The Fireplace

The Fireplace

Snowshoeing solo might have been a big mistake. Phillip squinted against the raging blizzard that had come from out of nowhere, sandpapering his bare face with a pebbly, gritty force. He had been so anxious to try out his new showshoes that his fiancée had given him for Christmas that the next day he had headed out to Patricia Park. The hour drive has been blissful with Neil Young croaking out perfect highway tunes, the sun drenching the highway under the perfect blue skies.

It had been such a pristine and mild day that Phil hadn’t bothered with a toque or snow pants. He had set out along a snowy path and for the first hour, had enjoyed the silent beauty of the woods. He hadn’t come across any other adventurer and he was content as that was why he had chosen Patricia as opposed to much closer spots to the city.

Then the storm came.

Having lived in Winnipeg most of his life, he had seen many a crippling storm but he had never seen one come up so abruptly as the one that had been battering him for the last half hour. Worse still, he had somehow managed to meander off the now disappearing path. The sun was now so obliterated by the blanketing clouds that he could not tell north from South.

What side of trees was moss supposed to grow on again? South side? Phil couldn’t remember. He put his now numb face down and trudged against the wind in what he hoped was the general direction of the park parking lot.

One hour later, panic started to set in. His stomach gurgled with anxiety. This was going from bad to hellish. I can’t find my way back and nobody knows where the hell I am. Phil was also losing feeling now in his legs and he felt the familiar deadness in his face that he knew was frostbite.

Then he saw the cabin.

Phil almost walked into it before he saw it. Clearly abandoned. Small and dilapidated. Grey and colorless with all paint ages ago peeled or weathered off, the two front windows on either side of the door smashed. Phil staggered through the slightly ajar door and suddenly, he was out of the embrace of the vicious wind and cold.

The cabin looked even smaller from the inside. It was literally one room with no furniture. Grey floor boards twisted upwards here and there. Small piles of snow gathered on the floor boards from the holes in the blighted roof. At the far end stood a relic of a brick fireplace.

Phil sat against the wall, grateful to be out of the wind. He waited for some feeling to return to his face but after a few minutes all he felt were numb spots-clear indications of frostbite. He checked his phone and was unsurprised to see the no service icon. Looking up at the roof he wondered if the whole damn structure would collapse on him.

I don’t care. ‘I’m not going anywhere for now. Phil kicked off his shiny new snowshoes and stared at them angrily. Why couldn’t she just have given me a bottle of rum?

Phil got up and half staggered to the fireplace. It felt odd walking without his snowshoes. His legs felt phantom urges to ambulate bow legged. The fireplace was small but looked functional. Only two small problems: no fuel and no matches, at least not that Phil could readily see. He surveyed the cabin more closely. There was no sense foraging for wood outside if he couldn’t find a way to light the fire. Phil had zero survival skills and the idea of striking a flint or rubbing two sticks together was laughable. He had been a city slicker his entire life.

There was a set of three small drawers built into a counter in what had to be the kitchen. There was no stove or fridge. Phil speculated that the cabin had long been looted over the years, stripped bare of everything essential. Like matches. Sighing, Phil opened the first drawer. Empty save for what looked to be dried up mouse turds. The second drawer proved to be slightly more promising. An old can opener, some rusted cutlery and more mouse turds. Phil found what he was looking for in the third drawer. A small packet of paper matches.

“Bingo!” Phil muttered excitedly. However, he noted there were only two matches left. Phil couldn’t worry about that right now. He had to find something to burn. If this storm continued all night he knew he may have to hole up here and staying warm was a matter of survival now. The cabin did provide shelter from the wind but the temperature had fallen with the storm’s advance. It had to be close to -30 inside the shelter, Phil speculated.

He went back outside through the front door which was the only door apparently. Squinting against the blizzard, Phil saw nothing. He walked in what was now thigh deep snow around to the back of the house and saw a small old pile of cut wood.

“Hot damn!" Phil yelled but his voice was swept away in the wind. He gathered a big pile of small cuts and some kindling and headed back inside. Phil shook his thin mittens off. After carefully arranging a pyramid of the small wood, Phil brought up the kindling and stuffed it into a pile under the wood.

Now came the moment of truth. He stared at the two paper matches for a full two minutes. He realized his actual survival depended on one of these matches igniting. With trembling hands that were still numb, he struck the first match.

Nothing happened. Phil grunted and struck the match again. This time it flared up and caught. Not daring to breath, Phil slowly moved the match to the pile of kindling but before he could get it there, it went out on its own.

“Shitfire!” Phil stared angrily at the remaining match. You’re such a moron! Without hesitating he abruptly struck the second match and was more fortunate with the result. Phil immediately lit the entire remaining paper packet. With this growing flame he eased it into the kindling. The kindling sparked and flared up. Soon, Phil had a small but hot crackling fire blazing in the tiny cabin.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Bitches!” Phil laughed as he felt the panic leave his body. All he had to do know was wait out the storm. The he could try to walk his way out. He was confident he could do so especially with a bright sunny day.

Phil went back outside and gathered up as much wood as he could. After three trips, he had a sizeable cache stacked next to the brick place. Already the cabin’s interior was beginning to feel cozy, at least within the fire’s radiant circle. He lay on his side in front of the blaze and fed it a few more logs.

Everything was going to be fine. Thank God for this cabin. He wondered briefly about what an odd location it seemed to be as there had been no apparent road or even path leading to it. Then again, if the cabin was as ancient as he thought it was, any such access might have long grown in.

In spite of the burning pain of frost bite on his face, Phil started to nod off, exhausted from the day’s activities. He came to abruptly realizing he could not under any circumstance allow that fire to go out. Suddenly, an idea came to Phil. He pulled out his phone and noted it was at 80 percent. Plenty of juice left to sleep for an hour. Phil set his alarm, fed the fire until the flames were hungrily licking two feet upwards and then settled back closing his eyes.

Everything was going to be fine. Thank you, cabin, was Phil’s last thought.

                *           *            *

The following is an excerpt from the Winnipeg Free Press, December 28, 2019:

                            Winnipeg Man Found Frozen in Park

The discovery of a man frozen to death in Patricia Provincial Park has left outdoor enthusiasts, Jane and Henry Austin shaken to the core. They had been snowshoeing in the park on Friday, December 27^th, when they made their grisly discovery. The dead man has been identified as Phil Harris. His grief stricken wife told the Free Press that she had just given her husband a pair of snowshoes for Christmas. The Austin’s had been about 4 kilometers north of the Provincial Park’s parking lot.

“It’s something we do each year,” Mr. Austin explained. “We always come here once a year because it’s so much more quiet then other places.” Unfortunately for Phil Harris, they came across the body to late to help the 47 year old teacher. Autopsy results are pending at the time of this report but based on his wife’s account, he could not have been deceased for long as he had set out sometime on Boxing Day.

Oddly, the man had been found leaning against the remains of what appeared to be a brick fireplace. “Oh, that’s been there for as long as we’ve been coming here,” Mrs. Austin stated. “That was one of the first cabins built there in the early 1900’s”

A Provincial Park spokesperson said that the cabin had burnt down in the seventies.