SAGUACHE COUNTY — Rodney Cook’s high-desert property is littered with the stripped carcasses of worn machines, whose parts were scoured to power devices that sustain the lives of a dozen family members living in a harsh landscape near Hooper.

To provide heat during winters, when temperatures often fall below 10 degrees overnight, he makes a 60-mile round trip to the mountains, where he cuts wood to feed stoves that heat homes and cook food.

“We burn about 25 cords of firewood a year,” he said. “I don’t know if this is for everybody out here. It’s not easy.”

The land sits on a table-top stretch of the San Luis Valley, a patchwork-quilt of arid desert and irrigated green farmland almost 8,000 feet above sea level.

Mountains carve the sky in all directions, and the promise of cheap land and life beyond the confines of civilization lures many. It is dream land beyond the reach of electricity and other infrastructure considered necessary by most.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Lakota Douglas heads for cover as a dust storm forms on her family's 40 acres in the San Luis Valley on July 4, 2017 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Through the years, washing clothes has lead to some interesting experiments. Kebrina Orth ended up in the washtub, using a homemade washboard to get the clothes clean with her cousin Charina Cook, who is waiting to wring them by hand July 13, 2015 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Lakota Douglas hangs her clothes after using a small rotating hand washer to get a small load clean on the 4th of July, 2017 near Hooper. There have been a few washing machines on the property but they rarely last more than a few months.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post The family keeps well over 30 wolf-dog hybrids on their property. They feed them hundreds of pounds of scraps a week that a butcher in Alamosa saves for them. Here, one of the wolf-dogs digs in on July 26, 2017 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Rodney Cook feeds over 30 wolf-dog hybrids in one of the several pens on their property June 21, 2017 near Hooper. The wolf-dogs eat hundreds of pounds of scraps a week that a butcher in Alamosa saves for them.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Lakota Douglas tries out a broken satellite dish to slide down the cover hill at the huge burn pit for the families' garbage June 20, 2017 near Hooper. She made it to the bottom but, was happy with the one run.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post Makayla Davis, the second of Charina Cook's four children is truly the princess of the family. The quiet and loving little girl is also a pee wee cheerleader and always dressed up, even as she is waiting to head outside to play in the morning light from the trailer's front door May 28, 2017 near Hooper, Colorado.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Charina Cook, right, comforts Dani Marheine-Stickell, left, as she is suffering from a stress seizure during their morning coffee in the Cook home May 28, 2017 near Hooper, Colorado. The Stickell family briefly lived on the property as the Cooks were trying to build an off-grid community, but have since moved on.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Rodney Cook makes dinner for the family while his wife and daughter make a trip into town Nov. 22, 2017 near Hooper. Rodney almost never leaves the property unless there is a true need or emergency, he much prefers the quiet of being home. "I'll die right here because I like being out in the middle of nowhere," says Cook.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post The Cook family tried bringing in other families who shared their desire to live off-grid and build a community on their property near Hooper. At the height of the compound's population, there were three families all sharing resources, as seen here during dinner on Sept. 2, 2016. They shared community meals with everyone contributing what they could, but there were disagreements about who was paying their fair share in food and gas, and the community has since dwindled.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Lakota Douglas, the oldest daughter of Charina Cook, finds a quiet moment as the sun goes down Aug. 21, 2016 near Hooper. Being the oldest, her's is the name called out most during the day for gopher duty and babysitting her three younger siblings while the adults tend to their various tasks on the property.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Mistyery Robison watches her mom, Charina Cook, center, and her cousin Kebrina Orth sing along to their favorite songs they recently downloaded in Kebrina's room as the girls share a few beers on June 3, 2017 near Hooper. Neither have cars, there is only one vehicle for the family that is used only at need. Money is always limited, true breaks from life on the homestead are few and far between.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post The early days of summer vacation for the kids on the property mean a relaxed bed time and a chance for sleep overs in mom's room, creating scenes like this one on June 3, 2017 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Charina Cook sleeps with Whispering Spirit, one of the more than 30 wolves on the property, in an old refrigerator used as a shelter for the 75% Canadian Gray Wolf. The wolf was close to whelping and seemed to be in distress, so she opened the door to check her and crawled inside to keep her calm July 3, 2017 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Rodney Cook tends the fire on Thanksgiving morning in one of the two wood-burning stoves in the home Nov. 23, 2017 near Hooper. Through the winter, Rodney will only sleep for a few hours at a time, keeping the fires burning and the trailers warm.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post Splitting wood is a family affair. Lakota Douglas, right, carries off split wood on Nov. 22, 2017 near Hooper. The families on the property will burn over 25 cords of wood per winter, which they cut with permits from beetle kill trees or anywhere they can get permission to cut and haul it back to the homestead.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post On Thanksgiving morning, Rodney Cook picks a piece of stuffing from his wife Kay's hair as he warms up the barrel smoker for the turkey and the ham they will have for dinner in the afternoon Nov. 23, 2017 on Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Lakota Douglas calmly and quietly whispers to an escaped wolf, hoping to lure him in close enough to get a collar on him, March 31, 2017 near Hooper, Colorado. The wolves are diggers and will work under the fences until they find or make a weak spot to crawl out.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post Charina Cook hugs her daughter Lakota Douglas on a chilly morning, hiding near the stove pipe waiting for the heat to come March 31, 2017 near Hooper. The house is lit by oil lamps until the sun comes up and the generators will not be running until two in the afternoon.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Days start early on the property, even on holidays as Lakota Douglas and Makayla Davis try to wake up after hearing about their chores for the day July 4, 2017 near Hooper.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Charina Cook bathes her two youngest, William Cook and Mistyery Robison together to save hot water Oct. 8, 2017 near Hooper. She quite often will join them in the bath so she will not have to wait for more water to be heated on the stove.



Joe Amon, The Denver Post Joshua Stickell, 17, practices his fighting skills with tires, sticks and anything he could make work June 3, 2017 near Hooper. Stickell and his family have since left the Cook's property in the San Luis Valley.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post Rodney Cook places a citronella plant in the family's garden June 5, 2017 near Hooper. Using old tires as raised beds for his plants helps save on water but takes up a lot of space outside the trailer on their San Luis Valley property.

Joe Amon, The Denver Post For the children on the property, most days can be magical. Lakota Douglas, left, and Makayla Davis walk under a rainbow with the morning sun shining on them at the start of a beautiful day July 29, 2017 near Hooper. Ready with their strong imaginations and a full day free to play, the possibilities are endless.



In his 10 years here, Cook, 53, has seen many people come and go.

Much of the land was platted years ago for subdivisions that were never built.

“There is land to be had in these kind of funky subdivisions that were created in the 1980s, and never really took off,” Saguache County Commissioner Jason Anderson said.

Anderson, who lives in the town of Saguache in a hay-bale home powered by solar panels, estimates that only about 30 percent of those who move to the desert have the skills needed to make a go of it.

“There is this kind of ‘Little House on the Prairie’ fantasy. Show up in September, and it’s just great. There is great land, it’s cheap, you’re with your girlfriend. Then the winter comes, and you haven’t gotten much done,” Anderson said. “We joke that this is where relationships come to die.”

Some stick it out for a while. They get a structure and a wood stove but eventually give up, leaving behind crumbling reminders of their effort. Others squat for the summer, then leave in the winter, returning with the warm weather.

Many arrive hoping to cash in on the state’s cannabis rush. “(They build) three greenhouses and live in a storage container,” Anderson said. “All the money went into the greenhouses because they’re going to make a million off marijuana.”

Cook, who advertises his land to potential tenants on an off-grid living website, shares the property with another family and a man who lives alone. The two parties each pay Cook $250 a month in rent to have their trailers on his 40 acres of land.

His tenant family — a couple and their two sons — moved to Cook’s property from nearby Costilla County after that county took steps to control an influx of people moving onto desert properties without the resources to develop them.

The county made it illegal for owners to camp on their land longer than two weeks, whether in a trailer or a tent, without showing that they were building a permanent structure.

Cook said his tenants had paid for the land they couldn’t use.

“A lot of the folks who don’t want to comply are going elsewhere in the valley, especially Saguache and Alamosa (counties),” Costilla County administrator Ben Doon said. “As long as they get their septic system and building permit, we leave them alone.”

The tiny community that has sprung up on Cook’s property is self-sufficient, with members helping one another to survive.

Residents share food and labor. When he travels to the mountains to cut wood, his son-in-law and a tenant help to bring down and transport the lumber.

Cook shakes his head as he describes a previous group of tenants who moved in and then did little more than get stoned.

He kicked them out.

Cook and his wife, Kalin, 54, live with a daughter, four grandchildren and a niece in two trailers joined together — the cramped interior dark and crowded with necessities of their lives.

They have a small solar panel, and two wood stoves keep the interior warm. A third stove is used for cooking.

Another daughter, her husband and their two children live in a separate trailer.

The property is home to 32 wolf-dogs, as well as chickens, pigs, goats, dogs and cats.

Some of the animals provide service for their upkeep. The chickens give eggs, the goats provide milk, the hogs end up on dinner plates, their meat shared with those who live on the land.

“We do all our own butchering,” Cook said.

Piles of bulky cattle bones are strewn about the wolf-dog pens. “We have a butcher in Alamosa, and they save all their scraps,” Cook said.

The hybrids eat from 800 to 2,000 pounds of scraps each week.

Cook holds a U.S. Department of Agriculture license, which is needed to breed and sell the animals.

He used to sell wolf-dogs, getting anywhere from $500 to $3,000 for a pup, he said, but “we haven’t been breeding a lot of them lately.”

There is an artesian well on one of his properties. He hauls back 250 to 700 gallons of water every other day for his family and tenants.

The family shops for groceries in Alamosa, and Cook supplements their pantry with meat from elk, deer and jack rabbits that he hunts.

They grow their own vegetables. Jars of meat and vegetables canned for storage are stacked throughout their trailer.

Cook’s grandchildren, who attend Sangre de Cristo Elementary School, in nearby Mosca, help out. On a recent day, 11-year-old Lakota braced a bucket of water on her head with both hands, as she carried it toward the hog pen.

Cook and his family moved to the land — adjacent to property owned by his parents — 10 years ago, after his mother died, leaving his father alone.

“A family from Tennessee had started buying this place and they couldn’t handle living off the grid,” Cook said. “I took the payments over.”

They left behind two trailers and a working septic system.

Cook, who had lived in remote locations on and off for 30 years, came to the land with skills — some learned from his father, who was a diesel mechanic. While Cook was in the Army, he repaired small arms. Also, he once held a job at a hog farm. Welding, electrical, mechanical, plumbing — Cook can do it all.

A satellite dish points to the sky from one of Cook’s trailers. The family has internet access and television powered by a generator.

Since arriving in the desert, Cook has learned some things from YouTube videos. Among the things he has built based on instruction from the social media site is a degasifier, a contraption that turns wood into fuel that he’ll use to power an 18,000-watt generator he is building.

A battered orange Subaru sits near the partially completed generator. The vehicle’s engine compartment sits empty — the four-cylinder motor was poached to power the generator.

Cook once converted one of his stoves to burn oil. The stove exploded, throwing him across the room and burning his left arm up to the elbow.

“That went back to wood,” he said. “The wife and kids said I can’t play with oil anymore.”

The rent he collects supplements the $1,400 he gets from Social Security and from Veterans Affairs payments for a service-connected disability. The money supports himself, his wife and four of their six grandchildren.

Cook’s back was injured driving an M60 Patton tank during maneuvers at Fort Riley, Kan., when he was in the Army in the 1980s. Directed to break away from a tank formation in a 45-degree angle, his vehicle climbed a slight embankment and slammed down into a tank trap he hadn’t seen.

“It was an old tank trap for training,” he said, “No one knew it was there, and when (the tank) came down, it flipped and pitched me out like a lawn dart.”

The accident blew off eight of the tank’s 24 road wheels and damaged discs in Cook’s back.

Cook acknowledges that life in the desert is difficult. But neighbors are scarce, the skies are clear, the vast empty desert is quiet and the Milky Way lights the night.

“I live out here because I don’t have to listen to all the crap that goes on in the city and town. All you hear is sirens,” he said. “I like quiet. I don’t have to worry about listening to neighbors bellyache.

“I’ll die right here because I like being out in the middle of nowhere.”