It rained during the night. A soft drizzle, no more than a scampering on the canvas. Lucky for us the rain came chilled. Not a bitter cold but definitely not like summer in Minnesota. It sure made the sleeping bag feel good and hard to leave in the morning.
"Rise and shine! Archie me lad, we've got a whole world waitin' on us out there and we're wasting it here in our fart sacks. Day's half shot. First orders of business for your's truly is to pay my respects to the brush and make room for breakfast. Youth shall wait his turn."
With that Uncle Emil unzipped and wormed his way out. Once open, his bag told me what he meant by fart sack. Also gave me the impetus to shake a leg before I fainted. Emil slipped his trousers on, grabbed a roll of toilet paper, a little hand shovel and headed into the growing daylight. Turned out his idea of a day half shot was a half hour shy of six.
As much as I hated to admit it, I knew the man was right. Grabbed my jeans, tugged on a sweat shirt and fresh socks. This was back in the days when sweatshirts didn't have any writing on them and came in two colors, grey and dirty. Outside, the air was so clean and crisp it almost hurt. My trip into the trees had me worried I was gonna erode what little dirt there was on this half acre. Maybe even topple trees and despoil ten thousand years of mother nature's labor. Good thing I'd made it outside when I did.
"Wash your face and hands in the lake. Towel's draped on yon bush." What followed was a scrounging through the food pack and cooler accompanied by Emil humming a tune about being on a lake in high winds or something like that.
"Never did learn the songs of the Voyageurs so I make them up. Danger, lost love, rum. All of it the same now as back then. Except for the hernia part. They were little guys carrying seriously big loads. A hundred-twenty pound man hoisting a hundred-eighty pounds on his back will eventually tear most anyone's gut."
"Pardon my French Uncle Emil but what in the world is a voyageur?" Yeah, I was awake and living in Uncle Emil's world. The upshot was they paddled goods to and from the wilderness in birch bark canoes a couple of hundred years ago. Nothing left of them now but ghosts in the rapids looking for someone to join them.
Conversation soon gave way to the sizzle and aroma of maple sausages and eggs. I figured if there's a heaven it'd smell like breakfast on Second Cranberry Lake. Could be I was already dead and up there in my eternal reward. Hello voyageurs!
Topped off our meal with a coupla slabs of sourdough bread, buttered, fried golden and wolfed down with a little maple syrup drizzled across. Almost felt guilty that the only noise coming outta me during the meal was chomping, grinding and gulping. Since that's what we had, I drank some of Uncle Emil's mud. The steaming bitterness of it only added to the joy. And made me want to run in circles or climb trees or maybe even fly.
"You weren't hungry were you Archie me lad? Hope I brought enough grub. I'd forgotten about the bottomless pit that's a young man."
Emil paused for a slurp of coffee, "Let's you and me clear off this mess, break camp and hit the road."
We set to work. Good thing Emil knew the ropes. I'd have been at dishes and packing for most of the day. Midway through breaking down the tent I felt a stirring in my nether regions that must have found its way to my face.
Emil caught my distress and simply said, "Trowel and paper are on the stump. Scrape a small hole in the woods. Grip a tree for balance and keep your trousers out of the drop zone. Bury your leavings and praise the Lord for the sunshine. A full belly and an empty intestine makes for a good day."
While I was squatting, a gray bird landed on my ball cap. To that point I'd been having little success with my business. Could be my problems arose from the strange circumstances surrounding my efforts. Later I figured it was the added weight of the bird or maybe it literally scared the stuffing out of me, either way what followed was like an elevator in free fall. I know outdoor adventures don't mention some of life's necessities. But they are necessities. And also moments of deep, near meditational concentration when the world comes into clear focus. Like Emil said, you generally feel better sauntering out of the woods than trotting in.
"Whiskey Jack, properly a Canada Jay. You don't always see them but if they're in the neighborhood and the food pack's open they're sure to come make friends. Couple of days in a camp and they'll eat out of your hand."
Less than an hour later, the sun over the treetops, packs in the canoe, we pushed off. Emil said we'd be at our first carry in two hours.
We began our day bucking a slowly freshening breeze off our left shoulder. Instead of shooting straight down the middle of the lake Emil took us on a tack toward the right shore. Said there were islands there that would make our way safer and easier should the wind stiffen.
"Life on the water's about keeping the boat afloat and making your way with as little effort as possible. When you aren't able to move forward it's time to sit on the shore and watch the world blow by. For the moment we're doing just fine. Steady as she goes Archie me lad."
"Wash your face and hands in the lake. Towel's draped on yon bush." What followed was a scrounging through the food pack and cooler accompanied by Emil humming a tune about being on a lake in high winds or something like that.
"Never did learn the songs of the Voyageurs so I make them up. Danger, lost love, rum. All of it the same now as back then. Except for the hernia part. They were little guys carrying seriously big loads. A hundred-twenty pound man hoisting a hundred-eighty pounds on his back will eventually tear most anyone's gut."
"Pardon my French Uncle Emil but what in the world is a voyageur?" Yeah, I was awake and living in Uncle Emil's world. The upshot was they paddled goods to and from the wilderness in birch bark canoes a couple of hundred years ago. Nothing left of them now but ghosts in the rapids looking for someone to join them.
Conversation soon gave way to the sizzle and aroma of maple sausages and eggs. I figured if there's a heaven it'd smell like breakfast on Second Cranberry Lake. Could be I was already dead and up there in my eternal reward. Hello voyageurs!
Topped off our meal with a coupla slabs of sourdough bread, buttered, fried golden and wolfed down with a little maple syrup drizzled across. Almost felt guilty that the only noise coming outta me during the meal was chomping, grinding and gulping. Since that's what we had, I drank some of Uncle Emil's mud. The steaming bitterness of it only added to the joy. And made me want to run in circles or climb trees or maybe even fly.
"You weren't hungry were you Archie me lad? Hope I brought enough grub. I'd forgotten about the bottomless pit that's a young man."
Emil paused for a slurp of coffee, "Let's you and me clear off this mess, break camp and hit the road."
We set to work. Good thing Emil knew the ropes. I'd have been at dishes and packing for most of the day. Midway through breaking down the tent I felt a stirring in my nether regions that must have found its way to my face.
Emil caught my distress and simply said, "Trowel and paper are on the stump. Scrape a small hole in the woods. Grip a tree for balance and keep your trousers out of the drop zone. Bury your leavings and praise the Lord for the sunshine. A full belly and an empty intestine makes for a good day."
While I was squatting, a gray bird landed on my ball cap. To that point I'd been having little success with my business. Could be my problems arose from the strange circumstances surrounding my efforts. Later I figured it was the added weight of the bird or maybe it literally scared the stuffing out of me, either way what followed was like an elevator in free fall. I know outdoor adventures don't mention some of life's necessities. But they are necessities. And also moments of deep, near meditational concentration when the world comes into clear focus. Like Emil said, you generally feel better sauntering out of the woods than trotting in.
"Whiskey Jack, properly a Canada Jay. You don't always see them but if they're in the neighborhood and the food pack's open they're sure to come make friends. Couple of days in a camp and they'll eat out of your hand."
Less than an hour later, the sun over the treetops, packs in the canoe, we pushed off. Emil said we'd be at our first carry in two hours.
We began our day bucking a slowly freshening breeze off our left shoulder. Instead of shooting straight down the middle of the lake Emil took us on a tack toward the right shore. Said there were islands there that would make our way safer and easier should the wind stiffen.
"Life on the water's about keeping the boat afloat and making your way with as little effort as possible. When you aren't able to move forward it's time to sit on the shore and watch the world blow by. For the moment we're doing just fine. Steady as she goes Archie me lad."
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