SKI TRIP
The Isolation Blues;
reflections during covid-19
Journal entry;
January 22, 2022 (Saturday)
I’ve decided to do a one-day retreat at the cabin today and do a little skiing. It was minus 27 degrees this morning (the coldest day of the year thus far) and I’m not sure if this is a well-advised plan or not, but there is absolutely no wind today so that helps. The thermometer actually reads the true temperature as you don’t have to factor in the wind chill. When I arrived at the cabin it was minus 6 inside! At least it was (a little) warmer inside than it was outside. Once I get the cabin warmed up my plan is to ski downstream to where the north branch of the Meduxnekeag River reaches the Canadian border which is about a five and a half mile round trip. I’m traveling light with just a day-pack; contents being a water bottle, a thermos of hot coffee and a couple of energy bars. Of course my cell phone is tucked inside my coat pocket which is a real game-changer from years ago when we didn’t have such devices. Now we can see the latest weather forecast, check the score on the game, take photos and videos of the trip and place a call for curbside pickup on the way home. I suppose the smart phone is an added safety feature in case there’s an unforeseen emergency, but a certain sense of adventure is lost in the process. When I hit the trail it has already warmed up to minus 15 and the January sun is shining brightly. When it’s this cold it’s best to keep moving and when you do stop, don’t stop for long. There’s a fine line balance between not over-heating and letting your core body-temp drop. (This is where the hot coffee comes in…) A half mile from the cabin is where I cross US Route One under the bridge and then it’s a meandering river trail to the border. There’s something of note to have an entire winter river to oneself as you’re skiing along on a sunny Saturday morning with nothing but a few isolated animal and human boot tracks to accompany the remoteness. I see an eagle fly over head. Four deer cross the river 200 feet in the distance ahead of me. One’s thoughts have plenty of time to dissipate on the trail. Sometimes it takes hours to start running out of things to think, but eventually the mind starts to slow down a bit. That’s when the physical fatigue, mental boredom and stomach hunger starts to eat at you in a way that opens you to something that was not in the trip planner. In my case, I had not planned on my right ankle hurting quite this much. I admit this is the longest ski trip I’ve undertaken in a while, and besides, I’m not as young as I was last year this time. I was already thinking about getting this damn ski boot off and having lunch. The complete trip took four hours. When I got back to the cabin my fire was out, but the outside temperature was now above zero so I didn’t complain. I got the fire going again and (eagerly) kicked off my boots. Time for something in the skillet…
On the map you can trace my ski route. The marker on the left is the starting location at the cabin and then heading downstream to the east are several points of interest; Russell Rock, Camp Williams (Monticello’s Fish & Game Club), the US Route One bridge in downtown Monticello and then nothing but woods until you hit the Bell Road that runs along the border. Once the river freezes up, after several sub-zero temps, the Meduxnekeag River is a relatively shallow and safe winter trail for x-country skiing and the occasional snow sled. The marker on the right shows where I turned around as the river touches the border. If I had gone just a bit further the river would have actually crossed into Canada where it eventually joins the south branch of the Meduxnekeag River on its way to Woodstock where it flows into the Saint John River. Enjoy winter everyone!
In the woods,
Dave
January 27, 2022
Dave: Your Meduxnekeag cabin retreat and ski trip reminds me of a trip we took about 40 years ago in mid-winter out to our camp on the South Shore of Meduxnekeag Lake. We had a 2-wheel drive Dodge 3-on-the-column pickup truck hand-painted yucky green, and we decided to try to drive all the way in, 2.5 miles up and down major hills. Well, we got halfway up the last hill, which we call “Larry’s Hill,” for Larry Holmes, who lives near the top of it, and lost traction. Now even then, I knew intuitively that backing down was asking for trouble, so I invented a solution. I allowed a roll-back of a few feet, jammed on the brakes, and swung the nose to the right. After several of these, I found myself aiming headfirst down the hill, with better control. We parked the truck somewhere at the bottom of the hill and struck out for the lake itself for a ski of about 3/4 or a mile to camp. Sam was under 10 and Leah about 7. They did not enjoy the Dr. Zhivago trek. It was snowing, the wind was blowing, the temps were in the low teens. The camp was as cold as the outdoors, but eventually, the Ashley Imperial got the indoors to at least 50 F. Sam got sick to his stomach, but we decided to push forward with our overnight stay. The next day, we had to practically drag both kids across the lake. It wasn’t fun, but it’s a story. I don’t know if Sam ever x-country skied again. I do, occasionally, and I must say that your Meduxnekeag River ski story sounded wonderful to me, a Zen experience.