Fishing wasn't the only show on the lake. The colors of the trees, the water and the sky all grew deeper with each passing minute. As the sun neared the tree line, the lake calmed. Glassed out and turned oil slick black. Way darker than the night we were having topside. Up here night was in no hurry at all. Looked to me like the sun sank lower and lower and lower, leveled out, then stopped moving altogether. As though it had no desire to turn in. Instead wanted to stay up and play.
Once back in camp we slathered on bug repellant, pulled up a pair of stumps and sat down to watch the world turn its back on the sun. Emil stoked his pipe. His fragrant tobacco cloud swirled and slowly thinned but never left us. Don't know what concoction he was puffing but it smelled good and at the same time killed hordes of mosquitos.
"Archie me lad, do you remember anything at all about your dad?"
That was a tough one for both Emil to ask and me to answer. Bring up the dead and you never know whose toes you might be stepping on. You see, my dad died when I was three. I guess if a kid's to grow up fatherless, three's as good an age as any. Didn't yet know him, so all the good and bad coming from the inevitable father-son head butting never happened. I didn't know what I was missing and didn't much care. It's not like I'd come to know him before he died. He might have been a great dad or a never ending nightmare. When it comes to parents you get what you get.
"Not much. I guess most of what I do remember comes from what I've been told by other people. I kind of remember getting off a street car with him after we'd gone to the circus on my third birthday. That's about it. That's the only picture I have in my head. All the rest of what I guess you could call memories are no more than stories I've overheard and words aren't really memories are they? The way I see it, if you don't have the picture in your head it may as well never have happened. But I think of him a lot. Carry him around inside my head and talk with him about what's happened in the world since he died. It's almost like he was my kid instead of the other way around. Kind of weird I know but that's what I do."
By then Second Cranberry had fully mirrored out. Made me wish we had some flat, round stones to skip over the water. I had a pretty good arm and Uncle Emil was known to have been a fair ball player. Since I didn't have a dad I guessed my uncle would have to do for the time being. Could have been worse I suppose. But I knew it wasn't the same as the real deal. One step removed and it was a big step. Night and day.
Over the years other men had tried to fill the gap they figured I must have in my life. Nice guys who took me to father-son things at school. But all I ever felt on those days was uncomfortable. Like I was supposed to be someone I wasn't. Didn't even feel grateful, just wanted the affair to be over. The dad I carried in my head was good enough for me.
Emil blew out a string of smoke rings like he was the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, "Don't worry about me tryin' to act like I was your dad. Lost mine around the time you were born Archie me lad. Not the same as being three years old but I know for a fact no one can take your old man's place."
"The way I see it, you and I are here together to have a good time. And I expect we will. Anything beyond that is a plus. One thing's for sure, you don't have a thing to worry about. We're gonna head pretty deep into the bush but we'll do it with our eyes open. If something looks a little too close to the edge we won't do it. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Also, tomorrow begins your first real day of work. I've got two packs all set up for you. They're going to feel heavy as death. Your job is to get them from one end of the portage to the other. How you do that is up to you. Set them down a dozen times if you have to but they're yours and yours alone. If you can, don't get them muddy. Okay?"
What could I say? "Okay." Didn't know what a portage was and didn't ask. Figured I'd learn soon enough.
"Weather permitting we'll have camp set up and be eating lunch by noon. I'm thinking walleyes. Don't know if the walleyes are thinking the same thing but that's their problem."
Half an hour later we were in the bags. Toes warm as toast, nose cold as ice. My first night on an island in Canada. As much as I wanted to dwell on the importance of the moment, sleep was calling. Hard to say no to sleep when you're dead tired.
Guess what? Moss wasn't quite as comfortable as my bed back home. But it didn't matter. I could have slept on bare stone and I guess that's pretty much what we were doing. Turned out in the days following Emil had packed the air mattresses. He figured this first night it would do me good to sleep as close to nature as possible. Just like in the old days. The fragrance of the moss beneath the ground cloth wrapped itself around me as did the waxed cotton aroma of the tent itself.
I was half under when Uncle Emil piped up. At least I think he did. Maybe I'd already fallen asleep and only dreamt what followed. It was black as black could be in the tent once the flashlight had clicked off. I was deep in my bag. Emil stirred for a moment, sounded like he was folding his hands behind his head,
"Archie me lad, you ever read those stories about Winnie the Pooh?"
Yawned a, "Yes, read them all."
"Good, then this'll at least make some sense. You see, me and Lena never had any kids so there was no one at home to read bedtime stories to. Didn't even know the Pooh existed 'til one time down in the cities when I was hooked into tucking my brother Herb's boy into bed. Dan was about seven at the time and I was in St. Paul doing some Christmas shopping."
Here he paused a moment or two. Ask Emil and he'd've said he was getting his ducks in line.
"Anyhow, the two of us stumbled our way through the one about Pooh and Piglet falling into this hole they'd dug. Kind of funny in a way. While I was reading I got to thinking about what it would have been like if the stories had been about real animals instead of toy ones. You know, Pooh as a grizzly. Eight foot tall, three inch claws and teeth like razors. I don't think his little pig buddy would have lasted very long. Same with the kid, Christopher Robin. All of them downed as dinner except maybe the owl since he could fly. Kangaroo, gone in a flash. I've got this image of Pooh grabbing the gloomy donkey by its head and swinging him around 'til its little jackass skull was crushed and spine snapped. Just like a grizzly would. Then Pooh'd bury the carcass and let it rot a while to age the meat. Finally, there'd be an armageddon like battle at the end between Pooh and Tigger, six hundred pound bengal tiger. Oof dah, blood everywhere. Both of them would end up torn to pieces and dead. Over the next few weeks Rabbit's little rodent relations would eat all that'd be left of them, bones and everything. Chain of life in action. Before I could get out a word of my version Danny'd dropped off. How he fell asleep with me laughin' so hard I'll never know."
"Almost spent the night so I could give Danny the fun version of the story in the morning over breakfast but Herb figured my idea of funny might be a little too real for his little boy. Probably he was right. Anyhow, good night Archie."
"Are there any grizzlies around here Uncle Emil?"
"Nope. Not a one. Black bears maybe. But they're nowhere near as big. Four hundred pounds tops." He paused, "You didn't bring any Hershey bars in the tent did you?"
"The way I see it, you and I are here together to have a good time. And I expect we will. Anything beyond that is a plus. One thing's for sure, you don't have a thing to worry about. We're gonna head pretty deep into the bush but we'll do it with our eyes open. If something looks a little too close to the edge we won't do it. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Also, tomorrow begins your first real day of work. I've got two packs all set up for you. They're going to feel heavy as death. Your job is to get them from one end of the portage to the other. How you do that is up to you. Set them down a dozen times if you have to but they're yours and yours alone. If you can, don't get them muddy. Okay?"
What could I say? "Okay." Didn't know what a portage was and didn't ask. Figured I'd learn soon enough.
"Weather permitting we'll have camp set up and be eating lunch by noon. I'm thinking walleyes. Don't know if the walleyes are thinking the same thing but that's their problem."
Half an hour later we were in the bags. Toes warm as toast, nose cold as ice. My first night on an island in Canada. As much as I wanted to dwell on the importance of the moment, sleep was calling. Hard to say no to sleep when you're dead tired.
Guess what? Moss wasn't quite as comfortable as my bed back home. But it didn't matter. I could have slept on bare stone and I guess that's pretty much what we were doing. Turned out in the days following Emil had packed the air mattresses. He figured this first night it would do me good to sleep as close to nature as possible. Just like in the old days. The fragrance of the moss beneath the ground cloth wrapped itself around me as did the waxed cotton aroma of the tent itself.
I was half under when Uncle Emil piped up. At least I think he did. Maybe I'd already fallen asleep and only dreamt what followed. It was black as black could be in the tent once the flashlight had clicked off. I was deep in my bag. Emil stirred for a moment, sounded like he was folding his hands behind his head,
"Archie me lad, you ever read those stories about Winnie the Pooh?"
Yawned a, "Yes, read them all."
"Good, then this'll at least make some sense. You see, me and Lena never had any kids so there was no one at home to read bedtime stories to. Didn't even know the Pooh existed 'til one time down in the cities when I was hooked into tucking my brother Herb's boy into bed. Dan was about seven at the time and I was in St. Paul doing some Christmas shopping."
Here he paused a moment or two. Ask Emil and he'd've said he was getting his ducks in line.
"Anyhow, the two of us stumbled our way through the one about Pooh and Piglet falling into this hole they'd dug. Kind of funny in a way. While I was reading I got to thinking about what it would have been like if the stories had been about real animals instead of toy ones. You know, Pooh as a grizzly. Eight foot tall, three inch claws and teeth like razors. I don't think his little pig buddy would have lasted very long. Same with the kid, Christopher Robin. All of them downed as dinner except maybe the owl since he could fly. Kangaroo, gone in a flash. I've got this image of Pooh grabbing the gloomy donkey by its head and swinging him around 'til its little jackass skull was crushed and spine snapped. Just like a grizzly would. Then Pooh'd bury the carcass and let it rot a while to age the meat. Finally, there'd be an armageddon like battle at the end between Pooh and Tigger, six hundred pound bengal tiger. Oof dah, blood everywhere. Both of them would end up torn to pieces and dead. Over the next few weeks Rabbit's little rodent relations would eat all that'd be left of them, bones and everything. Chain of life in action. Before I could get out a word of my version Danny'd dropped off. How he fell asleep with me laughin' so hard I'll never know."
"Almost spent the night so I could give Danny the fun version of the story in the morning over breakfast but Herb figured my idea of funny might be a little too real for his little boy. Probably he was right. Anyhow, good night Archie."
"Are there any grizzlies around here Uncle Emil?"
"Nope. Not a one. Black bears maybe. But they're nowhere near as big. Four hundred pounds tops." He paused, "You didn't bring any Hershey bars in the tent did you?"
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