One down...

Starting the day with five clicks above zero, unbolting the front door is the best part of each morning. The rush of frozen air engulfing the entryway, swapping places with the warm air that had previously occupied the cabin. Taking that first breath, near freezes the lungs but feels more refreshing than intolerable. Quickly latching the door to stay open, taking a moment to gaze across the river to an open meadow of white, looking up and down the river to make sure all is still calm and together, I grab a small armful of wood to stoke the fire and prepare to go fishing. Two casts out of the cabin, all is frozen, the rod, reel, line, time to have a cup of tea and try something else, inside perhaps. Between online reading, a few typing skill games, my usual investigation of Craigslist and a gentle brush through of Ebay, I resume my morning with breakfast and waiting for the sun to rise. The rays no longer peer over the mountain tops, nor the sides, but instead come gleaming out of the trees, arching towards the next set of mountains in front my window nearly cresting the jagged points of Jack Knife before embarking on its ever reliant journey toward darkness.

In an overwhelmingly long night of cat and mouse antics, I Tom the cat, caught Jerry the shrew. I felt very proud of his capture, meeting his demise from lust after my sunflower seeds and peanut butter tin can. He started out menacing me as usual when the lights turned off. Scratching, biting, running all about, seemingly practicing for the Mouse Olympics or just naturally talented in the high jump. I directed the beam of my spot light on him as he knew no boundaries, up on my work bench, hoarding seeds in his cheeks, then scurrying into the dark. Climbing on my dirty dishes, hoping to lick the bowls of the last dinner, catching crumbs that manage to elude the bristles of my routine sweeping. Not now, may Jerry rest in peace at the bottom of some trouts belly or in the beaks of the foraging seagulls. Nights have returned to quiet, except last night, a quick glance to the left and Jerry 2 ran across the floor. Immediately the trap was reinstated for action and although I haven't heard his presence, its only a matter of time.

On one afternoon, the fog was far off in the distance, as seen above. However it was moving quickly and before I could row back, I was in its grasp, hiding the sunlight and all navigating landmarks around. I was rowing out there to get out of the cabin and to see the newly formed ice layer that stretched from one shore to the next. It was full rowing power as I drew closer and closer, colliding was the goal and splitting the ice was a bonus. It wasn't an immediate stop, but it was rather abrupt. Three/quarter inch thick ice is no match for weak arms like mine and I found myself nestled in there tightly, like a pig in a blanket feeling. Rocking the boat back and forth created a current of waves that flowed under the ice cap. It was very subdued and restricted in movement, but there was cracking and electric current sounds that rose from beneath, breaking the ice around my boat. Reluctant but eventually fracturing the ice as far as I could see the wave motion before it dispersed into the calm, as it was before my menacing curiosity arose.
Looking down beneath the ice, was motionless waters, clear and greenish blue with a sandy bottom and an occasional large stone or pile of stones. It could have been forty feet or fifteen, but it seemed the same depth as there was nothing to gauge the distance. I was scouting for fish, the old fashioned way, but no luck. I eventually rowed back as the fog was now here, and a gentle breeze helped push my boat broadside down the river. Hooking into a few big Char, every cast was a multiple success. If one got off, another would be there to pick up what his partner could not handle. It was not a harvesting day, only catch and release.

A frozen wonderland, is exactly what it was like wandering around the forest and lodge grounds. Every tree was showered with crystals of ice that formed a whole new type of foliage especially for the winter months. Of course it did not last but while it was here, it was magnificent to look at. I would easily sacrifice the fading colors of leaves, for the melting and growing formation of ice. It was a sight to see.

Thanksgiving was nice out here, and although family and friends were near on Skype, they were missed. Most of all, I missed pumpkin pie, from Costco! I hear homemade is good, however there are some things that are better from a store. Maybe I haven't had anything worth mentioning from home or scratch, but on pumpkin pie, Costco has most everyone beat. For all who had pumpkin pie, I hope you enjoyed it immensely.
My bird was shot the day prior, a Spruce Grouse that found its life in jeopardy as the annual holiday of bird eating drew near. Accompanied with it was a medley of cranberries from the high bush picked earlier this year, apples and walnuts with a mixture of lemon and orange juices with a few other touches called for making cranberry relish. A very flavorful stuffing with a good dash of tarragon and a recipe for baked brie. As most people this past Thursday, there was far too much food to eat at one sitting, and naturally we all will gorge ourselves night after night for the next week on leftovers.
There are certain good things about being up here away from the frantic holiday moods, the impatience and the sides of people you would rather not see as they dash from here to there getting ready for another holiday that is sure to creep up on everyone as it always does. I don't miss the Black Friday and the craziness that it illuminates in all that lose themselves to a shopping frenzy. I don't miss the lines in a supermarket, but I do miss the options it provides for a change in diet. I don't miss the four light changes it takes to make a left turn on a busy afternoon or the honking of horns and pushy, reckless and insistent drivers that make it all very unappealing. There are many pros and con's to being out here, and for not being here and doing the mentioned above for twenty something years, I'll give this a go for once. Maybe never to do again, maybe to repeat every year, I will just rest assured that everyone down there will have plenty of their share and want a little of mine up here.

MIGHTY MOUSE

Snow finally fell, and a good amount! It came silently in the night around eight and didn't let up until the following afternoon around four. Pushing the front door open was met with stiff resistance where an abundant amount of snow had accumulated on the deck. First actions were to make a pathway to the river so fishing could resume and instead of snow boots, hip waders were more appropriate. I had three shovels handy to help dig my pathways to the end of the cabin, the thermometer on a pole just outside my window and eventually paths would be cleared to the sauna, wood shed and the shops where the snow mobiles are sitting. It was an adventure grooming the trails of sixteen inches of powder with a snow mobile that seems to have a mind of its own. Either too much gas or way too much gas are the options and either one I choose seems to end up with near roll overs, going into the river or in most cases into a solid object like trees.

I managed to get the machine stuck a few times, but accomplished the packing down of trails.

I have made a small adjustment to my bathing routine, now its only on Friday's, possibly even every ten days. The other days, Monday and Wednesday I use my newly formed outdoor showering facility with five gallons of warm water, a rag and a cut open used salsa container for pouring. Its quite cold, even with the sides to shield the wind, and the bathing time is next to lightning speed, as soon as the shampoo and soap is gone, I pour the remainder over my head, shake off like a mangy dog and run for the warm cabin to defrost the ice that formed on the strands of my hair. Its been single digits at about eleven in the morning and the highest I've seen with full sunshine was twenty eight before it plunges back down in a matter of  minutes.
I decided that the hassle of gathering water for the sauna in all this snow, putting on more clothes, boots and snow shoes just to go take them off and get clean, then put them all back on to return is a hassle that only needs to be done three or four times a month. I was out snowshoeing today and pulling a sled up the hills around camp, gathering firewood and exchanging propane bottles. Your heart races, breathing begins to hurt a little and the inhaling of air through my mouth numbs the teeth from how cold it is. Its the feeling of drinking ice water, straining it through your teeth before you swallow. None the less, the walk in the clumsy, oversized clown shoes seem to work and I only sink about six inches instead of fourteen.

A new moon rises each evening, just before sunset which for me seems to be around 5:45. I have not switched over to the daylight savings time, so I go off of the PST. There is really no reason to change, and for one possible chance I get to not obey the times of this world, I can and it makes absolutely no difference. Time doesn't really mean too much to me, the days are already extremely short, hunger kicks in at all hours, so I just eat, or sleep or fish whenever I feel like doing so, there is no schedule to keep.

This morning was extremely lively for things out here, the echo's don't sound so loud, dampened by the blanket of snow, leaving the rapids down stream of the cabin the only constant noise to be heard. This morning there were several different noises, a couple dozen Spruce Hens came flying in from across the river, flying low to the water and making the distinct buzz of wings that these chicken like birds make. Several landed in front of the cabin, others on my boat, most on the waters edge pecking away at any available food source, but two or three rogue birds made me jump when they seemingly crashed onto the roof of the cabin, clamoring and scratching, trying to get a grip on the slippery metal surface. It was the most startling sound heard yet. I didn't shoot any, there are several in the freezer that need to be eaten first. However the fingers were itching, half to pull the trigger and the other half to spill blood and feel the warmth of fresh meat in the hands. I settled on two trout later that afternoon to fuel the harvesting instinct. There were other noises this morning that extended into the evening, which is a sign that the scenery is going to change very soon. Large, small, river width and plywood sized sheets of ice drifting past, crashing into birch tree branches that loom over the river, dipping their ends under the surface, and also the rocks that now show themselves and their wounds given to them by poor riverboat captains that had misjudged their shapes or depth in seasons past. I too have been one of those captains, and there have been a few dings and dents that are attributed to my miscalculations. The ice had come from my side of the lake, in the protected shallows where no breeze could disturb the formation of these once silent, now noise making frozen waters. And still there are more noises, the scratching, the biting, the crawling and the noise of ruin as shrew's climb and menace me in the night. I listened carefully as one was chewing on a bag of chocolate chips in the bathroom area, converted to refrigerator. I grabbed a flashlight, put on a glove and flung open the door, only to find no sign.... until the light caught his beady eyes staring at me, shivering in fright as my hand drew closer to grab him. Being blinded by a spotlight would throw off the concentration of my attack, or you might think it would but as I went for him, he sprouted wings and flew off the vanity, landing on the floor and surviving another day. Since then, we play a little game. I try to fall asleep faster than they can come out to make noise and keep me awake. I haven't won yet. However I have fashioned a trap, that hasn't worked yet but I keep the hope alive that death will be produced. We'll see.

Thanksgiving is coming soon, and my meal preparations need to be thought out, the menu, the timing of it all and the company that will show up unexpectedly. The fox has not been seen since the fall of the snow, when he was spotted bounding up and almost vanishing before springing up and then back down. I don't think he likes the winter time. Picasso has been in hiding as well or eaten, I'm not sure. I will keep a plate for either or both that arrive, and any others that care to join, I think I have a little of something for every animal, meat eater or plant. The sunrises have been very beautiful, the sunsets have been as well, and the days have been blue skies and sunshine. Although the warmth is not felt on the skin, the warmth is felt deeper within. I miss the sunshine quite a bit, almost enough to be thinking about my post Alaska trip to a tropical destination.

Forecast- Cold

The high of twenty two today and a low of twelve. Forecast for the next few months is cold, very cold. Its mornings that are like these, making it so tempting to take the rod out and try my luck. Fighting the frostbite, or feeling of such that quickly consumes the fingers and toes, its all you can do to keep them warm enough so as not to fall off. You wouldn't think by how beautiful and calm everything is, how frigid the air really is. You wouldn't think that the slightest bit of moisture on your boots instantly freezes your feet to the deck of the boat. Its hard to imagine your fishing reel seizing up while the line is still in the water because a coating of ice now overtakes any mechanical capability there was. However cold it may seem, the fish are still there and waiting to be caught. I rowed my boat to the other side of the river, trying to give myself another advantage over the fish by coming from a different angle. So as I row, closer and closer I get to the sheet of ice that now wraps the shoreline, being preserved from lack of sunlight. I smash into it, hardly even a crack. The ice is getting thicker by the day and soon the lake will be frozen. At that point I'll be wishing I had a pair of skates to enjoy the largest ice skating rink I'll probably ever be on. First cast off the new side, watching and listening for any animals at my back, testing the drag to compensate for the ice already forming on the rod tip, I barely start to reel and out of no where a tug that nearly took the iced over handle of the rod out of my double layer gloved hands. It was already a good fight when a couple minutes into it my arm was feeling the strain. This was a hen, a massive female rainbow trout that was so gorgeous, so football shaped and such a reward, it was all I could do to pull my camera out and snap a few shots before releasing her. I would estimate over five pounds and approximately the shy side of two feet. She was my pride and joy.

I would go on to catch a few others, nothing that nice, however on my way back up to the boat, almost in the exact same spot, another cast produced similar results. This time with a male, perfectly unblemished, colors that would define a rainbow out of an encyclopedia, and just the look of purity. The thought of dinner didn't even cross my mind with that one, and a clean release was the end to a great morning.

Breakfast, now lunch would be Grayling Fritters missing the tartar sauce though. Its a very good white fleshed fish that requires skinning prior to cooking. The texture is much like Halibut, but there is no comparison. It was a good snack. I am pleased to say that there are river otters here, and this time for certain. There is a family of four across the way, coming out in the mornings occasionally, mostly at night to play and swim, knock each other around a bit and dive off of rocks. They are an entertaining bunch, and hopefully they won't hesitate to become neighbors as the time moves along. Picasso is constantly harassed by the fox and I've just let them be. The most reliable is the fox, who comes for breakfast and dinner. He leaves in the day time, most days that is and I don't know where he is off to. We all have things to do I suppose.

I had company the other night for dinner. It was my sister and her husband via Skype. That video chatting has been interesting to see people from a distance but I like it. The menu was soup, and mine was more of a stew, called Hash brown stew. I don't have potato's so boxed and dried hash browns work just the same, adding a distinct flavor and overall I'm pretty sure I'll never eat hash browns and look at them in the same way again. No picture* (Picture soupy hash browns)

I am out of pistachios, out of Costco trail mix. I only have one bottle of salsa left so outlook on life is a little grim. There is plenty of other food I'm sure I'll get my hands into, not the normal snacks, but with cases upon cases of olives, its quite possible I will enjoy the taste of an olive by the time I leave here.

I am in the process of creating my Thanksgiving menu and look forward to having another dinner with the family.

Out in the lake, rowing seems to be my best alone time, an escape from the hustle and bustle of the cabin. Its quite calming to sit there and have so much vastness surround you. I caught a glimpse of an Eagle that soared overhead to see what I was up to. I felt each wave push me just a bit farther from home, and the breeze that pounded the exposed parts of my face felt like someone was pressing an ice cube against the skin. I had taken a small cigar to enjoy, but forgotten in the midst of losing my mind to other distracting thoughts.



*Just once more

Round one- mink vs fox

With the last of my egg  supply, I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies (with walnuts).
The ones that survived my sampling, went into the freezer for the many days ahead. I was planning on eating one for Thanksgiving and maybe two for Christmas, we'll see if they last that long. The recipe was introduced initially as the "Best" chocolate chip cookies, then revised to mediocre so as not to get my hopes up... and the verdict is still this, The Best cookies, of any sort are when someone else makes them for you. These aren't bad though.

With the fishing being better and better, and no one to put pressure on them, I have been landing some great fish. Others get away, especially the other day when I was on the boat and forgot to bring the net, they often made it to the boat then flopped off. I have kept some of the fish for breakfast or lunch, giving the scraps to the the fox and Picasso. I know that the fishing will begin to slow at some point, and the food supply will be scarce, so while I can, I'm stocking up the freezer by smoking the trout. I put a rub of brown sugar and salt on the fillets and let stand until the meat has dissolved all it can. After digging a small hole in the ground, and putting a wind guard around it, I build a fire to make some coals, then put on some Birch branches to smolder and smoke the fish. Leaving it covered for nearly four hours, the fish is usually done. I have smoked nearly fifteen trout in the past week and have eaten maybe three of them so far. I must say, smoked trout is easily on my top list of best foods to eat. It seems that I snack on it all the time, wrapping up pieces to take on my hikes, or just relaxing by the fire, it sure is a nice treat.

Prior to cooking...

When they are done...

Fantastic.... I wish I had some cream cheese to make a dip... just one of the many things that would be nice to have.

It seems that the fish between fourteen and sixteen inches are the best colored flesh and overall best eating. I have cut into a few bigger, around twenty inches and they are good for smoking, however they don't make the best cooked in a pan. There are plenty over twenty inches but letting them go to breed or get bigger for another day seems more appealing.  The two Grayling on the far left turned out real well, coated in flour and pan fried with Tabasco sauce. Tasty*
Today while out fishing in the afternoon, the fox was watching me reel one in, patiently pacing back and forth hoping I'd leave it unattended for an easy meal. While cleaning the fish, I failed to notice that Picasso was watching me as well and before I knew it, he had jumped on my hand trying to steal the fish away from me. I thought he had bit my finger at first, but it might have just been his foot clinching down to hold on. Well he didn't stop there, I jumped up and he climbed up on my leg begging for some food. I cut a piece and he came to take it. Running off with a snack, the fox was in attack mode as he lunged for Picasso, forcing him to bail into the river and make some horrendous noise in protest. I spent the next hour trying to keep the fox from eating the mink and let me say that neither of them rested until I was yelling and chasing the fox all around the banks of the river, throwing rocks at the side of my cabin to make noise every time he wandered back to get Picasso. I'll just let them be. Fox fur hat? Mink fur gloves? Someone is going to lose this battle.

It has been relatively cold outside, but sunny and blue skies seem to be not very far away. I took a hike up the mountain, tracking a fox that was either walking the trail or tracking a porcupine... which I was tracking as well. There also seems to be a moose cow and calf that are near by but remain unseen. Their tracks are all over the back side of camp, and from what I know about them, I'll keep and extra apple in my pocket in case there are more hungry mouths to feed. I'm working my way up to the bear... I just don't have anything he might like to eat, besides me.
Also, I had to edit my last posting about Picasso being an otter. I was on the boat and saw two river otters playing around and thought, I'd better research this again. A mink is a smaller animal than an otter, but still with webbed feet, tail, nice fur coat and whiskers.... so it was my city slicker mistake. The river otters have not come near me, just mink and fox.

Daylight seems to be getting noticeably shorter, with the sun rising later and further behind the mountains, it feels like six in the morning around ten. At night, it sets shortly after six, on a clear day and is generally all dark by half past seven. Orion is also more visible earlier in the evenings, which is nice to see, not having to wake at the early morning hours for a glimpse. In those mornings that I am up before the sun, I dress in layers, from head to toe, hands double gloved, snow boots and wool socks, the whole thing just to go catch a fish or two. I can hardly make it through a cast on the coldest days before the water that comes back on the line freezes in the eyelets of the rod and blocks the line, making it near impossible to reel in or cast out. I have to constantly plunge the rod in to the river just to warm it up and thaw the line out. Three days ago, when I had a big one on, I had to force my rod in the river twice during the fight so I could reel him in, or he could pull out the drag. Luckily I have not cut the line or lost a fish due to it, but it sure is cold. The outer layer of gloves have a rubber palm and fingers with which blossom ice crystals with the moisture from pulling up the anchor line. This is while I'm wearing them no less. Its rather chilly. I would imagine that the next step is when I get a fish in the boat, it will freeze to the deck and I won't have to worry about it getting away. The engine was also frozen in the up position, only breaking free with a few buckets of water poured over it and a swift kick. The boat was frozen to the shore, a sheet of ice surrounding the boat on the water side, it takes a lot just to get going in the mornings.

I'm almost certain that this is only the beginning of the cold, so my amazement on these things will only magnify as the winter approaches. For now it will be happy cold morning fishing.