We've finally arrived at the winter campsite. I am very excited, but also nervous because I haven't yet met Nancy and don't know what she will be like, or if she will like me. Scouter Nick is unpacking the trailer so I go over and get an armful of things to bring over to the campsite. Mrs. Z already has a load and is encouraging me to follow her.
"Come on, I'll introduce you to the others," she says with a smile, and turns away to follow the trail into the woods.
I grab my bag and a few other things from the pile and follow Mrs. Z down the trail. It's packed down quite nicely for just a boot trail, but I notice that the snow comes up to just over my knees so it's a good thing there's a trail. Mrs. Z disappears between two pine trees and as I catch up, just ahead I can see the campsite! It's a small opening in the forest, with three big tents already all set up and a nice big fire blazing in the middle of the space, with logs all around for sitting on. There are others already there, tending the fire and organizing, and they appear to be waiting for us - of course, they must have heard our snow machines as we arrived.
A chubby little brown dog greets us first, with a short bark and an even shorter tail, and lots of wiggling - I think she's wagging her whole body not just her tail! Chubby like a little brown seal, I think as I watch her swim along the snowy path to Mrs. Z.
"Ah! You made it too, Dori," smiles Mrs. Z as she reaches down to pat the little dog, glancing over at me as she does. "Monik, this is Dori. Dori is Nancy's dog - and this is Nancy," she points out, smiling at the only other person my age who answers with a wave, "and Nancy's parents Mr and Mrs Simmons, and Mr and Mrs Jeffreys, over there."
She points to each one, and they smile at me in turn, as I manage a small wave with my free hand, "Hi..."
After all day on the skidoo lost in my own thoughts, this seems a bit of a crowd. My head is still buzzing, and the helmet isn't helping with my transition. Nancy looks kind of bored already, but maybe she's just tired of waiting for me to get here. I notice that the shadows are already growing; there's not much daylight left. I bring my bag and things over to the tent that Mrs. Z has pointed out, and leave everything just inside the door. I take a minute and check out the space while I take off my helmet. Its a pretty small space, although I can stand up straight inside. There are two sleeping platforms along two walls that meet in one corner, both piled with pine boughs. It smells just wonderful. On the opposite wall is a small woodstove, not currently lit. I can see my breath in here but it does seem very cozy. I leave my helmet inside, pull my touque down a little more snugly over my ears and head back outside.
There doesn't seem to be any more unpacking to do, the adults are all working away at organizing and planning dinner around the fire. First things first though; I haven't had to go for a pee all day but now that I'm finally off the skidoo I realize that I really have to go.
"Where do you go to the bathroom?" I ask Nancy. She's just a little taller than me, and I already know she's a year older than me, so it's no surprise when Nancy decides this is a good time to give me a tour.
"Follow me," she says, heading out along one of the paths leading away from the campsite. Dori follows but is having trouble; Nancy looks back at her and tells her to "Stay". I have personally never known that command to work.
Not very far along is a little privacy fence, and behind that is a log that is about bum high (knee high for an adult probably), with a hole dug out behind it. There's a big coffee can with a lid balancing farther along the log.
"This is where you can go," Nancy says, "Just make sure you don't fall backwards. Oh, and the TP is in the can." She gives me a little grin, and then walks away, back down the trail and I can hear her talking to Dori who did decide to follow, after all.
Hmm, okay this is a new experience, but I like the setup. I don't think I needed the warning about falling in, but as I struggle to perch on the log I find it's kind of hard to be far enough out on the log to pee in the hole and NOT think of the possibility. I manage to get the paper out of the coffee can by holding the can between my knees, and putting my mitts carefully off to the other side so that I have both hands free. Whew, thank goodness, relief. I sit a minute to appreciate the stillness and watch the snowflakes slowly drift down, then suddenly wake up as I realize I'm cooling off a bit too much.
I pop back up off the log, putting the paper back into the can and the lid on tight, tucking everything in and finding my mittens. Nancy appears from behind the fence and smiles.
"Looks like you made it out okay," she laughs, "Even the paper is cold, eh?"
"Ya," I agree, "And my bum is Freezing now!"
"That's okay, the rest of the tour will warm you up! Follow me!"
Nancy heads off, back down the path a few steps, then turns back to me,
"Oh yeah, we have to find more dry kindling for the fire, too," and steps grandly off the trail.
Immediately, she sinks into the snow up to her waist. Laughing, I jump in too, both feet, and like her I'm in snow up to my waist. I swim through it, over to a dead balsam where Nancy is busy snapping off the dead, dry branches. Dori is pretty smart, as she stays over on the trail and just watches us, encouraging us with her barking.
"What kind of dog is she?" I ask, as we gather armfuls of the dry branches.
"She's a Welsh Corgi, same kind the Queen has," Nancy explains.
I can't imagine that the Queen of England has one of those. "I thought the Queen just has hunting dogs," I say, trying to sound like I know something about it.
"She has those too," Nancy explains, "But only the Corgi's can go in the house."
"Oh." As if that explained everything... it was enough for me.
Soon we are giggling and swimming the long way back to the trail, and eventually back to the fire where we drop the kindling into the pile that has already been started. I'm not cold any more; quite warm, actually.
I wait around the periphery while Nancy tells the parental group we are going down to skidoo on the lake. Nancy's mom says something about being careful and not too long, and then we're running down the trail towards the lake.
"This is my machine," Nancy says to me, introducing me to a nice, yellow Ski Doo.
"Nice," I say. "Can I start it?"
I had watched Mrs. Z start hers a few times, and figured I knew how it was done.
"No," Nancy says, firmly.
"You have to do it just right. This machine is a little fussy and so I need to do it."
I know she is showing off, but that's okay. It IS her machine, after all.
"You have to pull out the choke, like this," she shows me, and pulls the knob out with her left hand, "And then pump the gas just two times, like this," she demonstrates, her right hand on the gas.
"Then you pull, and you have to pay attention to what the motor is doing," she instructs. She reminds me a little of my brother, Phillip, who is so good with motors of any kind. It's like another language to him.
Nancy pulled the cord a few times with both hands and the snow machine coughed, coughed some more, and then roared... and died.
"Aww, I flooded it," she moaned, frustrated, falling back onto the seat.
I have no idea what she is talking about, except that the machine isn't going to start that easily.
We try again, this time with her handling the gas and the choke and me yanking on the cord. After more than a few pulls it roars back to life and stays running.
"There, see!" she says, victoriously. "You just have to know how to choke it right. Jump on," she instructs, and as she jumps into the drivers seat, I fall in behind her.
We whip up and down the lake a few times, no other tracks or activity except for the ones we had made earlier. I feel like we're on another planet as we whip around on the lake, no one else around; and as the sun drops and the stars come out, sparkling brightly in the cold, it seems almost magical. We float over the snow in the starlight, making new tracks on the lake, the snow puffing out like waves behind us. The warmth I had from playing in the snow was seeping out of my snow suit and boots now, and my fingers are getting cold. I tap Nancy on the shoulder and point back to the campsite; she nods and we pull back in to park the skidoo just as her mom arrives to meet us. Back just in time for dinner.
A warm dinner was ready and in no time at all we were full, warm again from the inside. Another trip out to the privy, then a little more chatting around the fire. Feeling tired at this point, I find myself mesmerized by the fire and the sparks shooting up, up through the dark branches until they are lost amid the stars in the sky.
The chatter around the fire stills as we each are lost in our own thoughts, staring into the fire, enjoying the peace. Then I hear the strangest sound - a deep, low echo and a kind of cracking noise, coming from over by the lake.
"What was That?" I asked, staring into the darkness, not really afraid but, well, maybe a bit nervous.
We all listen quietly a bit more, and then the adults start a new conversation explaining all about how the ice grows and the sound it makes, how the ice sounds are different in the winter when the ice is growing from in the spring when it is melting, and the conversation changes into talking things like pressure ridges and how to watch out for them on your skidoo, and stuff like that. Hmm, so it was just the lake making all that noise, neat. Like a living thing, in hibernation mode, the Lake reminds us that even though it's winter, it's still there. I hear a crack much closer this time, and understand that the trees make noise in the cold, too.
Staring up at the sky now, watching the smoke and few sparks float lazily up in the cold darkness, the stars are bright and twinkly. No northern lights tonight, not yet anyway. Yawning and stretching, Nancy gets up and heads off over to her tent. I get up too, reluctant to leave the fire but not wanting to fall asleep here. I make my way over to my tent and go inside - it's toasty warm in here now, Scouter Nick has had the fire lit and Mrs. Z has set out the sleeping bags. I peel my layers off and climb into my sleeping bag. I drift off to sleep, with the scent of fresh pine and wood smoke, and the low quiet sound of the adults chatting at the fire, the occasional laugh among friends. All is right with the world, everything is as it should be.
