The seasons pass with such regularity in Reliance that you’d think we would be used to it by now. You’d also think we should be happy to have summer neighbours coming in since we have been alone out here since September.
But the last quiet evening before the summer season begins always has a sense of sorrow about it. On that last day of isolation, as the three of us pass one another in our daily chores, sad condolences of “enjoy the last minutes of quiet” and “we won’t be alone any more after tomorrow ... “are exchanged in rueful tones.
First Plane Day always starts early. Nerves stop me from having an enjoyable breakfast, and I drink too much strong coffee, adding caffeine jitters to the mixed emotions. We’ve seen less than a dozen people since last fall and I wonder if I will remember how to have a two-way conversation. I give myself a quick refresher course in good manners, my tendency after such a long stretch of being alone is to talk non-stop in a flurry to share all the interesting things we have seen over the winter.
The folks that open up the Lodge are the same ones who have been doing it for decades and their faces are familiar and friendly as they manage the tricky debarking of the Twin Otter. Happy to be out on the spectacular East Arm of Great Slave Lake for the summer, the excited greetings are brought to an abrupt halt by the fact that we need to get the plane unloaded quickly as there was another with more supplies following close behind. In a few hours, there are piles of food and goods on their dock, enough to get the season started. Planes will be coming in fairly regularly now, bringing fresh food for us too, and the ingredients for a huge green salad with homemade southern fried chicken in a box with our name on it.
Soon, instead of the wind, the deep growl of their big diesel generator becomes the background noise. We know they have a lot to do to get situated, so further chatting is put on the back burner. Waving us off home again, Fred welcomed us to come back over any time we get bored, which gets us all laughing. Bored? We have so much summer work ahead of us which along with endless emails, precludes that option from happening. I can’t remember the last time I was bored. This past winter I had an epiphany and I began to see that, regardless of extenuating circumstances, every single present moment is actually filled with wonderful magic to experience if I could let go of the attachments that were blinding me. It is vitally important to keep all distractions subdued so that we can deeply experience the wonder of conscious life, however that presents itself to us.
The delightfully scorching hot sun these last few days has me out sunbathing (sort of, as long as bug dope counts as tanning lotion). Sitting on the front deck overlooking the sparkling dark blue water, watching the butterflies flit about the new neon green leaves, the satisfaction is so complete I think, who needs LSD for enlightenment when you have GSL (Great Slave Lake)?
Stretching out my legs to hopefully get a bit of tanned colour on my translucent skin, I noticed my heels need a bit of attention. As an example of how bushed I am, my very first thought was I needed an hour on the beach at Glacier Creek to rub my rough winter feet in the fine sand to fix the problem.
The other night, I woke up just as the sun was setting through the clouds. The orange light reflecting off the broken lake ice called me outside and I opened the front door to be welcomed by a spectacular double rainbow. Sleepiness fled as I woke everyone so they could experience the bright almost-midnight rainbow too. By the time we were all out on the deck, both ends of the rainbow were visible and I waited with bated breath for a leprechaun to ride a unicorn through the arch while holding a couple pots of gold for us. Instead a downpour of rain began and we all ran back in the house laughing, giddy with delight over the powerful spectacle, counting ourselves very lucky indeed to have seen something so precious as a double rainbow at twilight in Charlton Bay.