…water…..out of the up-hill tank. The surface ice layer in it is only half an inch or so and we can poke through that, stick in a hose and siphon off thirty gallons or so and get our daily water allotment. If we do that every two or three days, we are good. A smidge on the rustic side, some would say, but good enough for us.
We are also pounding through a wheelbarrow of wood a day now. That’s double what we have ever had to do before. Minus 8 C is cold for here. I’ve been in -50 up in the Yukon in January and there is no doubt that it was colder then but -8 on the coast feels somehow much colder than -8 in the interior of the province. I am just ‘Davidizing’ on this but -8 here feels like -25 in the Okanagan to me. It’s likely the humidity factor.
This weather doesn’t bother the guys who have been here a long time, tho. At 13 years, I am still a newbie. I find it cold. DG (40+ years) just dropped by in his boat and handed us some fresh caught fish. “That there Ling is just 18 minutes from seeing the light o’ day. Filleted it fer ya, too, ’cause KB loves the carcasses. Fer her garden, don’tcha know? I am headin’ up her way now.”
“Dawg! It’s like 90 below. It’s colder here than Mars or something. What the hell ya doin’ fishin’?”
“Nah. It’s nice out. Warm, really, what with all the clothes I got on. And, anyway, I only fish where it’s sunny in weather like this. We gotta go out fishin’ sometime.”
“I dunno. I tend to repel fish like I do militant feminists. I am one of those guys with the wrong polarity or something. Anti-magnetic…..Bi-polar, maybe. Where I go, fish don’t. Some guys can’t catch fish. I am one of them.”
“No question there are people like that. When I was a guide, I’d have one guy catching fish hand over fist on one side and the other guy, on the other side, would get skunked. Sometimes we would swap sides just for the fun of it. Gear, too. Made no difference. One guy got lucky. The other not.
The doctor came out to the twice-monthly clinic at the community centre the other day. She had chains on all four wheels, her VHF radio was on (no cell service) and she was bundled up for survival. That’s beyond intrepid and almost heroic. Sal picked her up to bring her over. Twenty kms down a frozen logging road with ice valleys and snow everywhere and then a small boat. So bloody impressive, I almost faked an illness just to go see her.
Sal’s into it, too. She and a neighbour are headed up to visit the accident victims (see blogs re end of the day at end of the road) and have a ‘nice cuppa tea.’. That will be 6 – 8 miles in -8 in a small boat through one the most dangerous passes on the coast. Currents run fast and furious through there. They’ll likely chat about dogs or quilting the whole way.
Me? I’ll write this and then go under the house to try thawing some pipes so I can drain them better.
Fifteen years ago I was parking the car in a parkade, grabbing my briefcase and heading into a boardroom. I, too, was running then. Weird, eh? This is better. By far!