The last days at home
Five Days.
“RESFEBER; (noun, C, Swedish)
the restless race of the travellers heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together; a “travel fever” that can manifest as an illness”
Five days until I embark on a trip I've been planning for what seemed at first like forever. Though now that Im here is seems like I had no time to really come to terms with it all. They say time flies when your having fun, but it flies just as fast when your working 50 hours a week.
Theres more than a handful of places I'd love to visit at home before I go, but sadly Im lacking in time. My flight to Vancouver is only in three days, My list of things I need to do before I leave should only take me Seven.
of course.
Regardless of the things needing washing, the bags to be packed and the food to be eaten before leaving (Lets be honest the last one is the easiest) I decided there was absolutely time to do an overnight trip up to the Silver king cabin. The big cozy cabin tucked into an alpine bowl up a wonderfully gradual road of a hiking trail.
It was cold and wintery, well along for October, but It made it all the more cozy. Six of us made it to join the two strangers already camped out inside. each group hiking up separately somehow. Two dogs in tow. They loved the snow, even after working in it all week. The six of us, all forestry workers, where a little more hesitant. The fire stoked and the jet-boil bubbling away my noodles we all chatted and joked. Some handing around a bottle of tequila, the warmest way of getting in calories...I suppose.
The Alarm rang at a dark and early Seven AM, waking my tired eyes and sore back from sleep for an anticipated sunrise. To which I found no sun whatsoever, and happily went back to sleep for another hour of listening to wind batter the sides of our house. The morning rolled by, wind and snow whipping our faces each time we stepped out the door. Feeding Whiskey Jacks gave us our entertainment and brewing coffee gave us the energy to head home.
It was the third time this year that I had come up here. Camping in the cabin last November, Actually camping in a tent on the Cronin Trail Up Hyland pass in August and now again in the winter. Each time a different situation, different people, but none the less beautiful.
It was the cap of my time here. For the moment at least. The winter spent trudging around in the snow measuring spruce and balsam trees. The summer running around in pine forests and hanging ribbon like Piccasso would had he been in forestry. And the fall, relishing in the misery and beauty that is the season. This little valley seemed to encompass all things in it. The comfort. The feeling of home. The mountains, water and trees. It was all here. The familiarity Im soon going to be leaving. Leaving for something completely and utterly opposite to the idillic "country" life i've been living. So heres to hoping I can finish all the potatoes I grew this summer before I go.
Maggie the pooch enjoying the freshest of water.