Zzz PLANE! Zzz PLANE!

This looks like the perfect start to a perfect day... fishing, alone in the wilderness and not so much as a breath of wind to be seen or felt. The day actually turned ugly rather quickly after the sun fully came up, only to disappear again. I was unable to fish that day, but have since been out in the boat on the far side of the river, trying to raise interest and a bite from the depths below.
Twisting and turning, flashing the silvery white tones of the belly was a trout more beautiful than my words can describe. The red stripe down the side was that of  the wild cranberries, the green like the darkened winter needles of a spruce and the length, well it was short enough to measure with a yard stick but just barely.  His head was large, over grown, showing what potential is there in growth and looking like he will make an angler or two quite upset about loosing their fly to a "monster", ever growing in size each time the story is told. The eyes were golden like the aspen leaves after the first frost with a perfectly black pupil, making a fish eye quite attractive and unique.
Everything about this fish was magnificent, challenging and special. I was pleased to pull him alongside my boat, and scoop down with the net, unhook and for a moment, I forgot that my fingers were frozen, the icicles hanging from my hair and even the fact that my left boot was full of water.

The best part about this fight, was the family of five otters that came floating down, seeing the splashing and the hearing the song my reel played as the give and take game wore on. Their heads bobbed just above the surface right past my boat, leaving my fish alone and allowing for the catch, and then a release. It was a great time to forget my camera, although with the earlier plunge in the water, it might not have survived.

Most recently, my expeditions have been bundled up tightly to go crashing the the forest, disturbing the silence that extends for hours. Woodcutting is part of my job, and collecting a hopeful eight cords is what I am aiming for. This is the start, and although it doesn't look like much, it feels like it.

I do enjoy the falling of trees, the attempt to perfect the wedge cut, directing where the tree falls, not too far to the right or left, not snagging in trees or worst of all, only partly falling over. I have been about 80% accurate so far, one went the wrong way, pinching the saw, one fell over about 3/4 of the way, and I think that's about it.

I cut them into sections, ranging from four to five feet or so, large enough to make work easier, but small enough to handle with snowshoes and many layers of clothing. The journey from the cutting site to the drop off at the lodge is about a half mile, maybe a fraction more, but its not that bad. There are plenty of chances to take in that short distance, crossing several creeks that have thin coverings of ice, slopes that pull the sled towards the lake and often completely turning it around, and other obstacles like rocks and ditches, alder bushes and the occasional instance of a missing driver.... yes that is me, sprawled out on the ice with all my gas, oil, chainsaw and accessories, while my sled is in the other direction, on its side.

I keep a backpack on, containing a satellite phone, sleeping bag, flashlight, and a few other good ideas.

Now for the good stuff :

I was not doing anything in particular yesterday afternoon, when the familiar yet forgotten noise of a single engine plane came rumbling in from over the distant mountains. Making two or maybe three passes, naturally my hermit style instincts were to stay inside my shell. So to the window I went with binoculars hard pressed to my eyes, searching the skies for any information, any recognition of who might be paying a visit.

Up the lake corridor it headed, only to circle around and come back, flying lower than safely desired had I been aboard. It came at me. Passing the ice cap and now into the blue water, an unknown object came flying out or falling off of the plane, smashing down into the wind swept water. SPLASH! and a loud fly by overhead, and off the plane went. I kept my eyes peeled, searching back and forth trying to pinpoint the area, using the help of a few birds that briefly went in to investigate. I put on my boots, coat, gloves and raced out the door with my binoculars, heading towards the area, doing my best to dodge apartment size sheets of thick ice floating down stream.

The wind was not suitable for boating, much less a search and recovery of an unknown object just hurled from a plane. I searched until my fingers were numb, my eyes watering from the wind and dizzy from the waves and constant change from binocular to bare eyes.

No recovery was made, no object was seen floating, and just when I thought things were settling in up here, the sky starts falling.