Don, Doug and I made our second annual February visit to Eckerman this weekend. On the way there, we noticed a decrease in the snow level the closer we got to St. Ignitius which was good news. Last year when we got to the cabin the snow was 4′ on the level and this year it was only 2′, so instead of shooting at puff balls up in the trees, we’d could do some fishing, and a little hunting.
We stopped at Frenchmans’ Lake to relieve our bladders and check on the ice. From the looks of it, there had been a lot of traffic going out, and more importantly, coming back so we knew we could go fishing the next day. We found a half dozen holes poked in the ice with only and inch or so of ice formed in ‘em but there wasn’t any fish laying about. Don showed me why there wasn’t; there were coyote and fox tracks everywhere, so it wasn’t any suprise not to see any little ones. We were able to walk out this year because they’d had a pretty good thaw last week, and while it was real wet, it went back down to -10º and froze it up tight. The entire time we were on the lake, we could hear ice making, and it sounded as though it was making about a eighth inch an hour. 20 minutes later, we got up to the cabin and found that the thaw wasn’t as strong as it was in Trout Lake.
Don had the parking area plowed throughout the winter and the piles wern’t nearly as large as they were last year. We could see over them, last year they were mountains. Don immediatly got busy with dinner, and Doug headed over to the wood pile, so I dug snow. It had melted enough that I could cut them into bit sized chunks in one foot cubes. The snow beneath it was like sugar sand and although it didn’t weigh much, it didn’t bind together to well either. I was back at the shathouse working my way towards the house when Doug walked back. He just started trampling this crap into submission and although it was a bitch walking through it that afternoon, the next morning it was like concrete. We had driven up with clear blue sky’s overhead, but now it was about 7 shades deeper so we got real busy with the firewood. Don had a fire going in the woodstove, so I picked up the split wood and stacked it in the cabin until it was about chest level. Most of the wood we had there was green poplar, so we knew we were in for chilly night. When we got there at 3, it was 12º, at 5 when all the work was done, it was 0º.
Don had a pot of beans with bacon cooking on the stove, and the temperature was about 62 in the cabin, so it was easy getting comfortable. We sat there at the kitchen table and watched out the window for the main attraction to begin. The topics of the conversation were quite varied, but generally stayed within the Sex, Eating, and Hunting area, and not in that particular order. The hunting part of it had come around again when we definetly noticed that there wern’t any red squerrils around. Over the years, chasing, shooting at and then bragging about these little buggers, has been a mainstay of entertainment. While we were out cutting and hauling in wood, we could hear the little bastards chattering at us, and now, nothing. We started discussing of how over the years, they’ve become smarter, so we had to change our tactics a little. Don had noticed that at the gas station in Trout Lake, they sold corn. It wasn’t ten minutes later that I was on my way to the gas station.
Doug had noticed on our way up, that a queing area a little North of Trout Lake was empty when we went by, but on our way back to the gas station, it was full of trucks. There was hardly any snow on these trails, and in some spots, there were 100′ swatch’s of pure sand, and yet these guys were running $8000 snow machines through this stuff. Must be these guys ate too much fudge and ice cream cones in the summer time.
When Doug and I walked in the door this time, there were veal stakes frying in bacon grease, and cut up Michigan whites frying up in another. Jeez, but I do love walking into that cabin. For some reason, restaurants stay away from veal around here. I asked a waitress about it once and she when off on me. I got the whole “Oh poor little milk fed moo moo’s, dying young” and all that crap. I prefer my veal medium rare, and spotted venison the same.
Before I sat down to eat it, I got out my digital camera and took a picture of it for my brother. As you’ve probably noticed in these blog entries, we’ve fucked with each other in many ways, and this is another one. I usually describe what he’s seeing on the plate and how great it tasted, it does the ole’ boy good.
Don had found some molassis while he was digging through his ingrediants so I heated it up, mixed it with the corn and spread it outside the kitchen window. We could see by the tracks that there were some squirrels and a couple hares, but nothing had come out by the time we went to bed around 11.
We all got up about 7 to another clear blue, sunny day. For some reason, I was thinking about Spring when I walked out to the shathouse, but by the time I’d taken my first step outside, I saw the error. I checked the thermometer on the side of the cabin, and it said -8º. I knew it was going to be painfull when I seated my delicate ass upon that throne, and I was right. I’d brought a lp gas stove with me and had fired that up, but what the house needs is a boiler, and some copper pipe plumbed through the seat. I took a picture of what it looks like and I’ll see if I can get Katrina to post it. Something else that house could use is a vent. The new Ole’ Shathouse is losing it’s charm pretty quick.
When I got back in, I told Doug how cold it was and he said at 3am when he got up to look up at the stars and pee down on the ground, it was -14º.
After a pot of coffee and checking out the “Feed the wild for free and keep the tree huggers happy” project, outside the kitchen window, we headed down to Frenchmans’ Lake. The wind picked up out of the East, to about 15mph, so it was a little chilly when we got to the lake. We had talked about walking across to the other side of that bay, but once we were 200 yards out, we’d gone far enough. We could see from the color of the ice we were right at the drop off, so Don and Doug set up 4 tip-up’s. It was really cold out there so hand fishing was out of the question. After we got them set up, we walked back until we were out of that wind and fished from there. Don showed me where a couple coyotes had walked through there the night, ’cause those weren’t there the day before. It wasn’t long before three guys arrived in a pickup, and all their gear in back. Evidently, they had loaded that truck after they put the quad runner in it, because when they took it off, there was crap flying everywhere. They hooked up two portable shanties behind and two cases of beer in the front, and it looked like those guys were going to have a great day fishing. We had been offered a couple portable shanties, but for some reason, I didn’t take him up on it, next time I will. One of Don’s tip-up’s sprang once, but that was all the action we saw. Getting fish for dinner wasn’t a problem anyway, Don brought along 6 Walleye fillets.
As soon as we got back, Doug and I started getting that night’s wood together, and Don stoked the fire. After our chores were done, we all sat at the kitchen table and discussed the attributes of the First Amemdment, and of Art, in an Eckerman sort of way, and watched the bai….er, “Tree hugger pile”. It’s wonderfull to set and watch the finch’s and the blue-jays come to share in our joy of helping them. It’s very rude though, when an evil and malicious bushy tailed rat comes along to terrorize our fine feathered friends. We discussed for a bit about the animal’s feelings toward’s birds, and human’s, and anything good and clean, but Don’s a man of action! Don jumped to his feet, ran to his bedroom and came out with a “Vengence is mine, sayith the Lord” look on his face, and a shotgun in his hand. Doug and I watched that evil, malicious rat, terrorize those poor beautiful birds until we watched it’s sorry ass go staight up and flip over. Don placed the critter splayed over a snowbank as a warning to all those still foolish enough not to share nice. Believe it or not, but that animal showed up later clinging to the kitchen window. We brought her in and no sooner there, than she started to eat some beaver meat that was left from before. I’ve got the pictures! Anyway, after we finally got rid of her, the afternoon progressed very nicely and even improved when Doug walked in.
We had been talking earlier about the several Eckerman trips we’ve made and how much fun it was during those trap shoots. There was still a box of clay pigeons in the corner so we gave it a try. It was no big deal to Don, he had a shotgun, Doug and I had .22’s. I grabbed the thrower and asked Don where he missed birds the most, and he said when they get to the trees, so I started throwin’ ‘em into the tree tops. I asked Doug where he had a problem and he said as they fly through the brush, so I threw them into the bush’s. After a couple attempts Doug got one in the bush and Don shot two in the trees. I had NO luck..again, so I took it out on a tree top. I picked the uppermost apicalmeristem of a Spruce tree and removed it. Tree huggers shouldn’t worry, it was asleep and didn’t feel a thing.
The remainder of the evening was spent discussing World politic’s, religon, and Oprah. Nah, we talked about Sex, Eating, and Hunting, and once again, maybe not in that order. It didn’t get nearly as cold that night as the night before, so it wasn’t quite that painfull on the visit to the shathouse. This was the morning too, when I was suppose to supply the venison tenderloins for breakfast. But no, I’d left them in the fridge at home defrosting so Don cooked up some ham I’d brought for sandwich’s, along with some links. Eaten as a single slice this ham was pretty good, but when it was all cooked together, the salt was unbearable. I have no idea how Don ate it, so he musta been really hungry. We were figuring on leaving around Noon, but by 9 the place was all cleaned up and the truck packed, so we left early.
We had a great weekend, and look forward to getting back. Next trip though, we need a couple shanty’s, a quad runner, and more corn.
