At the height of our island we entered a clearing which opened toward the island-lined, east shore of the lake. Uncle Emil said we'd call our site Baldy Knob after his head and a place he'd been in the Appalachians with Aunt Lena. The fire ring we found said we weren't the first to visit. As did the genuine, near to toppling, stick and plywood table leaning nearby.
"The ring tells me this is used as a shore lunch spot. Not a lot of Canucks camp out these days but they favor their beans, taters and walleye in a spot near where they caught them. Good chance there's some fine fishing within a hundred yards of where we're standing at this very moment. Yon table tells me the boys who eat here aren't carpenters and couldn't tell level from their kiesters. And haven't as yet been introduced to the wheel."
"It's true that walleyes make for a good dinner but that's not our game for this evening. Tonight it's ribeyes in the gut and lakers on the water. Big trout in Second Cranberry. Not so much as Lake Atapap over on the other side of Cranberry Portage but even here we've got a shot at a twenty pounder."
While this palaver - that's what Emil said we were having even though it was a little one-sided - was going on, he began roaming the island with a branch saw in hand. Said he was seeking five perfect poles. Each one had to be long and straight, "Long enough so Jacob could get a start on his ladder and weighty enough to cold cock any Martians that might be looking to conquer the planet starting with our campsite. Nip 'em in the bud before they get any big ideas. No greenies from outer space better think they can get drop on Emil the Elegant and Archie the Axe." While he mumbled among the trees I was sent down to the beach to retrieve the stove, rod tubes and last pack.
Gotta tell you those packs were big. And heavy. And liked to grab every piece of brush I passed. And grew heavier with every step I took. But I figured it was best to keep my mouth shut and not let my Uncle think I was a wimp. Besides, it was good exercise and would get me in shape in case we needed to save the planet. Crazy old coot alright. Crazy enough to put a smile on my face.
I'd seen a couple of tents in my few years and what Emil put up was definitely a tent. It had the shape alright, long peaked roof that A-framed to the ground. But the poles he'd cut were on the outside. Paired, crossed and lashed close to the top, one pair up front, the other to the rear. A pole laid and tied lengthwise at the top from the crotch of the front X to the rear one held the frame together. The canvas tent was hung from the frame and tied off to brush, trees and rock. The bottoms of the sides were tucked in and a tarp placed inside as a floor. Emil said the design was even older the he was. Our mattress on the first night was the moss beneath the tarp.
"We'll go with moss for our bed. Don't know about you but for me blowing up two air mattresses for only one night holds no appeal. I doubt our sleeping on them is the moss' idea of a good time. Good thing those little buggers can't make much noise while they're being crushed or their whining would make it hard to get a good night's sleep. I'd be forced to slap them around a bit so we could get some shut-eye. Show them who's boss. First aliens, now moss. Archie me lad, life's not easy in the land of the Mountie."
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