Letters to Smed - The Ice Hut (cont'd)

Hey Smed,

I just had the stew simmering and was reading a story about how Tom Sawyer whitewashed the fence and got to think'in about old Red/Green again...

"Now I want you to envision the scene. We’re sitting on top of a slight slope at the edge of the lake. The lake is obviously frozen solid, in spite of the mild temperatures. Remember that it’s been raining all day and there is now a film of water on top of the already slippery ice. The drop-off where we want to drag the hut to is about ½ km from our present location. We are pulling the hut, which is indeed quite solid, with a sled that has a rubber track and no studs. Need I say more?

In hindsight the logical thing would have been to head for the cottage, relax, and decide upon the best course of action. That, of course, is not what men on a mission do. Smed sneered at the hut as he revved the engine of the sled and ever so slowly the damn hut crested the final slope. Getting up a good head of steam going down the slope we surged out onto the ice with Red-Green once again swaying behind the sled. I must admit that it appeared as if our troubles were indeed over as Smed accelerated away from us while we focused all our attention on trying to stay on our feet.

Half way to our fishing hole the damn hut managed to bring the sled to a halt once again. Water was spraying every which way as Smed revved the engine once again, but the hut refused to move. With Don pushing on the hut and me adding extra traction to the sled we must have made a great sideshow for the other cottagers as we managed to inch our way to our destination.

It always amazes me how quickly adversity becomes nothing more that a good laugh once the adventure ends. A few drams of Scotch helped us realize that it was all just a calamity of errors and not worthy of much additional thought. Or was the damn hut merely getting its second wind.

As the temperature dropped suddenly that evening—from +5c in the afternoon to -25c by 9:00 that evening-- Red-Green did provide us with the necessary heat to thaw our frozen fingers and toes. In fact it was down right balmy. No, I should rephrase that, “The damn hut was damn hot.” It seemed as if the stove was proving to be as temperamental as the hut. It was either too cold or too hot, but never the right temperature."

Well I better get back to stir'in before the stew starts to smoke. I wouldn't want you boys to have any complaints.

Catch ya later,

Ed

Visit http://www.distinctnorthernart.com/ for the most destinctive wildlife art on the net.

Copyright for all original posts is owned by Sleeping Dog Marketing.