Tag Archives: Now

Surrendering To The Bush

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Days Between

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July 4th. A holiday for most and certainly a day to celebrate all things American! Freedoms are plentiful in this nation of ours. Sometimes it’s difficult to fathom what’s to become of our great nation as time speeds on. I chose not to wander the paths of politics or government during our time here together. Rather I prefer to find positivity and hope that common sense may prevail. There are many good people who want to enjoy simple freedoms and are content in counting their small blessings. I find myself surrounded by the Happy Campers in these Adirondack state parks. They are frequent visitors to my ADK summer posts!

Looking around just what observations can be made about the Happy Campers? Most noteworthy is the display of positive energy most of the time. The joys of the upcoming stay that people post on social media.The arrival and the inevitable departure. It is weather and uncontrollable circumstances. It is family and friends. Or solitude of peaceful avoidance. It is the grand mental checkout before needing to return to the normal routine. Camp life is elemental and grounding. The ultimate immersion into nature and all the wonders that follow the sun across the sky each day. This is our story. Perhaps it is your story.

To say that taking time to write some days is difficult would be an understatement. I get so caught up in daily camp life and chasing adventures that writing sometimes takes the backseat. More like the trunk actually. Sometimes I can get a few words down during the morning generator slot of 9am to 11am but not very often. Often I will sit by the evening campfire and find inspiration in the events of the day. There have been a lot of challenges in my personal life these past few months. Not mine personally but in the lives of those I care about. It is not information that needs to be shared but it’s important to note that emotions often run high and finding a positive place in the now becomes more important than ever. Finding positivity and counting the small blessings lights a path where you might help others through hardships. Here when living life on the Adirondack clock there are numerous small blessings. The five senses are sharper and life takes on a certain clarity. And if the moment is right you may suddenly be swept away by the mysterious sixth sense. It is invisible and powerful. It is when your spirit energy syncs with nature and you feel part of something so much bigger than your own existence. It’s something that I wish I could gift to those with heartache and infinite sorrow. If only I could enter the circle of natural cycle and never leave. Perhaps it would no longer be so meaningful or healing. It here the questions begin. What could I be doing different? Should I grasp for a simpler life with a minimalistic mindset? Or should I trust an inner compass and enjoy the forward momentum. Reflections. I found something in the reflections of the forest yesterday on a quiet Adirondack pond while fishing in my canoe with the dogs. Perhaps I would do better by paddling you through yesterday’s adventure!

Tuesday morning I woke to the tapping of raindrops on the Airstream roof well before dawn. By the time I stated my morning coffee perking it was obvious that light rain was going to settle in and stay. Pulling up the weather on my phone is impossible as service is never very good here at Fish Creek. I was eager to fish so after I completed my morning routine I dressed warmly and donned my rain jacket. The dogs could have cared less about the rain and they happily jumped into the front of the canoe. We were across the pond from the inlet of Fish Creek itself and it took a few minutes to paddle to the entrance. The rain stopped and heavy gray clouds threatened to release more. It was very calm however and that was a huge plus for a fishing adventure. We made good time and soon passed the sign that reads “special waters”. No motorized boats are allowed past that point. It is also here that the campsites are left behind. The setting becomes lush and swampy with numerous lily pads and aquatic growth. The creek widens into a narrow pond of some size. The forest is thick and lines the banks on all sides. Tamaracks grow right out into the shallows but remain small as if the water impacts their growth.As the noise of the campground falls behind you immediately notice the bird songs. Chickadees and oven birds compete back and forth. The trumpet-like calls of the veery echo on all sides. But it is one birdsong that lifts my spirit energy! The white throated sparrow! My favorite of all birdsongs! To hear their signature song is to step backwards in time and remember trips to the Canadian bush fishing years ago.The forests are full of them there and they greet the dawn each day with energetic purpose. They live here in the Adirondacks but are fewer in number. Their songs will never fail to bring me into the now. The count of small blessings begins! To recognize the significance of even being in this beautiful place is the first and many follow.My connection to nature suddenly takes on a different perspective.The paddle continues and we enter the connector creek. Our destination grows nearer!

I have written of the connector creeks that are part of the Fish Creek waterway in several different posts. Winding and twisting in a medley of depths they are a most unique setting. The forest muffles any man made sounds from the distance and birds supply the backdrop. There are numerous fallen trees but the creek is maintained so the route is always passable. What really stands out here are the forest scents! Balsam and hemlock fill the air with a nostril enticing mixture. The lush scent of all things green is tantalizingly fresh after the recent rain. As for the rain? It had stopped and I was looking forward to fishing under cloudy skies. It’s never as productive in the afternoons on sunny days it seems. The dark and overcast sky might aid in my endeavors. The creek suddenly became wider as the first of the ponds appeared. It was almost time to begin drifting and trying for fish! ( to be continued)

Conclusions

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Life at Rollins Pond ticks along and it’s already Tuesday. Sunday was a pretty laid back day overall. A trip to town for a couple things, laundry, and some Wi-Fi to launch a couple blog posts. It was a total scorcher so some quality beach bum time was in order after. Pretty typical day of camp life routine. Meals, dishes, and an evening campfire. But a storm was brewing on the horizon.

I can’t say exactly what time the rain started but eventually a heavy downpour was hammering so hard on the Airstream roof that sound sleep was out of the question. It’s like drums above your head. Tiny pine cones were pinging off the roof also. The storm lasted for several hours and by morning had passed. But there were plenty of signs of copious runoff. On the way to Tupper Lake on Route 30 a highway crew was attempting to drain a flooded section of highway. Plugged culvert it appeared. The temperature had dropped from the eighties of Sunday down into the sixties. A northern born breeze kept things on the chilly side throughout most of the day. Much of the day was spent running down to the valley to grab Zane and Gracie. We did a few odd jobs and then returned to the campsite for a late dinner. Pretty uneventful day of the usual camp chores. I have reached the conclusion that camp life demands a certain amount of attention each day regardless of what activities we hope to pursue. No new revelation there. Just a more focused observation.

Tuesday dawned rather cloudy and a few tiny rain drops fell in my morning coffee. 9am is generator time and I usually do some other chores while the batteries are charging. Zane was sleeping in and I was trying to decide the best activity for the day. Paddling was a given. We had decided that Monday night before bed. I decided to consult our map this time before heading out like the last time.Long Pond would be our end destination. We would reach it via the Rollins outlet into Floodwood then an overland carry of 1373 meters on a trail of unknown condition. The weather remained cool and cloudy but sometimes the sun would pop through for a minute. I was dressed in layers and really didn’t plan on going into the water at any point during the day. Zane and I packed light with only cold beverages. Having both Stella and Gracie in the canoe adds quite a bit of weight to our payload. The trip down through and across Floodwood was pretty casual and we made excellent time. I decided to take Zane up the tiny creek I had explored Saturday. Pretty rugged he decided and we turned back towards the canoe carry. The carry was rather easy for me actually with Zane handled the dogs and the paddles. The mosquitoes were a little bothersome though especially when my hands were occupied carrying the canoe. Our Old Town Pathfinder is 13 feet 10 inches in length and weighs around 74 lbs. It has a carry yoke and balances well. No problem for me still after many years. Zane still prefers not to carry it so I typically get the job. We passed a beaver pond part way into the carry that I believe is actually listed on the map as Anniversary Pond. Still not clear on that at the moment but it fits the location. We reached Long Pond shortly after and I felt like it had been less of a carry than I had originally expected. The sun had returned and we were at our destination!

We weren’t sure what direction we wanted to explore but I had noticed a creek in the valley just below the carry as we approached the pond. It looked very similar to the creek that I had followed Saturday. We headed towards the sound of moving water and discovered what we believed was the outlet of Long Pond. Having studied the map it now made perfect sense. This might very well be my creek! I suddenly began to consider heading back down it on the return trip. Zane was hesitant at first but I began to perk his interest when I mentioned the sluice way that most likely was down the creek if we traveled it. We continued exploring the pond and locating the various primitive campsites along its vast shoreline. Hardly a pond and definitely long I feel that it’s more like a lake. Plenty of dark water of unknown depth with numerous bays and points. There were a few occupied campsites and several other paddlers poking around in the distance. Rather isolated and a place a person could easily find some privacy if that was an objective. The afternoon was moving along and we decided to tackle the outlet. I mentioned to Zane that I was going to keep track of the impassable obstacles that blocked our way downstream. The outlet started out easy to navigate. So old chop marks were evidence that someone had once maintained this waterway at some point. Shortly after we reached obstacle number one. So it was climb out and pull the canoe over. The creek’s current suddenly began to increase dramatically and there were no obstacles in sight. We picked up speed and soon found ourselves in some tiny rapids. Zane was shooting a video while I tried to steer our way through. It was a bumpy ride and we hit several rocks that I feared may have scratched the canoe bottom but there was no way to stop our headlong race down the fast moving creek. We spun sideways and the front end of the canoe caught on a large boulder. Water poured into the canoe and we nearly went over! I jumped out into the fast moving current and got the canoe back in motion. Suddenly we were through the tiny rapids! The obstacles began again shortly after and the count continued to rise. I suddenly recognized where I was when we hit a section of navigable creek for a short distance. Gracie was out of the canoe at this point and either running the bank or swimming behind us. She had nearly gotten run over shortly after the rapids and was almost sucked under a large log blocking the creek. Something that I had feared might happen. We kept Stella safely inside the canoe but I think the whitewater had frightened her a little. Zane was in and out of the canoe the same as me depending on the obstacles. He was in the canoe with me when suddenly the 1927 sluiceway appeared. We had made it and proved what I suspected. Enter the conclusion of what had been unknown.

After that we struggled through the remainder of the obstacles and reached Floodwood shortly after. We were getting bit by numerous deer flies in the swampy section just before the pond. The canoe was filthy and I had no dry clothing at all. My phone survived in its waterproof case as did Gracie’s dog control collar and transmitter. We paddled back as quickly as we could to boost our body temperatures. The sun came out full force and we were laughing about our adventure! At a the campsite Zane showed me portions of his video. Very entertaining!The language is a bit raw however as the whole event was filmed as it unfolded. No staging or retakes. It was one of those days that seem to find Zane and I. Make a simple plan and then something shows itself.I suppose that I am the instigator of much of situations we get into. But it’s a rush of spontaneous endeavor and possibilities. I do love a good thrill! Not to mention the strange need to see what lies beyond and between. On the creek we encountered no one. We were the wilderness explorers of that forested valley. Not many travel here and with good reason. There are some 63 obstacles that impend the creek I call Paradise. There was no folly in today’s adventure. Only memorable moments. MOONTABS!

As for conclusions there are several to be found I decided as I basked in the sun on our campsite beach after getting dried out. One is the knowledge that we are blessed to be having these times together. Zane is growing up. Soon he will be a high school senior. My conclusion is that time passes quickly and we must make it count. As large and fluffy white clouds slowly passed over me while I sat on the beach I reached another conclusion. The magic of the clouds themselves which we grow so accustomed to seeing throughout our lives. What would we think about them if we were to suddenly see them for the first time? There is a place of deep reflection in those billowing white clouds and in their changing shapes. As for my final conclusion that I wish to share here, it would have to be this now that I have placed us in. Very different then so many nows that I have known. Task and time are different here as days run into each other. Tomorrow is the final full day on this Rollins Pond campsite for now. Another campsite awaits on Thursday. I am weary and the campfire begins to burn low. Edits? Not a chance tonight.✍️

The Turn Of Thoughts

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We approach the middle of February and last night on the long drive home from Lake Placid I had plenty of time to think. My work there is only part time now since December. That’s fine with me because I have more time to write and get caught up on some of the things I let slide. Speaking of time it’s become a frequent subject of discussion with a young coworker of mine on the project. In his late twenties his perception of it is noteworthy given my obsession with it. Despite the differences in our ages we walk common ground when discussing time and how we choose to manage it. We also shared thoughts on memories or lack there of sometimes. The realization that we can’t remember everything and certain things are lost in the haze of busy existence. I exposed him to the blog the other day. I then encouraged him to consider writing private life journals as a way of preserving his own memories. I kept hand written journals for years. (long before the creation of this blog and the very public sharing of my personal life).Just before beginning this post I did a quick review of my previously published titles and content.Time is a reoccurring subject and one I mention rather often. Some of my followers have told me they enjoy the stories of my life on the farm and roaming the forests of Macomb as a boy. For me those stories bring back many memories! I hope to continue to blend the old with the new this year as the seasons bring the different tasks and hobbies into play. A warm stretch of weather these past few days has certainly aided in turning my thoughts to the upcoming syrup season. Mid February does that to me regardless of temperature typically. I begin to consider those activities of winter that must be experienced before syrup season begins or they will need to wait till next winter. That’s a fact of time.There’s a certain energy in the sunshine now that can’t be denied or ignored. Dripping icicles and tiny rivulets of runoff that begin to flow bring a certain expectation to lovers of producing maple syrup. It’s almost that time of year again! I wrote several posts last year about sugaring if you haven’t read them. I will no doubt take a path of redundancy again this spring writing about sugaring. I suppose that I am trying to set a stage of sorts. One where the actors perform a yearly tradition. If asked what my message might be I would have to say that it’s one of the magic of seasonal transition and the power it brings to my now. Something that I have written about many times. Something real that can’t be bottled or sold. Something elemental in its simplicity and interconnected with nature as only certain experiences can be. If this seems like my same old story it’s because it is! There is a solid positive energy in traditional hobby and task. In a world of ever changing circumstances there is comfort in the approach of sugaring. Predictable to a degree yet still very variable. As I enter the forest as part of a daily routine I will find peace there despite the physical challenges the weather may bring. Or the challenges of life itself. I learned this fact of time most painfully once. The year 2007 was to be the final syrup season that I would share with my father although I didn’t know it at the start. I was busy with balancing the realities of time. A household, a young son, and my barn wood salvage business. Being able to help my father with the annual syrup season was a big part of why I wanted to be self employed in the first place. It was a time thing make no mistake of it. I temporarily left construction suddenly in March of 2006 after becoming ill with a double lung infection from breathing fire proofing all winter on an inside project. The year from March 2006 to March 2007 was a year that I will never forget! Freedom and a new lifestyle where I chased a dream of controlling time. I had done it! Taken control of time! But life is never that simple it seems. That year changed me though. So many great memories and then those I would like to forget. My father began to have some changes in health in the winter of 2007. It started with some strange accidents and memory quirks at times. But things were pretty normal for the most part. We tapped trees in mid March as was our custom but my father was not feeling all that great and went to his doctor. He underwent some tests soon after.He was fearful of dementia he told me one day while we were working together. His sudden changes in mental state were a concern. And then the fateful day. I was boiling sap in the evaporator and could see him walking towards the sugar house. He seemed bent over and I knew something wasn’t quite right. He stepped into the sugar house and we exchanged some simple banter about the quality of the syrup or subjects of that nature. He surprised me suddenly with an sudden outburst. “ I have good news! I don’t have Alzheimer’s! But I do have brain tumors. Two of them on one side of my head.They don’t know much more than that right now.” To this day I can’t remember what I said to him then. But I will never forget my sudden thoughts. I knew at that moment that we would be losing our father. Me a trusted friend. My son his grandfather. I know it sounds very negative but I was being painfully honest with myself. There were times in the coming weeks when I would be hopeful and positive. The doctors would operate and cure him we prayed. But lose him we did by the middle of June. To honor him I wrote my first ever rhyming story “For Pop”-A son’s story of life. And just like that, the aspiring writer in me began to evolve. Why do I share such a sad personal story? Because of time. It is not certain and not without circumstances. It is not guaranteed. I am forever thankful for whatever force told me to become self employed in 2006. The time that I shared with my father that year and into 2007 cannot be altered by any circumstances.It was carved out with deed not words of wishful thinking. I ultimately returned to construction for another 10 years but never again questioned my drive to manipulate time itself. As for what followed in 2009 when cancer was found in my body?Life would take on new meaning and purpose. Time would be on my side throughout that fateful journey. As in “they found my cancer in time to rid my body of it”. And in these moments of my present now I know of several who wrestle greatly with time and much more.Just how much remains for them? A stark reality for all who love them.All this may seem dark and cloudy in the face of a large storm. I apologize. It is not dark to me. It is just very real that’s all. Immortality is not a gift of natural world nor should it be considered.Acknowledging our own mortality need not be dark or foreboding . It’s rather the opposite really. It’s that chance for us to truly reflect on our choices for today and for tomorrow. How best to spend our time and are we happy with our choices. It’s about saying why not do that? Why wait? Why not take that vacation or visit that person? There’s not always a clear path in front of us. It’s not always easy to make the best choices or recognize them as the best ones. For me the answers may be found staying in motion I have decided. Chasing the seasons of nature and finding the magic hidden in each one of them. For time and love are greatly connected I feel. That’s a tough one to explain. If you took the time to read this far thank you! After all I took the time to write it for you! I promise a fun story soon! I simply ask you to reflect on time today and find the small blessings that surround you. ✍️

MOONTABS In Motion

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I love creating words and phrases! Titles especially! One of the benefits of writing a personal blog is not needing to hand my work over to a supervisor for permission to post! One of my long term goals for the blog is simplicity. I desire to keep my work honest and raw. I’ve touched on this before. I dislike editing my own entries quite honestly. I don’t really worry about criticism of my misuse of the English language and sentence structure. If I bring you something edited to the point of being artificial then I lose something in the process. This too has been mentioned. It’s that sense of living in the “now” that I try to capture and get launched in a post. Quite honestly I feel some of my best work dwells in some of my short Facebook posts as we live our day to day lives. My “A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words” posts have been well received. It’s shortened to “APIWATW” if you happen to run across it. The title of today’s post is a phrase that I recently created to describe a future lifestyle choice I hope we can embrace shortly. If you’re following our story then you know about our recent purchase of an Airstream travel coach and pickup truck. These will be taking the place of a permanent home eventually for an unknown amount of time. I haven’t worked out all the details as we get accustomed to the proposed transition. But such answers will often appear to me suddenly while driving. The phrase MOONTABS In Motion occurred to me suddenly one day while driving around wiping out a myriad of small details. There’s a hazy destination in the term that I have yet to fully understand. Call it a feeling of gut instinct. It’s connected to nature and migration. Perhaps it’s just my desire to travel and explore. The imaginative side of me believes different. As does the romantic adventurer side. If you’ve ever read my Facebook profile then you know my simple quote: The answers to all questions in nature can be found. Never to have asked them, uncertain future bound. My true spirit energy is connected to the natural world. It’s where my stories originate most of the time and always have mainly. Sometimes writing can take a turn down pensive and pragmatic pathways that I risk getting lost on myself at times. I consider this a continuing introduction. MOONTABS In Motion is going to take a little work to fine tune. It’s travel. Adventure.The mundane days of trying to get it right and still stay positive. It’s about the unexpected and the unknown that hits you right between the eyes sometimes. It’s about getting knocked down and staggering back up. It’s about giving and sharing. Taking the time to say I can wait for a minute. I need to help someone today. I still have tomorrow.Motion is the key word. As in forward. That place you always wanted to head off for but just couldn’t for some reason. I don’t expect words will capture what I hope this simple term brings to life. It will express itself in deeds. Ones that say I want to make a difference. Not just for myself but for many. I recently had a meet and greet with Patrick Bourcy. He’s the creator of the Facebook group Just Go Outside. We shared a lot that day talking for several hours. It was nice to know that others shared the same hopes that I did when I began to put my ideas in motion. If you’re not familiar with Just Go Outside I think you’ll like it’s positive energy! I may be posting there more frequently soon in a somewhat different capacity. There’s a strength in a group of positive individuals that can truly make a difference to someone who might be struggling. Most of us have struggled at some point in our lives in some capacity. Some struggle everyday. MOONTABS is where I chose to count my blessings. To honor the simple gifts of nature and what they mean to me. It’s a journey underway. Decades in the making. It’s recognizing when ordinary is extraordinary. I hope you find yourself in the journey. You have your own MOONTABS. “Memories Once Ours Never To Be Stolen”.

Time and Task

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People who know I write often ask me why I still haven’t published my first book. That’s an easy one to answer! Taz-mania! I have felt that other plans for the MOONTABS evolution needed to come first. In fact if it hadn’t been for my administrator Gerry Washburn’s nudging you wouldn’t even be reading this! I mentioned creating a blog and he made it happen rather quickly! The “homework” assignments that he gave me several months ago are still incomplete in fact! I’d better get them on a list. There’s an interesting story in my struggle to balance time and task. Rather life long when I truly begin to ponder it. There’s also my own personal bewilderment as too how I managed time during my many years of working. The questions begin to add up with sometimes frightening self conjured speculation!Is the older,retired me slowing down? What if I do? Is that a bad thing? Have I lost my ability to manage time properly? Where exactly am I spending my time each day? I don’t think there’s a simple answer for any of those questions! The best example might be comparing myself to a hydroelectric facility.It’s not as crazy as it sounds! Let me try to explain! When thoughts of time and task begin to back up in my mental reservoir it’s time to clear the grating that covers the entrance to the penstock of a dam. That dam is holding back thousands (millions?)of gallons of water. (I read that the average person has about 70 thousand thoughts per day!) There’s a lot of potential energy stored there right? Getting that potential energy into the penstock and down to the turbines is the key to generating electricity.That’s the goal of hydroelectric production. Budgeting time can be compared to that.If the penstock doesn’t have flowing water the turbines don’t spin. No electricity gets produced. The water just gets released over the dam’s overflow wall.Thinking of it as being wasted is negative.Time is our water. Our strength and energy are connected to time. How we choose to use it is the key to exactly what we’re capable of producing. Our time can get diverted sometimes before it even reaches the dam. That’s a little more complicated then I am willing to try and explain right now. Let’s throw this into your reservoir instead. Ask yourself this simple question: Do you ever question the passage of time? Have you ever? Sometimes we can only see that “time is money”. We’ve all heard that. When I refer to generating my electricity it doesn’t represent money. Balance is the best word.That place where you give of your time and energy yet find time for yourself. It’s going to take some deeds and positive action to fully bring this subject into the light of comprehension.If you’re swimming frantically right about now trying not to drown in the murky waters of Lake Taz-mania don’t panic! This post is merely a shallow dive. The waters quite warm actually.We’re going to attempt to make this journey fun! Learn something along the way. Get other peoples perspective and hear their stories. On the shore of the reservoir you may see yourself in a reflection on the surface. An early blog post of mine was titled “It’s About Time”.As short and sweet as they come. When I wrote it many things hadn’t happened yet but now they have come and gone. Situations and circumstances have changed quickly. Decisions have been made and followed through with little or no hesitation. Other decisions have taken hours of deliberation. People I know are facing new and difficult moments on their rivers of life. These are dark days for some and I must ask myself tough questions at times. Can my electricity light my way forward? Can it comfort or help others?Can the spinning turbines of Taz energy make a difference? How will I react to the low waters that arrive if there’s a drought? There are no easy answers. But this day of summer awaits me with plentiful daylight. We have a plan of how we’re going to spend our time today. It’s that “power of the now” I embrace these days for its simplicity of action. I started out to write of my latest plan for MOONTABS.It’s called MOONTABS In Motion. The fork in the road has been passed now. We punched the gas and went straight ahead into the unknown. There’s no turning back from some of these decisions. From simple origins we are building a small platform for a rocket launch of hope and dreams. Imagination is the fuel. The short story “Escape Velocity” continues to be written. MOONTABS is more than me now. I suppose it never was truly mine anyway. I’m simply the generator of words. They have become my work and I pass my time penning them. ✍️

Horsing Around On The Obx

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We’ve just returned from a whirlwind trip to North Carolina moving Jennifer’s daughter to the Durham area. We were so close to the coast that we decided to spend a couple days there exploring and seeing the sights. The roads and highways in the Durham area are quite busy but as we ventured towards the coast the traffic thinned and we enjoyed some beautiful country scenery. Our route took us through several small villages where prosperity or lack of it was rather obvious. Only with investigation could we ever know the true story of life in these small towns or the people who call them home. There was a rigorous amount of agricultural activities which were good to see. Fields of sprouting corn, grain, and things unknown to us from the windows of the truck. Eventually as we neared the coast the land became very low lying with swampy sections of mixed forests and water filled ditches. We began to spot numerous turtles sunning themselves on logs and bogs. We reached an access road leading into the Alligator River Wildlife Refuge and decided to take a back road tour of it. Apparently black bears live here and we kept a watchful eye on the thick brushy ditches and open maintained clearings. A local kayak adventure company does tours here we learned on some of the coastal waterways within the refuge. We eventually grew tired of seeing nothing but turtles and endless watery ditches so we began to seek a way out. The dirt roads were quite well maintained and decent to travel with only a few other vehicles out there with us. As we neared the intersection that would that us out to our paved destination we spotted a stopped van. At the same moment Jennifer spotted a black bear in the road in front of the van. It was rather thin and gangly in appearance though. Not the robust hardy sort we might encounter occasionally back home. We guessed it to be rather young . We watched it for some time as it foraged along the road. We wondered if people had left food or something for it. Illegal in New York State most definitely. It obviously had a large sanctuary to roam in this huge refuge that’s for sure. We continued our travels leaving the bear to his(her) snacking and felt grateful to have seen it. The traffic picked up as we neared the coast and we crossed a large bridge with beautiful coastal scenery in all directions. We stopped at the Roanoke Island Visitor Center for a brief break gathering brochures and maps of the OBX. The staff were friendly and knowledgeable! I mentioned driving up to see the wild horses of Corolla and they offered sage advice. The highways of the OBX were busy and brisk as people were moving about on the Memorial Day weekend. We found our Airbnb easily with the truck’s navigation system. Paired with Jennifer’s phone travel was rather simple with few complications. Jennifer is a first rate navigator always! Her planning and attention to details is unmatched in my opinion. I drive and she navigates. Perfect!Our cozy Airbnb was tucked away in a residential section of Kill Devil Hills. The owner stepped out and exchanged greetings with us. I asked about the wild horses and he offered tips for driving the 4wd drive stretches of beach where we might encounter them. “Deflate your tires or you may get stuck” was his final tidbit of advice. One I chose to ignore despite the signs along the route recommending it. My 2021 F-150 has a special transmission setting for sand and deep snow. I chose to test it out although honestly I was a little anxious about my decision to not deflate. We followed the signs that were bringing us closer to Corolla where the pavement ends and the sandy driving beaches begin. We liked the small town of Duck with its abundance of shops and restaurants. There is little undeveloped land however with beach houses, motels, and gated communities covering the landscape. The roads were packed with vehicles and travel was slow but steady. A driver must remain ever vigilant here. We reached the point of no return and engaged the 4wd and transmission setting. Onto the land stretches of beach with a variety of other vehicles. Large groups of people were set up partying and enjoying the sun. It was a bit of a free for all atmosphere with T-charged young men racing through the deeper sections of sand with obvious abandon. It was rather thrilling actually and I took the truck right to the oceans edge and drove the smooth wet sand. Some sections next to the surf are off limits and we were forced into the deep dry sand for some bumpy 4wd fun! The truck handled well and my fears of being stuck left me. The wild horses were absent from the frantic human activities of the beaches. No surprise there. We spotted a couple of the wild horse tour trucks and decided to follow them. They lead us off the beach onto narrow sandy roads sprinkled with numerous beach houses. There were no signs for the most part and we continued to probe deeper. We began to spot piles of dry horse droppings but still no horses. We hit a couple of dead end streets where no trespassing signs warned us away and made for tricky turn arounds.We lost sight of the tour truck but eventually spotted two others back on the beach and gave chase. They once again led us from the beach and eventually our efforts paid off when Jennifer suddenly spotted a pair feeding on a lawn next to a beach house! We watched them for some time and resumed our search. We spotted a few near an inland canal but couldn’t get very close. But our persistence paid off and we encountered about a dozen or feeding right beside the road. They paid no attention to us and we actually had to get too close to them in the process of turning around. Mission accomplished! We tackled the deep sands of the beach and returned to the paved roads of civilization. We found a crowded restaurant and enjoyed some yummy Mahi Mahi tacos.It was almost chilly sitting outside but we enjoyed our meal away from the crowded interior. We stopped at an abandoned real estate office parking lot and watched the sunset. Beautiful and red. The perfect way to end our day of adventures. Safely tucked into our rooms we studied the facts of the wild horses of the OBX. Descendants of Spanish mustangs they once numbered 5000 -6000 in a survey conducted in 1926. They now number a mere 100 -110. It seems they were a nuisance and considered feral by the National Park Service as the Cape Hatteras park was created. A bounty was placed on them and they were destroyed. Now controlled and monitored closely they live in a roughly 7544 acre compound of public and private lands. Reading of their demise was disturbing and sad for us. Human sprawl and development. The need for space.Something as tourists we were part of to some degree. One can only imagine what this landscape offered once. But we felt privileged to have gazed upon them and watched their carefree roaming. They are said to cover roughly 15-20 miles per day sometimes grazing on their specialized diets. We hope to return and view them again sometime. Our final day on the OBX was a busy one! We hit a local donut shop called Duck Donuts for yummy breakfast treats. We toured the town of Roanoke on a leisurely and relaxing stroll. Stopping to tour the lighthouse and gain some historical knowledge of the location. Our next stop was incredible! The dunes of Jockey’s Ridge State Park. Free and open to the public. The highest dune complex on the East coast. Truly remarkable in its vastness. It’s a bit tiring walking in the deep sand and made for some comical moments. Those times when Jennifer and I checkout. Living and laughing in the now. Free and unencumbered by anything. The dunes are a must see if you are in the OBX. Our next stop was the eastern side of Kill Devil Hills where we strolled the beach enjoying the surf and gathering seashells. Later we experienced a wonderful dining experience outside at the Blue Point Restaurant in Duck. I highly recommend it! We returned to the dunes of Jockey’s Ridge to watch the sun set on our day. We rose early and headed out to a local breakfast shop called Biscuits and Porn. No clue there as to the name but it was worth our time stopping. So we left the OBX with special MOONTABS and know we will return again. After all, we barely scratched the surface of all that awaits a visitor. But that’s the magic of travel and adventure for those who crave it. The sun sets for us in new and exciting locations. I chase those sunsets with my lovely companion and enjoy a most special life with her. It is but the beginning of a much larger story I pray. For blessings are mine and I humbly acknowledge them. To share our story and all we learn.Dollars well invested in life and experiences. That’s the message. Wander wisely and reap the rewards. The Great Wander looms with hopeful imagination. It’s always been a dream of mine. To see what lies over the next hill. I’ll try to tell the story well.

Cold Memories From A Warm Heart

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A cold morning at Hill House this morning!It’s been a strange winter for sure!Quite mild actually, with minimal snow.The Lake only sports about 8 inches of ice down in front of the house. After last night I expect that changed. As I stepped out to fire the outside wood boiler (aka The Monster) in my bathrobe and Crocs I realized there was a significant wind chill also. A bathrobe and Crocs is standard attire for a retired person up here on the hill. After all what’s the hurry? It’s that time of winter when the increase of daylight becomes noticeable.Icicles form and drip as the sun hits them. Mini avalanches send snow sliding off the southern and western portions of the metal roof with startling rumbles. I have a lifelong fascination with ice. Walking on it.Following the streams and exploring beaver ponds. Taking shortcuts across it to save time. Always looking for that perfect picture of it hanging from ledges. Amazed as the lake ice booms at night as you shine a flashlight on a night set walleye tip up. Ice is powerful. Cracking concrete. Moving foundations and lifting asphalt. A morning such as this reminds me that this morning’s temperature of 7 degrees Fahrenheit is nothing! I am always telling my teenage son Zane about the cold winters of my youth. He scoffs and says “ older people always say things like that!” But I remember many cold days and nights from years ago. The weather began to take a sudden turn here sometime in the eighties. More unpredictable and sporadic. We still had some fierce winters but things were much different. The winters of 1993 and 1994 were some of the coldest in recent history as I recall. The winters of my youth were rather predictable most of the time throughout the seventies. Late November would find the freeze up beginning. By Xmas time the ice was nicely formed and the snow would begin to accumulate. The temperatures would continue to plummet and by January it could be brutal!We would however often get a January thaw that would last a few days then disappear. Nothing like the up and down cycles we endure here now each winter. Sure there were abnormalities and breaks in the patterns occasionally. Typically after the January thaw the weather would remain very cold till March.The first two weeks of February could be some of the coldest we’d get all winter! The sun might shine but when’s it’s minus 20 or below it didn’t matter much! Growing up on the farm winter changed the routine immensely. Everything was more difficult. Snow to shovel.Hungry horses and cows stabled in the warm barn to feed twice a day. Their waste to be removed from the barn each day.Water to keep from freezing as well. Doors and feed holes always sticking. Saturday’s would find us out with the team of horses cutting firewood. We pulled a big work sleigh for hauling the wood to the farmhouse. No fancy dry weave or nylon clothing. Wool was the answer to keeping warm. Wool pants and chopper’s mitts. Wool toques the standard fare. The job of the farm boy was to always break the sleigh runners free with a large steel bar before they could be moved.They’d freeze down to ground and take some effort to free. It was a cycle of life that became the normal. I think it’s why I have this tremendous connection to the seasons. Sometimes it would be too cold to even venture out to work. But that was rare. The daylight would increase and we’d skip work some Saturdays. We’d load our gear and head to the lake for a day of ice fishing. We’d drive right across the lake with the truck on 20 inches plus of ice.Great memories!One winter especially comes to mind. It was 1978 headed into 1979. Xmas day a balmy -25 degrees Fahrenheit. The oil filter on the Ford Mercury burst when trying to start it. The days of that winter would see a 30 day plus run of days that never got above 0 degrees Fahrenheit! Brutal and testing the limits of people and machines! I learned the tricks of survival.Battery chargers and booster cables. Dry gas to keep fuel lines flowing. Fuel injection not yet common as carburetors ruled the realms of internal combustion engines. We didn’t own anything diesel then. The winter of 1979 and 1980 was equally cold. As I think back over the years I can remember so many brutally cold days and nights. So today feeling cold at 7 degrees Fahrenheit seems wimpy! I think we need to put on some dry weave inner layers with a nylon outer layer. Maybe my Gortex hunting jacket. I have been eyeing the real wool outer wear they sell at a store in Malone,N.Y. Perhaps it’s time to return to the old ways. Or maybe a blend of both worlds. One thing I can’t buy at any price is a pair of my Grandmother’s hand knit mittens. Or a wool jacket with a hand stitched cotton neck liner to keep the wool from irritating my skin. We survived those challenging days of years past. We’ve grown soft perhaps with these new winters. Those winters of our ancestors were very real! Not just a figment of aging memories. I know! I lived some of them! Close to nature. I am the fortunate man. To know the swing of seasons with passing days.To learn to care for livestock. To know the value of home heating fuel that came from the forests of the farm. To appreciate the warmth of the farmhouse at the end of the work day. Meat and potatoes to replenish and nourish the weary body. My roots are deep and well planted. For that I know I am truly blessed! The memories will never die if I keep them alive with words. Some things are best left forgotten but some are not. The stories are many and wait to be dredged like buried gold from the years. To leave them uncovered could be a loss. For Zane and all my family. “It’s no bad thing to celebrate a simple life”. (J.R.R. Tolkien)

Hiking

The Look Ahead and Behind

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It’s been a busy past few days! Working on last minute details as winter approaches in these last days of autumn. The Grand Harvest of collecting firewood continues but we reach a milestone of accomplishment. It’s like that with the blog as well. I still continue my introduction of myself for the moment. Most people who know me on social media will remember it was in 2018 when I first joined Facebook. Retirement in 2017 would see me finding more time to write.New beginnings and a ramping up of adventures. The works of that year and every year after continue to pile up! Unpublished but not forgotten. Facebook has been the ultimate practice writing site! Consider it an experiment of sorts! Several people suggested that I begin a blog. Thx!The message today dwells in the simple word “now “. My now is that place I choose to exist these days. It’s that place where I try to sync in with nature in seasonal harmony. Nothing new for me honestly. Only in a greater sense of appreciation and perception. I find strength and positivity as I dive deeper into nature. It’s something I wish to share at a deep emotional level while keeping it fun at the same time!Another experiment! My best writing I feel is in the emotion of the now.Day to day. Nothing staged.Not processed and prepackaged with artificial ingredients.Best served raw with minimal editing. Nature taught me valuable lessons in the raw honesty of hard truths. Very real at a primitive level. It’s about life and death.Everything in between. Diving deep is fine but it’s the stories I’ve learned that people seem to enjoy most! I’ve been experimenting on other individuals sites. In fact I’ve been kicked off one for crossing manmade boundaries! Gently kicked I’d have to add! They were patient!Nature exists everywhere on earth. That’s where the stories can get interesting! I fear my continued introduction may bore you to tears! Patience! Remember this quote! “In nature there is no hurry yet all is accomplished “! There’s time and plenty of stories! The now will trigger memories. New ones are made each day. It all ties together! That’s a promise I can honestly make. It’s time for me to pack for our next adventure! Consider this the end of formal introductions. Don’t worry comments will be accepted in time! I’ll jump right into it next time! But first we must live those moments! Taz