February Greets The Icewalkers

Posted on February 15, 2023February 17, 2023 by Greg Washburn

Sorry if you’ve missed me!February has been a month of outdoor activities! I had planned to write about this year’s volunteer work at the end of January on the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival Ice Palace build but here it is mid-February already! I am far behind on stories these days! It will wait for now. The memories and photos aren’t going anywhere.It’s icewalking of a different type!

Over the past couple weeks I have invested a fair amount of time on snowshoe treks following a memorable one with Jen back in January to Catamount Mountain just inside the Adirondack Park. It got me fired up for winter hiking despite the fact that we haven’t had a major snow accumulation this winter that stayed given the frequent warm spells. It’s been a strange winter for weather that’s for sure! Below zero (-23 degrees Fahrenheit) on Saturday morning Feb. 4th but that was short lived. The cold snap tightened up the ice though and got me thinking about the possibilities of some quality treks on snowshoes.

I spent most of the two subzero days inside resting and getting caught up on things. Cooking as well. Something I enjoy when I decide to remain inside. Sunday Feb. 5th forecasted a warmer day with plenty of sunshine so I decided to explore an area that I have been intrigued with since seeing a satellite image of it on the geocaching app.Zane opted out of the trek but I decided to go with both Stella and Gracie the dogs regardless. The plan was simple: park at the Payne’s Lake fishing access site just outside of Oxbow,New York. I would then cross the frozen surface of the narrow lake and find a way up a gap in the cliffs I knew existed from fishing there years ago. Payne’s Lake is one of the 17 Indian River Lakes that occupy sections of both St.Law. and Lewis Counties here in the upstate region. Locals actually acknowledge that there are several other small lakes that never made the list around the area. What I had spotted on the satellite images resembled what could possibly be an ancient lakebed. As such the location begged further investigation.

I spent a little time that Sunday morning studying the satellite map but never really put things into a proper size perspective. The trek looked simple and very easy from what I could see on the map. Many times I choose not to overthink or over analyze an area I wish to explore. It takes away from the experience I feel. In hindsight perhaps I should have taken greater pains to research my proposed adventure! Before it was over I began thinking of changing the spelling of the lake’s name! It might better be spelled “Pain’s” Lake! As in aches and pains! But that’s not important as the story is just beginning!

I decided in advance to upgrade my winter survival pack with extra layers of protection. I added an emergency survival shelter and emergency blanket. Extra food and water. A rope and larger knife. I also had an led headlamp,first aid kit, and a Lifestraw water filter cylinder. Electrical tape and other small amenities make up the balance of my pack. I also strapped on a set of micro spikes and stashed a heavy winter coat inside. The pack was rather heavy but there was comfort in my state of preparedness. I would be using my Tubbs backcountry snowshoes which work great for ice walking and climbing steep grades. I was ready!

After arriving it didn’t take long to cross the lake as there were plenty of signs of ice fishing activity that established its safeness. There appeared to be at least 8” of ice after examining an open tip up hole. Plenty! I found my gap and tackled the ascent with the fresh energy of a new day. The dogs raced ahead of me sniffing around numerous deer tracks and browsing activity. I followed the deer trail as it offered the easiest way to the top. Never question that the animals will find the easiest path through rugged country. I rested on a high ledge and could see my truck across the lake. It looked rather small sitting there. It was at this moment that my mind first began to question my perception of the size of the location. Not to worry! The day was just beginning and I was a conqueror of new and exciting places! Go forth and explore with determination!

Above the lake but not on top of the cliffs yet.

I headed in a Westerly direction and soon found the waterway that I had spotted on the satellite image. It wasn’t as large as I had expected width wise but extended well out of sight to the North. I reached the ice of an old beaver pond that had once been rather deep. Impressive but not an ancient lakebed by any stretch of imagination. I tried to pull up the satellite map but was unsuccessful without adequate service. My curiosity got the best of me and I decided to head North along a series of old beaver flows. I reached a breached dam of once large proportions. It had stood over 6 feet high at some point and had washed out in one giant event if I was reading the signs correctly. A former section of forest in the pond had been reduced to tall stumps. The ice was safe although there wasn’t much to snowshoe on. Things got better when I reached a small active beaver pond just below the breached dam. There was otter sign around the dam. Droppings and tracks everywhere. The wetland below me to the North widened significantly but held little water. But there was still plenty of ice to travel forward on. This too had once been a massive beaver pond but was still not looking like the ancient lakebed I was hoping to discover. I pressed on suddenly very acute of the size of area I was headed into.

It had gotten quite warm and I was truly enjoying my trek but was concerned about the distance I still needed to cross to reach the end of the wetland. The wetland curved to the West beyond me and I had to make a decision. Keep following or take the higher ground beside the marsh and reassess my options. I got myself convinced that if I kept going I would find my lakebed. After all shouldn’t it be connected? I pushed on with renewed vigor but certainly not as fast as earlier. I was breaking trail in trackless snow. It added to the allure of exploring fresh country but took a toll on my energy. Eventually I rounded the curve of the waterway. No lakebed! Just more old beaver ponds and a creek channel that continued to curve out of sight. I pressed on after looking back at the stretch of wetlands that I had already traveled. I continued to marvel at the size of this location and how vast it suddenly seemed.

I found some fresh beaver and otter activity on the surface of the waterway in a small beaver pond with a leaking dam that was dropping the water level. I found a fish head that the otter had left behind but couldn’t identify what species it had been. It had large scales almost like a carp. Strange! It had been decent sized though and no doubt made a tasty meal for the otters. I guessed that there were two otter because of the sets of tracks I found. Not uncommon as they usually travel in pairs. I once witnessed an entire family together with 6 individuals on top of the ice! Amazing! They dove in and would pop up through open spots like furry periscopes watching my dog and I! It was comical and a priceless moment in nature.

A feeding beaver escaped its icy prison underworld.

I stopped for a trek style meal of beef jerky, chocolate, energy bars, and water. The sun was getting well on into the afternoon and I was well aware of the time. But I decided to press forward in my desire to find the lakebed. I was a little confused by the lay of the land and the fact that I hadn’t intersected another waterway. With no map or phone service I was running out of time and options. And a small voice in the back of my mind began murmuring the Icewalker’s motto: the distance traveled in must be traveled out.” That’s not always the case on a loop trek but I was having difficulty figuring out how to accomplish a loop given my lack of knowledge of the area. Soon after though the creek system would make my decision easier. I reached an old beaver dam at a choke point with high ridges on both sides. The creek narrowed and dropped down into lower forested land with limited visibility. I chose to take the high ground and leave the creek system. No continue on would be foolish given how far I had traveled. Perhaps from the high ground I would see my ancient lakebed. If it even existed. I still felt that it did but with a sinking resolve I released that I would not likely find it on this trek. As I left for the high ground I was blessed with an answer to one of my speculative theories. Grass caught in a tree several feet above the narrow creek. A lot of water had passed through here and quickly! Only the breached dam could have caused such a thing to occur! I imagined what it must have looked like as a mass of water tried to force its way down the narrow gorge. Had other dams been breached shortly after the first large one causing a mega flood? It must have been something!

It took a lot of water for this grass to be caught by this tree!

I took the high ground after a rigorous ascent but was disappointed when there was no view into the distance except more forest. I entered a section where there was evidence of old logging activities and realized that I had ventured beyond the state land while on the ice of the creek. I started in a direction that I believed would bring me back parallel to my original trek in. The snow was wet and much deeper in the forest. A series of hills added to my exertions and I was beginning to tire more then I wanted to believe. I had been keeping my bearings by the sun but it went under the clouds and became invisible. I knew my approximate location but began to be concerned that I could easily get turned around and wander in the wrong direction if I wasn’t careful. This was obviously a larger area then I had originally estimated. The little invisible voice spoke again: be careful Icewalker! You’ve entered an unknown forest and forgot your compass. Remember? It’s not in the pack. It got left on the bed! Best think this through! … Ok inner voice I hear you! I thought. But let’s not panic here! I can always backtrack.Not the fastest or easiest option.Or continue on in what I think is the right direction and search for even higher ground. Or follow my inner compass and turn left. The inner voice started in again: you’re pretty tired Icewalker! Are you sure about this? … ok inner voice be quiet! Did you forget that I am packed to stay out all night? (But the inner voice is a nagging and persistent devil!) Yes but think of the warm house and cozy recliner back there! Not to mention that yummy meatloaf in the crockpot!… in the end I turned left and soon ended up back on the creek on the wetlands. Not where I thought I would pop out though! I still had a long trek out! It would soon be time to wake up the inner zombie!My old companion!

My fatigue really started to kick in as I plodded forward back up the wetlands. I was disappointed about failing to find the lakebed but soon decided that I should be happy about my discovery of the new location. It would never be new again from this point forward. The sun was sinking lower and the air was growing chilly. I had a long way to go! I summoned the inner zombie and let him control my feet. Step,lift,step.Repeat over and over.The inner zombie loves repetitive motion and mindless task. He has no point of quitting or even thinking about quitting. This mental state sounds weird and somewhat crazy but it works with timeless predictability. There are many levels to our consciousness and the inner zombie dwells in one of mine. The distance fell behind me and the end was getting closer! The inner zombie went back to his cranial recesses and I got a surge of energy from the coming darkness. Its that survival and challenge thing that drives me into these types of places. I left the wetland and could soon see the lake! I got my feet tangled and took a wild tumble down while descending the gap. Somewhat painful so it was then that I changed the spelling of the lake. And just like that the trek was over. In the truck and traveling back. Even the dogs were exhausted!

So that’s it! An epic day of exploration. I hope to return soon and search for the lakebed. It’s there! I just know it. As for the Pulpit Rock State Forest Preserve? At 1603 acres it’s much larger then I imagined! I know that now. Until the next one! ✍️

They Come In Waves

Posted on October 13, 2022October 13, 2022 by Greg Washburn

Thursday morning. Day 12 here at Fish Creek State Campground.Well not exactly! I was gone for 3 days recently on a mini adventure. I hit the Northway South with the pedal down and the music loud. The full grandeur of the autumn transition surrounding me as the turbos sang and the ponies ran under the hood. I suppose it’s a paradox this love of horsepower and steel to a lover of nature. I surely do appreciate a finely tuned piece of machinery though. I hope to ride the torque driven feel of full electric some day. On the slippery slopes of climate change and our unrelenting need for natural resources it’s difficult to fathom at times where everything is headed. It’s all about making decisions and following through with them. That’s something I do understand. But this post is about life and adventure not sticky subjects. The adventure? South to the land of Moonies,cornfields, and history. A place where hooting owls and night skies lit by a full moon would connect the dots of mysterious positive energy. But that is another story for another time.

The days here at Fish Creek have been full and meaningful I’d have to say. A mix of paddling and hiking followed by nightly fires. Meals are sporadic at times and I cook when the mood strikes me. This morning breakfast was in order so I cooked sausage,eggs, and pancakes. The wind is fierce today and it was challenging outside cooking on the griddle.Nothing some carefully placed aluminum foil couldn’t cure. Camping is not supposed to easy anyway. I had made a simple dinner last night since I was beat from paddling in the waves getting back to camp. Oh yes! The waves! Over deep,dark water they provide a powerful connection to nature.

I had watched the weather forecast and knew that outdoor adventure would be difficult if not ill advised today. High winds and rain were heading into the region. The winds had begun yesterday and it had been difficult paddling but still very rewarding. Seeing the loons and the mink had sealed the deal for me. My aches today were well earned and I don’t mind them. The wind would wake me several times last night as pine cones pinged off the roof of the Airstream like mini drumbeats. Camping under the huge pines is not without risk I suppose. I have good insurance I thought and had drifted back to sleep. The large stand of pine surrounding the camper are strong and sturdy. They remind me of a family in their grouping. Each one makes the others stronger and helps protect the group. I don’t worry too much camping under them at any rate.

By daybreak the wind had increased and the gusts kept getting stronger. White caps were driving into the shore with powerful surges. 10:53AM now and things are still ramping up. If it was a warm summer day I would be paddling out in my kayak to greet the waves. I love to paddle up through whitecaps then spin around and surf on top of them in the kayak. It’s a rush of horsepower of a different type. It challenges the body but it’s very exciting! “Flat Slapping” the surface of the water with the kayak paddle when the waves attempt to flip you over. In warm summer water in a life vest there’s nothing to fear and usually I have the body of water to myself. I haven’t done it this season but I have tackled some decent sized waves a couple times. These whitecaps here today are cold looking and uninviting. I’d rather stay in here and write while watching them!

I have always loved the power of water even when it’s calm. Running water is a powerful force of nature that stirs emotion and imagination. I love hiking to waterfalls and sections of rapids here in the north country. We are blessed with numerous and diverse waterways. In a watercraft fighting the current to paddle upstream or against the waves is a humbling experience and invites physical challenge. Running with the current and on the waves invites feelings of a different nature. I have spoken with Zane about my desire to take a whitewater paddling class and go out with a licensed guide on the Hudson river up here in the Adirondacks. We have picked our person and location but missed the window of opportunity for this season. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t introduce my son to such an activity but he’s one to tell me if it’s not his thing. Ice climbing was like that! We both agreed that it might not be our favorite new hobby. It was fun though! To me the lover of raw horsepower whitewater may offer something more then a thrill seekers adrenaline rush. Can’t say for sure just yet but I have a feeling. I chase those feelings and they rarely disappoint me.

I have strayed far from my original story but the wind is increasing and the waves are getting bigger by the minute. This camping adventure has brought some wonderful moments into the MOONTABS journey. There is but one autumn 2022 and I have tried to live it well. Four successful hikes since being here. Ampersand the best and most challenging then Goodman and Coney Mountains back to back one day last week. Mount Arab on Tuesday this week. Hey wait! Did I just complete the Tupper Lake Triad a second time? I hadn’t planned on doing that. They are great small hikes that I recommend them given the wonderful autumn views of the surrounding region. I enjoyed each of the hikes but Coney Mountain would offer up something else!

I had completed Goodman Mountain but hadn’t stayed long there as some kind of ladybugs were hanging out on the summit and crawling all over me. Not biting just annoying. I decided to do Coney Mountain as a second mountain for the day as plenty of daylight remained. I was feeling pretty strong and hard charged the trail. I even jogged up for awhile. Rare these days but something Zane and I did many times. On the Marcy Dam trail ( the Interstate to us) we would always run on the way in and on the return. Laughing and jumping roots along the way! Passing other hikers who thought us crazy. I suppose we were to a degree. Happy and super fit it was easy even with a 40 pond pack. It was epic! I don’t run so well since my pelvic injury but I am practicing my new style. I land somewhere between a young Forrest Gump and an Olympic sprinter. Probably closer to the young Forrest Gump to be honest. I have made strides though with no pun intended. I won’t stop trying to improve my distance challenges or my conditioning. There are many trails remaining that lead to lofty summits where the buzz sits waiting for me. I had to mention the running thing. Things have changed. Call it a new wave I had to surf.

On the Coney Mountain trail I overtook a couple hiking. We were taking their time and picking their through the hazards. Always a good idea. They both had trekking poles which is good.I feel they reduce the risk of injury. The woman greeted me and asked about my beaver stick trekking poles. “Did you find those at the trailhead?” she asked with a curious tone. “No I made them” I replied. We began talking after that while everyone caught their breath. We exchanged names so it’s time for new characters! Enter John and Elaine! I liked their friendly open demeanor immediately and their interest in my beaver sticks. I was suddenly swept up by an impulsive thought! I would offer to give them one of my trekking sticks. It was one that I had trail tested and trusted but it wasn’t one of my favorites. But it was a nice one so I offered to leave it under their car after hiking the mountain. John said “How do you know we won’t get back first?”. We all laughed at that one! I bide them a temporary goodbye and resumed the hike with a renewed vigor. I sure do love talking to people I thought. Hearing bits of their stories! I summited quickly after a brief push for the top. There were three people on top. A quiet young man who had hiked up in a pair of Crocs. Not my choice of footwear. I didn’t engage in conversation with him as his eye contact and body posturing indicated a desire for privacy. There was an artist hard at work off to the side but I left her to her work as it appeared she was on a roll painting the beautiful valley that lay beyond her easel. There was also a young lady whom I had passed on the Goodman trail and recognized. We said hello to each other and chatted briefly. Most people are friendly on the summits and ones who aren’t I leave in peace. Everyone has their own reasons for being there and we don’t know what someone might be wrestling with or trying to overcome. Think positivity and kindness.

It was getting later and I wondered if John and Elaine had turned back because she had mentioned a sprain in her leg. I decided to go catch up with them in case they had needed to return rather then summit. I had been busy while on the summit. I wasn’t carrying my usual pack and had noticed that I had a black Sharpe in one of my compartments. Hmmm… beaver stick with poly preservative on its surface. A Sharpe. A promise to give the stick to them. Time on my side. It all added up quickly! But could I remember the beaver stick poem that I usually offer with a gifted stick?It took a minute but luckily it’s short and sweet. It was the perfect setting for adding a flair to the gift. I took my time writing on the stick and only made one small mistake. Too bad I didn’t have sandpaper with me too! I added some personal information about MOONTABS and signed the stick with a custom greeting.It was time to get moving!

I began a quick descent and hadn’t gone far before I met John and Elaine working their way up the trail with steady determination. I jokely remarked that I had thought they had tapped out! We laughed about that! I said you better take the stick now just in case. We got to talking more and I was realizing the time of day. I said I will walk back up to the summit with you. Elaine began talking to the artist and John sat on the summit talking with me. John had a great story to tell and I wanted to hear more.Elaine joined us eventually and we took some photos together. John said “ I better keep this beaver stick safe! It will be worth something some day!”We laughed about that especially when I said “John you might be freezing some day and that stick will make good firewood!” The power of the now surrounded us there on Coney Mountain as the setting sun appeared on the horizon. Time was speeding past and it was time to get moving.

Elaine wanted to stop and talk with the artist who had finished her painting. It was stunning and she had been working on it a mere 5 hours! I learned her name was Sandra Hildreth. A local artist of repute. I asked her permission to use her name here. Please check out her work! She has an office in the village of Saranac Lake. We decided to make sure she got down the mountain safely. Something I had already decided to do for John and Elaine. We began our cautious descent and the conversations ran wild as darkness began to blanket the lower forest. Sandra blew past us in a hurry to get to a meeting. Time stood still and I was enjoying the story of John and Elaine. At one point Elaine said something about not getting hurt. I joked and said if you get hurt I will go Forrest Gump in the jungle and run you on out of here! Pretty funny! We hit the end of the trail and said our goodbyes but not before promising to stay in contact. What a remarkable day that had started so ordinary. But it’s never ordinary when I meet extraordinary people and share in moments. I was touched by strange emotions on my drive back. Waves of them. Then I almost hit a deer and got back to reality!

The wind has picked up and the rain is pelting the Airstream. I will be staying in today and using the shower in the camper. There will be no evening campfire later. I have everything I need here in my home on wheels for the moment.Food,music, heat, and running water. My phone,my tablet, and books. The waves are hitting hard on the shoreline outside the camper. It’s a solid now moment and a part of this lifestyle. My imagination can run wild at times. They come in waves these stories of mine and wash up on the shores. Life comes in waves too. Sometimes floating and sometimes sinking. We have to learn how to swim that’s all. Waves are yet another connection to nature.

Oh btw! Remember Mr.Jangles? He is alive and well after our strike on his headquarters. Apparently he has recruited allies here in the Adirondacks! I have been under attack for days now. Chipmunks and red squirrels messing with my truck and my lawn furniture.There’s signs of a party left behind on my picnic table! Good thing the Airstream is all metal otherwise they would have gotten in. I guess if they were truly malicious they would have chewed through my brake lines. Maybe they have! Can’t check today in this rain. Maybe I can recruit the mink I saw yesterday. It would a formidable adversary to take to Canada next summer. I don’t know if it likes to travel though. It might get car sick. Not sure about getting it across the border either. These things can be worked out I suppose. They say deeds are more important then words. How about a big helping of both? The waves have begun to lay down some and tomorrow is another day.

I dedicate this post to John, Elaine, and all the good people I meet out on the trails. The hooting owl doesn’t represent death as some people think. It represents wisdom and understanding. It represents change and new beginnings. We don’t have to search for such things. Time brings them and they come in waves.✍️

The Blog For Bob!

Posted on October 8, 2022October 9, 2022 by Greg Washburn

This will probably be my shortest blog post ever! It’s a joke actually and meant to highlight a certain individual in Tupper Lake, New York.Who is Bob and why do I write of him? It might take a bit more background information to get the story told. After all how well do you even know Tupper Lake? Enter a new character.

For those of you who follow my story you know that I spend a lot of time camping at Fish Creek and Rollins Pond State Campgrounds. Work and play mixed together for a unique Adirondack living experience. I pack a lot of things from home before towing the camper up but usually stock up when I reach Tupper Lake. I find it easier get my groceries there and stock my shelves. I like the big roomie Save-A-Lot grocery store parking where I can park the truck and Airstream while shopping. I find pretty much everything I need there. The staff are friendly and helpful when I can’t! I quite often grab my firewood in Childwold at a roadside stand then tend to spread my business around town once I get parked.

It’s important to note that I don’t ever bring firewood up from the valley. Transporting firewood more than 50 miles is illegal in New York State although it’s difficult for the authorities to enforce the regulations. The law is in effect to deter the spread of invasive insects that can hitchhike within the firewood. I buy locally sourced firewood which benefits everyone especially the local citizens around Tupper Lake who sell it.I hit several local vendors at random and spread my purchases around town. One of my favorite vendors is a fellow named George. He’s always cheerful and eager to chat. Most places are self serve and there’s no human interaction. Regardless it’s nice to be contributing to the local community near where I’ve parked my rolling home.

But what about Bob? (wasn’t that a movie?) It’s a rather simple story actually. I shop at a local grocery store in Tupper Lake called Shaheens’s on occasion. They have a great selection of items,quality meats, and a nice collection of hard ciders. The staff is super friendly and they keep baggers at the end of the checkout. They will even carry your groceries out to your vehicle if you have several bags. Things move quickly at Shaheen’s and they easily accommodate the busy summer crowds. I was standing in the line one day this summer when I first noticed the very animated bagger whom I was soon to know as Bob. He was cheerful and greeted everyone as they came through the door. He knew some by name and would always say something that would make them smile! I liked him immediately for his friendly demeanor! I had never seen Bob before and things were about to get interesting!

It was my turn at the counter and I was being checked out when Bob began joking with my cashier. I couldn’t help but jump into the conversation eventually.I told Bob that he was an interesting fellow and would he mind if I wrote about him on my blog. “You’re a blogger” he asked? “What do you write about?” My reply: “Nature things mainly but I could make an exception for you! What’s your name?” Bob wouldn’t tell me name and told the cashier don’t you dare tell him! Someone nearby blurted out “ His name is Bob!”. I grabbed my bag of groceries from Bob and headed for the door. I turned back to Bob and said “ It’s going to happen sometime!”

Several months have passed and I had shopped at Shaheen’s several times but never saw Bob. In fact I had forgotten his name and the joke of writing the blog. That changed suddenly last week as I headed up towards the cashier to checkout my small basket of groceries. There he was in full force! The same animated character joking and greeting customers while bagging the customers purchases. I got to the checkout and greeted my bagger with a smile! “ Remember me? I never get around to doing that blog post on you! I forgot your name!” Bob looked at the cashier and said “ Don’t you dare tell him!”. The cashier was laughing and remained silent! Everyone in line was listening and smiling! The man behind me suddenly spoke up! “ Just tell him your name Bob!” More laughter!As I left for the door I turned to the crowd and said “Get ready the post will be coming soon!”. I mentioned the page address to the curious customers and went out the door.

When faced with waiting in line at a busy store it’s always nice if people are talking and engaging with each other. Levity is even better and it always makes the time more pleasant. It’s a small thing really to be polite and patient with a cashier who is pressured to perform quickly. I find the automated self checkouts are becoming more abundant around the North country these days. There’s something lost in that modern place of technology. Human interaction is important for a good shopping experience as far as I am concerned. And people like Bob make the experience entertaining.

So here it is folks! The short post dedicated to Bob! I hope to see him again and let him know that it’s been written! I wish to thank all the good people of Tupper Lake who work hard to make our Adirondack time more pleasant! We encounter them in the stores, restaurants, and in small shops. We truly appreciate all your efforts!

No Autumn Plans?Hike Ampersand!

Posted on October 4, 2022October 5, 2022 by Greg Washburn

Autumn is moving along quickly here in the Adirondack Park. The leaves continue to change everyday now and many are being dropped now. They litter the forest floor with colorful patterns that call to the observant hiker. It was Monday October 3,2022 and I was waiting for my cousin Jen at the trailhead to Ampersand Mountain in the empty parking lot. She had asked me days earlier if I had time to hike Monday.Perfect timing I had told her! Yes I would love to go!I hadn’t needed to travel far from my nearby campsite at Fish Creek Ponds State Campground so I had arrived ahead of schedule. I took a few minutes and double checked my small pack one final time. I readied my beaver stick trekking poles also. I was ready!

The beaver stick trekking poles I mentioned are nothing more then sticks that the beaver had eaten the bark from and abandoned. Bark is the favorite food of beaver. They must get plenty of fiber!The beaver sticks are super strong and flexible depending on the species of tree that had been cut. I trim them to length if necessary but quite often find ones that are perfect and require only a little work. I clean any dirt or mud from them before I trim off any sharp edges and any excess bark that the beaver missed. I sometimes treat them with polyurethane to preserve them. A superior one that is unique is added to my personal collection where it waits for special attention. I wood burn on them sometimes to mark certain occasions or dates. To gift a hand crafted one to someone is something I enjoy! I hope to write a post just about beaver sticks someday and have added it to the promised story list. I carry two beaver stick trekking poles to maintain balance and agility. I also use them to help propel myself up the steep sections of the trails. If ever needed they would also make a formidable set of weapons. They are all natural and I find a connection to nature in them. When I firmly grasp them I am truly ready to hike!

The Ampersand Mountain trailhead is very easy to find because it’s right beside NYS Route 3 between the villages of Tupper and Saranac Lakes. It’s a rather small pull off that fills up quickly most days. There’s always room alongside the highway though so that helps with the overflow. I had packed light for the short hike. Water, energy bars, and a partial jar of peanut butter. Peanut butter became a stable when hiking the high peaks several years ago.We ate it plain with just a spoon most of the time. It’s a good energy food that’s simple to carry. I had a winter hat and extra clothing as well. But I was far short of the survival gear pack that I carry backcountry. I suppose that mindset could be considered not being prepared. It would have to do as my big pack had been left behind at Camp Edith.

For clothing I dress in layers and none of them are ever cotton! Yesterday I was wearing a dry weave t-shirt, fleece zip up, with an insulated vest to top off my layers. Basic hiking pants and my old trusted Merrell brand hiking boots. These hiking boots just wouldn’t wear out but several extremely high mileage years had taken a toll on them! I use them for special occasions now because I just don’t want to retire them yet. I tried a set of Keen’s but was rather disappointed with that model’s durability. Comfort was never an issue though. I bought a new set of Keen hikers today to give the brand another chance. Different sole style so I will see! Most of the hikers in my truck are Merrill’s. Yes I travel with several pair! You don’t drive without a spare tire so why would you hike without a spare set of hiking boots close by?

Enter a new character: my cousin Jennifer.She arrived ahead of time to the parking area and we exchanged simple greetings as we prepared our gear for departure.Jen is married with two teenage boys.She grew up with her sister, father, and mother on the Washburn homestead property in Macomb. She is 18 years younger then me and we didn’t see each other much when she was growing up even though we lived on the same road. Time changes things and eventually we saw more of each other however.I attended her wedding and would see her at the Washburn family reunions twice a year. When she became an avid hiker we began to talk more frequently. Especially after I joined Facebook in 2018 and began writing there.We had talked of hiking together but had never been able to coordinate because of logistical issues. Work mainly. This day was spontaneous and not planned months in advance. Call it a grand alignment event if you have an imagination and believe in strange twists of fate. The power of circumstances and decisions made with a gut feeling. Either way I was happy that we would be hiking together! Why make everything heavy and overthink the moment?

Jen and her family are outdoor enthusiasts to the max! They enjoy a variety of different sports and activities across all four seasons. Jen and her husband Adam are working together to become ADK 46ers.They are making substantial progress and I enjoy following their story! Jen is the hands and the inspiration behind the Instagram page: Hunterfamilyoutdooradventures. They live a full and busy life! Their story is interesting and unique so please join them as they live the outdoor dream! I can relate to them in so many ways!Jen’s gift for photography truly brings their journey to life! I admire the page for its detail in portraying a family enjoying their love of nature and adventure. There is love and positivity in their journey. A great place to connect with like minded individuals! Check it out!

Ampersand Mountain is not one of the ADK high peaks but what it lacks in height it makes up for with views! At 3352 feet its bare rock summit offers a 360 degree view of some beautiful sections of the park. Some of the high peaks are right there in front of you at the summit. The Seward Range being the most prominent. In the other direction you get fantastic views of the Saranac Lakes and St. Regis waterways. The 1,765 feet of gain that is ascended to summit Ampersand is rated tough by the Alltrails app. I suppose that depends on your personal definition of tough. The trail is an in/out and fairly short at 5.4 miles round trip.The final ascents are tricky in a couple spots but easy to negotiate.With sturdy hiking boots and trekking poles most hikers will have no difficulty. Micro spikes aren’t a bad idea for the final portion of the trail either. Wet rocks are always tricky regardless of your level of skill in my opinion. I want to get myself off the mountain by not being injured. My advice is always be cognitive of potential hazards. The rewards of most summits are worth a little effort and risk in my opinion. Ampersand is one of those mountains.I rate it: better do it or you are missing out!

The trailhead lies just across Route 3 from the parking area and is very well maintained. It meanders rather smoothly at first through stands of large maples and hemlocks. There are several tiny streams that are bridged or timbered across. One section has a small raised boardwalk that sits above lush and colorful ferns. Autumn is kissing them a golden color and when the sunshine hits them they are stunning! Yesterday the canopy above was garnished with many different stages of color. The transition is underway and many leaves have fallen but most are still held fast. Some remain green even. It depends on their species where they enter into the transition. The soft maples (red) are shedding their brilliant red leaves quickly. The aspen (popple) are lagging behind and just becoming yellow. The other species are in varying degrees of change and no two trees are identical. Autumn is a time of sensory overload for me. It’s difficult to absorb everything with so much color everywhere. I find it’s best sometimes to just stand still and wait for things to show themselves. There is life everywhere. Tiny plants and seedlings. Many have ended their annual growth cycle and are preparing to go dormant until spring. The falling leaves will be their protective blanket under the snow that will arrive here shortly. The forest is a place of death as well. Broken trees and limbs cover the forest floor. Stumps and leaning deadfall’s. Dead trees standing and waiting for their time to return to the earth. The layers of dead leaves continue build up and cover some them as well. But nothing is wasted in the forest. Mosses and decomposers cover the dead trees and fallen trees. The decomposer fungi are everywhere once you train your eyes to spot them and recognize their importance in the bigger picture. There are numerous species of them in the Adirondacks. Many are edible even! After attending two mycology seminars I decided that viewing them is to be preferred over collecting them! “Look a likes” can be deadly and toxic! We stick to our favorites in the valley. It’s interesting how the dead wood benefits so many other life forms. There is a profound connection in the the cycle that repeats itself over and over. For me it’s a humbling reminder of my place in the order of things.My place of existence within the circle of nature. It’s not an unhappy moment. To accept our life cycle is to learn. To learn is to grow. A walk through the forest is never boring or lacking in details. In the smallest of clues nature leaves puzzle pieces. They fit only one way and take time to assemble. Decades for me. Harmony with nature surrounds the casual hiker. That moment when the senses align and a certain peace arrives. It can be a powerful lesson of living in the now.

Jen and started out from the sunny,warm parking and entered the forest trail. I was immediately struck by the change in temperature and regretted not wearing gloves. Jen took the lead and despite our brisk pace I felt cold. Prepared? Not so good I decided! We moved quickly and the trail remained fairly flat with only a few hills to crest. We stopped to take pictures of certain things. The rising sun through the trees and colorful leaves. Glacial erratics sprinkled here and there like game pieces in a giant’s marble toss. Eventually the land began to rise and the ascents started. We reached the site of an old structure. There’s almost nothing remaining of the stone foundation and it’s difficult to discern. There’s an old rusty sink in the center and some rusty pipes. I mentioned to Jen that I thought that this was a hermit’s cabin site once. I later learned that my facts are askew. These was my third hike up Ampersand over the years and I remembered a descriptive plague that was once here. Gone now. History disappears too quickly sometimes.Regardless it was a beautiful spot with a tiny flow of running water and a somewhat flat spot on the forest ridge. There would be answers at some point to fill in the blanks.

The land continued to rise and we kept up our steady pace unless we were taking photos. We encountered another couple and had a great conversation. They were familiar with Jen’s hometown. In fact they lived there part of the year and frequently went to a common restaurant. It’s a small world as they say! Great conversations Dan and Deb! We soon entered a section of the trail that I refer to as the steps. A steep rise with many rocks that trail stewards had wrestled into place somehow. It must have taken many hours to build the staircases. There are a couple sets of the way to summit Ampersand. Many hikers have benefited from the stewards hard work and I remembered some pictures I seen of some of them. These cats were strong and solid! Men and women who proudly poised beside their lasting legacy of hard work. I suddenly realized that I was no longer cold and mentioned that to Jen. Me either she said! Off through the trees we could see evidence of our continued elevation gain. Glimpses of what was to come. The sun was warming the forest and our exertions were warming us quickly.I felt a burst of new found energy in the moment. Nothing new and I embraced the feeling for what I recognized. Empowerment in strong physical experience that was well within my body’s capabilities. In that moment I push for what lies beyond. The buzz that waits for me on the summit. I can remember hikes with Zane where it eluded me and I wondered how I would ever make it to the top. Then the energy would hit from some unknown source.It’s seems like a carburetor thing after a certain point. A mix of emotion, air, and inner energy that the mind sends to the muscles. The muscles will obey the mind long after they sound their warning. I wasn’t worried. This short hike would never require me to summon my inner zombie unless I was injured. Best avoided always but never out of a hiker’s equation.

Enter a new character. My invisible friend known as my inner zombie. His story is my story at a different level. I must accredit the author Jack London for the idea behind creating the force that I call my inner zombie. His fictional story of a lost and stranded individual moved me many years ago when I first read it as a boy. It’s a wonderful read for those with adventurous spirits. My story will be best represented by telling of some of our high peaks quests. Post pelvic surgery days for me mostly but there were many other times!My inner zombie was safely slumbering yesterday and that’s where I wanted him. He needs his rest because when he’s summoned it gets a little rough on my body.It’s not as strange as it sounds! I enjoy assigning names and titles to many things. Another story now added to the promised list and I am going to have fun writing that one! My inner zombie is a beast and one glutton for punishment. I can always count on him though. I finally know that the 1.5 percent Neanderthal DNA I carry is good for something!

Jen and I were both really enjoying our physical challenge of the ever rising trail. There were many more rocks now to scramble and the forest was transitioning into evergreens and smaller deciduous species.Birch mostly and a few aspens.Crossing the rocks was a decision making process of avoiding the wet rocks. My worn Merrill’s were minus some tread so I stuck to the dry area whenever possible. I would sometimes need to hold my beaver sticks in one hand and reach for a tree or root to get past a steeper scramble. The day was continuing to warm up and we were sweating some but not uncomfortable like we would have been on a summer day. Autumn hiking brings many rewards and coolness is one of them. The land below us continued to offer hints of views yet to come. The trail suddenly split and there was a steeper less traveled trail off to the right. I asked Jen if we could go that way as it looked challenging. She agreed and after a short ascent we were rewarded for our efforts! We stood on a scenic overlook and it was breathtakingly beautiful! The leaves were spectacular off in the distance! We took photos and relaxed for a moment before taking off again. This is the part of the hike where I always get a new found surge of energy. We continued to push forward with renewed vigor and soon entered an amazing set of rock formations.

I knew that we were getting closer to the summit because I recognized the gap between the rocks where the trail led. The rocks towered over our heads and were vividly detailed in the bright sunshine. I was totally lost in all the details surrounding me. Jen mentioned it as well! It wasn’t too long before we spotted the long bare rock approach that leads to Ampersand’s summit. My words can not describe what waited for us there. We slowed our forward momentum and turned in circles to take everything in. Wow! That was the word I suppose. We reached the summit and began snapping photos. It was an epic moment! Jen and I removed our packs enjoying the summit buzz as I call it. We got some great photos and enjoyed an informal hiker’s lunch. Other hikers began to arrive at the summit and we began talking to them. One fellow arrived who was very eager to talk. No problem for me!

Enter a new character into the journey. The man’s name was Steve and he lived in nearby Tupper Lake where he had spent most of his life. He was a walking source of information and knew all the distant mountains by name. Jen and I had recognized certain landmarks given our experience and time in the Adirondacks but Steve filled in a lot of blanks. We talked for a long time. I mentioned a mega 46er legend whom Zane and I had met on the trail to our final high peak. Allen Mountain. What a day. I wrote of that day on an older post on this page. I couldn’t remember the number of times this individual named Gary had summited all the high peaks but knew it was over 70 times! Impressive and mind boggling! Steve said that he knew Gary and had spoken with him just this summer. Gary had been busy hiking it seems! His new count was 88. 88 times a 46er! Wow! I mentioned that I would like to interview Gary and get more of his story. I asked Steve why does Gary do it? Why not branch out and see more of the world? New trails and new challenges. Steve said that Gary quite simply loves the Adirondacks so he wanders them constantly. Impressive to me is this man’s accomplishments! Steve was being reserved about his own accomplishments and I knew that he too had quite the story to tell! We didn’t pry and he left shortly afterwards.

I had questioned Steve about the old cabin ruins we had passed on the hike just before reaching the steps. He mentioned that several cabins had once adorned the ridge. I was never really certain though about the true story or history there. I had been confused thinking that the Adirondack hermit Noah John Rondeau had occupied the site. Steve corrected me and said that Rondeau had lived in a forest pond setting known as “The Duck Hole”. Research yesterday sent me in confusing circles as I scoured the internet. There were so many unfamiliar names and places that were unknown to me. And I thought that I knew the Adirondacks! Silly me! It’s going to take some intense research to uncover something I hope to record correctly. I have always desired to hike into the Duck Hole and set foot upon its banks. Something about the name I guess. I found it on a map years ago but never made a connection. I do believe though that Rondeau may have lived in more then one cabin over the years. He’s worthy of a historical blog post as I retrace his footsteps and discover more about him. Who can say what else waits for me along those trails?

Steve had mentioned a plague on another part of Ampersand’s summit that we might find interesting. It refers to the Hermit Of Ampersand. The plaque is dedicated to a man named Walter Channing Rice who spent 8 years on Ampersand on fire watch duty. His story is very detailed I discovered in my internet research project. Check him out! His father had a bit of pioneering spirit when he brought the Rice family up into the Adirondacks. Walter was a remarkable individual! His sons erected the plaque on Ampersand in the 1930s. Walter must have been connected to the cabin ruins we found in some capacity. My research indicated that his living quarters were much closer to the summit. I am going to further research this story and revisit it.

Jen and I found the plaque where Steve had said it would be but found something else as well. Some concrete and cut off anchor bolts drilled into the summit near the plaque. We immediately guessed that they had once belonged to a fire tower. Research confirmed that the state of New York had erected a fire tower on the summit of Ampersand in 1920. It was functional for some fifty years until 1970. It was removed in July of 1977. The era of NYS fire towers and the individuals who occupied them were being fazed out as aircraft surveillance during the fire season became more economically viable. I find a sense of loss in that piece of history for some reason. I guess the answer is in the task itself. Individuals spent hours up in the towers scanning the far horizons for the smoke of forest fires. Those individuals must have been possessed of a certain mindset I feel. Hours and hours of silent vigil although they did get to chat with the many hikers drawn to the summits. I suppose the job had more merits then one might expect.Fire towers might be an interesting blog post. The count of promised stories now surpasses 10!

Jen and I reluctantly prepared to exit the summit eventually after spending some wonderful time there. We had put our layers back on even though it was so warm and sunny. A north born breeze was nipping at our now inactive bodies and we were at risk of getting chilled. We sat for a time below the upper summit and basked in the sun out of the breeze. I later regretted not putting sunscreen on my face! October sunburn! I had the sunscreen in my pack but never used it. Silly me! We enjoyed the 360 degree views of Ampersand as long as we could before starting our descent. We encountered quite a few groups of hikers on their way towards the summit. We would always say hello and I would take a quick glance at their gear. Most were well equipped so that was a positive! The descent offers a different set of scramble challenges and while it requires less exertion it still dictates caution. Foot placement is everything and I lost my balance in a forward slide once. My beaver sticks enabled me to stay upright and avoid a fall. We stopped often on the hike out and continued to take photos. We searched for small details and unique sunshine photos through the foliage. I was feeling strong and experiencing no pain. Jen and I talked about many different things but one thing in particular is noteworthy. We wanted to hike together more often. Bring family and friends along to share in the wonderful challenges. Build memories together and strengthen family bonds. To share a love of nature that unites people. I feel that to share in challenge builds trust and understanding. To share my words and love of nature is a summit of a far different lofty destination. As Jen and I stood on the summit of Ampersand I gazed at many familiar sights. My time in those places was solid in memories and in deed Comfortable and reassuring. But the blue,gray of far distant horizons and the unknown waiting there calls with silent beckoning. This story is far from over.

So that’s a short glimpse into Ampersand Mountain! A worthy destination of beautiful challenge. The day Jen and I shared now true MOONTABS! My third ascent of Ampersand and certainly not my last. As I closed this post out I realized that I hadn’t mentioned why each of my Ampersand summits has been uniquely different and meaningful. It’s a story worthy of yet another promised post. That post must wait for its time. I wanted this one dedicated to my adventure loving cousin Jennifer and her family. To recognize her unique journey that is connected to mine through family and more. It’s a new beginning with endless possibilities. That’s enough for today. The autumn sun is on the water just outside the Airstream. Time to run!✍️

3 AM: Introductions To The Ever Changing Me

Posted on September 23, 2022August 7, 2023 by Greg Washburn

The wind woke me up early this morning and I got up to check the wood stove here at Camp Edith. Aka Camp Chaos when I come in off the road and unload the car. It seems strange to think that I even needed to have the wood stove lit but yesterday afternoon a strong north born wind turned the surface of the lake upside down. The temperatures began to drop and a quick look at the weather on my phone told me what my body already knew. Good thing that I keep an adequate supply of dry wood on hand. The days of living here are winding down now and I will soon be winterizing it once again.

I have considered turning Camp Edith into a full time residence but something always holds me back. There’s a certain charm to its rustic rafters. Darkened by years of exposure they are a constant of seasonal cottage living. It’s similar to the feeling I got years ago when I briefly considered retiring the old sugar house at the farm and building a new one. How awesome I had thought! All new and fresh. Straightly framed with electricity and running water. But the old sugar house has a certain dignity in its sagging presence. And what of the history and the memories that fill the air with invisible energy within its tired walls? The cracked concrete soaked by blood, sweat, and tears. It’s the same here in the cottage. The inner voice speaks wisely many times. Change can wait with certain things. There is no hurry or least there shouldn’t be sometimes. “Nature does not hurry, but all is accomplished.” Lao Tzu

Quotes are a productive medium of creativity for me. I look for them constantly and even have a few of my own. So it should come as no surprise that I love this one! “3 AM is the hour of writers, painters,poets,musicians,silent seekers,over thinkers,and creative people.” Do you recognize anyone in that group that you know? This week has been a very productive one for writing! I came in off the road late last Thursday night a little burned out and very tired. After a bit of work on the side project over the weekend I was shot. But nature saved the day! The days of rain that began Sunday kept me inside and the words found me in the early hours Monday. By late yesterday I had finished the first series of bush living stories. As I relived the days we spent there I entered a special place. The “well” Zone. My photos and simple cabin journal pulled it all together. But there were other forces responsible and they launched me past all that had previously been holding me under. The daily Abraham-Hicks inspirational quotes that chime onto my email each day had been trying to tell me something.The term is manifestation and with it I followed the energy trail of bread crumbs to a place of many words.Some things happen for a reason. Enter the surge and the geyser.The well wasn’t dry.It was just plugged. The last few days drained the well and I am experiencing a creative hangover. It’s been quite the journey these past nine days. Living on the ADK clock. Leaving the ADK clock behind for a moment. And then experiencing the surge. Things are ramping up and I find myself adding lines to the story Escape Velocity as a side project.

It’s amazing how long it takes me to write a few simple lines into that I feel is good! I invest a considerable amount of time poking around in the digital dictionary and searching for descriptive words. There are over 170,000 words in the Oxford English dictionary. Impressive and it offers a unique challenge. The word MOONTABS will never enter those hallowed pages but it means something that can’t be described by a simple sentence in a dictionary. It confuses people sometimes actually. People ask what does the “A” represent? One answer I give is that it created a flowing word that is easy to say in English. Call the “A” a silent bridge that crosses a deep chasm. In the process of creating a private domain it nice to discover that word wasn’t used or even existed. At the time the word was born I was drawing heavily on memories that I was expressing in my written work. I was trying to humbly acknowledge the importance of recognizing my genuine journey and story. Capitalizing on memories it was a short stretch of imagination to create the remaining letters. I was going through a period of reinventing myself after the events of 2017. I realized certain things could be lost or taken without warning but never our memories. Our personal memories are ours alone. The good,bad,and the ugly. (Good movie!) I found something profound in that realization. There something more though that dealt with a deeper place of realization. How does one blend painful memories with good ones? The name doesn’t imply only good memories. So what about those painful memories? I remembered something nature had taught me. Storms were always battering the trees sometimes knocking them down but they had evolved to bend. There’s a place of strength and resilience there.So too with memories. We must learn to bend in our acceptance I feel.That’s a powerful place of mental focus. Not all the branches survive that’s for sure. When I get the short story “The Trees And Us” published we can walk that littered path together. Yes I know! The promised book. Did you forget the Lao Tzu quote already?

There are deeper meanings in the word MOONTABS. I couldn’t make it too simple or it wouldn’t best represent the vision I had for it. The moon represented something significant to me. The moon undergoes a monthly transformation. It radiates an energy that is mysterious even if science offers all the answers as they claim. It’s that energy thing again. That place I always return to wander and search for answers. A full moon lights the way for unique adventures and much more. It is a destination for passion and romantic muses.Not everyone sees the same thing in the moonlight. That’s what makes us individuals with our own personalities. So moon was perfect. Here we are four years later and I never explained my own word properly. It wasn’t the time for things to manifest themselves I guess.So during this busy writing week the question of the “A” came at me from a new direction. I began to dissect the word into pieces and discovered something amazing! Something that was unexpected and priceless! Tabs. Usually associated with technology these days or music right? But a deeper dictionary dig reveals a less used meaning! Tabs can also mean close surveillance. To watch. To single out or designate. I was blown away! All this time it had escaped me. I am going to head out into the wilds of Tasmania and sit quietly while I contemplate that one. MOONTABS is about connections to nature and looking for them. Watch, single out, and surveillance. It’s there in my own word. Oh by the way! It’s your word too! I mentioned that a long time ago.

I am headed to the farm property today to ditch my creative hangover with some fresh air. I hope to realign my spirit energy and do some inner battery charging. Autumn 2022 is here and I wish to capture some the transition on the farm before I head back to the Adks. A thought came to me this week. A plausible explanation of something else. If the “A” is not meant to have one descriptive word associated with it or one meaning then there was a reason why that happened. Just as there are many unexplained reasons why any multitude of things happen. Coincidence, circumstance, or something beyond our understanding of the now. So the “A” can be whatever you want it to be. It’s your personal invitation to hide your secret and special word into my journey. Our journey as it is truly not mine alone. The fun times and stories that make up the MOONTABS are diverse at times. As am I. Continued introductions are how I seek to emphasize my personal growth or lack there of when I stall out. Either way it’s meant to keep me real to my readers. It’s a place of elemental honesty. Failure is as noteworthy as success and should never be kept out of journey if the portrait is to be genuine.

BTW! Mr. Jangles left me a note in my luggage! Tiny droppings.A gift that traveled 400 miles and crossed the border. I guess he didn’t know how to write me a note any other way. Goodbyes are hard for him apparently. There’s a lot buried in those tiny, nasty droppings. Mr. Jangles is a heavy over thinker it appears. In every gross dropping was a message to me! They read like this as I fished them out of my duffle bag: #1 Hey buddy do you miss me? #2 Are you coming back? #3 No hard feelings trying to kill me. I forgive you!#4 You can’t beat me anyway you know! Give it up pal! #5 If you do come back please bring more of those delicious peanut butter cookies! Yum! #6 Yes I will be careful! Thx for caring!God I hate owls!Hooting all night when I am trying to sleep. #7 Those other mice weren’t my family. Quite the story there. Sometimes I have been lost in this world with just my quick wits, passion for life, and my love of fun adventure to keep me moving forward. That’s ok because getting lost leads me to new places. And new and exciting possibilities.I always count the many blessings bestowed on me.I believe in the future. And that belief will always drive me to live my best life.And you thought being me was simple. Silly you!.#8 Just wanted you know how fun it all was! Most campers are boring so I ignore them.#9 Oh by way that fleece hoodie of yours that I chewed up made a super bed! Sorry about! I have teeth that keep growing just so you know! #10 Do you realize how long it took me to chew through that bathroom floor? BTW! I didn’t chew through that hot water line! It was those other ones!#11 I know you are wondering. How did I know that the cookies were peanut butter? Winter is a drag so I taught myself how to read from some old magazines before I chewed them up. National Geographic was my favorite! Especially the pictures.Sure would love to spend the winter in Florida! It’s cold here! #12 I don’t want hurt your feelings but this MOONTABS thing you guys were talking about. I don’t get it. Oh you better check that MOONTABS shirt! I really needed to pee! Sorry!#13 Best wishes my friend! I hope you find what you keep searching for! Enjoy the Great Wander and chasing the buzz! Be it on rock, water, or sky. I will send positive energy across the miles! We made a connection! One more thing! I am not old so don’t call me that! Premature gray runs in my family. I’m more Mus than Muridae so please correct that!Our story isn’t finished. Peace out! Mr. Jangles

Can you even imagine? 13 droppings in my duffle bag! The nerve of that rodent! Yes you deserve that Mr. Jangles! That was my favorite hoodie and a Northface at that! 😡 This is a true story folks! Mr. Jangles is very real! These things really happened! I intend to visit him next August.You can’t make this stuff up! Out on the big lake known as Dumoine life continues without us and things continue to add up as they seem to do there. Mr. Jangles lives out his simple life and continues to fight for survival. I suppose we all do in some capacity. Until then I better check my belongings over because there may be more messages left there!It seems like forever until we return but time moves quickly these days. How how will I fill my days and nights until that fateful August week arrives? Outside and seeking new adventures. Exploring beyond that distant horizon.Inside researching and fact checking.Looking for the paths less traveled. Tapping the keys and tapping into my mind. Many stories remain to be told.The question of the next adventure is never if but when. I pray for strength and good health to bring me there and back. I leave you with portions of a Wally Byam quote that truly says it all. I find myself between its lines and it empowers me to live as never before. I mentioned it in another post and I have a personal connection to it. “Don’t stop.Keep right on going…go someplace you’ve heard about…Find out what’s at the end of some country road. Go see what’s over the next hill,and the one after that,and the one after that.” I’ll let you know when I hear from Mr. Jangles. Maybe I can take him to Florida next year.🤔✍️

Bush Days:The Balance Is Struck

Posted on September 22, 2022June 5, 2023 by Greg Washburn

Today is a special for those closely connected to nature. The annual fall equinox. Equinox in Latin means equal night. That place of equal darkness and daylight. It’s always worthy of acknowledging I feel. This the first day of autumn. Nature didn’t wait for this day to start the transition though. It’s been underway for several weeks as summer days wound down. It’s easy to get too busy and miss things at times. But I had noticed. The small details of an impending autumn. As autumn arrived in 2021 I posted The Transition. My thoughts of autumn still hang there like leaves on a tree. I read it this equinox morning and found something in my own words. Nothing has changed in nature. It’s predictable here in a four season part of the world. Solid as a rocky summit. My life certainly continues to change. I draw strength from that in a complex study of time and existence. Nature will light the way once again with beautiful colors and a magical transition. The transformation I also call it. I will be returning to the Adirondacks soon to reflect as I assemble pieces to a bigger puzzle. It’s time to explore some new ground.I dedicate this post to a good friend who is fighting a battle.He likes heavy music. The band Breaking Benjamin song Down says a part of what I am trying to move past this morning. “Oh light carry me over the ground. Heavy won’t hold me down”.Got your back Bro! How ironic the equinox. Equal darkness and light today. But it’s time to get back to the bush. And run wild there in the light.

We woke up Tuesday in our home away from home bush cabin full of expectation. It was our final full day on the lake. We hit the water early fully stocked with water and snacks. The fishing was more for numbers at this point. We had cracked the 194 walleye record on Monday. Greg was talking a lot about returning in 2023 despite the minor but inconvenient problems with the cabin. The big variable would be our choice of a cabin. We had scouted the locations of some of the other cabins during the week to decide what would be our best fit. There were still numerous areas of the lake we hadn’t explored. It’s that big! We had decided on Monday that we would explore a southern finger of the lake after the morning fish. Raspberry Point was close to the unexplored section so it was a logical choice. We were wanting to find Cabin 3 to see if it was a possible 2023 destination. Typical of most mornings we were the only people out on the lake. I feel small in those moments in a wonderful manner! Big water. Big forest. Big skies. And a sudden provocative thought by me who had considered for a nanosecond tossing technology overboard: bring a drone next time. The vastness could be captured in a far different perspective than my words. Or better yet a mix of both! Or to really up the ante a triple dip. Words, drone footage, and a live presentation! Enter the challenge. Imagine bringing that to someone who had always dreamed of doing something like that but hadn’t. I know a guy! Time had run out and now he just couldn’t. A true explorer and adventurer himself but unable physically to make the trip these days. What an ultimate gift to give to a man who had inspired me greatly in so many ways. He told me once I needed to follow my heart with my writing and get it in gear. He’s here in the blog posts if you wish to ferret him out.

We were anxious to explore so we cut the morning fish short and headed south into the unknown. I was cognitive of our isolation and was being super cautious.Polarized sunglasses are a necessity when exploring bush waters. If you wear them sunken shoals and obstacles show up brown in the dark water long before you get to them. Not always though. It depends on the day. My depth finder doesn’t work well when we reach a certain speed. The cavitation messes with it. Note to self: get a better one! But the thrill of searching new territory supersedes any hesitation. Best not to let the mind wander. That’s actually a good thing.You don’t think of things like going home or all the responsibilities waiting there. The moment is all about safety and focus. We left a big open section of water behind and entered a section where my stomach churned with a mix of apprehension and excitement.Numerous small clusters of bare rocks jutting out from the points of small islands. I throttled way down and we probed our way into a section of bays with sandy beaches. We consulted the map briefly and tried to figure out how to reach Cabin 3. We decided that it must lie behind a long narrow peninsula to the left of the bow. I pushed back out into a larger section of open water and throttled back up. We rounded the peninsula and spotted a beach that begged cabin site. Yup! There it was! The person or persons who had decided to build here had chosen wisely. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to have been those people. To see the possibilities and set a plan into motion. The metric tons of work involved. The logistics of getting the materials into the bush. The logging roads we had traveled hadn’t always been there Eric later told me. Bush planes had been the norm. This entire lake had once been a fly in destination. The work they had accomplished was impressive and must have taken a lot of time.

We cautiously entered the bay that led to the cabin. I trimmed the motor up manually as I had done so often during the week and we eased towards. There were several strange looking groups of rock that seemed unnatural. As we approached them we realized that they were the remains of dock cribs.In some distant time there had been some sort of elaborate docking system here. The cabin looked deserted like no one had been there in awhile. A strange feeling came over me then. The deserted cabin and dock remains had a story behind them. We beached the boat and stepped onto a sandy beach with no human tracks on its surface. The area behind the beach was littered with old pieces of dock. Weathered and untouched for some time it appeared. There was a large deck missing it’s steps. It was entering a ghost town.The grass was long and weeds covered what had once been a yard. There was a leaning water platform similar to our cabin set up but much higher. There was no ridge to place the tanks on so the builder had built a tower. Still standing but a little tired. We entered the bush cabin because we knew it wasn’t occupied by any party of fisherman. There are never any locks on bush cabins. We follow the unwritten rules of bush etiquette. Never enter an occupied cabin without permission and respect others privacy. The cabin obviously hadn’t been occupied in awhile. There were signs of rodents everywhere. I thought about Mr. Jangles and doubted that he would like this cabin. Slim pickings and no humans to keep him company. No games of cat and mouse so it would be most boring for him. After all he was no ordinary rodent.In fact the term rodent was a bit below him. He was best represented by the word Muridae. It speaks of family and belonging to a higher order. It spoke of history and painful evolution. Nature at its finest moment. And what gives me the right to judge any life form? We as humans consider ourselves the God Species.Gods of arrogance perhaps. Best exit that unstable ground. More importantly was my twisted relationship with Mr. Jangles! I was ready for another round with him. I politely told Zane that he was out of the game. It wasn’t fair two on one! Funny the thoughts that were triggered stepping into that cabin 3.

The place had been rather nice once.Big for a bush cabin and on a remote part of the lake. With a good cleaning crew it could be brought back to life. The roof seemed intact and it was very well furnished. We pinched a nice cooking pot since our cabin lacked one. That’s bush life survival we adopted in 2016 when our outfitter didn’t provide us with everything they promised. Wrong maybe but we needed things and had no way to get them. I called it raiding and Zane loved it! I told him we were like Vikings storming a beach! We weren’t stealing since everything belonged to the same outfitter. We had found two abandoned cabins and helped ourselves to the firewood woodsheds. Our cabin woodshed had been totally empty and the nights were cold. We pinched a piece of cookware that time also. Shame on them and us! That is quite another story. Very real and a happy memory. Pure bush country MOONTABS.

We wrote cabin 3 off after that and headed back onto the lake. Eric was coming to fix the plumbing after brunch. We explored a few hidden coves before heading back. There was so much of it out there! I had hoped to explore the outlet of the lake. The map shows a set of rapids. I love waterfalls and whitewater. But there was no time for it. Greg had been clever this time around! He had brought his gps unit along and had our route mapped out. I simply followed the course it had plotted and we had full throttle cruising with no fear of sunken shoals. To think that I had considered throwing the technology overboard! Was I crazy? I do struggle with my own lemming like race into technology’s embrace sometimes. It’s recorded on these pages that live in the cloud. We are getting dangerously close to Tazmania and I would rather be cruising the lake.

The ride back was uneventful and beautiful like always. We were all thinking about leaving tomorrow I knew but we were dodging it like a squirrel crossing a busy road. The scenery drew me back into the now where I knew I was supposed to be. There was still time. And what a trip! Eric showed up shortly after we finished brunch and found the problem with the shower valve. It was plugged from debris that had collected in the gravity tanks. I liked Eric and envied his laid approach to everything even if I didn’t agreed with his idea of maintenance. But his true character was about to show itself in his disregard for convention and love of a lifestyle far from modern society. I volunteered to go help him with the leaks under the cabin. I used the opportunity to grill him with questions and soon began to build out the puzzle. The events of 2020 had really thrown the business into a tailspin. He obviously loved his girls and needed to provide for his family. 70 percent of their business had been lost over the last two years but he was counting his blessings still. Maintenance had taken the backseat by necessity. They don’t own the lake or the land. They pay an annual lease of some magnitude. He’s made it 25 years since the previous owner. I enjoyed hearing his honest testimony. Not complaining just accepting the reality. I asked him about the fish that were in the deep section of the lake. I asked if anyone ever caught lake trout here. Years ago he said but rarely now although a fellow had caught a 17 pound one a couple years back. We had been there a week and had seen very few people at all. We never saw anyone fishing for trout period.My mind began to percolate with possibilities. Things were continuing to add up.

We still hadn’t paid for trip yet and Eric hadn’t even mentioned it. We asked if they took credit cards but they weren’t set up for that. We had wondered about paying so we had brought fat stacks of Canadian money. Eric didn’t know that yet though. He said that he would tally up our bills right then and there. You can wire me the money when you return to the states he calmly stated. Talk about trust! They had never even asked for a deposit in the first place. His comment gave me pause for reflection. Such trust in these modern times! We said no worries we brought cash just in case! At the table he wrote up our bills and then turned it over to us. Sorry for all the problems with the cabin he said. I tweaked your bill. Is this amount ok? Greg and I took a quick glance then said absolutely! He had been totally fair. I then asked him the big question that I had been mulling on after discussions with my companions. How many people would we need to rent the big cabin 6? Four would seal the deal Eric said with no hesitation in his voice and no deliberation. A shock as it can accommodate over 12. I told Eric that we would discuss things and let him know.We had toured cabin 6 earlier in the week before the gun toting party crew had arrived. I immediately liked the size of it and it’s log cabin construction. Someone had taken pride in the building and it was still in pretty good shape. The ice house was adjacent to it as well. Enter another new character: Raquel. She was cleaning the cabin with one of Eric’s daughters the day we met her. On vacation herself and helping out. She was smoking on a cigarette and sipping a hard seltzer while she gave us a tour. I got a little of her story. She worked in a location that I won’t mention to respect her privacy. She fished with Eric’s girls and helped take care of them. She was French but spoke excellent English. I could hear the accent in her voice. I liked her friendly openness and hospitality letting us tour the cabin. After we left I asked Greg and Zane what they thought of cabin.They both thought it was nice. I said that I thought it was an upgrade from our cabin most certainly. We spoke of it occasionally throughout the remainder of the week.

We all enjoyed the newly functioning shower after Eric departed. Strange to think that all commuting here was by boat. I hadn’t missed driving a vehicle or had even thought about it to any degree. And just like that the day ticking forward. We decided to skip our naps and go all the way down to the outfitter’s landing. We would go right to the evening fishing locations immediately after. Our phones were all but dead. Our battery backup units were dead. We needed a generator to get things charged back up. It was a nice cruise although we hit some chop on the way while cruising the big open section where days before we had battled the storm. We recognized much of the landscape now. The familiar sight of Garbage Island rising straight up out a deep section of the lake. We had history here now. No longer greenhorns of the lake. Our walleye count was at an impressive 211! Greg was so far in the lead at this point the competition was over for Zane and I. But we all knew that it had taken a team effort to reach the count. What a week! And there was still time! The motor hummed with steady rhythm and I was awash in brilliant sunshine enjoying my surrender to the bush.

We arrived at the landing and cautiously approached the small house greeted again by the old grumpy dog. He was very protective of the girls and although I love dogs I never tried to pet him. Eric’s daughter came out to see what we wanted. We got set up for charging and learned that we could jump onto their Wi-Fi. The messages started dinging across phones as we reentered the modern world. Greg got word out to his wife on my phone as he had no service in Canada. I sent my sister a brief message letting her know that I was alive. I had a message from my foreman in Lake Placid. Enter the impending return to reality. Zane contacted his mom and just like that we were much closer to our lives back home. Raquel showed up by boat and I asked her if cabin 6 was available next August. She consulted the hand written booking journal and asked for a date. August 11th I decided after checking my phone calendar. And to think I had considered throwing my technology overboard! It’s open Raquel said. I asked Greg what he thought but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to decide so quickly. I mentioned that we should decide then or we might not get the booking. I knew both he and Zane were eager to return. They just needed a small nudge. Cabin 6 was open for the dates we wanted so I asked Raquel how much it would cost to reserve it. $100/person was needed. Raquel said we could send it after we got back to the states. I said I’ve got it right here! $300 Canadian that I don’t need back in the states. So just like that it was done! We would be returning in 2023. There was a comfort in that moment that’s difficult to put into words but I have a good idea what I was reaching for with impulsive reckless. Hope. That good health and good fortune would bring us all back to this special place with others whom we wanted to share it with. And me the pensive one felt something else. A chill below my happy surface. Too many times life had happened with no warning. Changed everything in the blink of an eye. Someday I will share portions of the story Escape Velocity. Written in May of 2018 it was as deep a place as I ever dove as a lover of words. I never finished it. It wasn’t meant to be finished I suppose. How do you finish what has just begun? But the sun was too warm for chills to linger long that afternoon.Inside or out. It was time to move past the brambles that scratch at hope.

We headed back towards the fishing spot and I took a slightly different route to mess with Greg. I knew that he’d notice eventually and I was full of mischief. Ile Quabie is massive and in my mind I had it all mapped out. This isn’t right Greg suddenly said! Really? I feigned ignorance. He caught onto my treachery when the familiar sight of Raspberry appeared with startling clarity. I privately reveled in the strength of my inner compass. It’s always been there for me.My imagination likes to think that I have some special connection to the magnetic poles. Probably it but I do know one thing thing. My compass does love to pull north.Someday I intend to head up beyond the trees all the way to Hudson Bay. I suppose my compass pulls in all four directions at once sometimes. That’s tricky.

Greg ruled the last evening of fishing although Zane and I did well. We had reached the point where we couldn’t keep any walleye so we were throwing everything back. Under sized fish were known as throwbacks. Sometime during the week Greg and Zane had started calling them “Becksteads”. In reference to a fellow colleague that Greg and I worked with years ago. (New character enter and exit). The walleye were turned on in a feeding frenzy and we were racing through our remaining bait. There came the time of the last worm. Zane got it and hooked a walleye with it. In the process of Greg netting it for him the worm dropped into the water where it began to slowly sink. I made a daring leap from my seat and made what’s know as a glove save. Wow! Greg was shaking his head and called me crazy! Didn’t go overboard though! I was down to my last leech just as it was turning dusk when I felt a huge weight on my line. I set the hook and the fight was on! The biggest one I had hooked for the trip! But it shook free without breaking my line. I was pretty bummed for awhile after that but forgot about it as we headed back watching yet another beautiful sunset. No two were ever the same. This was the final night! We settled into the evening routine a little later then usual and sat around the table while Greg tallied up the fish count. We had a combined catch of 240 walleye! A mix of keepers and Becksteads and an impressive catch on new water. We weren’t expecting any visitors but one showed up unannounced!

I was sitting in my usual spot at the end of the table when Greg nodded his head towards the stove. There he was! Mr. Jangles! But a shiver ran down my spine and I was frozen in my seat by what I was seeing! Mr. Jangles was hard at work trying to get an old smear of peanut butter from the trigger of one of the mouse traps! I hadn’t sprung them but I hadn’t baited them either. Greg thought it was funny but I watched in horror as he continued to feed. Mr. Jangles was a true master of stripping a trap. He was nonchalantly oblivious to the danger that he was in. I was worried that if I startled him it would spell disaster. He worked carefully though I soon realized. Like a safe cracker working the dial of a vault. His tiny whiskers accented his face perfectly. He had a look of elderly class. Well groomed with shiny fur unlike the other mice that had been killed early on . His eyes were small but intelligent and he made eye contact with me for a moment. Careful Mr. Jangles! Focus! It seemed like an eternity but he suddenly stepped off the trap and headed across the kitchen floor. To my great relief he ignored the other trap. Zane was headed out of the bathroom and was eager to engage Mr. Jangles but I ordered him to stand down. He obeyed my orders and Mr. Jangles disappeared into the bathroom. We never saw him again and I later regretted not trying to strike up a truce by offering him some peanut butter with crackers. Why did I surrender to Mr.Jangles? That’s tough to explain but I will take a stab at it. Perhaps I grew to respect his knack for survival. His reckless behavior. His almost playful and social demeanor. His energy of purpose when chewing through the cabin walls. A bush mouse has numerous predators. They come from all directions.Birds of prey by day and night. Weasels and mink by ground. Foxes too if they inhabit that part of the bush. A mouse’s life is short.Especially if it enters a human dwelling. Why is this so important or impressive to me? At this point in life I have developed a knack for survival. I was once reckless. I am playful and full of energy. As for predators in human society they too exist. Human not animal. Mr. Jangles shares survival with us. It’s just a different type. I see the connections to nature everywhere. They need time to show themselves on occasion. As for the mice in my farm warehouse destroying everything? Sorry! No surrender!

So we are almost at the end of this fabulous week in the Quebec bush! But it’s never over till it’s over as they say! Especially not with my companions. We had our final fish fry but not before having a campfire happy hour on the beach. We talked about 2023 and what things needed to be added to our packing lists. We had been adding to them all week. It would be time in 2023 for classic 6 “Ps” doctrine. “Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance”. I have huge plans for 2023! A generator and Keurig coffee maker. Tools and repair items. Extra phone battery backups. Who knows what else. A satellite phone would be nice. That drone set up too. Vlogging kit along for the ride. And me who had considered throwing technology overboard! We’ll be introducing some new characters we hope and checking up on some old ones. My chill had been beaten back by all that was possible. It seemed funny as we went to our bunks that we would be sleeping back home the next night. I had taken the mouse traps out of commission. We packed quickly the next morning after coffee and breakfast. Eric had dropped off a second boat for us Tuesday night because we still had to hoss a lot of freight even though we had used most of our supplies. We did the dishes,swept up, and took out our garbage. Leave no trace principles inside.We loaded our boats carefully and took a last look around. As we were leaving Zane and I were overcome by laughter that hurt. Greg couldn’t get his boat started and it was so hilarious watching him! We laughed so hard we had to move away from him! He got his motor going eventually and made it out into deeper water but stalled out. Being a team player we headed over to help him.Not! Being who we are we approached him at full speed and turned suddenly hitting his boat with a huge wake! More laughter till our sides hurt! Greg got going and decided to retaliate in kind. It was on! Bush lake chicken fights! Our heavy boat was no match for Greg’s but he was a good sport and hit us with numerous wakes. It was the perfect way to end the trip! Full of life and making the most of every moment possible. We settled into the long ride back but encountered some heavy waves in the biggest section of the lake. It was cool and cloudy when we reached the beach and said goodbyes to the family. We loaded the truck and gave the girls a tip for helping us. As I stood there I said a silent blessing to the sky. May we return to this beautiful and special lake. May this family survive all obstacles and their business survive as well. May we be blessed to return together… I don’t think that I have ever left a bush camp without being changed in some manner. I would think of this place often and picture it as we left it. The drive out was long and uneventful. We stopped on a large bridge above a place Eric called a walleye spawning sanctuary. In the spring when the ice leaves the lakes their glowing eyes number in the thousands at night. That is the draw here. The walleye and the hunt for them each day. But something larger finds us there. I have told you what it meant to me. The bonds we made together can not be broken now. It happened. We made it real and fun. I grew as a father and as a friend. I experienced something familiar in a new location. Back in the valley someone will always ask: why waste all that money and go so far? We have walleye right here. I nod my head and say yes! You are right! Then walk away to hide my knowing smile!Not everyone charges their spirit battery the same way! MOONTABS aren’t for everyone.✍️

We wrote

Surrendering To The Bush

Posted on September 21, 2022August 7, 2023 by Greg Washburn

This is the fifth post of the Canadian bush series. Initially it was going to be a single post but I decided that there was a much bigger story. I left a lot of myself between the lines.And openly in the lines. Consider it the driftwood of life. I’ve written of driftwood on other occasions. I am a collector of driftwood actually. It speaks to me of nature’s power. There is a shallow sandy beach in the Adirondacks where sunken driftwood lies in rippled sand. On sunny days under gently lapping waves it appears with mesmerizing clarity. I wade there sometimes collecting small pieces that catch my eye. It’s a wonderful place to relax and reflect. Perception and imagination wait just below the surface to be discovered. The sandy sections of beaches on Lake Dumoine were littered with driftwood. In these posts I set my personal driftwood of life afloat there for you to discover. You’ll never need to dig below my surface. I want you to know certain things. And perhaps see what I see in those tiny weathered pieces of time. I hope you find a greater connection to nature there.

Monday morning arrived with the precision of routine firmly established. We were settled in and truly having a wonderful time. Running free with renewed spirit energy I felt. My companions might have their own words for how they felt. Greg was firmly ahead in the competition in the remaining two categories. Zane was becoming intent on the total number of walleye caught. We got up and there was zero visibility on the lake. A heavy fog covered everything and the boat was almost invisible at the end of the dock. No worries right? We know the lake now! It was cool and we all were decked out in heavy rain gear as we left the dock. The motor was a little sluggish and had started harder then usual. It was impossible to see very far in front of the boat and my eyes began to feel strained almost immediately. I tried running the center of the finger that made up our portion of the lake. I couldn’t see the trees or anything else I used for navigation. We never thought to bring Greg’s gps unit at the time. He had loaded it with fishing locations and it plots courses automatically. We sure could have used it! I did fairly well at first navigating the initial finger but we soon entered one of the larger sections of the lake. Fog in all directions! I grabbed one vague shoreline glimpse and pointed in the direction I felt was right. I kept the throttle cracked full on. Nothing dangerous there. The 15 horsepower motor doesn’t push us along all that fast especially with three good sized guys in the boat! On a side note I would have to mention how happy I was with the four stroke Yamaha engine. Easy to operate and super efficient on gas. We hadn’t used much gas given the miles we were covering each day. I did all the driving and my two companions were thrilled with that. Conversation was difficult when underway even though the motor wasn’t all that loud. Combined with the wake noise and the noise of the boat itself conversation at the stern of the craft wasn’t happening. I plenty of time for thinking while driving and I enjoyed those private moments.

I knew it was about 4 miles to our destination and that a large expanse of unbroken water needed to crossed. My eyes were really feeling the strain by this time. Off on the eastern horizon the sun was getting brighter but the land masses remained in gray shadows. My internal compass told me Ile Quabie should show itself shortly. It’s a huge island that dominates a southern section of the lake. We were searching for Raspberry Point on the eastern side on it. Suddenly I spotted a land mass off to my right and slowed our forward progress. It looked familiar but much of the lake shoreline looks the same. Rocky with the forest coming right down to the water. You can’t just stop anywhere on Lake Dumoine and exit your boat. The broken glacial rocks of the shorelines are uninviting. They are a risky proposition. Out alone with no rescue plan in effect you protect your hull and motor propeller as if your life depends on it. None of us relished ever needing to spent a night on shore or trying to row back to camp. Those thoughts weighed heavily on my common sense rather often to be blatantly honest. But we were somewhat prepared for emergency. Lighters and flashlights. Some water and knives. Snacks and almost always fish that could have been cooked on shore. A plan for future trips began to percolate in the recesses of my mind. Enter the lists jotted down in our personal camp journal.A book in itself. A story within a story. To plan to return to the bush is the story of hope itself. That place of dreams and drive. Hold that thought and I will return there. The forest that is the bush itself is thick and lush. It’s wild and beautiful The sandy bays and sections of beach offer better opportunities. In fact all of the cabins we had seen were built up above sandy beaches. This beautiful place was a hidden gem of many facets. It caught the light from every angle. Lost in a fog? No concern of mine.

As I slowed the boat and neared what I believed was Raspberry Point I suddenly realized that something was amiss! That island feature sure did look like Raspberry Point! But that rock shouldn’t be there. Nor that line of rocks that created a shoal. Ok! Time to stop and regroup. None of us recognized our location but I can’t say I was anything more then confused. The sun was rising even higher by the minute and it was only matter of time before the fog lifted. But the morning walleye fishing window would be closed by then. It was the perfect walleye morning. Walleye chop and cooler temperatures. I consulted the map then handed it to my companions. Greg and I couldn’t reach an agreement as to our location. I gazed through the murk and my internal compass found the bearings suddenly. I engaged the gears and said here we go! I got this one! I wasn’t entirely sure at first as we sped along side of what I knew had to be Ile Quabie. The sun had turned the trick of location and realigned the compass. And just like that Raspberry Point showed itself and we were back on track. This was to be Zane’s morning to shine and show his walleye skills.

Greg is definitely the best walleye fisherman of the three of us. His jigging techniques and choice of colors had assured his standing. My leeches keep Zane and I in the standings. Jigging has never my strong suit. Greg had given Zane one of his jigs that was rocking the boat. He then coached him with his technique. Zane already had a good jigging technique and had proved himself in 2016 at the Quebec lake known as Echouani. He had taken the prize of catching the most walleye.With my help and guidance I suppose but the credit became all his. Some nights his skill with the rod would amaze me! My catch would suffer as I netted fish after fish for him. But I was the clear winner of fatherly pride as I lived those treasured moments with my son. I can’t tell the whole story now or the story of Echouni in 2015 when he took his first ever bush trip. Magic lives in my son’s fingertips. Be it fishing rod or in his guitar these days.

Monday morning was all Zane’s. He was dialed in and his jigging was productive. He took the morning count easily. Greg and I were happy for him! I was off and missed multiple fish. But my mind wasn’t on fishing. It was lost in small details of nature. An eagle put in a brief appearance for the second time that week. The sun and lifting fog were beautiful. Although I was trying to block it out I knew Tuesday was our final day of bush living. My companions spoke of it too. But there was still time to run wild and free. Age means nothing in those moments for me. We were all equals on the lake. Far from the expectations of modern life and society. Far from technology even though we had it in our hands. As crazy as it sounds there were moments when I wanted to toss everything associated with technology overboard in some strange gesture of rebellion. But it would pollute the lake and a blogger needs technology. Let me think on that one.I think harmony is the best word for what my companions and I were feeling. We all felt something powerful. The energy radiated in laughter and excitement. Enter the surrender. I had surrendered to the power of the moment. The now. If only. If only I could bottle that moment and share it.It was nothing new to me this buzz of nature and experience. It had found me many times over the years. And the words I so often repeat: I will chase it forever!

Monday post morning fishing presented us with a new and pressing problem. The routine went well until Greg went to shower. Zane had his first and all had gone well. Greg was not so fortunate however. It seems the hot water side of the mixing valve was not functioning. He got a rather cold shower and he was not happy! Not good for me either as I was last in line. Why of showers in the first place? First and foremost not all bush camps even them. Or flush toilets and running water.Bathing in the lake is an option with consequences in most of the bush lakes I fished. The wonderfully clean water holds a predator other than walleye! Bloodsuckers! I hate getting them on me! So no lake bath for me! I chose to tackle the water issue head on. The ridge gravity tanks were full and everything else worked but the hot water knob of the shower. I crawled under the cabin looking for potential problems. Found one! Wait two! Leaks in the hot water lines! Small but enough to cause a problem perhaps. Guess we now why the propane ran out. Hot water was leaking out 24/7. I’m sure Eric had no clue and it appeared rodents might the root of the issue. I knew the mouse escaped under the bathroom when we pursued it. There was nothing we could find that we could fix at any rate. Not given our lack of tools. I took a cold shower and my demeanor was threatening to spoil the happy feelings of the morning. We headed out early that afternoon to contact Eric for assistance. Rewards are always waiting there for us when we least expect them. It was mostly clear as we cruised the finger on our mission to find Eric. By now the lake shore was familiar. We were running the center of the finger in the safety of the deep water. I noticed something in a small cove off to left that resembled a brown stone. I thought to myself that’s strange! I don’t remember that rock out out in the bay. My “ rock” moved and the calm surface of the water exploded! My rock further appeared from under the surface and I realized it was a cow moose! I throttled down and yelled to my companions! The moose didn’t want to have its picture taken though and burst out of the shallows on a dead run. It crossed the beach quickly and hesitated for a moment. It looked over its shoulder before racing off into the forest. Just like that and no one saw but me. We found Eric out on the lake and flagged him down. He said he would come up by the next morning at the latest. We were ok with that as we wanted to get out for the evening fish.

The evening fish once again proved the worth of the lake. Zane and I continued to add to our take home count. Greg carried the night and we were now tossing back walleye that would make some fisherman cringe. I was still off though catching fish. Not concentrating. I wasn’t concerned though. My numbers were solid and we had fish enough for the last two nights of frying. One day we had eaten walleye twice. I was ready for something a little different for dinner and promised the boys Alfredo pasta for one of the sides. Beans and potatoes are great but not every night. We had a great evening and yet another spectacular sunset. We discussed a plan for our final full day and decisions were made to include everyone’s wishes. As we cruised all of us seemed a little caught up in the moment. Zane was snapping photos and videos. He was talking to Greg but I couldn’t hear a thing. The routine played out with a comfortable rhythm. But something or rather someone was missing.

Our friend the mouse had been strangely absent. I felt maybe it was stressed after the last harrowing game of cat and mouse. I began to worry about it actually. I won’t lie here. The mouse traps were still set but I was forgetting to bait them. Or was I? I kept hoping it would show up while we were making dinner. I expressed my concern about the mouse to my companions but they had no answers. We were all wondering if there were still others though. We were at the table and the conversation turned to the movie “ The Green Mile” starring Tom Hanks. If you know the movie you might assign me as being Percy! Trying to kill the mouse and almost successful. Hmmm. I had never given my opponent a name or implied gender. I had been referring to the mouse as It. Creepy if you ever saw the movie:The Silence of The Lambs. Very derogatory and disrespectful to my worthy opponent. At this point in the story I am going to name the mouse Mr. Jangles. The mouse has earned that privilege. I hope it’s not a copyright infringement. The evening played out and Mr. Jangles never showed. We were all feeling a little melancholy about our trip nearing its end. But it wasn’t over and we still had time! This story must continue!

At this point in the story I wish to add a new character. Kathy. No she wasn’t in the bush country of Western Quebec. But she’s a blog reader and offered me some interesting encouragement! She liked the story but was interested in hearing more about the mouse from the start! I valued her feedback and assigned the mouse Mr. Jangles a greater place in the story. He’s the constant I once mentioned. He provides levity in the middle of this very real story. In a continued introduction to myself please note I am not lost or trapped in the pragmatic wilderness I call Tasmania. Quite the contrary. I liken Tasmania as a vast forest where I go to unload some heavy thoughts and escaped for awhile. Sharing stories and hoping to make a difference. Nature heals me and helps me grow as an individual. I will end this post with a quote written by someone I know very well. “ The answers to all questions in nature might be found. Never to have asked them, uncertain future bound”. ✍️.

Bush Cabin 5:Branching Out

Posted on September 20, 2022September 20, 2022 by Greg Washburn

This is the fourth post of the Quebec bush trip. Final? Can’t say just yet. The front brim of my hard hat at work sports the Looney Tunes character the Tasmanian Devil.Under it the name Taz. My nickname on the job. Are you a devil I am often asked? No I reply. “The devil is in the details”. That’s what I throw back at them before I walk away. So I can’t say how many posts it will take to get this story told right. But it’s a fun web to spin.One of details and tiny strands that connect. I do one know thing.For most people I know bush camping is a place of discovery,exploration, and adventure. For me? Yes to all of them.But there’s a much deeper place where I find myself as the memories build. Deeper then the one section of Lake Dumoine where we found ourselves in 142 feet of water while approaching an island. A place where everything disappears in between. The tiny boat above the depths and far below expanses of ever changing sky. I was lost to those moments. Lost to everything that was back home. The triumphs and the failures. The average and mundane. And yes the intersection. The bush had empowered me. My mind had become a clean slate suddenly. And the minutes of the day were the chalk in a calm,steady hand. I had everything I needed as I drove the boat while my son and friend gazed into the distance as miles of lake would fall behind us. If Lake Dumoine was the stage then the characters kept arriving to play their parts. Who was playing the main role? The mouse of course! It had became the constant in the turning of the clock. Our time was growing shorter and although I tried not let the thoughts creep in they would. The best of story writers couldn’t possibly have imagined the events that occurred. That place where I was bent over with laughter! You can’t make this stuff up!

So we were back to normal as Sunday morning turned to afternoon. We decided to skip the naps and get our showers since we had hot water again. We had secured another map from the outfitter and sat around the table studying it. All week we had been observing a large and narrow island that was across the lake from our cabin. It had a large bald section that begged summit to me. It was decided to circle the island first by boat. We would be close to another lake that was off limits to us as it was leased by another outfitter. His clients had been border hopping all week and entering “our” territory. We had mentioned it to Eric but he seemed unconcerned. We had reached the point of our trip that I would title Success. Fish in the fridge. Fish frozen to take home. We were dialed into our fish factory. Raspberry Point. Our totals were approaching some impressive numbers. Greg was intent on breaking a total my friend and I had set in 2013 on a different Quebec lake while on a fly in bush trip. Lawrence and I had caught 194 walleye in 6 days of fishing. Big story to write there someday. And the picture that Lawrence took of me writing in the cabin journal?Priceless to me. I often wonder how many people ever read my simple rhyming words. The poem Lac Hebert was born of experience, the magic of the setting, and me missing Zane. I vowed to Lawrence one night to never go to the bush again without him. A promise I kept.

Our exploration mission was done with the utmost caution. By now we realized how vulnerable we were to breaking down. We talked about at length. We were alone and away from everyone.We would see the outfitter’s family occasionally out fishing or running gas to clients. But there were few clients and most of the cabins were unoccupied. Things continued to add up as we formed our opinions and made our assessments. One thing was crystal clear though. This was wild country and the fishing possibilities were endless. All that being said as the helmsman I protected our prop at all costs. That meant using the depth finder and cruising at low speeds in new sections of water. Rocks and shallow sunken shoals would appear without warning. In the narrow passage the rock formations closed in on us from both sides. Glacial erratics in spots. Tossed into the most unlikely places. It was eerily beautiful! Calm and very quiet. We reached the end of the island and entered the lake that was off limits to us once we crossed a certain point. We called it the Forbidden Zone. A name that fit in with other places we had named. Imagination runs wild in the bush country. Zane sees me in a new light then. I am more friend then father. Equals in the fishing competition where fairness and honesty prevail. Endless teasing between the three of us where language is crude and boisterous. So much had changed in 6 years. My boy was fast becoming a man. It didn’t trouble me though. He was happy and running wild here. I see myself in him sometimes. We share a special bond that nature strengthens with each passing season.

We eventually circled the island and found a rocky landing zone where a faint trail entered the forest. Greg decided to stay with the boat and not hike to the cliff. We had discussed the unique photo opportunities we would attempt to capture. So it was on! Our first hike after countless hours of fishing. We soon learned that the trail was a beaver skid way. They were harvesting aspen far up onto the slopes of the island. They had chewed down some very large trees! Their persistence pays off with the large trees. Often only partially notched by them before the wind does the rest. Regardless their trail gave us a nice path towards the cliff. I noticed a hanging piece of hollow birch bark beside the trail. It would make the perfect fire starter rocket. A trick I had taught Zane years before in the Adirondacks one rainy camping trip. It didn’t take long to get to the summit of the cliff . As we approached I pointed out some bear scat to Zane. We found several piles of them but they weren’t very fresh so we weren’t too alarmed. Black bear are abundant here as are moose. The view from the cliff was awesome! Far below Greg was out in the boat. Our cabin was visible beyond him in the distance. The view of the lake was impressive under the mixed sky of sun and clouds. I shouted out to Greg and we were rewarded with several echoes from different directions. Zane shouted out too and we reveled in the moment.No one to hear us so what did we care? We relaxed there for awhile before heading down to retrieve our birch bark prize. I suddenly noticed something that had escaped me on the hike up. Charred stumps sprinkled amongst the thick bush growth. There had been a forest fire here years ago. The island would have kept it isolated but had it been part of a much larger event? Research project there. We returned to the cabin and I assembled the rocket stove fire stater on the beach away from the cabin. It was decided to make a run to the ice house for bait and ice. The outfitter had told us we could get worms there. Our bait was disappearing fast. I was being careful to keep our leeches cool and in clean water. We had started with a full pound of them and were destined to run out before the end of the trip. They sound gross but they aren’t true bloodsuckers. Baited on a hook and presented properly they catch walleye! A trick a French Canadian had taught me over 20 years ago at nearby Kipawa Lake. We got to the site of the icehouse and cabin 6 to find it occupied. Four rather intoxicated fellows inside and staying there for a few days. We talked awhile and gathered some interesting information about our outfitter. They had been coming every year for over 10 years. They were a wealth of information! One guy had a pistol and I didn’t care for the nonchalant manner he had when he started waving it around. I made sure Zane was out of harms way and decided it was time to go. I would entrust myself to protect my son out on the water but not around this setting. They asked us to return and I knew we wouldn’t. Sometimes in life you get but one chance to get things right. This was one of those times. A loaded revolver should always have the hammer on a unloaded chamber. His was not and I had noticed right off. Greg had also. Their circus and their monkeys. Nice guys though and entitled to their decisions. Exit newest characters.

We had a great night fishing after our visit to cabin 6. We tried a new place off an island we seen the outfitter fishing one night. It lay off the super deep spot where the depth exceeded 140 feet. There were fish suspended at about 50 feet. No one had mentioned lake trout but I know a little about their habits and became curious just what species were lurking down there. There were even a few fish on the bottom. The rise of bottom leading up to the shore of the island was impressive. It jumped in 10 foot increments and we anchored in 20 feet of water. It was a boney bottom and snags were a problem from the start. Greg started catching great walleye from the front of the boat in the deeper water. I was stuck fishing in 10 feet of water and getting nothing. It’s that fickle sometimes. Greg was slightly in the lead in the contest at this point. He continued to pull ahead. He’s a very good walleye fisherman having been taught by a Canadian uncle over in North Bay,Ontario. Zane and I had some decent numbers though. We were a true team effort though. Taking turns netting the fish for each other. A lesson there for Zane. Netting is tricky and a serious responsibility. There’s nothing worse then losing a nice fish because the netter blows it. It does happen though as does having one break loose. We rarely had our lines break as we all use super strong braided line. Almost invisible and a hazard to the netter if they get caught up in it. It cuts like a knife especially with a thrashing walleye on the end of it. I think we all ended up with small cuts by the end of the week.Not to mention pierced by the super sharp dorsal fins the walleye sport. We use a gripper to minimize hazard to ourselves and to protect the fish.I requested to move the boat up to Raspberry Point where there were no snags on the sandy bottom. We named the place Keeper Point as we left due to the size of the walleye it had produced. Another dot on the map of a huge lake.

Back at Raspberry Point the wind picked and the “walleye chop” began to slap the boat. Perfect conditions! The waves seem to make the walleye feed. We all started catching fish and were having one of our best nights so far. We shared a few jokes and had some great laughs over goofy things! The sun set over the island in front of us and the trees took on a detail that the phone camera couldn’t quite capture. It was an epic moment for me. Totally checked out to our bush camp routines and the magic of rolling waves. Waiting for the tug of a finicky walleye. Trying to gauge the moment to set the hook. Concentration that supersedes all else. Only broken by the call of “fish on!” The netter’s job to drop his pole and take care of business. We had become the well oiled machine. We had become much more in fact. A band of brothers who had and were enjoying life to the max. I remember becoming quiet that evening and drifting in the rhythm of the waves. A dance of sorts as I stood there fishing. And I suddenly felt something come over me. I didn’t want to leave this place. Or all the places like it that were such a part of my core being. I had synced into the circle of nature. A place of rising and setting sun in midst of the cycles called seasons.That’s why I had agreed to come on such short notice. Money of little consequence. It can always be earned back in the afterglow of experience. Spontaneous and thrilling are these sudden decisions. There were many reasons why I had come here. Life can be heavy. Challenging and confusing.Filled with crushing heartbreak in many forms. I thought of our good friend Gerald lost to cancer last spring. Oh how he would have loved all this! He so loved to fish. I missed our 4th man who chose not to come. Our dear friend of adventures! I wasn’t filled with sadness. It was something so profound that I may never figure it out.Or even want to. It was turning point at a grand intersection of my life. I would soon be 60 and I was struggling with the idea. The solace of the bush was helping with that.I was living the dream. All those years of work had paved the way forward. I closed my eyes with a setting sun caressing my face and whispered to the sky thanks for my good fortune. All this was enough and would always be so.

We headed back to cabin with a beautiful sunset lighting the way. We passed the outfitter and some others fishing a huge sand bar we named The Markers. They fished there almost every night. We honored their private spot and only fished there once.It was business as usual back at the cabin. Fish to clean and to prep the nightly fry. A few freezer fish were added to the take home count. We were pushing the 194 record and felt pretty confident we would pass it. We were all in the main room when the mouse decided to visit. I know three had died but I persisted in the belief that my adversary hadn’t been killed. It sounds foolish I know but I felt it was true. My companions rolled their eyes at that one! Too much time in the sun perhaps. Why did the mouse tempt fate by showing up while we were there anyway? Something strange was afloat here. It had plenty of time to raid the place when we weren’t there. That’s why I know this was my mouse! He was fearless in a rash and cocky manner. Daring me to try for him again. He brazenly ran along the sink and in behind the stove. “Oh you want some of this? You want to play? It’s on my furry friend!”Yes I may have talked to the mouse! It was business as usual with him taunting me from behind the stove. I knew I was in trouble and called for backup. Zane moved into position and hovered just past the sink like a waiting predator. The odds were in our favor! I faked a move to the left of the stove and the mouse made his signature move! But Zane reached out with cat like reflexes as the mouse sped past. He grabbed the mouse but then screamed as the mouse bit him! The mouse let go without breaking skin or inflicting a wound. That said a lot about it’s character I decided. A good sport and a worthy opponent! The mouse once again reached the safety of the bathroom and we were left humbled by its skill. I reloaded the mouse traps and was thankful we had an abundance of peanut butter.By now I was recognizing the mouse by its size and color. I would know it if I caught it that night. But morning brought nothing but empty traps. And I was happy for that actually. Entertainment comes in different forms as does art. I hoped to soon square off once again with my opponent! The mouse had overstepped its boundaries by raiding in the first place. My companions were beginning to worry about me. Shut up about the mouse! ( sorry stole that line from a movie!) John Steinbeck said it well. “ Trouble with mice is you always kill ‘em” Or this Scots quote: “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”. There is a bigger picture here. This story can’t end! There’s still too much to tell!✍️

Settled Into Bush Life: The Third Mouse Gets The Cheese

Posted on September 18, 2022September 18, 2022 by Greg Washburn

A title is a fun part of every post as I so often mention! I don’t report to a supervisor so I have the freedom of choice here. My titles are as diverse as the life I try to live through outdoor experience. Bush life took on special meaning this year. It had been six years since we last fished the wilds of Canada. The Event had closed the border. Life had changed in the slow turn of seasons. Life continued to change. I needed the bush experience this of all years. I am searching for something someone recently told me. Adventure most certainly. But there’s something much more profound that follows travel and adventure. The words wait for me out there. They are hidden like tiny treasures with no map to follow. Hidden around the world perhaps. Most certainly here in the wilds of North America. It is through spirit energy that they may find my tapping fingers. The Grand Wander may someday connect the dots. Sometimes it’s best to grab the opportunities and not hesitate. This has been summer 2022. The only one I will ever be blessed to experience.

Our third day started out following our new routine. Coffee always for me. Perked on the gas stove and boiling hot. We had been told that our cabin had a generator but it didn’t.Greg had brought a deep fryer for fish and we never got to use it. Too bad as both of us own small Honda suitcase generators that we could have brought. Next time! Charging phones was going to get difficult once our portable battery backups were depleted. There’s no phone service but we all use them as cameras. Getting Zane up and moving was difficult in the early morning hours. But he always did when being threatened with getting left behind. I wouldn’t have though but don’t tell him that! Greg was recording the fishing competition in a notebook I had brought along. Two categories were closed out. First walleye for me. First pike for Greg. I was slightly in the lead in the most walleye category but Greg was catching up. Literally. I held the lead with biggest walleye but I knew my fish couldn’t hold that spot long at a mere 18 inches. Nice fish though and perfect for the table. We continued to catch enough to keep our fish fry count going that morning but realized we needed to do better. So we continued to try new sections on the lake. Lake Dumione is huge and very cut up with islands. There are several extended “fingers”. It was almost intimidating at times. We know walleye though and soon spotted several places we knew might hold them. We were using a portable fish finder to check for depths. Depths are crucial to successful walleye fishing. They love shelves and drop offs. I won’t bore you with walleye fishing tips but wanted to paint a picture of sorts. Three guys in a boat scouting a large lake and mapping it out for possibilities. Our fishing location from the first morning was named The Chicken Hole. Chicken Holes are an Alaska thing when halibut fishing. They contain large numbers of small fish. I named the site of our first successful catch The Chicken Hole because it had earned the title. We were doing ok but wanted to step up our catch. The morning was moderately successful but not fantastic.

The rest of the morning followed our new routine. The weather had been beautiful since that first night but some clouds were rolling in. Back at camp we started the gas water pump and filled the tanks on the ridge that supplied the gravity fed pressurized water system. We also scouted our beach area for firewood and inspected our cabin better. The cabin had a rather tired look about it. Broken door latch on the screen porch. Spots in the ceiling where the roof had leaked at some point. We had everything we needed though and Marly had told Greg that The Event had hurt their business for two years. 70 percent of their customers came from the United States. Maintenance had been put on hold during that time. Things were adding up. So morning routine. Afternoon nap. We had wanted to get out early and scout the lake prior to the evening fish. Most walleye are caught in the morning or in the evening. Afternoons are best spent with other pursuits. I walked out to the dock after I realized how dark and cloudy the sky was getting. We decided to lay low and suddenly we heard the rumble of an approaching thunder storm. The storm hit with little warning and the pouring rain turned into decent sized hail stones. The noise on the metal roof of the cabin was deafening. The precipitation tapered off eventually and I went down to bail out the boat. The hail had given it a nice scrubbing and the scent of fish was gone from it. Bonus! We set out under clearing skies to try a new location. We were getting accustomed to the lake and were venturing further out from the cabin. Our new location proved productive and we named it Raspberry Point. The reasons for this will remain silent. All I can say is that bush people live a bit different then we do! The sunset was beautiful and we returned to the cabin at dusk. The nighttime routine resumed. But our furry rodent friend had been busy!

We had seen the mouse one morning during brunch. It came from out of the bathroom and scurried around in the kitchen. I gave chase but it was extremely fast and agile. The trap continued to be stripped of its peanut butter. The mouse trap was as old and worn as most of our furnishings. I gave it a few adjustments and tried to set a hair trigger on it. Sometime in the night I heard it snap! Got him! In the morning I noticed that the trap trigger was clean. There’s a second mouse I told my companions! I walked around the cabin repeating the old quote: the second mouse gets the cheese. My companions quickly grew tired of hearing it but I was proud of my accomplishment! I found a better trap on the porch and got it functioning. Two traps are better than one! But the second mouse was a master of stripping traps. It doubled down and cleaned both traps. Greg mentioned that there were probably many mice actually. But I stubbornly clung to the idea that I was battling wits with just one. It all came down to me or him! Things were about to get even more interesting! Trying to catch mice was becoming a form of bush camp entertainment. Let’s face it there was no television or internet.

Saturday was a day of reflection for me. Three days had passed since we had left New York.It would mark the halfway point of our trip. We had caught quite a few walleye and a few pike. Many small fish had been safely released along with all the pike. We continued with our routines.Raspberry Point began to prove its worth as a walleye hotspot. Greg pounded them there that morning and evening. He took the lead in total and size. We now had more then enough to eat and began to freeze our take home limits. Six per man. We explored more of the lake but became a little caught up with fishing. We returned to the cabin that night and I had a bunch of fish to clean. Greg and Zane shared other chores but I cleaned and cooked all the walleye. We had just returned to the cabin when Greg said he had spotted the mouse! I grabbed a hiking boot and gave chase! It was an epic battle of cat and mouse. The mouse would hide behind the stove until I flushed him out then cut him off. This went on for a while. Eventually the mouse made a break for it and got past me. I dove at it with a flying leap that was Olympic quality! Missed! I rolled over and gave chase but the mouse made good his escape into the bathroom. Greg was rather dumbfounded by my antics but my determination reached new heights. I tweaked the mouse traps once more. It was close to 10pm and I was in the midst of frying the second pan of fish when the lights began to flicker. Suddenly everything went black! Out of propane. No big deal as there were two tanks. We would just switch over. Simple. Out we went beers in hand to accomplish our simple task. Nothing to this bush camp living! We clicked the valve over and I could hear the sound of gas rushing through the lines. Back to the fish fry!Things were normal for a time but suddenly the lights flickered again and went out. Two dead tanks and out of options. Never! There was a smaller propane tank on an old gas grill outside. We would swap that one into our lines. Off we went beers in hand. Nothing to this bush camp living! But the valve was so tight we couldn’t get it loose. Dinner was somewhat less then perfect. My fish had gotten soggy and everything had gone cold. But we had a much bigger problem. Our propane fridge was down also and all our carefully wrapped fish were in danger of thawing as well as what was inside. The language at this point would have made a sailor blush. No worries Greg had been in the Navy years ago. We began tossing options around. Go find our hosts at 11pm? Considered for a moment. Too risky even though we knew the lake pretty good. We agreed that going to bed was the best option. But something amazing was about to happen!

It’s hard to imagine darkness in this day of light pollution as they call it. Not true in the wilds of Western Quebec. It’s darkness like you may never experience. I had my flashlight close by at any rate. Sometime in the night I was awakened by the snap of the mouse trap. I heard some sounds of struggle but didn’t get up and things soon quieted down. In the morning I was brought to life by Greg’s animated voice. “Dude you’ve got to see this!”. I dragged myself out of bed to see an amazing sight! Two mice caught in the same trap! A true daily double if there ever was one! But my joy was short lived when I realized there would be no morning coffee. Greg and I grabbed an empty cooler before heading to the boat. We knew where we could get ice and possibly find our host. The caretaker cabin and ice house were just a few miles away. Off we went. I was rather crabby and Greg remarked that I was miserable without my coffee. Why wouldn’t I be crabby? My wonderful golden walleye fillets reduced to soggy but edible slabs the night before. Good thing Greg and Zane had eaten first while I was cooking. And then there’s missing the morning fishing outing. Greg and I spotted the caretaker cabin after traveling for a few minutes. Zane had stayed behind to sleep more. We were pleased to see two boats on shore. Both hosts would be there. I approached the cabin rather timidly after reading a sign nailed to the porch. “If you can read this then you are in range”. Makes a person want to knock on the door.No one stirred and the cabin was quiet. We left to go to our next best hope. The icehouse at cabin 6. The outfitter cuts ice in the winter and stores it in a specially constructed building. We had been told to help ourselves by the outfitter and had visited it once before while out exploring. The ice would help save our food until someone brought us a new propane tank. We knew that some of the outfitter’s family was staying in cabin 6 so Greg went up and knocked on the door. A sleepy teenage girl came to the door and agreed to go get her parents up. Back at the camp I decided to make a fireplace to cook bacon while Greg attempted to make coffee on the gas grill. We were trying to be positive and solve our problems. Nothing to this bush camping right? 😡The ice was put into the fridge and freezer where things had remained quite cold actually. Eric showed up some time later and got everything back under control. We didn’t make a scene or get agitated. At that point things were continuing to add up. We jumped right back into our routine minus having fished. I reset the mouse trap and began walking around the cabin saying “the third mouse gets the cheese!” My companions were not impressed and remarked that the third mouse had been killed so it was the fourth mouse that got the cheese. True. The traps continued to be robbed. The fishing continued to get better and better for us as our week moved forward. It was time to push for all the things that we still wanted to do beside fishing. Things were ramping up as the bush life entered a new chapter. Time was ticking away.✍️

The Solace Of The Bush:Part 2

Posted on September 17, 2022September 18, 2022 by Greg Washburn

This post is long overdue and work has sapped my creativity to a degree. I think I need to auto dictate to digital format while driving. Multi tasking might have possibilities. Something to consider.

I left the story hanging with us arriving at the outfitter’s landing after being lost for hours. Nighttime was coming and we had lots to do before reaching our remote cabin. We stepped out of the truck to a rather cluttered section of beach. Empty boats and gas cans. Miscellaneous equipment of all sorts. A busy yard as well.There was a noisy generator running on a small hill that appeared to power a small house with an open door. An old dog hobbled to the threshold and regarded us with a defensive demeanor. Three young girls came out as we approached. I inquired about their parents but they were out on the lake we were informed. We explained who we were and they looked us up in a hand written notebook. No computer although the house had a couple satellite dishes mounted on the roof. Cabin 5 they finally decided. We headed to the beach where we were given our rented boat to load with our gear. A teenage girl who said her name was Marly would bring a second boat with one passenger and the remaining gear. I asked an older girl who was helping to make sure we had gas after I checked the tank. We were a little throw off with just the girls in charge and no adults. It was decided that Zane and I would take one boat while Greg B. went in the other with Marly driving. She asked if I knew how to operate the outboard. Some men have no clue she mentioned with a hint of sarcasm. I said I felt pretty confident that I was up to the task.We shoved off in our heavily laden crafts. They seemed like decent boats with newer four stroke Yamaha engines. The prop on ours was a little chewed up though. I had taken a picture of it before leaving and had mentioned it to Marly. Always a good idea when renting a bush lake boat. Marly cautioned me to avoid some sunken logs near shore. They appeared to be the remains of a former dock system from years past. They were almost ghostly below the surface and a threat to our props. We reached our cruising speed and picked our way through a group of islands. I stayed close behind Greg and Marley. These bush lakes have few to no navigational markers. Just the occasional Clorox jug to mark a hidden shoal. We were making good time and were approaching some much larger sections of big water as the sun began to set. I pointed a rainbow out to Zane some distance away. It looked like rain had fallen off to the East recently. The waves began to pick up some but were nothing too worry about really. Zane and I were wearing our life vests. Greg and Marly were not. We were out in a section of big water when I noticed something to the north. An obvious downpour from a fast approaching storm. The waves suddenly began to hit our bow with greater size and intensity. They were close to four footers when the wind and rain caught us shortly after. The wind driven rain stung my face and Zane’s hat was blown away! We were soaked within seconds but that was the least of our concerns. Our heavily loaded boat was foundering and taking on water when I tried to alter our course towards the safety of shore. All I could do was keep the bow into the wind and feather the throttle to ease us through the swells. There came a moment in the height of the storm where there was danger in taking the swells head on however. The bow was nearly going under on the down slope between the waves. If we swamped we would be in trouble! I lost control of the bow a couple of times and we side slipped between the huge swells. I felt as if we were going to go over! Zane was laughing and shouting into the wind like some crazy amusement park rider on a roller coaster! No fear there. I hammered the throttle to get back on course. The 15 horsepower motor was no match against the fury of the storm. I changed my tactics slightly. I kept the bow at an angle which resulted in drenching amounts of water being flung over us and the gear. There was no time for second guesses or hesitation. It was do or die as they say. It was fast and furious. Time stood still as my eyes struggled to see in the stinging rain. We lost sight of Greg and Marly although we did see a boat racing past us in the opposite direction. The storm passed over us soon after and the sun returned to the western horizon.Zane and I were laughing like crazy after our scary ordeal. What a ride to start off our adventure! But I was getting concerned about Greg and Marly.The waves began to subside a little and we began searching for our second boat. I was getting nervous and they were no where to be seen. I felt a twinge of panic! No life vests on them and a very heavy boat. Not good considering our wild ride. I spotted a boat way behind us just floating. We headed towards it thinking it was someone else. What a relief when we realized it was them! They were stalled out and Marly couldn’t get the motor going. We decided to tow them to a distant cove to escape the rolling waves. The sun continued to set with beautiful colors and I was lost in the moment. A setting sun on a new and unknown Canadian lake surrounded by pristine forest. Rolling in the now smaller waves watching the storm pass over the dark green of the distant unbroken forest. A large bay held several islands and high rocky outcroppings that thrust up out of the lake. They glowed in the setting sun and words can not describe what I felt. This is living I yelled to Zane! The moment was almost surreal in its power. I felt alive and rejuvenated. Nothing new this buzz of adrenaline fueled by challenge. I will chase it forever.

In the cove I was able to get Marly’s motor started eventually and we headed out once again. I had no clue where we were going as our map had been destroyed by the downpour. It came out of my pocket in pieces. Darkness began to claim the lake and the post storm air was cool on my soaked clothing. Two boats sped up to us and approached Marly. Someone who knew her it appeared. We headed out again four boats strong but the single passenger boats moved along much faster then our loaded ones. We followed them and they led us to our cabin. Marly’s parents had been out fishing and had come to help us settle into camp. It was getting rather dark as we entered our home away from home.The owner introduced himself as Eric. He lit our gas lamps as we tossed our gear onto the screen porch. Eric was pretty laid back and seemed pretty nonchalant about the recent storm. He spoke with a Canadian accent but not French like I had expected. His wife Jamie gathered up some firewood from the beach and we started a fire in the stove to dry out our gear. Our hosts left shortly after saying that they would return in the morning. We surveyed our new surroundings and claimed our bunks. The cabin sleeps eight between two bedrooms so there was plenty of room. It was very typical for a remote bush camp. Propane lights,fridge,and cook stove. The added bonus of a bathroom with hot shower and flush toilet. Water pressure was supplied from tanks up on a ridge we discovered later. We unloaded our gear and cooled down our bait in the fridge. We had missed evening fish so had to settle for a simple dinner of hotdogs. The beer began to flow and we made plans for the morning. New water to learn and figure out. Greg played some music and little by little we transitioned into cabin life. Our cupboards were loaded with our provisions for the week.We fixed our bunks and got the morning coffee prepped. It was time to sleep. Little did we know we weren’t alone in the cabin.

Morning came quickly and we were anxious to get out fishing. We had started a friendly competition going. $5 per category per person. The categories were first walleye caught, most walleye for the week, biggest walleye for the week, and first pike caught. It was on! We slammed some coffee and readied our gear. Grabbed bait and waters. Lucky for us Greg had taken a picture of the map with its marked fishing spots. We headed to one closest to our cabin. We anchored in front of a rocky point and quickly dropped our lines. Zane and I used leeches on bait floats while Greg used a jug. It wasn’t long at all when I felt that first tugging walleye. I snapped my rod up and got the first walleye of the trip after Zane netted it!A keeper of 15 inches. The start of our first fish fry. I got several more after that and had a nice bunch of 7 on the stringer. Greg and Zane got a few before the bite quit. We hit a second spot nearby and Greg caught the first pike of the trip.The sun began to get hot and we were needing to clean fish. Get brunch too. We came in with a nice stringer of walleye for our evening fish fry. It was to become a routine. Try and secure a fish fry before breakfast. Other routines would soon follow.

We entered the cabin and soon realized that we had company. Mice! They had been chewing on a bread wrapper and getting into things.There was an old mouse trap by the stove and I got it set up with peanut butter. I cleaned fish while Zane and Greg made brunch. Our breakfasts consisted of bacon,toast, and eggs but not every morning. We sat around after breakfast and decided a nap was in order. A routine that also started. Later we tried out the shower and prepared to explore the lake. There was a lot of it out there.

It’s hit or miss on new water. We learned that a long time ago. We tried a few different spots as evening approached but nothing much happened. We did boat a few but felt we hadn’t found the perfect spots just yet. We weren’t disappointed by the end of our first day of fishing. We had plenty for dinner and tomorrow was another day. So back to the cabin for happy hour and preparing dinner. We would make our signature bush meal. Breaded and pan fried walleye fillets, fried potatoes, and beans. It was decided that I would fry the walleye. I got the grease perfect in an old cast iron frying pan before dropping the first round of fillets. Cast iron is my old friend of fish frying, My golden delights were served on paper plates but worthy of a fine restaurant. Fresh and hot I kept bringing them to the table. We ate walleye until we were stuffed! Wow was it ever good! I noticed our friend the mouse had been busy. The peanut butter was gone from the trap. We headed to bed after our ten o’clock dinner. The next routine that became a daily aspect of bush camp living. We joked back and forth between our bedrooms with the bathroom light glowing softly as a night light. The bush camp smelled of fried fish and the ever present smell of burning propane. I always kept our window open for ventilation. The darkness of the forest behind the cabin was never oppressive. Rather it was comforting. There was no sound but the occasional cry of a loon. We were happy and all was well. Slightly buzzed from alcohol and tired from our day. Far from civilization and the responsibilities of home. Bush living slows the mind and quiets the heart. We were making all kinds of new memories! MOONTABS! I will leave it here for now. There is much left to tell!