The Magic Cabin

A story about youthful adventures at the cabin and lake

1972: THE MAGIC CABIN

Ah......the cabin at the lake, perhaps my most favorite place ever. It started with rumors that my Uncle & Aunt had bought a cabin somewhere. What? Time spent at summer Church camp & holidays spent in the mountains and at the Prov. , National and private camp grounds over the years, had whetted and developed a large taste in me for the outdoors, so news of this was much welcomed. It was not long then, till I found my self being driven West and North with my uncle, in their Volkswagen van towards this mysterious hide away.

It was the 1970s. I had developed a concern for the welfare of the planet and remember on one trip then, discussing and postulating green solutions with my Uncle, like rerouting the exhaust heat or power of a car, back to the motor, to improve engine efficiency or some such? Alas, I seemed blessed or cursed I guess, with my active imagination.

Excited I was and it was not to long of a drive, about a couple hours down a main highway, then along 2 secondary roads, then finally lazily back East & South, down a country gravel road, then round around the lake and then down even smaller dusty roads, to where we finally arrived. And there it was, a cute though more charming red accented white plaster coated cottage, with its garage on the east and trailer on the west sides of the property. I walked about, taking in the scents of the fresh, moist and scented lake side airs and it was intoxicating and also not to crowded a place, with just a few neighboring cabins around.

Inside my Aunt warmly welcomed me and asked what refreshments I would like and I was filled with impressions and deep deep memories? Of a European flavor and taste, that ran perhaps deep in my blood but had never actually been known or experienced, but found expressed there in that cottage and inside decor. The amenities though crude, were well embellished and adorned, with the love that had gone into their making. A wonderful day thus ended, with full stomach and heart and me, curled up on the floor, in a little alcove or nook on the cottages west side.

It was the start then, of many adventures there, like creating plastic stick-on fishes, for the inside of the trailer, where one could also sleep, besides the ocean mural therein and then the hauling of huge plate glass front windows by four of us, when the two new cabins were built, my aunts and my dads, cause yes, little known to us, my father had bought a lot with trailer. The one I had snickered at once, while walking by, as I said, who would want to live in such a beat up trailer, in such a magnificent setting. I learned eventually, that it was we who would live in the trailer but only temporarily, while we designed and built the cabin.

The building of the cabin was exciting, to see this huge flat bed truck come up the drive, with a mountain of lumber and plywood and siding and boxes of nails, pipes and wires etc. on its load. Which hopefully we would be able to concoct into a cabin, as though my dad was an excellent carpenter and cabinet maker, we, his crew, were not so much so. Yet we managed to do it, first with the concrete slabs and blocks foundation and skirting and then the joists and plywood flooring and then the 2 x 4 walls and then the rafters, cedar siding and shingles. Then the approved wiring and not much plumbing and a fireplace and plastic and insulation. The cabin ended up being so tightly sealed, that we had to cut a hole in the floor, so the fireplace had enough air to breathe and burn and not suffocate us.

My dads design was so compact and efficient, that there were virtually no hallways but still it was a 3 bed room, 1 bath/storage, living room, dining and kitchen abode, all in only about 32 x 24 ft of sq footage. A most comfy sanctuary, when filled with the many family and visitors that came by throughout the decades. Many happy birthdays, weekends and holidays were spent there and also on the lake fishing, from the 10 ft aluminum boat, with 3.5 hp motor. Time spent exploring the nooks and crannies, around the lakes weedy shores, hunting the illusive perch, whitefish and jack, that hid there in the shadows.

Time passed, so slow yet so quick out there. There, seemed to have this magical effect on us all, though especially on my father. It must have eased the burden, tension and worries of the city and life, cause we all seemed different and more relaxed there and it calmed all of us, and it became mostly a place of many serene and happy times, with visits even, of many coming from Europe on holiday.

I spent some time out there alone by myself, throughout the years, in summers and occasional winters, as we had only electric heaters and the roads were sometimes impassible with snow, in the winters.

The years passed, I remember going to my cousins place with food fixings, to make potluck dinners, as my cousin had purchased my aunts, her moms place years later. We had many spirited and humorous talks around the dinner table. They, her, my cousin and her friend, built a huge store of goods, in anticipation of hard times, times that never really came and i did some carpentry and wiring work for them, while they planted all these exotic and fruit trees on their estate.

One night, one time there, at 2 am in the morning ,sleeping soundly at dads cottage alone, I was rudely awakened by a shotgun blast, right next to my window, from, I came to suspect, was the rude neighbors teenage son, who lived nearer the lake, trying to assert his dominance. Not knowing who and so what to do? I finally mustered and went and stood on the porch and gave my best Tarzan yell, at the top of my lungs, into the dark night at the offense and offender of my rude waking. The rest of the night was quiet, and usually was except though on the weekends when the weekend crowd would party it up.

The old hermit geezer there, had his odd moments, like when he started dumping his cats litter of kittens, around the village, hoping they would be adopted but some of the kittens only ended up getting into trouble or killed, like by crawling into warm motors, where unsuspecting drivers, would start their cars and the kittens would take a whack from the motor fan blade and die and fall to the ground. One shouldn't have to bury kittens cause they are not wanted and or haven't good homes. Spade your critters folks.

Then there was the time one summer, I was lying on the cottage front lawn, half sleeping, when from the north this huge silent shadow passes over me and I frightened, quickly opened my eyes, only to see this huge 12 ft wing span of a white crane flying over me, down the lane in front of me. He or she did that on purpose to scare me?

Well it worked.

Well the years and life went on and though we didn't tire of the cabin, the expenses and taxes of such and the lake being damaged by algae, moved my dad to decide to sell. It wasn't the good money made by such, as such could never replace the love, memories, joy and solace found there but more the impractically of a less used place, as the family moved on to other places around the world.

San Susi good by, we loved you muchly.