Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It is really cold out. Really freezing cold. About ten minutes ago I returned from a trudge throo snow that had drifted to a depth of about eleven inches. Snow that literally appeared overnight. The worst part of it all was after walking to the outhouse; I froze my ass to the seat. Quite possibly the most painful thing I have ever had to endure was the ensuing removal of tender flesh from the frosting pink toilet seat and the trek back to the warmth of my make shift home in the cabin.
            As I sit here and nurse my aching ass, I want to kick myself in it as well. Since all of this snow has fallen a good portion of the wood I was planning on using to heat the cabin has been buried in the fluffy, white stuff, and consequently, is soaking wet by the time I am ready to burn it.
            It is not so much the fact that the wood is wet that bothers me, as well as having to bring multiple loads every so often to ensure enough heat for the day and night. It is also not a huge deal that Jak has an even shorter attention span than I (I know, I didn’t think it was possible either!) and has nearly single-handedly, simultaneously, smoked all of my marijuana and drove me to wits end with her constant pacing and nagging for me to roll her another joint.  No, the thing that bothers me most about this situation is the one thing I was told would never do any harm having while traveling would be a tarpaulin. Every adventure that I have been on since meeting Malachi the Blues guy more than two years ago, I have never been without a tarp, and have put it to use every time. Why I did not think to bring one with me this time can simply be summed up as stupidity. In fact, a couple of tarps to cover the multiple piles of wood, or one that could have been used as a tapestry of a sort, an insulation device would have been really nice.
            I should tell you that the cabin is very rustic[1]. No plumbing, no heating, no insulation. Keeping the area warm has not been a problem, in fact we, I, have managed to keep the indoor temperature holding steady at a very comfortable eighty degrees. (During the day at least. Jak’s one redeeming quality was her knack of keeping wood on the fire every two hours during the night.) However, the snow covered roof does release the most heat, causing the snow to melt and soon thereafter, icicles form. Unfortunately, the icicles have formed a wall of ice directly on top of the remaining wood that had not been covered in a blanket of snow. I have tried everything from hot water, which only seems to perpetuate the current circumstances, to swinging a sledge hammer at the frozen fortress but it was all in vain.
            Thus having no access to the fuel for my fire, fear of freezing to the toilet again, being frightened of the blood bath that is bound to ensue if I am cooped up in here with Jak any longer, and hearing news that at a balmy twenty-four degrees below zero, today will be the warmest day in the next couple of weeks, I have arrived on the decision to return to the modern comforts of heated floors, hot showers and flush toilets at my parent’s home in the suburbs.
            I am really not that upset about it. It would have been crazy to try and stay up there given the state of affairs. At least I gave it a shot though. Ever since childhood it has been a dream of mine to go up there for a few days during the winter just to see if I could do it. I did and it was great.

[1] People, when they learned that I was going to be spending time up here, and for the most part, alone, have commented that I am being “Just like Thoreau.” I smile and nod, but truth be told, the only thing that I know about him is that his quotes are all over refrigerator magnets that are given to high school graduates and depressed dopes who are just getting out of psychiatric hospitals (Do you see any correlation between these two kinds of people as well?). Actually, my inspiration comes from Ti Jean (Pronounce it like it is French.). I have always wanted to sit in a cabin all by my lonesome self and write a book ever since reading The Dharma Bums. Tho I believe he went to a fire look out tower, rather than a cabin, if you want push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and compare notes of technicalities.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Constructive criticisms are appreciated. SPAM is not. Comment away, people!