One man’s wilderness (11 page)

Today I built the double bunk. Four posts with two rails on each side, and
two large and two small rails on each end. I augered one-and-a-half-inch holes and trimmed the rail poles to fit. I got it put together and it looked too big so I shortened the end rails. Still too big, so I cut them again. I have it down now to twenty-seven inches wide inside the side rails, and it looks much better. Now when I get some glue, I will knock it apart and glue it back together.

Tomorrow I will set the legs for my table and build a stool and a bench.

Thundering down country. The lake is going down, and the waterfall across the lake isn’t running its usual amount. Twin Lakes needs a good rain.

June 27th
. A good rain it was. My garden looks rejuvenated.

Today will be a pole-hunting day. I need about thirty to make the slats for my bunks, small but of good length, which is a tough combination. I will have to investigate the Twin Lakes Lumberyard pretty thoroughly.

I paddled down country and struck it rich. I found a spruce thicket such as I have never seen in this country: saplings an inch or a bit over at the butt and ten feet tall—just what I needed. I had them cut in no time. Loaded them into the canoe and paddled across the puddle-still lake to home.

While I was peeling the poles the wind came up strong from an unusual quarter—directly across from Allen Mountain. It brought rain and it furrowed the lake as rough as a cob. This lake can really change its personality in a hurry. Like a woman all smiles one minute and dancing a temper tantrum the next. I was happy to find I had enough bunk poles and even some extras that I could use for stool and bench logs.

The wind died as abruptly as it came. Now the lake is grinning with reflections again. A picture evening.

June 28th
. Bright as crystal this morning and not a cloud to be seen.

A furniture building day. First a kitchen chair and then a bench three feet long. The echoing of the axe, the whacking noises of the driven chisel, the crisp bite of the sharp auger into wood, the gathering pile of chips and shavings—and both articles ready to glue before noon.

I weeded my garden at lunch time and watered it. The peas are looking healthy and the green onions are almost ready to use.

I am near the end of the building job on the cabin until Babe comes. He’s supposed to bring glue and the polyethylene for my roof.

I spent the afternoon cleaning up scraps. The wild roses are blooming in the cabin yard. The ground dogwood and the little moss flowers are out. And people spend money for lawn mowers and waste time walking behind them!

I finally got around to sharpening my tools as I do every evening. Time to call it a day. A gentle breeze was moving up the lake as I trudged the beach to Spike’s cabin and supper.

June 29th
. The growing season is definitely at hand. The blueberry blossoms are starting to fall, and soon I will have to check on the young berries.

Today’s thought was to put hinges on my windows. I need a three-legged stool and a book-rack type of shelf to store books, camera gear, and clothes. This last project would take some doing as it would require three shelves three feet long, ranging from fifteen to twelve inches in width. Lots of ripping to turn out that much lumber.

The job was done, with a good-feeling right arm to prove it. The rustic rack has a lonesome look. It needs filling. That will come soon enough.

I thought for a spell about a roof-jack to take the stovepipe. That is important. A man thinks better when he’s working. Beneath the thirty-five inch overhang in front of the cabin I augered holes into the logs and drove in pegs, good hanging places for stuff better off outside than in. I’m still figuring about that jack.

Tomorrow is Sunday. I will go someplace.

June 30th
. A third of the way down to Emerson Creek, the wind blew strong in my face and it was a real battle to keep headway in the chop of the water. I had my knees spread wide against the canoe bottom, and I had to put back and shoulders into the job to make the creek. Those sourdough pancakes must have
a high octane content. I had come down to prospect for suitable stumps from which to fashion wooden hinges. Steel hinges are better, no doubt, but it is interesting to see what one can do using only material from the forest.

While foraging among the uprooted trees, I noticed wolf tracks mixed in with the caribou tracks, and I thought of my plaster cast. I would have to check that out. I couldn’t find the hinge stock I wanted. The trees were too big. I would have to try another department of the lumberyard another time.

What I did find, though, on the trek back along the creek bed to the canoe, was a squarish, pale orange rock. I have a feeling it will be the center rock in the arch of the fireplace.

I noticed the boss hunter’s plane came in today. He didn’t stay long at his cabin, just long enough to check his camp for supplies he would need when he brought in the trophy boys during the sheep season. I wonder if the big rams feel that first stir of uneasiness? Do they know the difference between his plane and Babe’s?

The wind I fought before, now helped me home. Wind and fire. Help you one minute and kill you the next. All depends on the time and place.

July 1st
. This morning I fashioned a box for the plaster cast of the wolf track. I sawed off the end of a cabin log and made a two-and-a-quarter-inch slice for the box, and a one-and-three-quarter-inch slice for the lid. I hollowed them out with the wood auger and chisel and now have a neat box. I will mix some plaster, pour it in, then bed my cast in it and let it set.

That roof-jack for the stove pipe, I’ve been thinking about. Select the proper location, and nail a cross tie to support the two roof poles. Reinforce the base of the roof-jack to make it wider and stiffer. The pipe will be installed so it will stay there without wires. A few sheet metal screws should do it.

Time to put the tar paper over the roof poles and fasten it down. Not forest material but I had better use it.

Later: The tar paper project is off. Heavy rain—a good soaking, one to replenish the forest sponge.

A problem. How to clean the million tiny chips and grains of sawdust out of the gravel on the cabin floor? An idea. Pack all the gravel back out and toss it into the lake. The chips and dust stayed on the surface and drifted away. I shoveled the gravel back on the beach, let it drain, and packed it back again. Clean wall-to-wall gravel once more.

July 2nd
. The lake is like a sheet of glass.

My roof poles are too wet for the tar paper. This gives me a chance to go prospecting again for some hinge timber. I figure I need the butt end of eight small trees to make four sets of hinges.

A peaceful trip down the lake gliding through the reflections of the mountains. After scouting around, I located ten seasoned spruce stump sections. Took a few extra in case I had a bad one or made a wrong cut. A few unusual looking rocks found their way into the canoe also.

I had a good load. This was a chance to see the difference in traveling time between a loaded canoe and an empty one. One hour to the minute to my cabin site from the lower end. I doubt if I have ever beaten that time, running empty.

Just as I beached the canoe, I saw ruffled water not far behind. The breeze brought rain.

I was anxious to try making hinges. I saw a cabin once with some, but they were very crude. I worked the wood to shape with axe and drawknife. Now to saw the fork in the butt end. Forty-five minutes and I had half my hinge made. Not bad.

It was still raining when I came back from a lunch of sourdough pancake sandwiches of peanut butter and last summer’s blueberry jelly.

Another tree made the other half of the hinge, and the next tree made a complete hinge. Two more to go, and the hinges will be ready to auger holes for their pins. The hinges will serve another purpose. They are long enough to serve as battens for holding the door planks together.