A Winter Day Road Trip

            When Justin pulled up, his car thermometer said minus eighteen.  It didn’t really matter what it said; it was cold.  Fortunately there was virtually no wind to drive the integers down further.  The air hung with what could only amount to relentless and penetratingly sharp knives.  Tyler, who had been sitting in his truck out in front of our house, got out and joined us; as did Doug once he parked behind Tyler’s truck.  The gear I had put together, and the food I had prepared, was loaded into the back of Justin’s vehicle.  Four guys in an SUV, on a road trip (for a few hours), in freezing cold temperatures; this was going to be perfect!

            We drove north of the Stateline border, and soon after, broke out the Clementine oranges I had brought for each of us.  This time of the year they are succulent, and that’s how they tasted.  We talked, and enjoyed the drive; arriving in a little less than an hour.

Myself, Justin, Tyler, and Doug

            We left most of our gear and the food for later, and instead pulled on our extra layers and headed out onto the lake.  The ice was thick, and coated with several inches of snow that was dry and powdered into fine crystals from the recent Arctic blasts these past few weeks.  As a group of four we crossed the lake and delved into the red osier thicket.  Keeping the sun on our left side, at a 10 to 11 o’clock position, we hiked southward.

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            A few years ago my cousin Sean had remarked that, “It’s like being birthed from a pine tree,” as we had pushed through a thick swamp into a newly found section of a favorite river to fish for trout.  Today we felt as though we were being birthed from the dogwood.  It required the lead guy to look for gaps in the network of branches as we followed behind in a snaking, single file.  A lot of bending, twisting, and maneuvering likened us to a yoga instructor; bent on limbering up every major muscle group in our bodies.  Somehow Tyler and Doug did all of this gripping onto their steel thermos of coffee, while Justin and I took turns thrashing through the brush.  Together, Justin and I knew what we were doing.  We had learned from our experience last year when we had endured the same exact thing.  To help Doug and Tyler fully appreciate what we were doing, we purposely repeated the same trek.

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              About a mile from where we had parked we burst out upon an open area with a frozen pond.  It was a relief, felt from all four of us, that we had made it through.  Each of us, however, was suffering with either cold toes or fingers to some degree or another despite our movement.  Our core was staying warm, but after taking some pictures, we followed an outlet creek that led back to the original lake.  Despite the bright sun, in a clear blue sky, we needed to get back and get a fire started to reheat our phalanges.  Luckily, as Justin and I had also known, the walking was much easier in this section of our return trip.

A Dead Deer

Coyote Tracks

            The sun on the frosted grasses along the creek side provided us some opportunities to take some great pictures.  Although it was cold, the creek with its moving water remained open.  We also found a frozen, dead deer which had been fed upon by coyotes, as evidenced by the crisscrossing and dog-like tracks.  It was a visual for the circle of life.  Pushing on, we returned to the parking lot.  We grabbed my sled, and loaded some firewood I’d brought, along with the chopped up food and cooking utensils.  We returned to the far side of the lake, just outside of the community of ice shanties, and quickly built a fire out on the ice.

            While we were in preparation, two fishermen came over to see what we were doing.  They had caught one fish so far using their tip-ups.  We explained that we were just out to cook some breakfast.  Laughing, we all agreed that it probably seemed crazy to anyone that might be looking at us out on the lake on a frigid day like today, whether we were fishing, hiking, or cooking.  When we mentioned that we were teachers from just over the Stateline, one of the men mentioned that his dad had been an administrator at a small school district near where we all lived.  It turned out that he had been at the district we were each connected to.  In fact, I knew of his dad.  He had retired just two years before I had been hired.  Together, we both mentioned beloved teachers by name that he was familiar with.  They were the teachers that had provided the foundation for our school and district.  It was bizarre, and caused me to once again remember that the world is indeed small.

            Here I was on a frozen lake, for all intents and purposes, a long way from nowhere (which is why we like it), sharing memories of people from a time when our district was small and practically like family.  At the same time, here I was with a group of guys embodying an excerpt of that vision of unity, only decades later.  The vision or dream can live on.  The dream simply has to be an action step.  It comes in different forms, but an effective vision for doing life together is essential to truly be successful.  Actually, doing life together on any level must be relational if it is to be anything close to successful or hold any meaning at all.  And in order to be relational and family-like, people must have a desire to want to spend time getting to know each other.  We shook hands and waved goodbye as they turned to make their way back to their fish shanty.

            The four of us did our best to warm by the fire while cooking on the coals.  I’ve sometimes thought I should mix up the menu of what I prepare, but the other three quickly said, “No,” that it should remain as it is.  I conceded and agreed.  On the giant iron skillet, the food came out perfectly this time, and we let the meal and taste permeate the pores of our mouths and stomachs.  We topped it off with two cups of hot chocolate.  Tyler and Doug accidentally switched their monogrammed mugs, but they said that each other’s cocoa tasted just fine.  The warmth of the moment, and the experience of our little adventure, was just short of motivational.

            We kicked out the fire, packed our gear, and headed off the ice.  Once we loaded up, and climbed inside the SUV, we quickly felt the sun’s warmth through the windows coupled with the vehicle’s heater.  We each had one more Clementine orange together with a container of cookies from Doug’s wife.  To the background sounds of a podcast about a guy who had survived a bear attack, we talked and drove home.  Today was indeed cold, but it is destined to be long remembered as a classic road trip.

            See you along The Way…

Un-Common Core

        

        Standards.  Probably in the grand scheme of things standards are set by numbers; numbers that can be applied in any fashion or form to verify or prove what you're trying to attain.  Although, when used for good and not evil, numbers do have the potential to inspire us to greater heights, and possibly set us free.  I suppose it's in the way that you use them.

        Yesterday I awoke at 3:00, couldn't fall back asleep, and so instead I got up to correct some papers I wanted to return to students at school.  I also had time to write in my daily journal and read.  My day had begun early and was only interrupted twice before everyone else got up.  Once was when our older dog Kati came out to the living room in confusion as to why I was up, and needed to be ushered back onto her pillow in our bedroom.  The other time was when our puppy Kora threw up something she had apparently eaten in the yard that afternoon.  Dogs; got to love them.

        After a busy day at school, and a night full of parent/teacher/student conferences I came home by 9:00.  As a family we talked and caught up for an hour or so before they all headed to bed and I began prepping for the following day's adventure.  I cleaned up the kitchen to give myself some work-space; washed up the dishes and utensils I would need; cut, cubed, and grated the food I would cook; and then went to bed a little after midnight.

        They say that there is "Strength in Numbers", and I believe there are. After having been awake for twenty-one hours, I got three hours of sleep before Kora began lurching for the second night in a row.  It was 3:30 and we had another chewed object that came back up.  The dogs were taken out.  Dogs were brought back in and returned to bed.  I got up a little before 5:00; after tossing, turning, talking with my wife, and deciding to start the day.  I journaled and then read.  6:00.  I organized our necessary gear and put antifreeze in the van so my wife could drive it to a shop to be worked on today.  I also drove over to school to pick up some forgotten supplies.  7:00.  I began getting dressed for the outside and putting the gear into one day pack and one framed backpack.  8:00.  My wife headed out to take our kids to high school as men tied in some way to our school district, past or present, began arriving at our home (we had the day off after the late night conferences).

        Excited chatter.  Excited dogs.  Negative twelve degree temperature.  Negative twelve with zero wind.  Three vehicles.  A twenty minute drive.  Blue skies and zero clouds.  Four of us don packs filled with food and supplies.  It was simple pleasures, for simple men, on a simple adventure.  We had a forty-four minute hike along bluffs, beside the river, and through the woods and bottom-lands.  Over a foot of snow was on the ground.  A single file line of men.  Light conversations, in tight air, that left puffs of smoke with each breath.  The destination was "just around the bend" on the last hook of land possible.  One fire fueled by sixty to seventy small pieces of wood, monitored by two to three men.

        Two large frying pans were pulled out of the pack.  One large pot of water was set beside the fire to (sort of) boil.  Eight personalized cups were readied for an appetizer of "Not from Concentrate" full-pulp orange juice that froze around the outside of the cups.  Five pounds of cubed potatoes were split into each frying pan.  We used one stick of real butter; one half for each pan.  

        Once the taters were cooked to perfection, each individual pan received its own contents of six cubed Johnsonville stadium brats, a dozen eggs (minimal roughage of calcium/shells), and six ounces of shredded Shullsburg Colby Jack cheese.  A couple dashes of salt and a couple dashes of pepper are all that was needed, as the food was cooked and finalized.  More wood was added, and then two other members joined in to hold the handles of the pans and stir its contents while eight plates and eight spoons (large size) were passed around to each of the eight ravenous men.  One thankful prayer was said to God; a prayer of unity given in the face of life's typical hecticness.  Sighs of contentment were evident while eating.  A moment of peaceful silence ensued–other than the scraping of utensils on plates.  Second helpings were offered all around.  Two plates were set for two hard working dogs.  Zero food left.  Another round of orange juice topped off with a generous cup of lukewarm cocoa (complete with orange pulp floaties).  

        Zero whining from eight men who shared three stirring spoons and heartfelt laughter.  One massive clean-up left everything packed.  Order restored, eight men hiked out on both conversation and silent reflection along the long line.  Two dogs led the way back through the woods.  Heat was again generated through physical labor.  One break was taken to induct four new members into the unofficial "Gulo Adventure Clan".  Four membership cards were passed out.  Four of the five core adventurers (for one couldn't make it today) welcomed four into the fold.  Membership has its privileges when adventures are deemed necessary and/or worthy every so often.  We witnessed infinite beauty in nature.  One hypotenuse cut off the bluff trail section on the return. We endured one and four tenths miles of "man-up" trudging.  Ages ranged from thirty to seventy-two.  Eight smiles of satisfaction were seen.  We had one drive home in three vehicles.  Four hours of time together.  Eight core men who enjoyed four hours of a simple adventure of hiking, cooking, eating, and re-hiking.  Simple core men; with a simple task of living life as an adventure (for at least that one moment in time).

        A standard was set, seven years ago, when we first thought about the idea of gathering men together and doing something out of the ordinary of everyday life; something uncommon.  It's something uncommon, but also something simple.  For as they say, one of the simple desires of a person's heart is the quest for some sort of an adventure.  A desire like that sets a standard beyond any typical standard; which makes it much more than a numbers thing.  

        See you along The Way...

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