In the world but not of it

After misadventures galore (mostly revolving around a sick kitty) we finally made it up to the U.P.  Our 5 day trip was downgraded to 3 days, but it was better than not going at all.

Why would anyone want to visit the U.P. you ask, with its half redneck half Canadian infusion?  A culture where commercialism has de-evolved into "Discount Genuine Moccasins" and kitschy Yooper...kitsch at every corner. Why you ask again?  Because we are able to stay far, far away from that kind of nonsense in a place that can only be found in 4-wheel drive.

We hide ourselves away on 300 acres of wooded land, in a cabin built on a beautiful creek (read: swimming holes, waterfalls, rock formations to climb/slip/slide upon).  A cabin with no electricity and a hand pump sink for running water.  Kerosene lanterns and candles give us light.  A fireplace, wood-cook stove and wood heater keep out the U.P. cold.

(taken previously...the leaves had already fallen when we arrived)

At the cabin, we wake with the sun and the sound of the bubbling creek.  We ignite a great fire with the glowing coals left from last night's fire.  A kettle for coffee is put on to warm and the rest of the morning is open to whatever we wish.  We make big breakfasts, eat cheese and smoked whitefish for lunch, and throw together giant dinners in the fading light.  In between the meals we read, explore outside, shoot guns, chop firewood, play cards, clear out paths and whatever else we choose.  We sleep to deep darkness outside, the creek sounding beneath us and wood crackling in the heater.  

(our dinner of grilled fish, fresh salad, smashed red potatoes and cinnamon rolls)

Time passes very strangely at the cabin.  At home, we find ourselves aware of every passing minute.  We scurry about to fit our job/errands/social life within the short hours of the day.  At the cabin we take as long as needed for the job to get done.  We relish the activity for its own sake, not because completing it shortens some self-imposed schedule.  When I was outside after nightfall, I can't tell you how long I looked at the stars (so many, many stars).  It could have been 2 minutes, it could have been 20.  I know that I looked until my heart was satisfied.  No rush.  Tom went for a walk during the day and I know he did the same.  Neither of us know how long he was gone; he was engrossed in his exploration and I in my book.  Besides the sun, we are removed from time and all else of the outside world.  We hear, see, smell, touch and taste more clearly.  We think and speak with more care and depth.  We are given over 'to burn always with this hard, gem-like flame'.

We head back again, Lord willing, next month.  We may get snowed in and I think that would only enhance the 'separateness' of the place.  I could handle snowshoes...

B