On my way to Leo and Theresa's on Friday afternoon

January 18, 2014 – Saturday morning

5 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

Well… darn, I was going to get out of bed early this morning and be on the lake shortly after sunrise. That didn’t happen.

It’s all Sargie’s fault. She had to get out of bed for a few minutes and asked that I remain so we could snuggle upon her return and she’d be able to rid herself of the chills. Being a kind and sensitive guy, I agreed, but somehow, dozed off while waiting. She slipped back into bed and I remember thinking I ought to get up, but it was so dark and cold on the outside, so nice and warm between the flannel sheets. Sargie spooned herself against me, grabbed one of my arms, pulled it over her, and held it tightly. The last thing I remember was thinking how I really should get up and begin today’s quest to put meat on the table… before dozing back off to sleep. The rest is history.

Sargie’s off today and hopefully can sleep in. I’ll write this, sip a bit more coffee, then make my way over to the lake.

Yesterday was a good one, on and off of Pentoga Road. As is becoming the habit, I rode with Sargie five miles down the road and hiked back. There was an occasional twinge in the knee, but nothing bad. I later took an ibuprofen to keep any potential swelling at bay.

I’d seen an add on Craigslist for someone who had some maple spouts and tubing for sale. Being a syrup purist at heart, I’ve never considered using tubes to combine the flow of sap from several trees, but after last year’s record flow and spending six to eight hours a day carrying sap through knee deep snow, I’ve though it might be time to modernize just a bit. Many of the spiles (spouts) I use were manufactured during the Civil War era.  

The listing was local, Iron River, so I called and left a message.

It was too nice a day to sit inside. Fishing? Why not. But first, I needed minnows. Neighbor Mike and I had just enough action the other day to whet my appetite. I threw the minnow pail in the Blazer and headed to Gloria’s for bait.

The phone rang. It was Leo, the maple man, inviting me to his house to see what he had for sale. The only issue was that Leo lived about twenty minutes on the other side of Iron River, way out in the boonies. It was a nice day. Not a problem.

Armed with perfect directions, but less than perfect eyesight, I turned left and drove seven miles, then turned right until there was a T in the road, left again for 2.3 miles, then right for a 1.5 miles, then into a private lane for another mile or so.

It was up a hill, around a curve, into a vale, squeezing between two snow banks, around another curve, over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go…. Or was it Bubba’s?

Imagination can be a horrible thing. Over all the thousands of miles I’ve traveled in bush Alaska, always alone, I’ve run into some real characters. Most have lived in very remote areas at the end of some very remote roads.

Leo sounded like a nice guy on the phone. He talked in full sentences and conjugated verbs. Still, I couldn’t help but picture a ramshackle trailer house wrapped in plastic and slightly tilted to one side sitting at the end of the road. There’d be junk cars, a still to make moonshine, and after getting out of the Blazer, I’d be surrounded by barking pitbulls, all covered in the blood of poached deer taken from the surrounding forest. Where was Brutus? Oh yeah, I left him home.

I subconsciously began humming the theme from Deliverance and my biggest fear was that Leo would be a heavy guy wearing bib overalls, with a week’s growth of beard, missing several teeth in front, and begin introducing himself by telling me I had a purty mouth.

I rounded the last curve and my fears vanished. Before me was a beautiful home and compound perched on a hill overlooking the Paint River. Leo, all teeth intact with looks and demeanor to match his voice, came out the door, greeted me, and didn’t say one word about my mouth. I was soon introduced to his wife, Theresa, and they told me to sit at the table and have a cup of coffee.

The folks are retired and living the dream. I heard how their home was once a hunting camp and with Leo and Theresa doing most the work, basically built a shell around and over it, destroyed the old camp within, and went about building a new home. It’s a beauty.

They also constructed a garden-sized greenhouse, a guest home, several outbuildings, generate their own power, and basically, live the same lifestyle that Sargie and I do… enjoying the north woods with a great amount of solitude and beauty.

Leo has the goodies… a bulldozer, a backhoe, another tractor, and a partridge in a pear tree. I want to be like Leo when I grow up.

Theresa and I talked gardening and greenhouses, of blackberries and blueberries, techniques of growing, failures and successes.

Another cup of coffee? Sure, why not.

I told them of my modest maple sugaring operation; they talked of theirs… at one time, ten times larger than mine. Leo explained about plastic spouts and tubes, techniques, how I might modernize a bit.

In the end, I gave him a $20 bill and asked that he sell me whatever that might purchase. Leo was very kind… he sold me enough spiles and connectors that I can convert seventy trees to a more modern collection system. He also threw in lots of tubing and a couple of boxes of syrup tins and bottles.

More than two hours had passed before I left the nice folks who live on the banks of the Paint River. I talked to Leo about hiring him to make some trails and do some earth moving here on Pentoga Road. Theresa would like some black raspberry starts, something I have plenty of and we all agreed it would be fun for the four of us to meet socially.

It’s said that God gives us exactly what we need when we need it. Yep, Friday afternoon was a good one.

I stopped at Gloria’s on my way back and bought minnows and was home before dark so I could carry in wood and exercise Brutus. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent doing university work while listening to music.

Poor Sargie didn’t arrive home until well after 9. The doctor had seen many patients on Friday and they were busy in the Vision Center.

I’m going to get this uploaded, dress in my heavies, and make my way to the lake and see if I can break this horrible streak of catching no fish. Last year, I was giving filets away. This year, I can’t seem to get enough for a decent fish fry for Sargie and me. Patience, Tom, patience.

According to Carl the Weatherman, this is our last warm day for the next ten. Temperatures are to drop well below zero with highs in the low single numbers accompanied by gusty winds. He said that by next weekend, we could see a return to bitterly cold temperatures with lows in the minus twenties and thirties.

Sargie’s off today, so no doubt, we’ll take a ride later, maybe do a bit of shopping.

But first, it’s time to pour another cup of coffee, listen to the news, and think deep and professorial thoughts… before traveling to the lake in an attempt to put meat on the table.

After all, a man’s work is never done…