Alone in the Wilderness

It was good to be back in the wilderness again,

where everything seems at peace.

I was alone, just me and the animals.

It was a great feeling, free once more

to plan and do as I pleased.

Beyond was all around me.

My dream was a dream no longer.

I suppose I was here because

this was something I had to do.

Not just dream about it, but do it.

I suppose, too, I was here to test myself.

Not that I had never done it before,

but this time, it was to be a more thorough

and lasting examination.

What was I capable of that I didn't know yet?

Could I truly enjoy my own company for an entire year?

And was I equal to everything

this wild land could throw at me?

I had seen its moods in late spring, summer and early fall

but what about the winter? Would I love the isolation then,

with its bone-stabbing cold, its ghostly silence?

At age fifty-one, I intended to find out.

Another hundred yards, and I broke out of the brush

to my pile of cabin logs I had cut last July.

I sat down and leaned against them

and while I chewed on a chunk of smoked salmon

my eyes wandered over the peeled logs.

That had been a big job last summer!

Hard work, but I enjoyed it.

It was cool at the timber, and there were

mornings I could see my breath.

I had harvested the logs from a stand of spruce

less than 300 yards from where they were now piled.

The logs were a great deal lighter now than they were then,

and could be handled easy enough.

It was in the late spring of 1968, that Dick Proenneke

decided to leave civilization behind

to live in a pristine land yet unchanged by man.

and to roam a wilderness through

which few other humans have passed.

While carving out his new life in this remote valley known as

Twin Lakes, Dick would not only keep daily journals,

but would film his Alaskan autosy with

the help of a tripod-mounted camera.

It was time to be moving on.

I was anxious to get to Spike's cabin

to see if it was the way I had left it last September.

About 500 yards more through the spruce and willowbrush,

and there it was.

its weather-grayed moose antlers spreading just below

the peak of the roof.

A tin can on its stove pipe,

and its windows were boarded up.

The cabin had everything needed to set up housekeeping

until my own cabin was completed.

A good stove, two bunks and a roof that didn't leak.

It's May 22nd.

Up with the sun at four o clock to watch the sun rise

and the sight of the awakening land.

It seems a shame for eyes to be shut

when such things are going on.

Especially in this big country.

I don't want to miss anything.

Today I would hike the five miles down to the lower lake

to pack my third and last load of gear.

My tools, with which to build my cabin!

This time, with the binoculars along, I would have an excuse

to stop now and then and watch the slopes for game.

From this high vantage point, the hill seemed to come

alive with animals.

I suddenly didn't feel so alone anymore.

Almost noon before I got back to the cabin.

The rest of the day, I devoted to my tools.

I carved a mallet-head out of a spruce chunk,

augered a hole in it and fitted a handle to it.

This would be a useful pounding tool.

And I hadn't had to pack it in either.

The same with the handles I made for the wood augers,

the wide-bladed chizel and the files.

Much easier to pack without the handles already fitted to them.

Hope Creek had cut a big opening into the lake ice.

Was it too early to catch a fish?

I took the casting rod along to find out.

It didn't take long, after several casts it happened

with the suddenness of a broken shoelace.

I slid the 19-inch trout onto the stones.

Fish with my beans tonight!

It's May 25. Break-up is not the spectacular

sight it was last year.

A big wind would have cleared the thin ice out yesterday.

As I loaded tools onto the packboard this morning,

the rotted ice began to flow past its exit.

When you have miles and miles of lake-front

and pictured views to consider,

it's difficult to select a building site.

The more a man looks, the fuzzier he gets.

I cleared the brush, and poured out beach gravel,

and spread it to a depth of several inches over an area

roughly 20x20 feet.

I felt I had made the best possible choice.

It would be 11x15 feet.

Its front-door would face northwest.

And the big window would look down to the lake.

A pile of logs. Which ones to start with?

To make a notch fit properly you can't rush it.

Make several saw cuts an inch or two apart

almost down to the pencil line,

and whack out the chunks with an axe,

until the notch is roughly formed.

Then comes the finish work. A careful custom fit.

I have just the tool for the job.

One log in particular required considerable

hewing to straighten it.

I must say white spruce works up nicely with an ax

and a draw-knife.

Enough for this evening. The job had begun.

Tomorrow should see more working and less figuring.

It's May 29. Only a few chunks of ice

floating in the lake this morning.

By noon there was no ice to be seen.

It was good to see the lake in motion again

and it was even better to slip the canoe into the water...

...and paddle to work for a change!

I glided silently along over a different pathway.

The cabin is growing. 28 logs are in place.

44 should do it.

except for the gable ends and roof logs.

It really looks a mess to see the butts extending beyond

the corners, but I will trim them off later.

You can't rush it. I don't want these logs looking as if

a boy scout was turned loose on them with a dull hatchet.

I was making good progress today when I heard a plane.

It was Babe Alsworth.

I watched the plane glide in for a perfect landing

on the calm lake.

Plenty of groceries this time, and among the supplies,

rhubarb plants!

They should be put in the ground right away.

I found the frost about four or five inches down.

I planted fifteen hills of potatoes, tucked in some onion sets.

and put in a few rows of peas, carrots, beets and rutabagas.

Not much of a garden by Iowa standards, but it would tell me

what I wanted to find out.

Finally back to the cabin building.

I am a better builder than I am a farmer, anyway.

38 logs are in place and i'm almost ready for the eave logs.

I cut the opening for the big window, for the two smaller ones

and the opening for the door.

Five logs were very special. These were the 20-footers,

which along with the gable ends would make the backbone

of my roof.

Two would be eave logs, two would be purlin logs

and the last and straightest one would be the ridge log.

As it stands now, the cabin looks like as logs are sticking out

all over it.

I have made good progress today. My cabin logs have

changed form in the ten days since I cut the first notch.

It's June 7, and I believe the growing season is at hand.

The buckbrush and willows are leafing out fast now,

the rhubarb is growing,

and I noticed my onion sets are spiking up through the earth.

Those windowframes have been on my mind.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes