Evening star., 1946-05-24

preparing to go to Montreal to see
my sister. If I were just going to
Montreal to see my sister that
would be fine, but before I get to
Montreal my wife, my mother and
my sister will have completed plans
which will guarantee that I will do
not what I want to do, but what
they think I ought to do to have a
good time. One of the things I am
going to have to do is visit my sis
ter's camp in the Laurentian Noun
tains. 1t is quite distance from
Montreal and entails an automobile
trip over roads which, for the most
part, are fit only for free-wheeling,
front-drive burros. The last quar-
ter of mile to the camp must be
negotiated on foot and the supplies
for the stay must be carried on the
back and in the arms. I know now
who is going to be expected to lead
that procesSion-all loaded down
like draught horse.
Sleeping in Brush Pile.
My sister and her husband are
the type who like to rough it."
They are never so happy as when
they are thoroughly uncomfortable.
They would be Mortified at a sug-
gestion that they install comfortable
mattresses in the cottage. for ex-
ample. They like cozy pillow of
birch burrs and a counterpane of
leovec and bropphoc u-l,ioI, r,,ct 10
and stick you in the back when you
move and generally give the effect
of sleeping in brush pile.
All cooking must be done out of
doors. That is a camp regulation.
Both my sister and her husband are
convinced that nothing makes a
meal taste better than to eat it
with your eyes running tears from
smoke or while sitting on wet, cold
ground. And, it's cold up there in
the Laurentians, too. The Aurora
Borealis is just a whoop and a
holler away and occasionally gets
so bright that one can read last
months paper by it.
The cottage is situated on a bluff
commanding view of the coldest
lake in the world. Without eXag-
geration, the water in that lake
would give goose pimples to a gla-
cier or an iceberg. My sister and
brother-in-laW plunge into it at
least twice a day-usually in the
before the sun has risen
above the trees and in the evening
after the sun has dropped beyond
The trees. They say it is invigorat-
ing beyond belief.
Not the Word I Use.
Invigorating is not the word I
would use in describing the sensa-
ton of plunging into that tree
bordered ice cream freezer. Pa
ralysis sets in as your head sinks
below the surface, and by the time
your whole body is submerged you
have advanced rigor mortis with
lcicle trimmings and are ready for
the pulmotor, the oxygen tent and
a week end in an incinerator.
The scenery is beautiful and there
is no use denying it. But what
with camp chores, a man has little
time to feast his eyes on natures
There is wood to be
cut, for one thing. The first two
or three seconds of swinging an
ak is fun, but couple of hours
of it makes a fellow long for a
chaflng dish or some other miracle
Of science that operates on fuel
that can be purchased at a store.
The scenery from the front porch
is as pretty as any within a hun
dred miles, but my sister believes
IN exploring
She doesn't think a sunset can be
appreciated from camp stool or
rocking chair, but must be viewed
from cliff that takes hours to climb
and leaves you painting like blood
hound after rounding up II escaped
prisoners.
But I am going to the camp.
Minds other than mine are already
made up. Boy, what I wouldn't
give to be back in the Pacific
curled up in a nice warm foxhole
with no women to guide my leisure
time.
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