Just before I was due to call, I got a text
from Ben. He had already left and asked me to take care of the cats until
Monday. I generally don’t mind letting the cats in and out and feeding them.
Ben is a good neighbour. He often shovels the walk for me and I want to be a
good neighbour as well. But for some reason, I was annoyed. What if I had
plans? He really should have asked before he left. But wait. I do have plans!
I’ve been invited to the cottage. I texted back that I could look after the
cats on Saturday, but I was gone the rest of the weekend. Ben replied that as
long as I also fed them Sunday, they could manage until Ben got back. I have
soften driven distances alone. It’s really not a big deal.
I woke up early on Sunday, went next door
to feed the cats, threw pjs and a change of underwear into a bag and set off. I
knew most of the route since it was not far from the cottage Gila rented last
summer and I had driven there and back a number of times, alone. The road was
pretty clear and I made good time. It looked like I would arrive in under three
hours, but at the last turn, I decided to take the scenic route. I remembered
that it was a short distance from highway 118 to the cottage on a fairly
straight road. The road I was on was like a roller coaster ride, up one steep hill,
down another, around tight turns. I was pretty sure I was wrong. When the paved
road became a snow packed trail and I almost drove into lake Kenissis on a boat
launch, I finally admitted I had made a mistake, retraced my route and made the
right turn at a crossroads. Stopping to read the directions would have been
useful as well. Apparently, my memory is not as good as it used to be.
It was a relief to finally arrive and as
soon as I walked in the door, I could feel my blood pressure drop and in less than
five minutes, I was mellowed out. I had a bite to eat and read and dozed in
equal proportion for the rest of the afternoon. Irv and Cynthia took their
snowshoes and drove to a hiking path in the area. They encouraged me to join
them, but without snowshoes, I wasn’t sure it would be pleasurable for me.
There is a lot of snow out there. In reality, I just wanted to mellow and was
glad that there weren’t any snowshoes for me.
Irv and Cynthia really enjoyed their hike
and told me about coming across a flock of wild turkeys. Cynthia told me that
Michigan and Ontario had made an exchange in which Ontario sent Michigan a
moose or two (I’m not sure how many) to boost their dwindling herd and Michigan
sent wild turkeys. The wild turkeys were flourishing in Haliburton.
A late lunch, more reading/dozing, a few
rounds of Boggle and Bananagram and a late dinner rounded out the day.
I woke up before six the next morning and
played some solitaire and read more of my book before I actually got up and
dressed at about nine. There were no sounds from the upstairs master suite, so
I installed myself on the new sofa and did the usual, read and doze.
It was a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the
sky and a bright warm sun. Irv and Cynthia planned on snowshoeing on the lake.
The ice is three feet thick so there is no fear of falling in. They encouraged
me to join them. Again without snowshoes I was reluctant, figuring that I would
sink knee deep with each step, but I agreed trying by walking on the trail they
left. That strategy did not work, but there were dozens of skidoo tracks all
over the lake. The machines had compressed the snow enough to provide me with a
solid trail.
One part of the lake had been ploughed from
one shore almost to the other across the lake and provided a long skating rink.
Another part of the lake had huts for ice fishing. After a short while, Cynthia
had had enough and we returned to the cottage, but Irv wanted to stay out
longer, as did I so I put on Cynthia’s snowshoes and we decided to investigate
the ice fishing set up. Staying on the snowmobile tracks made the go a little
easier but as I clomped further and further, I started to ache in places that I
didn’t know could ache. As I fell behind or stopped for a short rest, Irv would
ask if I had had enough. Being persistent, I assured him I wanted to continue.
In reality I was ready to turn back after only about ten minutes. As the pace
slowed more and the stops were more frequent, Irv kept offering to turn back. I
realized that once we got to the hut I would have to get all the way back, but
I was still determined.
Just before we reached the huts, we saw the
holes that had been augered for fishing. I had worried that if anyone was going
to fall into a hole it would be me, but fortunately, the holes were only about
six inches in diameter and had iced over again. No one was there but cigarette
butts, yellow snow (I’m assuming beer) and a cache of ice cubes (to keep the
beer cold?) were evidence that this fishing haven was being used.
I was more than ready to head back. I
looked to the other shore pointing out the cottage. Irv told me I was wrong.
His cottage was much farther (and I mean farther literally) along the shore.
The trip back was even slower than the hike out. At one point I asked Irv if he
would bring the cottage to me if I couldn’t go any farther. He offered to drag
me back by my feet. I considered it but without snow pants, I would get too wet
and too cold. I was actually quite pleased that I had done it. I know it wasn’t
a great accomplishment, but it certainly was more than I thought I could do.
The sun was very warm and even before we
got near the cottage I had shed my hat and mitts and was more than ready to get
rid of my jacket. Back at the cottage I had to shed the layers that I was wearing
because I had become so hot with the activity. I need to look into getting my
own snowshoes if I go up to the cottage during the winter. It’s a wonderful way
to enjoy the outdoors. Despite my dislike of winter, I have to admit that out
where the snow is still white, surrounded by the peace of the country is a
pleasure.
Too soon, it was time to leave. It was a
short visit, but it gave me the opportunity to unwind much more than I can at
home. The drive back was much shorter when you make the right turns. I almost
left Haliburton with a turkey dinner. As I drove along the highway, a flock of
turkeys crossed the road. If I had sped up, I’m sure there would have been
enough road kill for a number of turkey dinners, but the thought of picking
them up, smelling them for three hours while I drove and cleaning them enough
to cook them was enough of a deterrent to make me slow down and wonder: Why did
the turkey cross the road?
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