I’m not going to kid you, I had a heck of a time deciding which skis to use on this trip. I was really craving a good skate ski session or two so I chose skate skis right out of the gate, hiked the half mile to my trail head with my poles and blades slung over my shoulder, skied another mile further down the trail before I reconciled myself to the fact that skate skis were not the right choice. I dumped my pack in a snowbank, skied all the way back to the truck (downhill, thank God), swapped out my boots and skis for my classics, waxed up and then took to the road again.
The forest was so quiet. It was eerie. My breathing came in white, dragon puffs. Eventually I heard a pair of crows, roosting in the skeleton of a lodge pole pine, clearing their throats at me but besides those croaking songs, there was only the swish of my skis and the squeaky plying of my poles digging in and pushing off.
Six miles later, I drifted into the Warm Creek spring cabin, pure gossamer steam in the late afternoon light, laced with the silly honking of a flock of Canada geese and the ever green leaning of lodge pole pine in every direction. I pulled my boots from their bindings, unlocked the door, stepped inside and immediately felt homesick and deeply lonesome for RW. I started a fire in the kitchen wood stove, drew a pot of water from the spring and began heating water for soup. Downstairs, I put a solid hour into chopping wood, sparking up some flickering comfort in the wood furnace and dicing small kindling for the kitchen stove in the morning. Outside, night was falling. There I was alone, in one of those precarious moments when an introvert realizes they would prefer to be with someone than to be solely with self. It was a strange feeling and I ached with it.
The dark arrived all too soon.
I lit candles and wrote in the dimness of flame waverings. The furnace chimney pinged with expansion. Hot air was rushing through the floor grate so rapidly that it raised my hair off my back and soon I broke a sweat. I opened the doors to let winter air mingle with the tropical heat of the cabin. I cracked my knuckles and lifted my pen to paper once more. The dogs crawled into my sleeping bag and nodded off. I wanted to join them but I knew that sleep wouldn’t yet come. At some point the moon rose up against the asphalt of sky, the stars pricked holes in the black, a flock of geese flew through the golden light streaming and landed at the spring — I felt less alone. I went downstairs, threw five more rounds into the furnace, trotted back upstairs and crawled into my sleeping bag to read for three hours by headlamp. At midnight, the cabin grew cold and I tended the furnace once more, opened the doors to let the cold temper the heat, laid down and then rose up again an hour later to tend the furnace once again and so on through the night. Eventually the night faded. Eventually I fell asleep for a couple of hours until the dogs became restless and we rose for the day.
you touch my soul with images and colours: i feel what you write, deep down in my bones.
and that part about doing the solo thing to know that you can be tough when it counts: yes. me too.
Soul bone to soul bone, I cherish you, you lovely Alaskan toughie! xx
I love everything about this post, and am so very grateful for your perspective. Thank you for sharing it.
You’re welcome! Thank you for being here!
Your adventures inspire me. Your words and photos are beautiful. What I would give to have the peace of nature so near. If you havnt read Woodswoman by Anne Labastille I highly suggest it. It’s a fantastic book about Anne’s life in the wilderness of the adirondack mountains. My favorite place.
Samantha! THANK YOU! I have not read this book yet and I’m going to cruise over to Amazon.com to see if there’s a used copy! Have a beautiful weekend, mountain momma. x
I cannot wait to ski this season. There’s just nothing quite like it. Your photos are incredibly stunning, too. Gosh, everything about this post is so dreamy and perfect.
HA HA! To think when I came out early I thought this trip was a flop!!! Well. There’s always perfection in honesty. This journey didn’t go as planned but I still learned from it. Thanks for being such a beauty. x
I was wondering why you were home early! Always following your heart, dear. You are an inspiration! I’m glad you got some solitude 🙂
I try! I try. xx
I’m so comfortable being solitary …it’s always a little surprising when all you want is company. It’s different and lovely.
I know just what you mean and YES, it is different and lovely.
How inspiring you are! One question…do you really make little Penelope run ALL that way in that deep, cold snow?? 😉
Something you need to know about Penelope: We have never babied her or treated her as though she is small or incapable. Neither have we fussed over her incessantly. She is strong, robust and fearless. She is a tough cookie and ALWAYS holds her own no matter who we pair her with. She goes where the big dogs go and she has an awesome time doing it! 🙂 The ski trail was groomed by snow machines ( or SKIDOO, if you speak Canadian) so it was pretty easy going for her — though I will tell you that she spent a LOT of time leaping through deep snows — of her own accord. She leaves no hole un-inspected! She is a valiant badger hunter, after all.
She’s a really special doxi. She’s so capable. Always.
Warrior…just like her Momma!! Xoxo
beautiful beautiful beautiful
i love the whole idea of doing it because you can…and to remind yourself that you can
i believe in this
i believe in self sufficiently , knowing that if the “shit” goes down I can survive
I alo love the flip side of your story
the longing for home
the longing for the familiar
the longing for the essence of the one you love…beautiful
to release oneself to that truth and sink into it is both brave and freeing
you indeed are inspiring
thank you for sharing this with us
Love and Light
Gosh! You bless me Cat. Thanks for being here today. AND thanks for getting it. x
If the apocalypse comes, I am going to live with you. You will teach me to be self-sufficient and I will entertain you. I’ll bring scotch.
Make that scotch REAL old. We’ll grow corn. Pilgrim style. xx
oh man – – – what Michelle said about the apocalypse…that goes double for me. You amaze me. 🙂
🙂
xx
I love your cabin posts more than anything you write. And I pretty much love everything you write.
I (inter) netted a USFS cabin in Wyoming for the first week of January. Six mile ski in, dogs allowed. Thank you for the inspiration.
Dawn! You made me laugh out loud. Thank you. Thank you for reading. And you’re going to have such a beautiful time at that little cabin in Wyo! Zip me an email after your trip so you can tell me all about it. x
I get you. This is why I tackle more than half of what I do. To prove I can. And because it makes me soar.
AMEN!!!
crudmonkeys. i do not have that same adventurous solo spirit out in the wilds. i GET it, i just don’t DO it. i’m happy to go along with another, but don’t even want to pack up and go alone. i have, however, gotten back up on one horse a couple of days after being kicked silly by another and have snowshoed up a steep ravine behind fearless hubby only to find out later that we were in a landslide area… oopsie. but i know i’m a survivor. of that there is no doubt. and the longing for hearth and home? i’m on it!
You just do a different VERSION of it. 🙂 You know, life is ALL about just getting back up on the horse. I’m proud of you. xx
Two things:
1. I get it. I really do.
2. Last night I caught BC perusing down vests online. So next time.
LOVES! -K
YEAH!
You’re about to get puffy!
x
breaking away from the ease and comfort of home to fire up that adventurous spirit, suited to the mountains . . . empowering and crucial.
so great, Jillian.
much love, always.
I receive that bundle of love and return it, Lu. Thanks for being here today. x
A journey doesn’t always need to go as planned to be worth it, physically and spiritually. I hope the trip nutured both body and mind, just as your return home did.
Love to you.
You’re a wise woman and what you wrote here is the truth. Also, I came home to an INCREDIBLE box of cheese from WI!!!! OH MY GOSH! It’s been the best part of my afternoon these past couple of days (snack snack snacky) — my favorite is that flaky, hard sheep cheese. SCRUMMY. xx
beautiful post – i was briefly swishing along beside you on your skis, and curled up in that cabin in the silent wilderness. there is always a switching back and forth for me too, the desire to be alone and the one for company. glad you had your moment of stillness but then embraced your need for a little more comfort and made it safe home.
I’d have loved to have you swishing along with me. Truly. Your company would have been like sapphires. xx
“tenacious silver strand of strength that ties my soul to my bones.” I might be asking your permission to use that soon on my therapist website…. brilliant, beautiful, bold…you.
xo
Ask away! Fire me an email about it whenever you like! Thank you for being so nice. 🙂
Hi! I had posted this the other day but saw that it was deleted somehow. I wanted to make sure I had your permission to use your quote from this blog entry. I made sure to give you credit and to link people to your beautiful writing. Your quote about the “silver strand of strength that ties my soul to my bones” really touched me and spoke eloquently to the work I am hoping to do with clients. Your permission to use this quote would mean a lot to me.
Thank you,
Tricia Carter
Tricia!
I’m sorry the other post was deleted!!! Sometimes things get gobbled up by the cyber wolves.
YES! You may quote me. Thank you for asking permission.
Have a beautiful day!
You are an amazing storyteller…
Thank you.
What a beautiful life you have! I totally understand the need to be alone in order to feel the pull back to others/home/life. Sometimes its nice to miss someone, and then when going back home to them after the missing it makes you appreciate and love them all the more.
Love that you are such a strong, independent, capable, creative soul. Thanks for the beautiful images and recreating that lovely feeling of solitude and self in the woods. Lovely post.
I’m glad to know I’m not alone!!
Thanks for being here.
x
I love when you share your struggles and melancholy, just as much as when you write about joyful experiences and creative rushes. All parts of life, all equally beautiful. All important for our souls to grow, above all. Thanks for sharing – as always!
Well gosh! Life isn’t life without the dark AND the light! Thanks for being here, toots!