Friday, January 30, 2015

Lake Thunder: Part 4

As I left the yard parking lot with a load of MDF board and 2x4's for the shack, the late January sun stayed a notch higher in the sky than usual at 4:33 - a deep grapefruit tone soaked the cold blue sky, and let me know that spring is marching. My belts squealed louder than usual. "I gotta get those checked," I thought, as I rolled over crusty, squeaky, deep cold snow on Mitch Owens and booked for Kanata. I needed music. I slapped on some Blue Rodeo to help my mind ease from work into cottage mode - 5 Days In July. A great record, and one that embodies any true Canadian summer lover with cascading tremolo Gretsch riffs and soothing Cuddy vocal soundscapes. 5 Days In May is still one of the best songs to ever emerge from that band, and the opening harp hit my speakers as the sun was making me squint. "Wish I had sunglasses," I said aloud, as I honked at a slow, indecisive road hog in front of me. 416 bound.

I picked up Steve within a half hour, and he said his tender farewells to his lady, and we were off. At half past five, the sun was already dying and pulling the deep-black night-drape over everything. The cold was setting in. Steve puffed on his tobacco vapourizer forming clouds all around us, and poured over engineering plans for the ice hut in my packed, squealing vehicular device. We were like boys heading to a tree fort we left in the woods. We stopped in Carleton Place to get booze for the long cold night. Power was out in the LCBO. "Bullshit," Steve and I both bellowed. On to Smiths Falls. We shucked road back like corn peel, leaving no kernel of concrete untouched. We couldn't get there fast enough. Joel was waiting for us,  already a tad slurry from warm juice, and called us to pick up a light as his kerosene lantern was dying.

Two more stops in Smiths Falls (including the snag of a discount jar of peanuts, some granola bars and a flat of Old Style Pilly) and we had arrived. We unloaded our gear in the frozen cottage, and watched our breath fill the indoors. The carpet felt like a sheet of ice on my socked feet. Steve carried the drinks and extra wood down to the lake. Joel knew we had arrived and coyote-howled at his pleasure of our showing, and Jill showed up shortly after. We had ourselves a time, and some fond laughs by the stove, and let the night take its jagged course.

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