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The Mow Dawg Returns

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There have been many recent developments and writing had been something I just haven’t made a priority. But plenty of life has been lived this last month! Everything from cider making to work on the farm camp to suddenly finding myself returning to an old role of mine: being a mow dawg. What is a mow dawg you ask? Allow me to explain!

Haying has begun here on my farm property.

A few weeks ago I received word that my Uncle Charlie had been rushed to Syracuse after having a heart attack. He and his younger brother Arthur have farmed the the Washburn homestead and other properties about a mile from my property as long as I can remember. Diary farmers for many years they have “retired” into a life of raising beef cattle and cropping hay to sell. Pretty busy lifestyle for two older fellows but that’s just who they chose to be! They cover a lot of hay ground with their modern equipment on any given summer. They were well into second round hay cuts already when Uncle Charlie had his heart attack. The good news is that he’s recovering now. Home and resting after a double bypass. But was to come of the unfinished hayfields? Mine especially as they had not been cut and here it was mid September. This is where I enter the story!

Up the elevator!

I was driving over to the farm on September 16th and as I passed one of my meadows I noticed that some hay had been cut. I hadn’t spoken with either of my uncle’s and had assumed that my haying would not get done like it usually does late every summer for quite a few years now. I have pushing to get the farm campsite project back on track and will feature a post on that in the near future. But for the moment let’s finish this one!

The haymow in my Uncle’s large barn.

Seeing the hay down was a surprise and I wondered what my Uncle Art was hoping to accomplish by himself .I jumped on my wheeler and paid him a visit. It seems that he was single handily going to try and hay all my active meadows. Granted he was only planning on doing only so much at a time. The weather forecast was promising so I told him I would volunteer to help out. After all getting my meadows cleared was important so I figured the least I could do was pitch in. My projects would need to wait. So that Saturday I got some basic instructions about when I needed to be available etc. I then raced back to the farm to finish setting up the Airstream on its new stone pad. I was going to live there while we were haying. But that is part of the other story!

I become a hauler of hay!

I went back up to my Uncles’s farm and got on the old Ford 5610 tractor and started moving hay wagons down to the field where my uncle had the hay raked and ready to bale. The old tractor was no problem as it is a pretty basic older model. So the hay was baled and I drew the wagons up to the barn where I began unloading the first one. That’s where the I once again became a “Mow Dawg”. Someone has to stack the bales in neat rows and keep the layers organized. A dirty,dusty job and I volunteered for it. I had no face mask that first night and suffered badly later because of it! But the job was completed. In the meantime the baler had suffered a bearing failure on one of the kicker belt rollers. Bad timing as we wanted to hit it hard the next week.But one step at a time! I needed Sunday to finish getting my campsite set up! Monday would be another day and we would figure things out!

Settled in for the first night at the farm campsite.

So this story will need to be continued as I must soon leave for my Uncle’s farm to work on another finicky machinery problem today. It’s always an adventure haying it seems! The good weather has held and there’s a lot more to this story! But now you know a little and where I have been. This adventure is ongoing and mornings come early. I am thankful for maple syrup laced coffee each morning. Autumn has arrived and the time for haying is growing shorter with each passing day. My family needs me right now while they figure out the best way forward. It’s best not to overthink some things. There is a comfortable place in the doing and in the work itself. One day at a time. ✍️

Prepping For:The Return To the Bush

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Time passed quickly. One moment it seemed our Summer 2023 bush adventure was so very far away. But little by little it drew closer. Months became weeks that became days. We started planning much earlier this year. 10 people had expressed interest in going with our party as we had a large cabin rented. One by one they dropped away until a mere 7 remained. Our friend Gregger held at a meeting at his camp to finalize plans two weeks ahead of our trip. 6 attended and shortly after another person dropped from the trip. We were to be a group of 6 in the end. It would take 2 trucks to get us to the outfitter’s landing. Our destination was approximately 375 miles away in western Quebec. The same location as last year so that took some of the travel unknowns out of the equation. Not to mention it helped immensely knowing what we should bring and what not to bring. I started packing early on to avoid the hasty method I had used in 2022. Our pile of gear began to grow in size next to the wood stove at Camp Edith.

The pile grows.

I wanted to bring along some extra gear this year that would enhance the visual aspect of our trip. I rigged up a Gro Pro style mini camera on my old hard hat for hands free video recording. I also purchased a small drone that would work in the absence of cell phone service. I purchased Best Buy Total Protection insurance for it as well. Just in case of an accident. My biggest decision came down to renting a satellite phone. We had decided that it was a good idea to have one. I ended up purchasing one after getting a price for renting one. A no brainer considering the promotional offer I took advantage of with a long term strategy in mind. The satellite phone arrived over a week before our trip and I got familiar with its basic operations. Tested it a few times as well. It’s supposed to work just about anywhere in the world. We would soon see!

Iridium Satellite phone with accessories in a waterproof case.

Another situation that had to be addressed was learning to pilot the drone. Zane has one that he seldom uses but I wanted my own. We test fly both drones one windy Saturday over my Uncles meadows where the hay had been cut already. Losing them is always a possibility and my insurance doesn’t cover that! We had a great time despite the wind almost taking off with Zane’s! Mine uses my phone for its main screen. A feature that would come in handy in the bush. I got pretty comfortable with it rather quickly but like to fly with a line of sight method. Not desirable when I begin to fly to upper elevations. It’s going to take some practice! Flight times would vary and drone batteries draw down after around 30 minutes of flight. During the trip they would need to be charged which was no problem as we had already planned to bring our 2200 watt Honda inverter generator. Battery charging for our phones had been a problem in 2022. We would have no cell service but we all use our phones as cameras. Charging becomes necessary.I put together a special suitcase just for cables and electronic gadgets. Extra batteries, operating instructions, and a surge protector power strip were part of its contents.The drones as well. This trip was getting expensive fast!

Zane’s Snaptain.
Testing mine at the farm. Also a Snaptain product.

Next on the list was the fishing equipment. I purchased jigs, bait floats, sinkers, and small hooks. I strung 2 new Pfleuger reels with Spectra Power Pro braided line. Unbelievably strong and rather invisible. Moss green 15 pound test is my favorite. It will rarely break and has little to no stretch. Perfect for walleye fishing! I also bought 2 new rods for us. 5 of them would be broken down and stored in a plastic rod sleeve I bought years ago for a fly in bush trip. Worth every penny for the protection it gives. A 6th pole would have to travel full length. We travel with an abundance of gear. 6 reels in a padded case and 6 poles just for us. Breaking down on a one week long trip is no good so we bring plenty of fully functioning backup. I streamlined my 4 bait trays to fit into a soft sided carry holder. Grippers, hook outs, mouth spreaders, and scissors were stored there as well. Keeping the fish uninjured and released quickly is part of our mindset. Having the proper tools enables us to do just that. But we certainly don’t release all of them! Some get eaten! We also use a rubber net. Things don’t tangle like they do with a mesh net. Our old Hummingbird fish finder was also packed. I didn’t take the time to test it prior to going on the trip. Something I would later regret! I restocked our jig assortment with a variety that was mostly blue. Blue had proven to be the hot color in 2022 on our lake.

The charging station pre-trip.

Of course there’s a lot of other things that need to be packed for a bush trip! Clothes,rain gear, life vests,and basic toiletries. I pack a rather extensive medical/first aid bag. I even brought a 2 piece Epipen unit due to the possibility of allergic reactions that I have been getting on occasion. We would be living in a very remote location and safety is important to me. Not just my own and Zane’s but everyone. The pile of gear kept growing and we hadn’t even gotten to food yet! Food goes into a plastic tote for ease of transport. Mostly non-perishable items and canned goods. We take a small cooler for milk,eggs, and hotdogs. You never know when you might not catch fish! It been known to happen! Lac Echoani in 2016. Two days with no fish fry! So what did I forget? The sleeping bags and pillows into a tote? Check! Small cooler for bait? Check! The team record book and pen from last year? Check! Things were adding up! Little by little I gathered up everything. I even remembered my 2way radios for the 2 trucks to communicate once we lost cell phone service in Quebec. And never, never forget the Canadian cash to pay the outfitter! The exchange rate was over 25% just before we left. Passports? Check! The amount of preparation time this year amazed me! But I wanted everything to flow without any glitches!

The Team Record Book.

So that’s how it all began well before our trip even started. Preparation pays off in the long run. We were all pretty excited for our week away! A chance to change our routines and break free from the valley here. A destination that would renew our spirit energy. Reunite old friends and bring in a couple new ones. A place where I would bond with my son each and every day. Life would soon be changing for him as he would be starting college soon after our trip. Out there in the bush country of the ZEC adventure awaited us. Weather the unknown variable but planned for regardless with a nonchalant attitude. Memories would be made. Our inner batteries would be recharged by tugging walleyes trying our sunken bait. Life would be very different as we synchronized to the schedules of feeding walleyes. To experience it is to truly live for the lovers of wild country. A chance to live free of the schedules of a man made society. In the bush life marches to the sound of a different drum. Oh Btw! I almost forgot the Keurig coffee maker and pods! When you travel with a generator such luxuries are possible. So check! Didn’t forget a good supply of maple syrup! Double check! There’s still a whole lot of tales to tell here! ✍️

Food For Thought

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As spring advances into May it’s easy to forget that spring actually started in late March. After some really warm weather we have had an abundance of rain lately. It’s stayed pretty cool too. But we’ve been busy with a lot of small details. Maple syrup season ultimately ended but the work continued.We had to begin the clean up and start the preparations for next season recently. We took a little break however before the cleanup started in earnest. It was time to think about foraging!

The cowslip patch.

Maple syrup is food for us. We use it in a lot of our recipes. I’ve used it every morning to sweeten my coffee for years now.But that’s another story. This time of our thoughts turn to foraging. The hills,fields,and swamps sprout their gifts for us to find. It’s a fun process! This art of collection!

Chives at the farm.

We found some early sprouting leeks on one of our ridges the other day. They were small but potent! We ended up making a turbocharged dip with them and the chives we harvested.

The spinach like cowslips. Yum!
Fresh leeks ready to clean.
Chive and leek dip about to be blended.

We took our collections to another level when we decided to add them to a pizza! Chives and leeks on a pizza really make the flavor pop!

Forager pizza!

And then… the apple crisp! Hit it with it maple syrup ahead of the bake? Over the top!

Oven ready!

So this super short post? Food for thought MOONTABS followers. A brief look into our spring here. Don’t worry. There’s lots to come! Eating is a big part of our lives after all. And pictures get it right sometimes!

The Special Day

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4AM. I woke suddenly while having the most bizarre of dreams. In the dream I was standing on a pile of logging slash next to a house trying to figure how how to get down. The pile was huge and was made up of entire trees,evergreen limbs, and brush. The bark hung from the fallen trunks in shreds as a result of being dragged and knocked about. There was no order in the manner the pile had been arranged.It was if it had just been pushed in place by a huge machine that was no where around. There was a house beside the pile and I was thinking about how strange it all was getting. I started getting anxious because I couldn’t see a safe way down from the pile.Each direction looked the same. Dangerous. Weird as I have no fear of heights. I loved to climb trees on the farm as a boy. In the dream I turned in a slow motion circle. The devastation around the pile was disturbing. A huge clear cut of stumps and torn earth. A road of devastation had been carved out of a landscape that definitely wasn’t upstate New York. It resembled the Canadian bush to a degree but seemed different. The road was leading to a lake that was just beyond an untouched section of forest. The machine of destruction was out of sight but I knew where it was headed. I was afraid suddenly. I needed to get off the pile and run to the safety of the forest. And I knew what I needed to do. The fear left me and I got ready to jump off….Ok! Alrighty then! Wow! Dreams are strange! I wonder what Freud would find in that one!

I got up shortly after and reassured myself that all was well in Camp Edith. Gracie was lying next to the wood stove near the door to Zane’s room. All was well! I checked the fire and the large pieces of firewood that I had loaded in before bed last night had been reduced to glowing coals. One small piece of unburned wood sent out a wisp of smoke that assaulted my nose. I refueled the wood stove and headed for the Keurig.Destination numero uno! Ok it’s showtime! Busy day ahead! Lots to do today and there would be no time for writing. Too bad I thought because my creative hangover had been replaced by a familiar feeling. I was suddenly overcome with warmth! It had been a wonderful evening. A meal with Zane, small research projects, and conversations. A phone call.The Keurig finished brewing with its squishing sound that pushed out the final drops of morning rocket fuel. I dumped in an random shot of maple syrup. Followed by a healthy shot of half and half. Talk about a constant! My first fix of the day to satisfy an addiction of over thirty years. Just how did I get addicted in the first place? A different sort of story with a different connection to nature. Natural selection they call it.Not sharing that story today.

I headed back here to my cluttered bedroom to prop myself up against the headboard and started gulping my sweet brew. I really need to do something about this room I thought to myself. But how about a little music first? I knew what would set the mood. Andrew Belle. His music can bring me to tears! Yes tears! I once read that tears aren’t the measure of a man. I once mentioned that to Zane. I often dose a writing post with the phrase blood,sweat, and tears. It was like that on the farm. We had lots of livestock. Cows,horses,pigs,and chickens in a rotating cycle of farm life in harmony with season. There was the magic of birth. The time in between. Then the tough one.Death. These animals weren’t all pets. I learned things fast in those years although I never recognized it until years later. But that is the magic of discovery! Discovery doesn’t always wait out there beyond that next hill. It’s already there sometimes. Already inside us.Under our feet and already there in places of our heart rarely visited. Buried in our memories. Sometimes buried on purpose.A different story for a different day.

I learned the true kindness taking care of the livestock. They depended on us. Their needs came ahead of ours quite often on the farm where I had learned to climb trees with no fear and little regard for the danger of a fall. I guess I trusted my own hands and my balance. I am almost ready to jump back into the next chapter of my rural heritage series. I am waiting for something though. The day of autumn that stirs up certain memories and a special feeling.I can’t stage it or mark it on my calendar like some random event.It is a revolving event though that is tied into nature and always a new discovery in itself. Enter the familiar phrase: if only I could bottle that feeling and share it.Why do I write like I am creating a screenplay? Because all the world’s a stage they say. Not going there this morning!

I can safely say that my “special” day will fall sometime between mid October and late November. I will get a inner spirit call coming in from somewhere from an unknown number and I won’t let it go to voicemail. I will drop everything to answer it. I never know the time or exactly when my custom ringtone will chime. Many times the call comes as the sun is setting and a busy day of firewood cutting on the farm property ends. Tired and dirty as we put the tools away. The custom ringtone that is now set inside me originally came from miles above me. In the sound of distant goose cries as they begin their migration south.It is a sound that can span decades in the fraction of a second. Backtrack to a small younger me playing in the backyard with my sister at the first home I ever remember. I don’t remember every single detail but what I do remember is the feeling of excitement I got that long ago day when I spotted the first flock of the season. I can picture myself pointing to the sky and yelling to my sister! Geese! This was the 1960’s and geese didn’t frequent our section of the St. Lawrence valley all that much. They came from much further north stopping occasionally to rest and feed in the post harvest corn fields.A lover of the higher places at a young age although I didn’t know where that would eventually lead.I was being a kid and the forests of Tasmania were mere seedlings far in the future. I envied the geese their lofty status and wondered why they honked as they flew. Enter the Canadian goose and the stage was set for a grand performance.(to be continued)

Oh btw! It’s a special day indeed! Ironic given the title I chose!You are not going to believe what just happened!

I lost most of today’s post somehow! I had started it yesterday actually as a draft. I thought that I had it edited and published correctly. I went back several hours later to review my own work and was shocked to see what had actually uploaded. A total piece of something that had no rhythm nor reason. It dropped off in the middle of a sentence practically. What a disaster! So much of the once longer post is lost now! There’s some question as to what happened and why. The post was as heavy as a lead balloon but I was determined to try and fly it anyway due the amount of time I had spent on it! There must be a ghost in the machine! There’s only one possibility! A small mouse named Mr. Jangles! I know! I know it sounds crazy! You still are a little skeptical about Mr. Jangles and that whole story! Believe what you want! Ask Zane. He was there. After the post crashed I realized something. Mr. Jangles still wants to play! I don’t how he got the ghost virus into my tablet but it’s raising hell with everything! I know it’s him because of the photos and videos he hacked into my gallery. That one of me snoring? Horrible!So embarrassing and I am worried it may go viral!There’s also a cartoon version of himself that shows up like a screen saver and loops continually. His mouse laugh is creepy. He must have access to some sort of forest command post with satellite Wi-Fi and a backup generator. He’s pretty resourceful and I respect that about him! He hasn’t done anything serious yet I suppose. Unless you think destroying hours of my work is serious. And that notice from my bank that someone got in and tapped my checking account for a few hundred Canadian! I guess he’s just playing or he would have taken a lot more!I was mad at first and ready to go back up there tomorrow. But I don’t have time for that right now. I need to figure out a way to reverse hack him but he’s using someone else’s equipment somehow. I can picture him sitting hovered over someone’s laptop keypad.Hey it’s only a game right? I you know you get bored Mr. Jangles but how about a tv series or something. I can recommend one. I thought we were friends and I didn’t throw a fit over that last practical message joke of yours.

So here we are and I never got to finish my post. That’s ok as there’s always tomorrow!Just remember about the special day and the custom ringtone. Remember the farm property. Remember my promise to tell the stories of rural heritage. I keep my promises and tell the truth. Sure I have a big imagination. I told lots of true facts here. There is a mouse in Western Quebec. A cabin too and an actual Lake Dumoine.There was a big piece of blog post lost today. Can a mouse work a keyboard and understand passwords?Hack into someone’s system? Come to think of it I was missing some cash when I got back home last August. Maybe Mr. Jangles has a helper he pays. He can read as we already know. It’s difficult to say really.. ✍️

Bush Days:The Balance Is Struck

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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.✍️

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We wrote

Settled Into Bush Life: The Third Mouse Gets The Cheese

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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

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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!

Times Like These

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Week 4.Day 3.It’s how I refer to my time here these days. I really need to cut to the chase this morning. Work in a few minutes and another busy day ahead. The totally lost words of the August 16th post titled The Return has been frustrating to say the least! I started piecing it back together but have decided to table it for now. It was a two part story anyway. If you’ve read some of my introductions then you are familiar with my attempts to write raw and honestly as I put it. Driving in this morning I realized something. It hit me with a sudden clarity. What triggered it actually was the rising daylight coming through the trees as I sped along the mostly empty highway headed towards Lake Placid. I snatch views as possible ever vigilant for the deer who love to feed on the roadside grass.They ultimately place themselves in my path. But I am trying to respect that the Adirondacks are their home and slowing down is the best way to coexist. So the trees! Solid and silent. Their branches and needles so finely detailed it was breathtakingly beautiful! There never seems to be a good place to park the car for a photo in these moments along the narrow highways of the Adirondacks. What’s this got with words on a blog post? Triggering. The title of this post was triggered. It’s a borrow on a Foo Fighters song I recently heard on satellite radio. It fits the mood and tone of my daily routine these days. There’s no internet service at my campsite so I do very little writing at night. 10 hours a day on the job site and the 1 hour plus daily commute leaves me somewhat drained I suppose. I truly do enjoy my work outdoors on the Olympic Center skating oval. It’s as raw and honest as my words. I show up clean and leave dirty. Wet sometimes after a day in the rain. After spending much of my career inside of buildings I relish the big skies overhead with the high peaks in the background. They shore me up with positivity. Always there if I needed to escape for some mountain therapy as a friend of mine calls it. There’s a lot going on in my life right now. It was my choice to be here in the first place. I came for a new experience. A story. Dollars and cents. Benefits of all sorts. It plays out like a movie script. Life is never perfect nor without challenge. How you embrace the challenge defines you I like to think. I strive to be a solid presence here. Much like the trees along the highway. I have been busy getting people’s stories. At the campsites and on the job. Many thanks to everyone who takes time to chat with me! You are all part of the MOONTABS In Motion project! I’d like to acknowledge several people from the last few weeks! Ron and Nancy.Jason and Darlene. David and Kelly. Mike and Sammi.Just to name a few. We find common ground in nature,camping,and in life. That’s the heartbeat of this project! Don’t get lost in “Taz-mania”!This story is far from over!

The Subtle Art Of Camp Life

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July presses forward with somewhat unseasonal weather here in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. The rains have dominated the forecast and pound the area with incessant,unrelenting frequency. Our soggy debut camping trip of six days at the end of June left us more experienced with boondocking in the Airstream but found us regrouping with a more weather focused preparation. We purchased additional tarps and light tethering ropes. We retired the screen house in favor of a larger steel framed garage sale tent. We only had six days before leaving our staging area in Jennifer’s yard and heading back up to the Adirondacks for our next trip. The forecast was anything but promising but we decided that canceling was not an option. Jennifer had toiled hard to secure the dates through a cancellation website. Giving up wasn’t an option for us at any rate. We headed out on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The truck fully loaded with gear, a kayak, and canoe pulling the Airstream. Jennifer’s car also fully loaded with gear. Sporting a canoe on top and two dogs in the back. We were a party of four. Jennifer,Zane,Garrett (Jennifer’s nephew), and myself.The dogs Stella and Greaser. Coolers,drinks, and all sorts of dry goods. A fully loaded refrigerator and freezer in the coach. The cupboards and drawers packed in advance. Jennifer is a fabulous planner and organizer. She’s set up the travel coach for efficiency and order.It remained up to us to learn the locations of the different things we’d need as the days unfolded. Our camping locations are state parks without full hook ups so there’s a little extra planning on my end of things. We need the generator and extra gas for it. I use a plastic siphon to gas up my generator. It’s clean and efficient.Better than a funnel I feel.We checked in at our campground then headed to our site after a quick stop to fill the 40 gallon water tank of our coach. I prefer to travel with minimal fresh water on board. At 7 pounds plus per gallon it adds a lot of weight to the trailer.Next came my least favorite part! Backing the trailer into the campsite! We like camping in forested parks so the abundance of trees makes for tricky parking at times. It’s a group effort with spotters on both sides. It’s always a relief once I get it close! We then work together to get it level side to side and front to back. We employ a variety of plastic ramp pieces and pieces of lumber. It gets easier with experience! Front to back is never a problem with the electric tongue jack doing all the work! We begin to work separately after that as I finish the final coach setup. The camp takes shape fairly quickly once the large tent site is chosen. It takes a couple hours of brisk activity to get everything in order in a manner that flows. The boys settle into their space after blowing up air mattresses and rolling out sleeping bags. Our bedroom area is set up permanently at this point so that saves us time! The cooking/dining tent is a vital part of our camp. It cuts down on traffic in and out of the coach. We also have learned to set up an outdoor dishwashing station behind the coach. I mentioned much of this in a recent post but there’s a direction of thought here that begs reflection. It’s that point early in the trip where you settle into a sort of informal daily routine. We spend most of the day outside if the weather is favorable. Cooking and dining both. Evenings find us close to the campfire talking about the adventures of the day. We don’t always do everything as a group. It just depends on the activities that are chosen for any given day. I suppose it’s the use of my time each day that takes me into a pensive forest of thought. I very quickly adapt into a life of late evenings and late mornings. I find myself sleeping in longer. Eight hours in bed sometimes. Very different than the four to five hours of sleeping each night during my working years. I find myself feeling as if I am wasting time or missing out.Perhaps I am still too driven to truly relax. After all time can be a nemesis for me as you may know if you follow my stories. I’m trying to overcome these strange thoughts but it’s going to take some time it appears. A typical morning has certain tasks that must be performed. Perked coffee the first order of business. Much more time consuming than a Keurig but very tasty! Generators can’t be started prior to 9am. The boys sleep late so breakfast becomes a daily brunch. Today we didn’t eat until almost noon! The morning walk to the toilet and drive to the shower house. Our daily activities begin after 1pm many days. Rarely before 11am. Sometimes brunch is early with no cooking at all. Today is day thirteen here for me. We were supposed to go home after six days but Jennifer picked up some cancellations that tied two separate trips together. We actually moved to an adjacent site for one night last Friday. Talk about tear down and set up! We didn’t need to set up the tents at least! Then the kicker! The site we vacated remained empty that night! The whole reservation system is a mess in my opinion! Reserve America? How about we focus on New York State? But that takes us down the dark trail of negativity so let’s get back on track! When I stop and take a solid inventory of my days here where exactly did my time get spent? Most definitely on camp chores. The constant rain events keep us scrambling to dry towels and gear. We had a couple of somewhat destructive rain and wind events. The one two nights ago nearly destroyed our cooking tent.It hit suddenly and fiercely with little warning. It had been a rather lovely day. Warm and humid with a mix of sun and clouds. Zane and I had spent several hours paddling what’s known as the Floodwood Loop. Very fun with two short canoe carries. We had just gone to the shower house to clean up when the storm hit. Jennifer and Garrett rescued the tent and a bunch of our gear. We returned to help salvage the cooking tent and reset it. The boys sleeping tent and large tarp above weathered the storm like nothing happened! Regardless those types of storm events keep us busy! Zane and I have spent quite a bit of time paddling and hiking during the time he’s been here. It’s been in and out some for my three companions here with the endless details back home that can’t be avoided. I’ve pretty much put life back in the valley on hold these last thirteen days. One thing that takes time here is getting to town to get decent cell phone and internet service. We basically need to drive into Tupper Lake to do that most days. We double down picking up necessities like milk and ice. Firewood if we run low. It gives us a little diversity at times. Zane and I often need to drive to reach our hiking trailheads so we do our business on the way. Our most recent hike was up Catamount Mountain. It turned into quite the ordeal when we got separated from the dog on a tough rock scramble! It pretty much finished our day by the time we bushwhacked our way back out after losing the trail while retrieving Gracie. We learned a valuable lesson of teamwork and the importance of not getting separated! We didn’t return until after 7pm and a thunderstorm drove us into the coach. It was one of those nights where we were glad to have it’s kitchen and sleeping amenities! I think it may take some post camp life living to truly reflect on our time spent here. The days run together here and time passes much too fast. I need to run home for a few days before returning for the last three days of our reservation on this site.Today a north born wind chills me when the sun hides behind a cloud for a moment. The clothesline sways and our items finally dry! All is well and the afternoon awaits our decision of how best to spent the remainder of our day. Evening will require the second meal of the day to be crafted. Dishes and the purring generator recharging the batteries. A carefully laid fire if the rains don’t return. Camp life as I have never known it continues for the moment. How best to describe it and honor those moments remains the writer’s challenge. For the hours become rambling and difficult to follow at times in their silent passage. I don’t watch the clock here. I watch the sky and track the movement of the sun if we’re lucky enough to view it. Life flows with the daylight and the darkness. And if I sleep long and deep perhaps I need it. Leaving the race has been a challenge. Not to worry. I always seem to find my way back onto the track for a time. The home on wheels can’t stay here forever nor can we. The energy lives in the forward motion. This life that has become MOONTABS In Motion.Places of outdoor beauty where loons cry and waves gently lap on sandy shores. I try to find my balance here as these summer days tick past. I pull out my map and gaze upon the many unknown waterways that wait for us to explore them. And fondly remember those we know now. The dashes of untraveled trails on a map call with an urgency at times. Perhaps the drive represents more than I can understand at this moment in time. I must enter the now and count my small blessings. To question is to learn new answers. To follow the heart brings passion and love into the light. It is enough this simple existence.The spirit energy will fuel the journey.The stories will follow.

Of Highways,Hikes,Hills,and History: Part 2

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Wow! I really took you off my intended path yesterday! I’m worried now that there’s some lost readers in the forests of the Taz Grand Wilderness in need of rescuing! Maybe they will chose to hide and never be seen again rather than being rescued. Who knows?I think I’ll blame Jennifer’s daughter. She may not read the post tonight. She introduced me to some coffee pods called “Electric Buzz”. Are you getting the picture? Me. Nicknamed Taz. Busy gulping maple syrup infused coffee called Electric Buzz while tapping out a blog post?Questionable and possibly a dangerous combination! Today’s coffee spin wore off hours ago so I think I can get you back on the path of Saturday’s interesting adventure. I left you on the Low’s Lower Dam headed to the trailhead. I’ve known about this trail that leads to a pond on the other side of the dam for many years. I always intended to hike it someday but never bothered to take the time or research the pond itself. It’s actually a lake I recently discovered called Big Trout Lake. One of some size in fact. It’s also been called Big Trout Pond as well. Sometimes simply Trout Pond. Jennifer recently bought us the book titled:Hiking The Trail To Yesterday Volume 2 by William C. Hill. We enjoy reading volume 1 by the same author so she purchased volume 2 without question. He’s an author from the Edwards,N.Y. area and injects his stories of trail wanderings with fascinating history. Once I read his description of the trail to Big Trout Lake and what we’d find there I was hooked! The factional information that I am going to share mostly goes to his credit alone. It comes from his research of the Low’s Dynasty as it’s known.I was very familiar with the story of A.A.Low and his Adirondack enterprises. He dammed the Bog River in two locations, generated electricity,built camps, ran a large maple syrup business, and built a rather impressive list of other accomplishments. In time his family liquidated his holdings and the state of N.Y. purchased much of the land. The two dams remain. The lower one the subject of my post and the upper one upstream that holds back the water of Low’s Lake. As I previously mentioned it’s a favorite paddling destination of ours. Beautiful and wild with nature reclaiming the ruins of A.A.Lows empire. I never knew until recently however that the Big Trout Lake area had been part of that empire. Knowing that there were historical ruins to explore proved too much for my curiosity. I felt that a hike back to the lake was in order regardless of any trail conditions we might encounter. Mud season can be tricky but it’s been a fairly dry spring so I hoped the trail would be fine. Here’s the part that might confuse you however. I had only gleaned through the book without making field notes or bothering to consult a map. I left the book home and didn’t bother to read it again before deciding on the hike as a destination. It’s that thrill factor that some explorers crave. I am not immune to seeking thrills. It gets people into trouble sometimes usually because they fail to prepare properly. We didn’t fit that mold Saturday. There’s no mileage sign at the trailhead like some areas of the Adirondacks. Just a wide well trodden path leading up a small grade. Off we set! The trail traveled through a mixed forest of maples, birch, balsam, and spruce. The occasional hemlock graced the forest as did a few white pines but the deciduous trees dominated most of forest. The leaves are just now forming and the woods have an open feel. In shaded groves patches of recent snow lingered but was disappearing fast as the warm sunny day gained heat. There were only a few flies here and there to annoy us as well. The trail continued to rise in elevation and was pleasantly dry most of the time. This changed however in one section and we rock hopped across small cobble stones or sometimes even left the trail . The brown layers of last seasons leaves crunching under our feet were flattened by the winter’s snowfall. Their fragrance earthy and organic to match their plain coloring as they begin to return to the earth. Jennifer and Garrett stopped frequently at points of interest along the trail. There were funky shaped trees covered with many different species of decomposer fungi. Rocks,burls,and a large erratic boulder that I felt compelled to climb. I grew very warm after and needed to shed a layer. Stowed into the day pack after a few sips of water during the break. The trail continued to rise slightly but a break in the trees told me that the land was about to fall away. I figured the lake would greet us as we summited the small ridge but there was only a forested valley below. My companions looked at me for guidance as to the lake’s location but I had nothing to reassure them about the amount of distance remaining. A quick glance at my phone for the time prompted me to make a decision. I decided to leave Jennifer and Garrett behind while I ran ahead to see if I could find the lake. I feared they might wish to turn back if I couldn’t give them tangible evidence of the lakes’s location. The trail turned left in a long sweeping descent of the ridge. Very dry and smooth it was great for a forest jog. I covered some ground quickly and soon reached a place where the trail began to descend rather quickly. I still couldn’t see any lake! I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and decided to ascend another ridge that was directly beside me. It was the highest ground around and with the absence of leaves would give me an extremely good vantage point. I reached its small summit looking East over the much lower ground. Nothing! No lake! I turned 180 degrees scanning the forest for the lake. At first I saw nothing then suddenly it appeared on the far horizon. Water of some magnitude. It had to be the lake! Words can fail to describe the sudden rush I felt. It’s that moment the explorer chases with a tenacious attitude and resolve. It was that moment of seeing something for the first time and the buzz that follows. It reminded me of a pair of beautiful green eyes that had held my gaze some time ago for the first time. Intriguing and deep with mystery. Exploration of another kind had ensued. The brain would buzz and the heart would stir. Very soon the lips would fail to remain silent and utter simple words filled with all a heart might contain or ever hope to contain. There lies that place of peace that beckons through the trees. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and a sudden chill brought me back from my romantic muses. I quickly gauged the distance to the lake and raced back to Jennifer and Garrett. Pleaded the case for continuing the hike as we were painfully close now. They agreed and we continued on with a renewed sense of vigor. The trail remained dry as we continued our descent to the lake. It became more visible through the forest. I suddenly noticed something off to the side in a stand of white pine. A folding camp chair on a primitive camp site below us.A closer investigation revealed old concrete piers also. This had been the location of a cabin or some structure. Some old car parts littered the ground as well. Rusty and unidentifiable. We continued on towards the lake and encountered additional concrete piers. There was a more intact foundation with more loose metal debris scattered about. An old hubcap. A rusty bed frame. Misc. leavings that you’d expect around an old building site. The lake was close now and wind tossed waves slapped the somewhat low shoreline. Floating logs were washed up and pinned into the shallow sandy bottom. The lake surface rolled with small white caps and the far end looked to be close to a mile in the distance. 157 acres of lake I later read. We scouted a small waterfall coming off the ridge. I searched for more building sites but found only a second primitive camp site and a well hidden canoe. I’d later learn that there were once 19 buildings at the end of the lake. Their remains are in a somewhat swampy section that we didn’t scout. It was time to head out and I really didn’t want to leave the peaceful lake setting. We had it all to ourselves. On the descent to the lake I had noticed what I suspected had been another road. I followed it’s downward curve and suddenly spotted an old vehicle! It’s worthy of its own post once I research its timeline. The remainder of our trip out was uneventful but pleasant. My mind full of questions and happy thoughts. I heard the most wonderful sound suddenly. Laughter in the sunny forest. The sound of a happy ADK Girl lost in the moment in this beautiful,pristine place. I offer these memories to you. These MOONTABS and all they truly mean. These are the finest moments one could possibly experience. We came to find a lake. I found so much more. I dedicate this post to Jennifer and Garrett for placing their trust in me once again. For going the distance. Over 15 thousand steps give or take a few. I will be back with Zane to find the ruins we missed. Another story for another day.