A Mink & Me

The tedious sport of stacking wood is an ongoing chore that will no doubt keep my hands busy from here on out. On the really windy days, it shakes my stack of wood to the point that it shifts and needs constant adjusting, or I risk a collapse.
Today was 38 inside, a new low for an internal cabin temperature but quite comfortable while sleeping. Rising to put on frozen clothing is entirely another ordeal. Boiling water cools in minutes, and the enjoyment of a cup of tea is about a five minute occasion. One of my furry friends came around to see me, the mink. Cute little guy and curious, but not nearly as domestic towards me as the last time I saw him. I also remember the ongoing battle between the fox and him, so perhaps I won't have the pleasure of a mink's company all that often.
Speaking of the fox, he has some of the most strange behavior patterns. He will come up behind me and often startle my nerves and then gets spooked off because he spooked me. I try to coax him back, or close to with some fish or what meat I have on hand, but always end up tossing it in his direction. He needs to stop sneaking up on me and causing such a stir, then I might gain his trust and be able to react without a suspicious, threatening jump.

The sunsets as of lately have been amazing! Pictures are so cruel to reality and the injustice is hardly tolerable. It makes taking a picture of such wonder hardly worth it in the end due to the frustration of not capturing the entire moment.
Never the less, the wind storms bring elongated cloud formations, stretching and pulling in ways that I've only seen up North. It may help to have the sun staying very low in the sky and really dragging the color over a much wider surface of sky. It might just be the way the sun chooses to set and I am grateful to see such beautiful sights.

What kind of day is it when the fish that are biting are too large to keep? I had a particularly good day of fishing this past week and to my surprise, many of the first ones caught were too large. A beautiful  trout, at twenty five inches and full of fight really had me on the edge of fear. The sun was plenty up, crossing over Jack Knife mountain and shining without any hindrance or obstruction. Perfect blue sky all around and absolutely freezing wind blasting my face. My fingers were very cold as well, but at least they were seeing some action from reeling in fish and snapping photos. As the tugging and running out of line persisted, the build up of ice on the rod eyelets was becoming a concern. I could feel the jerking motion of the line that was usually smooth as it was getting stuck on the tip of the rod. There were a few times where risking the loss of an uncertain sized, but large feeling fish were worth taking to plunge the rod into the water so as to melt the ice and hope that the lack of tension would not allow this fish being caught to free itself and conquer the fish catcher.
On the last ditch effort to run, the fish took what line he could, I reeled in what I could and the line froze to a near solid and problematic state. I did what was necessary and just walked backwards until I was standing nearly ten yards from the waters edge, dragging the fish up on shore and quickly running down to retrieve the size and photo.
Although catching large fish is fun, it is wasting precious time in the elements and I would rather get my small fish and get back inside to thaw out the frozen extremities.
     A few outings all together and I accumulated a nice mess of fish to fillet and smoke. The largest in the group was about 19 inches, a pair of them to be exact. They were caught back to back, two casts, two fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November is here and one month down. Most days feel like weeks and weeks like months, so it's not much of a surprise that I feel like three or four months have passed. I often wonder what everyone else is doing to pass their days, keeping busy no doubt and it seems to fly by for most.... Not up here. I suppose the thought of yet another holiday season is a bit overwhelming to some and welcoming to others. I especially like the holiday season up here, not too many lines to wait in, grumpy people to argue with or screaming children I pretend not to hear. Oh the holiday spirit.

I for one will miss a few things, but none of those mentioned above. I'll continue to fish and build fires and have my tea, read and do my job of taking care of a cabin for one.