Cabin

Grateful for dial-up – the pleasure of not being connected (gratitude #41)

October 29, 2008 by Dunrie

So, this past weekend we went up north with some friends. It was a brief trip, much too short for the length of the drive, but it was nice to get away, get up north and relax.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Appreciate the scenery. Repeat.

In the summertime, we share DSL and a wireless router with the neighbors. But they locked their place up for the winter, shut down the DSL/wireless, and they won’t be back until the spring. We go year-round. I really love it when it is quiet and the winter woods especially are quiet.

I did have a bit of work to do, so I had to reinstate our old dial-up service, through Bruce Municipal Telecom. I discovered a few fun facts:

My space-age Macbook doesn’t even have a place to plug in a phone line, but
My husband’s Dell laptop did.
Neither of us had a thumb drive to transfer the file I’d painstakingly prepared to send to a co-worker for the Monday I’d be out.

I borrowed Dave’s laptop, recreated the spreadsheet on his computer, and dialed in to get stuff into Basecamp for my colleagues. Hooray for connectivity.

Yet, dial-up definitely put a damper on my online activities. Because I didn’t have connectivity, I let a few things go. I put off work email, Twitter, uploading photos to my flickr account, personal email, blogging, working with my MiUPA colleagues to set up the chapter meeting we had the Monday evening I returned, etc. I could answer some of the email on Tuesday morning during working hours, the MiUPA team is all-powerful and organized without constant input from me. I could upload the few photos I took late Monday. My twitter friends didn’t need instant reporting of my hikes and naps and the weather at Gillies Lake.

It all worked out just fine. So, even though I’ve loved having the wireless broadband up there, it is nice to disconnect for a while. A real vacation after all. A chance for downtime, not uploading.

Fishing boat improves a marriage (not in the way you might think, gratitude #36)

August 23, 2008 by Dunrie

This year, my husband bought a fishing boat.

It started a few years ago, when my cousin’s husband Rob brought his boat up to the cabin and they went out on one trip and landed several trout and salmon. Dave was hooked. He always needed to know whether Rob was coming north, and whether he was bringing his boat. Well, this year, he finally just got a boat himself. He is an engineer, and so by nature analytical and thoughtful. He did a thorough analysis of all of the boats available on Craigslist, picked a few, and then passed them by the fishermen in the family for approval.

One boat made it through the approval process – a 17-foot Monark with two outboard motors (a fast one and a trolling motor) and with all of the equipment he’d need. Of course, that didn’t stop Dave from acquiring additional items from eBay (lures, poles, you name it) and from taking trips to Cabela’s to further outfit the boat.

Well, he works hard and deserves his fun, so I didn’t complain. And, when we’re both at the cabin without my uncle Bob or my cousin’s husband Rob, I’m his fishing partner. I help him get the boat into and out of our garage (non-trivial, given we have a lovely tree right in the way). I help him get the boat launched from the dock at Dyers Bay, and I help him on the boat itself.

Now, Dave and I are a great pair. I’m typically wracked with nervous energy and he’s Mr. Relaxed. I married him because I needed him around to calm me down and help me enjoy the moment. Well, the fascinating thing is that on the boat, I’m Ms. Relaxed and he’s Mr. Energy. It’s weird, its as if our roles are reversed.

As soon as we’ve launched the boat, I’m content to just loll around on deck, even better if I can bust out a flotation cushion, put my hat on my face, and go straight to sleep. I am willing to help steer while he’s fussing with the poles and the lures, but I’m relieved when it is his turn to steer, watch the fish-finder and the depth-raider and have his fun. Too many little screens to watch, too much underwater topography to navigate, when there’s all this lovely water and and a great cushion to which to attend.

Here’s the important part: I’m happy to be on the boat, watching the shoreline and the homes and the other boats. I’m happy if we don’t catch a fish. In fact, I’m happier if we don’t catch a fish because boating makes me incredibly lazy. I love how lazy it makes me, I’m content to just bob in the water, apply another coat of sunscreen, and hope we don’t catch a fish because that will entail actual work.

Unfortunately for me, but good for him, we’ve been doing well, fishing-wise. In our last two trips, we’ve landed an 8-pound and a 12-pound king salmon respectively. He hauls them in and I net them. These fish have given us way more lovely salmon than two people can eat. So, we’ve made gravelax, given some to neighbors, and we’ve vacuum-sealed and frozen some.

But, I had no idea what the boat would do for us – give us some quality time together and give me a chance to catch some zzzzzzzzes under the sunshine while Mr. Relaxed fusses with lures (Kevorkian? Monkey Puke? Always have to have a watermelon in the water, the salmon seem to love that one). He loves getting out there and landing a fish, and I think the infrequent rewards reinforce his ardor.

Now, I would have thought that a fishing boat might improve a marriage based on the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” adage. Not in this case. For me, it give us time together and a welcome reversal of roles. Now and then it is fun to be the relaxed one, while he does all the work of catching and then fileting the fishies we bring up. So, although I laughed when he bought the boat, and laughed when he got the tow rig for the car, and I laughed when each and every package from eBay came filled with lures and rods and what-have-you, I’m thrilled about the boat. I love seeing the Georgian Bay shoreline of the Bruce Peninsula from the water. I love watching the loons dive and surface, I love seeing the rocky bluffs and forest I couldn’t get to on the land, and I love the time with my husband. Of course, if we caught fewer fish, I might be even more content (and relaxed) but he’s happy this way, so I can’t complain.

Spring Bounty (gratitude #26)

June 4, 2008 by Dunrie

Today was a banner day. My sister and I stopped at a local farmstand for eggs, rhubarb, and asparagus. Tonight, we harvested wild leeks, though we were kind of wary since the leeks were in the spot folks have been sighting a juvenile black bear.

Dave and Nathan enjoyed a day fishing and catching (instead of just the former) and got these two lovely fish – a rainbow trout and a coho salmon. On the way up this time, we picked up a smoker, and have been enjoying smoked foods – tonight we had smoked trout, grilled trout, grilled asparagus, and new potatoes pan fried with wild leeks.

Oh yeah, and the neighbor brought over a huge cardboard box (5′ x 3′ x 2′ or so) and the kids drew all over it, cut a door in it, hung a flag on it, and played played played.

Comedy of errors on the ground and boy are we lucky (gratitude #25)

May 23, 2008 by Dunrie

So, Dave and I took the Cessna-182 from UM Flyers to Tobermory for Memorial Day weekend. Due to the weather, we might have a short long weekend, we might have to come back on Sunday instead of Monday, but I was excited to fly instead of drive. Holiday weekends involve long, long, long waits at the Blue Water Bridge border crossing. And flying takes 1/3 of the time as driving. And the views are spectacular, absolutely spectacular. We flew from Ann Arbor, crossing into Canada at Port Huron/Sarnia. It’s always choppy until we cross the border: somewhat nausea-inducing. Dave thinks maybe it’s all the parking lots and building roofs, absorbing and releasing heat, causing thermals.

Then, when we crossed the border into Canada and the skies opened up, and Lake Huron was calm and beautiful, and the turbulence ended. Sigh lovely.

I was feeling like a queen, having left work a bit early to get on a plane to go to my favorite place in the world.

Then, we arrived in Tobermory. The local mechanic had fixed the car (alternator froze, taking the serpentine belt with it), and left it at the airport for us. Dave drove it onto the pavement where we parked the plane, and when I walked around the Jeep, I saw the back passenger-side tire was completely flat. Hmmmmmm. Weird. Well, we had a spare. I worked on getting the old tire off while Dave unpacked and tied down the plane. I got exactly one lug nut to move. Fail.

Dave’s greater confidence in kicking the tire iron got the others off, we got the spare on, and then drove off. I admired the head of the screw that had pierced the old tire, and I had an urge to pull it out, but didn’t have any tool that would do it, so I just tossed it into the back. The spare was looking a little less than full, so we pulled into the first (only) gas station and tried to fill it. No dice, they had some kind of air compressor thing, but it didn’t seem to work.

We got almost to the cabin (we were in the Meadow) and Dave pulled over. Our spare tire was by now completely flat and we were riding on the rim. The tire was pulling itself off the rim. Ummmm. What do to? We had no additional spares. There are no local auto parts stores, CAA is at least an hour away, and we were blocking the (little traveled) road.

We remembered my aunt and uncle’s minivan has an air compressor in the back. If they were already at the cabin, maybe I could walk there and drive it back. I started walking, while Dave took the second flat tire off the car. As I walked down the road, I got nervous thinking of Dave under the car, lying in the one-lane road. So, I circled back to see if there was some kind of warning I could put in the road ahead of the immobile Jeep so that he wouldn’t get crushed by an oncoming car.

When I got near, I asked “so, are you OK if someone comes?” and he said “someone is coming”. And then my aunt and uncle, with the air compressor, pulled up.

Rescue!

They were able to get the tire with the screw in it up to pressure, so we switched it back onto the Jeep. We drove it to the cabin and the tire still is full enough a day later. We still have 2 tires that are busticated, one moreso than the other. Oddly enough, the one with the screw in it appears better than the spare.

So, we made it to the cabin, we have access to another car, and we sure are feeling lucky. I have no idea what we would have done if Pat and Bob hadn’t showed up right at the right moment. Happy coincidence!

My next step will be to research air compressors that might run off of the car battery/cigarette lighter.

The perfect guest (gratitude #22)

May 10, 2008 by Dunrie

Dave invited a visiting colleague from Austria to come north with us for a long weekend. I think he might be the perfect guest.

He likes long walks and is interested in the flower and local history lore we share (even when we’re wrong about the details). He was game to purchase a fishing license and then game to spend most of a day cruising around Isthmus Bay near Lion’s Head not catching fish. But, what sealed the deal was after a long walk, when I was about to wonder how to entertain him, he decided to go off on a long solo paddle across and around Gillies Lake.

Here are my “perfect guest” criteria:

Happy to be here.
Curious about the area – interested in the flora and fauna (bear stories, etc.)and the rocks and the water.
Independent. The highest compliment is when the guest takes some time for himself (leaving me a moment or two to myself) to explore. Currently he’s out riding Dave’s bike.
Likes long walks.
Enjoys good food.
Tells entertaining stories.
Lets moments of silence stay.

Gillies Lake Report

November 4, 2007 by Dunrie

We drove north to take out the lake pump (it runs over the beach so is subject to freezing) and move my car from the airfield to the garage. We half succeeded.

The Jeep, which seemed just fine when we used it in late September, squealed loudly on starting, smelled like burning, emitted lots of white smoke, and quite quickly snapped the serpentine belt. Not sure if something froze up along the belt or if the belt was at fault. Either way, it is currently disabled by the side of the road quite close to the Tobermory airport.Â Not using a vehicle is hard on it. We’re trying to reach the local mechanic, Mike, but he doesn’t have an answering machine, so it is hard to do.

I was afraid we’d missed the peak color. Although the oak and the maple let go of their leaves, today’s warm sun caught the gold of aspen, the orangey yellow of paper birch, russet of sumac and dogwood, and the orange tamarack needles. In the warm late autumn sun, the leaves were spectacular against the evergreen spruce and white cedar.

The lake is higher than it was in September, but the Flume is low, diving underground before the log bridge. Today was so warm that butterflies flitted about on the Lighthouse Road. Buffleheads bobbed, dove, and surfaced on the waves in front of the cabin, grouse haunted the woods, scattering on sight or sound, and a fox darted into the brush off Meadow Road.

The people side of things is a little less active. We met some neighbors out for a walk with their dog. As I cycled to the lighthouse, I encountered only one car.

We did our chores (pulling some of the woodpile inside, pulling out the lake pump), Dave did some mighty fine cooking, and we had some lopsided games of honeymooner’s pinochle. I got in a bike ride and an afternoon nap. So the car doesn’t work. Still a wonderful day.