The past 24 hours I've been thinking about my upcomming role as outdoor consultant for a bunch of cub scouts, while looking out on a lightly falling snow. I've been taking time out now and then today from painting the basement floor, to look out on the snow and reflect on past good times in such weather. I can't help but think of my youth when I got to spend time back home on the bay. I think of old Bill the trapper, one of the charaters that hung out at Jenkins Store. Bill always swore by his little Case finn with the stacked leather handles. I can remember him saying that if you just got out of the weather and had a fire, you were a long way to being alright.
It must have been the winter of around 1953 or maybe 54, and school was out for the hollidays. I wasted no time in getting into an adventure with my friend Tyrone, the son of grandads hired man, Jackson. Me and Tyrone decieded to explore the marsh durring a light snow, not unlike the one I'm watching right now. We took the punt back into Lacompt marsh and spent some hours just exploring as kids will do.
It kind of snuck up on us, but by and by, with our coats getting soaked through, we got pretty cold. Trying to decide where to land to get a fire going, we smelled smoke on the light wind. We made in that direction, and we found a good sized John boat pulled up on the marshy shore. Up under a big pine tree was Bill the trapper.
He had a nice little hidden spot for himself, and seeing the two of us shivering he called us up. He had made a nice little lean-to with a roof beam from a large pine bough, and thatched with a heavy layer of cat tail reeds. A small fire was going and a pot of coffee was on, so Tyrone and me got under the lean-to.
"What the devil are you two boys doing back here in this weather? he asked. "you're gonna freeze your tails off"
"Jist lookin around Mister Bill" said Tyrone. "And you right, we near frozen."
"Help yourself to some coffee, boys."
It was watermans coffee, black as the devils riding boots and strong, made by just tossing a double handfull of grounds into a pot of boiling water. You poured the coffee, and then splashed a little cold water from a canteen into the cup to settle the grounds. Bill dug around in his kit and held out a bottle.
"Sweeten it up a bit ifin ya want."
Me and Tyrone thanked him and splashed a very modest amount of the whiskey into the coffee. With the hot drink taking the chill out of our young bones, I looked around at the comfortable lean-to Bill had made. He had tied long bunches of cattail reeds into bundlles and thached his little shelter with them from the ground up. The inside was dry, and the small fire at the opening reflected off the back wall and warmed us nicly. I asked him how he'd done it.
"Aw, it ain't that hard" he told us, drawing his Case Little Finn, " I jist used this to cut that long limb thar, and then gathered the reeds. Git a bunch of them and cut 'em off with my knife. Them reeds are 5 and 6 feet tall, so's when you git a bunch ya tie em into a bundle and set em up verticle from the ground up. Jist overlap em as you go up and the rain or melting snow follows the reeds down the back. "
Then Bill let me and Tyrone in on some of his secrets. He told us always to have a small ball of twine along with the knife, and a candle. He told us that you light the candle to get a fire going. I saw a large amount of pine cones under the lean-to, as well as sap sticky pine kindling. Then there was the pile of fresh hides. Bill was doing some trapping and he had a nice haul of muskrat pelts.
"Now you boys jist forget you seen them pelts." Bill said. "I got a buyer that don't want the buisness common knowledge for all."
Having drank his coffee and whiskey and warmed ourselves by his fire, we told him the secret was safe with us. We departed, leaving Bill in peace in his comfortable little hide-away in the marsh. It was a long row back home, and me and Tyrone spelled one another at the oars. I thought about how well old Bill had done, making himself snug and secure with very little gear in a small kit bag and a few things in his pockets. He had a Marbles match case, a candle, and a small 3 inch bladed sheath knife, and yet he had shelter and fire.
He did so well with so little.
It must have been the winter of around 1953 or maybe 54, and school was out for the hollidays. I wasted no time in getting into an adventure with my friend Tyrone, the son of grandads hired man, Jackson. Me and Tyrone decieded to explore the marsh durring a light snow, not unlike the one I'm watching right now. We took the punt back into Lacompt marsh and spent some hours just exploring as kids will do.
It kind of snuck up on us, but by and by, with our coats getting soaked through, we got pretty cold. Trying to decide where to land to get a fire going, we smelled smoke on the light wind. We made in that direction, and we found a good sized John boat pulled up on the marshy shore. Up under a big pine tree was Bill the trapper.
He had a nice little hidden spot for himself, and seeing the two of us shivering he called us up. He had made a nice little lean-to with a roof beam from a large pine bough, and thatched with a heavy layer of cat tail reeds. A small fire was going and a pot of coffee was on, so Tyrone and me got under the lean-to.
"What the devil are you two boys doing back here in this weather? he asked. "you're gonna freeze your tails off"
"Jist lookin around Mister Bill" said Tyrone. "And you right, we near frozen."
"Help yourself to some coffee, boys."
It was watermans coffee, black as the devils riding boots and strong, made by just tossing a double handfull of grounds into a pot of boiling water. You poured the coffee, and then splashed a little cold water from a canteen into the cup to settle the grounds. Bill dug around in his kit and held out a bottle.
"Sweeten it up a bit ifin ya want."
Me and Tyrone thanked him and splashed a very modest amount of the whiskey into the coffee. With the hot drink taking the chill out of our young bones, I looked around at the comfortable lean-to Bill had made. He had tied long bunches of cattail reeds into bundlles and thached his little shelter with them from the ground up. The inside was dry, and the small fire at the opening reflected off the back wall and warmed us nicly. I asked him how he'd done it.
"Aw, it ain't that hard" he told us, drawing his Case Little Finn, " I jist used this to cut that long limb thar, and then gathered the reeds. Git a bunch of them and cut 'em off with my knife. Them reeds are 5 and 6 feet tall, so's when you git a bunch ya tie em into a bundle and set em up verticle from the ground up. Jist overlap em as you go up and the rain or melting snow follows the reeds down the back. "
Then Bill let me and Tyrone in on some of his secrets. He told us always to have a small ball of twine along with the knife, and a candle. He told us that you light the candle to get a fire going. I saw a large amount of pine cones under the lean-to, as well as sap sticky pine kindling. Then there was the pile of fresh hides. Bill was doing some trapping and he had a nice haul of muskrat pelts.
"Now you boys jist forget you seen them pelts." Bill said. "I got a buyer that don't want the buisness common knowledge for all."
Having drank his coffee and whiskey and warmed ourselves by his fire, we told him the secret was safe with us. We departed, leaving Bill in peace in his comfortable little hide-away in the marsh. It was a long row back home, and me and Tyrone spelled one another at the oars. I thought about how well old Bill had done, making himself snug and secure with very little gear in a small kit bag and a few things in his pockets. He had a Marbles match case, a candle, and a small 3 inch bladed sheath knife, and yet he had shelter and fire.
He did so well with so little.
:thumbup:
