We took a drive out to the lake on Saturday. Up until last year the road was only accessible by snowmachine in the winter months but that all changed when a backcountry lodge out that way realized it would be cheaper for them to plow the road than to fly everything and everyone out by helicopter. Since we may very well be the lamest rural Canadians as we don’t own a sled or any other rec vehicles (I don’t even have boots or ski pants for fuck sakes) we have never before had the opportunity to visit our home sweet away from home in the off season.

We weren’t sure how good the road would be and the tires on the old Ford are pretty bald but we figured if it was treacherous we’d just turn around and come home. I packed some snacks and a few just-in-case emergency items (a lighter, extra water and toilet paper) while His Highness was more concerned with bringing a drink, or rather a pail of drink. He mixed himself a 32oz screwdriver to bring on the trek and never even considered bringing a shovel, snowshoes, sandbags or anything that might have been remotely helpful should we get stuck or stranded. Priorities.

The dog was first in the truck, she didn’t know where we were going but she was determined not to be left behind. We packed our necessities into the cab and headed out into the beautiful sunny day. We were amazed that despite the amount of snow that had accumulated over the winter that they had managed to keep the road so well maintained. We never even had to shift into four wheel drive.

We arrived at the turn-off to find that the road into our camp site had not been plowed, the only trail over to our little island was the track of my uncle’s snowmachine from the weekend before when they had come out. My husband looked at me and the running shoes on my feet and said
“You want to give it a shot?”

“Absolutely.” I told him. “If it’s too bad we’ll just come back.

He was wearing his honkin’ winter boots (that might as well have been snowshoes) so staying atop the crust of the snow was fairly easy for him. I however, in my sneakers and weighing a fair bit more than he does, found myself knee deep on more than a few occasions. I was exhausted by the time we arrived at the island. The two(ish) kilometer trek in deep snow told me two things, my heart is in good shape even if my body isn’t else I would certainly have had a coronary and that it’s time for me to invest in some winter footwear. I did find some snowshoes out there so the hike back to the truck was much easier than the walk out... my heart is grateful for snowshoes.

We hung out in The Nana’s porch as it is the only dry covered seating area at this time of year. Heiny had his drink(s) and a bite to eat while I took some photos. I would post some but Photobucket is being bitchy with me today and won't let me load them. The views were breathtaking (beyond my need to catch my breath) and I was amazed at how tranquil and peaceful my little nirvana was even under five feet of snow. The Bluebird Hilton (the camperized school bus that is our guest suite) is nearly buried and our trailer has enough snow on and around it that there is no way we could have gotten into it. So far it looks like it is holding up under the weight of the white stuff but right now I am almost hoping it collapses so that we are forced to put something better in its place. I am more determined than ever to build a cabin out there. If we can put one up this year it would mean we could continue camping into November and start going back out again at this time of year. Our old trailer has no heat and no insulation and it leaks so there is no way we can use it beyond the warm months… all of the snuggling in the world won’t stave off the hypothermia. Camping is supposed to be fun and relaxation, there is nothing about freezing to death that would provide any joy at all.

We are in the midst of some financial shuffling and some refinancing of our home so we have decided that we are going to attempt to borrow a little extra in order to build our cabin this year. We figure we can find some decent deals on supplies and do all of the work ourselves and since we only want a cozy little building (that is wood heated and well insulated) it should cost us less than one tropical vacation and it would be a vacation that keeps on vacating rather than a one shot deal. We will be content to not take any major holidays if we have a place to go to get away from all of the hustle and bustle of country life. We work in a town with a population of 5000, We live half an hour out of that town where there might be a dozen households within a ten km radius of my house and still we feel the need to get away from it all. I could never be a city girl again.

From the moment we arrived at the lake (such as it is at this point, nearly empty and frozen over) my husband became Belinda Carlisle and began singing “Heaven is a Place on Earth” and it stayed with him all the way home and well into the evening as well.

“Why do I have that song stuck in my head?”

“Maybe because the lake is our heaven on earth?”

“Hmm, I think you might be right.”

After thinking about it for a while last night he decided that maybe there was something he could do to raise the cash to build our cabin.
“I could pose naked.”

“On the street? I think you’d get arrested.”

“No, for a magazine.”

“National Geographic?”

“No, Playgirl, they pay for that. I’ll give them whatever they want, hard, soft, medium-ocre standing, laying down, I can give them my sexy tongue sticking out pose if they want that. They can even get a couple gallons of olive oil and make me all slippery, chicks dig that.”

“Your body hair and olive oil would make you look like a fresh born calf.”

“There wouldn’t be blood.”

“You’re messed up. Besides, they usually prefer the men in those mags to be more…”

“Famous?”

“No…”

“With bigger dicks?’

“No, yours is fine.”

“What then?”

“Well, the men are usually… younger.”

“Maybe I would start a trend, real men in magazines. You always bitch that they never have real women in them, maybe it’s time to show real men, no airbrushing or anything.”

I shook my head.
“Alright baby, you go for it.”

“I’ll call Hef in the morning.”

“What?!! Hef is Playboy!”

“Yeah but I am sure he has connections, he’ll know who I should call.”

“Like the nuthatch?”

As he drifted off to sleep he was still singing (his version)...

"Ooooh baby do you know I have girth, we'll make heaven a place on earth."