I put a few necessities from my stash into the sled: cell phone charger along with the computer pack, cream of chicken soup, a couple of bottles of juice and, of course, the next two seasons of Game of Thrones and headed back up the hill. Mind you this was easier than the previous day, but still I left the cabin around 12:30 and didn't return until a little after 4, not exactly marathoner time.
Once in the house, with the generator running and my phone charging, all of a sudden it went off like New Year's Eve chimes. Someone had sent me a number of texts and it took a minute to figure out the caller was a part owner of the cabin across the way who now lives in Washington state. The crux of her messages was her daughter's fiancé and her grandson were at the cabin and the younger wanted to meet me for some reason. As briefly as I could I explained my situation and told her I wasn't in any condition to go visiting just yet. Within minutes the guys at the cabin were texting me promising to come up in the morning and help free my machine and then help haul my stuff up to the cabin. Holy Crap on a Cracker! Mana from heaven. I don't like to ask for help. My attitude is the day I don't think I can do this by myself is the day I will give it up. Volunteer help doesn't count. I told them I would hike down as soon as the temperature hit double digits.
I relaxed, made a steak dinner, watched videos, slept soundly and woke up like it was Christmas morning. This would have been Saturday and again I putzed through the morning until the temperature hit double digits and then headed down the hill. By the time I got there they had the machine unstuck. James, my friend's grandson met me part way up walking and sinking into the deep snow. Later he asked if he had gotten half way at least and I told him no, maybe a tenth. The fiancé, Keith, said he thought he could pack a trail up the hill with his machine. I doubted it but he made it. I am going to have to look into snowmachines with articulated tracks. Anyway he went up and down once and then I went up ahead of him and made it almost to my porch until I got stuck again. (He had turned off my main trail before that last steep climb to the deck.)
So we went back down again, me figuring I could pack a sled and pull it up. But we got to talking and eventually went back to their cabin and told stories for a couple of hours while Keith made tacos. First ones I ever had out here. I was excusing myself hoping to get at least a small sled load up to the house. Keith said they planned taking a couple of trips hauling stuff out to the trailhead in preparation for leaving the next day and they'd be coming back empty. He asked me if I still had anything I needed brought in. Oh, boy did I. Over the evening they made a couple of trips. Meanwhile I pulled one small sled load up almost to the cabin but managed to mire the machine in deep snow again. I lightered my load hauling it up in two trips hand over hand on a rope pulling the sled. At that point I quit. But I had almost everything up the hill and could relax a little. Another pleasant evening feeling more and more at home.
So, it now being Sunday, as soon as the temp hit double digits I went down, dug out the snowmachine, turned it around and headed down the hill. Piled next to the trail I found my 5-gallon can of gasoline, an empty one-gallon can I bought for mixing fuel for the chainsaw, a 40-pound propane tank, and a duffel with all my freshly laundered underwear and socks, a few shirts and pairs of pants. Everything.
Instead of loading up, I went on over to their cabin to thank them. Keith and I spent some time chatting while he continued packing for their trip out while James headed out with a load. We talked for a while and then I excused myself and headed back. I put everything except the propane tank into the big cargo sled which I'd left down the hill since Thursday. I didn't even try to get all the way up. I stopped on a level spot just below where I'd stuck the machine the day before and hauled everything but the gasoline can up the hill by rope and the small sled again.
At that point I quit for a while, came indoors, had a can of soup and laid down for a nap. But my mind just kept working and I thought of all the little things I wanted to do to make things right. Soon I had risen to my feet and well-motivated accomplished the following over the next two hours:
· Sorted all the food between the freezer and the cooler.
· Wanting to bring up the gasoline can, I snowshoed down, but took my other yet-to-be-broken trail starting the process of packing it down to create a turning loop and no more getting stuck. Loaded the can into the sled and came up the same way I went down hauling about 50 pounds of sled and load and packing that part of the trail down more.
· Snowshoed a trail along the uphill side of the house and dragged a ladder to where I could lay it up and reach the roof, not a big climb, believe me.
· Shoveled what snow I could reach, then climbed up and shoveled off the ridge. (That generally helps to encourage the snow to slide off.)
· In the process realized the snow was high enough near the house there was a possibility a heavy slab could slide off and fall back against the window next to my bed.
· Dug out the bear board, slogged with it through the snow back to the window and nailed the board into place.
· Made it back to the deck and sat in the sun until I realized, oh crap, I still have to get firewood. So off I go with another sled along the downhill side, load the sled and bring it back to throw the wood up onto the deck.
· That done, I came indoors stoked the fire absolutely feeling like a restful peaceful evening. I live here again.
Starting on firewood tomorrow. Cutting wood to keep me warm next winter so I can be warm and comfortable while I cut wood for the following winter.
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