You take a family-owned ferry over to the actual island. He was hilarious, one hand on the wheel, the other on a fifth of something. He died recently. He was a cantankerous person, a character among the characters who thrive this far north. Once you are on Drummond, you are met with old roads, air so fresh you have to catch your breath, your lungs burst from your body with happiness and your fingers taste the cold nip of the air.
Pines let in sunshine and there are fossilized rocks in abundance.
The grass seems a deeper green and you catch yourself thinking that there is something right with the world. We got to the cottage this particular time around mid-day. We draw our drinking water from there and bath water as well. No motorized boats are allowed and there are few cottages surrounding the lake. It is pristine and welcoming, except for the 4 foot long water moccasins, that is.