Early Morning on a Frozen Lake

The early morning sun cranked up from behind the treeline. Darkness from a cold blue sky slowly gave way to amber light above the pines and the chill began to flee our finger tips. Solitude helps clear the mind and a desolate lake does just the trick. A highway can't be spotted on an atlas within a 40 mile radius. Every road leading to this lake (only one) is dirt. 

Mornings like this call for a time of reflection. I like sitting back in my chair to imagine the first man who came across this lake. His thoughts surely weren't centered on his distance from highways - they wouldn't have existed. More than likely he was fishing here, for his next meal depended on it. The world was much more simple. Times were different and I believe that times were better. Time wasn't wasted in front of a glowing television screen, a mans word meant something, and the woods were still wild.

Blues and Oranges.

The only individual we saw all day toted his ice shack via snowmobile to a far end of the lake. We watched him until the ice shack slowly became a distant speck of green on the horizon and then disappeared into a sea of forest.

A waiting game.

This small ice shack across the lake stands tall against the wind.

A cooling rack that I snagged from the kitchen holds a 5 hr fire log just above the snow. The snow would extinguish the flame and moisture would wick into the log. This provides the right amount of heat to get us by.

A quick, portable, and easy to setup shelter.

Sporting my Union Suit and a favorite wool Matinicus Crewneck Sweater.

Dusk finally arrives. A recent rainfall has caused a crusted lake top and displays each footprint of the day. An afternoon spent reading, chatting fireside, and fishing is acceptable in my book. Until next time!