edited and illustrated compilation of those articles.

I was almost 40 years old and with nothing to show for it. No partner. No career. I'd just sunk that well and truly. Now having reached a crescendo of desperation, I was pitching a tent halfway up a Turkish mountain, because I just couldn't think what else to do. But it was another world up there, one without power, lights, or water. Scorpions scuttled under rocks. Boars' eyes shone in the dark. And there was someone else lurking in the shadows between the trees. Someone I knew, but didn't want to. The dirt, it seemed, held a secret. Weeks turned to months, and slowly I built a new world from sticks and mud. But as winter approached, the question loomed. How long can a person live without a house, a job, and the rudiments of civilisation? And what happens to them when they do?