Home from Temagami

My favorite Group of Seven painting at the Faculty Club



Peter and Mary at the Faculty Club




To Cathy:

Well, we're home - after such a trip, you'd think we were returning from China. First there was the hurry to clean up the cabin and deal with our luggage before the Temagami taxi driver Romeo came (he turned out to be an ancient, chirpy little man whose mother had many sons and hoped for a daughter called Juliet). We waited on the station platform in cold rain, as the pretty little station is closed for the winter, but the train came chugging up on schedule, and fortunately the conductor helped us get our luggage aboard. We had four small but heavy suitcases with wheels, thanks to the necessity for Peter to lug seven weeks' worth of weighty tomes (what would he have done without the Oxford Dictionary of English Proverbs, or Alexandrians Under the First Three Ptolemies, pray tell? There were also five heavy carry-on totes, too wearisome to enumerate their contents, but books squashing cookies would be a fair description. The conductor mentioned that we weren't allowed to bring more than two small bags, under 50 pounds, onto the train (must have been listed in extremely small print somewhere; I know I never saw it), but he would make an exception just this one time. This seemed an extraordinary statement as the train was almost completely empty. But we got comfortably seated and read and dozed for the awfully long 8-hour journey. Dull gray day, not much to see. Had an egg sandwich and tea in the dining car by way of diversion. As we approached Toronto, we chatted with a spry elderly man in a beautiful beaver cap, who was 92 years old and had traveled the world. He lived near Cochran, the train's northern terminus, so it was an 11-hour ride for him, but he said he'd never allow any of his three daughters in Toronto to pick him up at the station - too much trouble, he'd take a cab. He alit nimbly from the train and sprinted on ahead of us.

On the Northlander train from Temagami to Toronto

Peter on the train


We were slower than the 92-year-old man because at the Toronto train station, there was a truly grim amount of suitcase lugging; Peter ought not to carry or pull much, so he pulled one wheeled suitcase and carried one or two shoulder bags, while I - you guessed it - carried the REST. When we found my cousin Frank who'd come to pick us up, he seriously asked if *I* was having a heart attack! I was wondering that myself as my left arm especially was aching, but it turned out to be merely that half-pulled-out-of-the-socket feeling.

University of Toronto Faculty Club





Frank and his wife Jane (Frank's my cousin Tim's oldest son, a negotiator for the city) gave us a truly delicious dinner (pork chops, rice, brussels sprouts with garlic and ginger beautifully cooked, lemon cake), in their lovely Victorian Toronto home, but just as I was about to go to bed, I checked email - work had sent me a script, which I didn't dare not do right then! By the time I read it, wrote it up, and dealt with the wireless network it was 3 AM. Got up early to finish, to re-pack the bags, and get ready for Tim and Mary who were coming at 11 AM to take us to lunch at the University of Toronto Faculty Club and then to the airport. Our cousin Katie and her charming husband Ian came too. Katie very kindly brought short-acting insulin for Peter (we suspect his high sugar readings have been due to an infected tooth - he's been taking antibiotics and looks and feels better already). The lunch was lovely; I had roast lamb. At the Faculty Club you can see wonderful paintings by the famous Canadian Group of Seven, and I had a good stare at them and we sat by the fire after lunch for awhile. Tim and Mary are both 85, and not only look good but are still driving - it was so kind of Tim to take us to the airport!

Me and Mary

Katie and me









Once there, Peter and I had to deal with The Luggage problem again, which was so terrible Peter got ghastly tired and had to sit down before getting on the Customs line. Airline personnel even brought him water and asked if he wanted a wheelchair! (He macho-ly said no.) At one point I was hauling all four wheeled suitcases (it *can* be done, you drag them behind you two in each hand) plus three of the five carry-ons. (Book bag, pill bag, heavy miscellany bag, two laptops). Husky passersby helped a little. We were pretty much done in by the time we got to the gate, but I went and got Peter an iced coffee and a banana and he revived considerably. On the plane he felt fine again and spent some of the flight talking to our seatmate, a pleasant and intelligent German Toronto businessman.

But it was the bumpiest flight I've had in YEARS. Over the Rockies, we were hit by both bad weather and the jet stream bashing the plane from the side (I didn't know that was possible), and of the hundreds of flights I've taken in my life, this was one of the top three or four worst. The turbulence was so bad the plane RATTLED. I was rigid and white. Even Peter who is totally unperturbed by flying and considers it just plain safe, looked up and said, "Hm, this plane is taking an awful shaking, hope it holds together." The captain said very tensely, "We will be undergoing some mild to moderate turbulence for the next 15 minutes." The German said, "Oh, that's pilot talk for 'Hold on for the ride of your life.'" (Note to self: Moderate in this context means Extreme.) It wasn't any fifteen minutes either, it went on for at least half an hour, with another little spell later. I'd been watching Rebel Without a Cause, which I'd never seen in its entirety before, but I couldn't look at it, and never did find out what happened to James Dean in the end (does anybody know? Did he go to jail or did that car just take him home?).

When we finally landed, dear Jennifer was waiting. She does 200 sit-ups daily and whisked all our luggage onto a cart faster than I've ever seen anyone perform such a feat, and pulled it to her car. (There'd been no carts visible at the Toronto train station or airport. Probably fiendishly hidden behind pillars.) Peter, full of beans, wanted to be dropped at his coffeehouse to see his buddies, and Jennifer took me home where Paul was waiting, as we'd thought he wouldn't fit in her little car with all the luggage. Jennifer had brought us flowers! It was, to put it mildly, good to be home.

Love, Denny

Venus Rising over the Lake - a Reflection

Venus



I was in Pifflechat today shortly after sunset, when I looked up and saw Venus reflected in the lake. The water was unusually still and glassy and you could see Venus's reflection clearly. I told Bevis (in England) that I was going to run out and take its picture and he said "Go for it." So I did. It was so dark that I had no notion it would come out, just my ordinary digital camera on no special setting, but it did. And five minutes later, I was showing the picture to Bevis and to his fiancee Helen in Australia. A very internet moment! I only saw stars reflected in a lake like that once before, at Lake May last summer; never thought I could actually take a picture of the phenomenon. But there it is.


Candlelight dinner

As I'm writing about Piffle, I'll say I was completely charmed when another piffler, Farley's Footwear (real name Ian), wrote a haiku about me at Lake Temagami. To understand the poem, you have to know that my Piffle nom is Miss Schuster-Slatt, after the pushy character in Dorothy L. Sayers' Oxford novel, Gaudy Night. I relate to her in a similar way as I do to Mrs. Elton. (By the way, Bevis's Piffle nom is Vamping the Senior Common Room, and his fiancee Helen's is Leoville. I chat with them most days, and also with Sandy (Rachel Levy), Debbie (A Menace to Society), and others. Here's the haiku:

Cabin on a lake
Snow at Lake Temagami;
Miss Schuster-Slatt writes

A Little Bit of Snow

It looks as though I won't be able to end my Temagami stay with a nice set of snow photos to contrast with the earlier ones, but we did get a little tickle of snow this morning. The "Two Chairs" by the lake and the boat dock had a rime of snow on them when I woke up, and through the morning there were snow flurries. Some were quite fat, and we thought the snow day was coming, but no: in the afternoon the clouds parted, blue sky appeared, and the weather report said the show was over.

I took a walk down the dirt road to the highway though, diligently photographing what fragile fragments of snow remained, and I liked the criss-cross effect on the trees, like lacy Cold Cross Buns:







And then there was the usual (yawn) gorgeous sunset. Indoors we didn't do much except fuss at what to do about Peter's short-acting insulin pens, which are defective, and fail on yet another day to start My Definitive Final Swan Song Novel. I read a pair of delicious Girls Own books, though - Rumer Godden's Song of the Nightingale, about a poor girl dancer, and Mrs. Molesworth's The Girl in the Black Dress. Tonight it's lasagne redux, which is no sad thing, when the frozen cook-from-scratch lasagne is as good as they make it here in Canada!

Cabin from Another Angle

Snow flurry in morning




Woke up this morning to see snow flurries! So excited, but we didn't get a winter scene - even though the day is cold (35F), the snow stopped and the sun gleamed out, majestically lighting up the silver clouds over the silver lake. By afternoon the clouds had cleared and the sun was golden. Now, I've always wanted to walk around the lake a bit, but couldn't - the "first growth" Canadian forest is so thick, and there's a marsh you simply cannot cross. But last night I had a nice Skype with Claire, and she'd told me how to get around the marsh so I could walk on the other side. Not exactly easy, but I was prepared with my hiking boots, down jacket and gloves. From the road, there's a vague path into the bush. You then clamber up to high ground, which is by no means easy as it's a perfect thicket, with sticks poking you everywhere like it's the Blair Witch Project. You cross the marshy part, higher up, by jumping from one thick puffy moss blanket to the next, hoping you won't be swallowed up by them completely.

Thick forest


Marsh

Puffy moss


Then I was across the stream, and pushing my way through the bush, came out to where I could see the lake, the house, and the dock - only now all from the other side! By the edge of the lake the ground was fairly flat and I was able to push my way forward for a couple of hundred more yards. The sun shone golden on the house, marsh and water, and it was a magical moment.


View from the other side





Cabin seen from the other side


I clambered and struggled and poked and sodded my way back through moss, brush and forest, and got back to the cabin just as an especially pretty purple sunset was blooming. Photographed it generously, and then came into the cabin, lit the lamps, got myself a cup of tea and a Canadian version of a Mallomar, and settled down to write this, what we may grandiloquently term a Photo Essay. Frozen lasagne tonight, yum.

Meditations on Over-Specialization, from a Cabin on a Lake

To Piffle:
Now here I am in a beautiful cabin on Lake Temagami, and at this remove, I'm contemplating why I'm constantly stressed out and overwhelmed living at home in the city, and so utterly at peace here. I usually put it down to "oh well, it's having to work," but that's not it at all! The other night I received my work manuscript and settled down to read and write it up. And it was so easy, I realized that work has NOTHING to do with why I'm tired and frantic and miserable and depressed and harried when living in L.A. Working here is like an ecstatic dream and doesn't disturb the peace more than a ripple in the lake.





Living in remote places must have been revolutionized once you could have broadband in them. Every day since I've been here, I've spent a couple of hours in pifflechat with Menace and Vamp and Leoville and Rachel and sometimes Merdle and Ties and others - while gazing at the lake and the constantly changing sky and colors. They asked how I spend a typical day here, what the schedule was, and I said, "Well I get up around noon and go outside and look at the lake. Then I check my email. Then I make some bacon and eggs and tea. Then I go sit outside by the lake and read. Then I come back in and chat while looking at the lake. Maybe we go out for a little drive to the store. Then I take some pictures of the lake in the sunset. Then I look at my well-stocked fridge and think about toasting up a frozen Indian dinner or grilling steaks. When it's dark, I read or chat with Peter. Have toast with creamed honey and tea before tucking up in our cozy warm wood paneled bedroom with the patchwork quilt and comforters. "How can you stand the stress?" the pifflechatters asked. And this is a working vacation too! I'm relaxing by the lake today, but my weekend manuscript will be coming in a few hours. Just enough work to give me something to do!










So why is life so wonderful here and so terrible in the city? Well, for one thing, I stepped into this marvelous cabin, someone else built, organized, stocked, cleaned. I'd never be able to replicate such a home, myself...my home, though a good sized apartment near the beach in Santa Monica, is all dusty books, a heap. It can't be carpeted and painted because the books would have to be moved, which is impossible. I don't know why maintaining it badly is so much strain, while living in a beautiful cabin is so easy. I'm shopping and cooking and cleaning a little here, but just enough to be fun. It's no fun living at home. The day is a constant round of traffic, errands, and doctor's appointments. Is the answer to move someday to a cabin on a lake? I thought so at first but now I wonder. I know now I wouldn't get bored: oh no! Not with my laptop and books. I think the drawback is simply that I am not a homemaker, and could not create and maintain a home like this. I'm benefiting from the hard labor of others. I know Richard (the nice Englishman who owns the cabin) was amazed by Peter's and my unhandiness, though he politely tried to hide it. He thought it best not to even try to show us how to work the wood stove! (The weather's been in the beautiful Indian summer sixties, but snow is expected and temperatures in the 20s this weekend - it will be interesting to see the transition!) Bottom line is, Peter and I really are city people: raised in Manhattan, living in a car culture, we are over specialized to the point of uselessness. We are highly skilled at literary work, but at not much *else.* It's no wonder that our kind is dying out!








Perhaps you'll think I'm just lazy and disorganized, but I don't think so...I focus extremely intensely on my work, was able to write a scholarly biography in record time for instance, as well as many other successful projects. But we don't like doing what we're not interested in, and even though I like the *results* of living in a beautiful place, it's never been to the extent of wanting to create one. We're just life's renters, I guess...much easier to rent a cabin (or house-sit one as we are now), than to make one!

Return to Temagami

Monday, Nov. 3 2008

After a two-day odyssey or hegira (it takes so long to get here the trip requires a fancy word!) I've reached Temagami, Peter, the lake, and the cat, and Richard picked me up at the station in his Jeep. All wonderful! Very tired, though. The flight to Toronto was smooth but I was tense because of disliking flying. I hadn't had much sleep, getting up at 4:30 AM to get to the airport, and then after the flight I had to get from the Toronto airport to Tim and Mary's on the subway with my suitcases. Cousin Jim cooked a wonderful dinner (salmon, risotto, chocolate chip cookies) and I slept well there, but had to get up very early again for the 8:40 AM train. They most kindly drove me to Union Station, but it was a long train ride, 7 hours. Hardly anybody else on the train, so I had a big window seat, and dozed and read Catherine Parr Traill's account of early Canadian bush history, and gazed out the window at a zillion trees and lakes. Arrived here around four, and am now just settling in. It's very overcast, dark's setting in early, and it's in the 30s. We're taking Richard and his sister out for a Chinese dinner (the only restaurant in town) tonight.


To Claire:

I am back in Temagami, and so glad to be here for Peter's last ten days here. It's still definitely autumn here, not yet winter, though most of the color is gone from the trees, and all the flowers that were surviving in the garden are now over. It was cold last night, but today it warmed up amazingly, got into the low 60s F, with bright metallic gold sunshine on the lake. It's supposed to be the same tomorrow, but be cold and rainy by the weekend. We had a nice Chinese dinner with Richard and Jane, and today they took off, with Tookie! She knew what was up, and ran, but Richard got her into the cat box without too much trouble. We miss her, everywhere I look I expect to see her, and Peter says I will have to be his replacement cat. She got quite confident with him and would sit by his feet at the desk, or on the desk. You asked if she purred, yes she purred a great deal while she was here.








Wednesday, Nov. 5

I was up at 7 to say goodbye to Richard, Jane and the cat, and then the roof man arrived to do some retiling, and I had to stay up to give him his check. The poor man had just had a tooth out and was all swollen, but worked away indefatigably. There was a bit of hammering, but he was gone by late afternoon. Took a nap and when I got up I drove out in Richard's Jeep to the supermarket. The car's on the rugged side, I was searching for the electric window but realized you have to - roll it down by hand. Gasp! And it seems to be rather out of alignment, and the hand brake doesn't work...and I didn't have the registration, so it seems safest not to go farther than the market. I laid in a week's stock of food. Then back to the cabin where I settled down by the window to see the pink sunset over the lake, the silver half-moon rising, and chat online. The evening was spent watching election returns; even after six weeks of calm remoteness here, Peter couldn't help but watch the numbers on the laptop. He was depressed but took it all pretty well - the peacefulness here must have done its work. I had a rotisserie chicken, frozen french fries and peas for dinner, and for a late snack, toast with butter and creamed honey. Finally got some sleep, slept till 11 AM today. Another glorious warm day, but I didn't drive out anywhere, Peter's been sleeping off the election so I had a completely peaceful and private day all to myself. Made bacon and eggs, then went for a walk down the dirt road through the forest to the highway, with a wander off the road into the bush. It's old growth forest and you really can hardly walk in it, so thick with trees. I examined some silver birch bark, it's like tough wrapping paper, you can see why the Indians used it. Back at the cabin I varied my pleasant activities between doing a little email, reading Catherine Parr Traill and Susannah Moodie, and sitting out by the lake watching the fiery golden sun set and the sky sprout pink streaks. I tried again to walk farther around the lake but it's useless, you just mire down in the bush. I've just come in and lit the lamps.
















Later, my work manuscript arrived and I printed it out on Claire's laser jet printer, as easy peasy as if I was in Santa Monica, not thousands of miles away at a remote Ontario lake! It's about werewolves, so I'm settling down to read it.