Cabin Life in the Winter

Cabin Life in the Winter

January 10

I have just returned to my winter cabin. Writing this diary entry, I realize I have not painted or written much since coming back. This lack of activity is contributing to my dark mood. It was a strange new feeling because I had begun to relish being alone. I am becoming depressed.  Something must unquestionably change this is not hibernation. I am sitting up in bed writing this entry after a restless night. It had been a long week of doing practically nothing creative. I need to write more thoughts and feelings. The nights are so cold, long, and dark.

Today is sunny as I stoke up the fire in the hearth, ready to cook.

During the last week, I have had weird dreams of floating through spaces like an observer on high. I was alone in the quiet and the dark.  

Our five senses make our conscious reality about the present. We also perceive that we are moving into a future that does not exist yet. I have vivid memories of the past and why I had escaped to  be here now.

How long is the present moment? How the future might be?

I wrote this poem.

TIME is a Phantom

I am here presently.

The past is just a memory.

Time is a phantom.

How long is it now?

Senses make my reality.

Time is a phantom.

The future is still possible.

Hope is but a plan.

I am the Phantom.

As a former science teacher, I wanted to learn knowledge for a clearer insight to reality; this does not refer to facts but new concepts and ideas; most importantly, I wanted to find out truths about the universe. Knowledge is constantly changing. New knowledge may not be used daily, but it changes my perceptions of life.

January 11

I want to paint today, but I need to be more motivated. I am still in another dark place, mood-wise. I will jot down some notes about my childhood as I was happy then. My mum and Dad significantly influenced me while I was growing up. I remember coming home from school to the smell of Mother's freshly baked bread and going with her to Fraser River docks to buy fresh whole salmon from the Japanese fishers. We all ate salmon sandwiches in our school lunches. We regularly went to the local blueberry farm to pick fruit for preserves and pies. I did not know then that the berries would become a superfood. 

Another strong memory was building and flying kites with my Dad. He taught me how to make solid but light kites with big tails. We flew them from the field in front of the house with a heavy fishing line. The kites went high. I dispatched paper airplanes up the fishing line towards the kite and gave a flick to the line to launch the planes and watch them float around the sky. They went for long distances in the wind.

Attached to our back porch was a metal clothesline tied through a pulley to a pole at the end of the yard. This was useful when my father taught me to make a crystal radio when I was about ten. He used a galena crystal, and a piece of wire called a cat whisker attached to a toilet paper roll wrapped with copper wire. The antenna was the clothesline, and the ground connection was the copper pipes of the plumbing. I could listen to the radio by wiggling the wire and moving a slider along with the copper on the toilet roll. I was thrilled to be able to hear the radio in my earpiece. My Dad taught me many things and encouraged my curious mind. In our garage was a workbench with all my dad's tools. He would invite me in and show me how all the tools and equipment worked while he taught me how to change the inner tube of my bicycle.

My love of gardening I owe to my mother. She was raised on a farm in the backwoods of Ontario, and in our homes, she would always have a vegetable garden which I worked in under her supervision. Picking fresh peas or carrots from the garden and eating them raw was a delight. In Vancouver, the summer growing season was only three months, so we grew beans, corn, and pumpkins as the main summer crops. We rarely got much frost in the winter to raise some potatoes. She taught me to watch the weather and when to plant. She taught me about companion planting. We planted corn and climbing beans together since the corn supplies the support and the beans supply nitrogen for the corn. We planted daisies beside the cabbage and broccoli to keep the white moths away. I had a good childhood and I feel better now for writing these thoughts.

January 15

After I wrote the poem a few days ago, I started to think about and experience time in a new and different manner. The concept of the morning signifies that the sun is rising. For me, it becomes a time for ablutions and eating. Dusk is the concept that the light is fading. It requires me to light the lamp and stoke up the fire in the hearth for heating and lighting. Those ideas seem as expected. I don’t need to care about the day of the week. My routine is to put a mark on the calendar every morning then I look at my diary to see my last entry, which is also a rough measure of time. I also do not have a thermometer, so I don’t have a numerical scale of how cold it gets. Maybe I should develop a personal coldness scale.

February 10

I have been painting this week. It has been almost a month since my last entry: daily routine and not much motivation to do anything but survive wood, food, and ablutions. I just realized I missed my birthday five days ago—nobody to celebrate with anyway. It is lightly snowing today. I have started writing and sketching today. My new year’s resolution has become vital to returning to high school. I need to find out what happened with the school board investigation. I am innocent, and will the Board have reached that decision?

When I sold my artwork at the Christmas party, I was surprised. It has encouraged me to work more on my newly discovered talent. I am feeling more optimistic today after the depressive times in January. I only wrote a little then, but it seemed only a short memory now.

February 20

Just my daily routine lately. I am waiting for spring. The decision to leave here is becoming stronger. I shall miss my cabin home.

March 8

Spring is finally gradually happening. The lake is becoming freer of ice. On their way north, a flock of Canadian geese landed on the lakeshore where the stream enters.

I have decided to use my last large piece of paper to sketch a picture of the cabin, which I will hang on the wall for the owner. I am building a small shelter for the canoe next to the woodpile as I would leave it behind. I turned my homemade shoe shoes on the inside wall near the door. I had left behind all the extra tinned food in the loft. I returned the snow skis in good condition to the cellar. I replaced the basement wooden trunk, the new sled, bow and arrows, the log harness, and two deer pelts.  I am ready to leave the cabin.

March 9

Today is the day to leave my cabin home. I put on my survival backpack and began to walk down the twelve-mile trail to the trading post area. As I looked back toward the cabin, there were many thoughts and feelings that I will write about later.

In the afternoon, I arrived at the trading post, where I bought a pair of new boots. I enquired at the trading post to get transport from here to the nearest town. Once again, luck was with me as the weekly supply truck would arrive the following day so that I could try to negotiate for transport to town. I stayed at the Big house again without professional services. As I paid my bill, I asked the receptionist if any of my artwork had sold. The receptionist returned from the back room with a small sketch and a cheque for four hundred dollars. That was a surprise. I gave her the drawing as a thank you.

I was waiting at the trading post for the delivery truck when I asked the manager If he knew who owned the cabin I had been living in  over the winter months. He did not know other than it was a friend of George. I left a letter for George with the manager. The truck arrived, and I successfully negotiated a trip to the nearest town. The gravel road was very bumpy, so my writing became a scrawl; I just scribbled that a new chapter of my life was beginning.

March 10

The driver let me off on the town’s main street near a hotel, so I booked a room for two days.  I needed to take a couple of days to orient myself. I still had money, as there was nothing much to spend on in the wilderness except supplies. I also had a four-hundred-dollar cheque from the sales of my artwork. I wanted to discover what happened to the world while I was in the cabin. More importantly, what my situation was. I wanted to know if I was a wanted man. I went to the barbershop for a haircut and a shave. When the barber saw me, he surprisingly asked.  ‘Where have you been?’

‘I have just spent the winter in a cabin on a lake about three hours north. I need to get back into society, so please clean me up.

‘Thanks, is the pub friendly?

‘The town pub has just mainly local people. You can have an enjoyable time there.’

I wanted to work on the records of my isolated time. I bought a small second-hand computer. I scanned my diary and photos for future editing.

A bus depot at the end of the main street was where I bought a ticket to my hometown for a Saturday departure—one day left allowed me to look around and adjust to people again. I had become accustomed to my own company, so I appeared reserved when I met people. I knew that I would have to change that if I was going to get back into society. In the evening, I walked across the street to the pub.

Except for my visits to the Big house near the trading post, it had been months since I had had a beer, so I bought a large jug of dark ale and sat near the TV set. There were about twenty people in the pub, playing billiards and some sitting at tables around the room.

Background music was playing, and the atmosphere seemed very relaxed. I was also feeling mellow after two glasses of dark ale.

I wanted company. I went toward the bar and introduced myself to a mixed group, telling them I was new in town after a winter alone in the mountains. A couple of men introduced themselves and invited me to join them in a game of billiards. I explained that I would not play for money but would buy them a round of drinks if I lost. When we began playing, I soon realized that I was a better player, so, near the end, I purposely missed two shots to buy drinks—the evening flowed with chat and laughing until midnight when I excused myself and walked back across the street to the hotel.

March 11

Saturday, I boarded the bus at ten in the morning. The trip was about six hours, so I read a book to keep my mind from wandering—the spring countryside flashed by as I read. I started to see familiar scenery, so I knew I was getting close to where it had all begun. I felt nervous about being recognized when I got off the bus, so I quickly took my bag to the taxi stand.  At the hotel, I had to fill in a card at the desk before I could get a room; I did not want to lie, so I used all my accurate information. In my room, I looked up names in the phone directory. My old school was listed, so I called and asked to talk to the female counselor. I hoped she was still my friend. Mary answered, and I arranged to meet her after school in the hotel café. She was startled to hear from me.

‘I will tell all the story when I see you later,’ I said.

At about four pm, Mary arrived at the hotel, and we greeted each other as she sat down. Mary’s questions flowed,

‘You disappeared a year ago. We thought you were dead. Where have you been, and why did you disappear?’

I said,’ I figured my career was over because of the student’s sexual allegation, as the principal told me to stand down from my teaching position. I panicked and fled to the forest.

‘What I would like to know from you is what had transpired since I was away?’

Mary said, ‘This could be a long story; we should go somewhere a little more private.’

‘I have a room upstairs. We sat down facing each other as Mary started her story,

’I will give you the condensed version. After you left, we had the investigation into the sexual allegation made by the female student. The school principal, I, and two board members held a preliminary meeting to set up the guidelines. The principal outlined the background. We appointed a lawyer for the female student; you were not present as we could not find you. At the school board investigation meeting, the first question asked by one of the board members was,

“Where was Robert?

The principal said that you had disappeared after you had to stand down from the teaching position. The lawyer acting for the student read her statement to the committee, which noted that Robert made remarks to her after class that he would fail her for copying her work unless she had sex with him.

Mary said, ‘I asked the lawyer when this happened.’

He read from his notes a time and date given by the student.

‘I asked the lawyer if anyone was a witness to this allegation?’

He told the committee that she said that they were alone after class. The school principal said that Robert had come to her two weeks earlier with the student’s assignment and evidence that it was copied from other students. The principal met with the student a week later with the evidence and said she would fail the assignment because she had cheated. The student then accused you of making sexual advances toward her.   When the student was in my office, I asked her when this happened. The student said it had happened Friday after class. There was a time and date discrepancy.

The meeting was adjourned to allow for further investigation. You were reported missing to the police. The school board appointed another person to investigate the female student's background and try to find you. If you had been here, we could have corroborated that you had never been alone with her. So now you tell me your story.’

I said. ‘I panicked when you told me students were talking about me. I wanted to get away from all the notoriety. I fled into the mountains and lived off the land for two months. I then met a hunter named George by chance. He let me stay in a rustic cabin on a lake which I did all winter. I wrote a diary about my thoughts and feelings for meaning to these events. I started to sketch and paint. After some dark depressive days in January, I returned here to see what had happened and face the allegation. I am glad that I did come home. The time alone was good for me as it clarified my feelings and thoughts about my life. I now want to do something different than high school teaching. What is your advice now that I am back?’ Mary said, ‘First, go to the police to report that you are not missing. Second, go to the school principal and tell her your story and let the School board investigation conclude.

March 15

When the School board reconvened their meeting today, I attended. The appointed investigator reported that the student had a difficult upbringing with an alcoholic father with indications of sexual abuse. The student also had accused other men of sexual advances whenever she was in trouble. He reported that I was at another meeting in the city when the student said I had made sexual advances. He noted that the students spoke very highly of Robert, and they respected him. I had no history of sexual misconduct. The school board meeting concluded that no further action would be taken.

I was innocent of the allegation. I resigned from my teaching position. I said to the chair, ‘I would like my stand-down salary payment for the six months that it took your board the reach the decision.’ The school board honored that request. I do not need to clear my name, as no charges have been brought forward. I still have ideas about publishing a book about my yearlong personal journey. I want to pursue my art. Going into the forest, I did the correct thing as it began a personal transformation. The self-imposed isolation in the wilderness with my diary writing reflecting on my unique feelings was positive. I  am now going on with my life.