OK this is a painting of someplace in Russia. Mia culpa, I don't have one of Jerry's down-east cottage, so this will have to do. It is many years after and many miles south of Maine that I write this. Why would anyone spend a weekend 200 miles north of civilization in ice, snow,etc? We were young! And perhaps the strangest group of guys ever assembled for a ski mobile weekend. Two high school janitors, a doctor/architect and me.
The trip itself was somewhere in the 4 hour span in Jerry's van. Lot's of beer, plenty of food and meat. Too cold to mess around with vegetables, not manly enough either. Good decision, we arrived at the camp and proceeded to shovel our way off the road...embankment about four feet high. No choice of course as the road was impassable with us in the middle of it. Not that much traffic (logging road), but we still wanted to return to civilization. Thawing and draining the anti-freeze out of the hopper before you could use it left a little to be desired.
We all managed to endure, enjoy and survive this venture. I actually asked about making it an annual thing. Saner minds prevailed! Miles and miles of untouched trails straight to Mooselookmeguntic and the Rangeleys. Fast too! I only fell off once...didn't break a thing. Wouldn't have felt it anyway. It was cold! Forget wind-chill, it was cold!
Everyone of us has moved on. I think one has passed on. Contacts broken, but the memory still there. It was a fun time that won't be forgotten or duplicated. I do wish I had kept in better touch, but c'est la vie!
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