A cabin in the Forest

After their youngest daughter flew the coop, Saraswati and Ravi felt rather lonely, particularly at the weekends. This problem never arose for their parents in the home country; there were any number of cousins, nephews, nieces who would visit at all hours of the day with their problems, sometimes job related at other times romantic which could not be discussed with the parents. But they were here in Canada where no one visits unless invited with great ceremony weeks in advance. One Saturday Ravi was feeling particularly downhearted. He asked his mate of a quarter century, “Do you know what the locals in our situation do to keep depression at bay?” It was indeed a sixty four thousand dollar question because that is what the answer cost them. Saraswati, named after the Hindu goddess of wisdom, had already looked into the matter and had the answer ready, “Younger ones go to the mall, older ones go to the cabin. They have plenty of odd jobs to occupy them there and they don’t miss the company. If we don’t want to die of boredom before our time, a cabin is what we need.”

Well, Ravi did not want to die then any more than he does now. May be of old age a hundred years from now, but not of boredom; not then, not ever. So the hunt began. They wanted the cabin to be within easy driving distance, as different in character as possible from their comfortable home in the heart of the city and with minimum maintenance requirement in money, if not effort. The search took them to the lakes, mountains, prairies and creeks. It is not that they did not find any decent cabin; it is just that it would have cost all their savings and then some to acquire any of them. They were ready to give up and look for something else to occupy themselves when a sign, “For sale, one acre of forest, price reduced” popped up on their way back from yet another fruitless search for the elusive cabin. They followed the directions and came to the sign “Summer Village of Wayforus, No Facilities.” They turned right on a narrow road and arrived at what was indeed a forest of spruce and aspen that had been divided into one acre lots. The lot on sale sloped to the west and from the eastern end one could glimpse the mountains through the trees. A creek could be heard if you cupped your ears and listened intently. There were several stacks of wood which were probably too old to give much heat indicating that the place had not been used for a while. Several dead trees of both varieties were leaning dangerously waiting for a strong wind to uproot them. There was a clearing in the centre of the lot. In the clearing stood what Ravi said was a log house. “Log cabin, not log house” corrected Saraswati. It was about 25 feet across and 20 feet deep and seemed to be in a reasonable condition.

A call to the phone number on the sale sign set the time for the second visit. The realtor was a short, stout man with black hair and carried a search light. “I am Sam Yokomoto. It is my great pleasure to meet such a fine couple,” he introduced himself in the hearty voice of a successful realtor while vigorously shaking their hands. They told him their names which he noted down in a diary. “You know that there is no electricity, water, gas or telephone line here,” he told them nonchalantly as if it was an irrelevant detail. He opened the door, not much bigger than most windows, switched on the search light and stooped to enter the cabin. They followed him in to what felt like a dark dungeon. The host opened three wooden windows, one on each side in front of them and they saw a room about twice the length and width of a normal room. They had to walk carefully, the supporting beams were the height of their foreheads and they soon discovered that bumping into the hard wood was not a pleasant experience. There was nothing in the cabin except the dust accumulated over a long period on every surface. Sam told them that the owner was an old lady who had built it with her own hands fifty years ago for her use. She was short, barely five feet in her high heels, and saw no advantage in incurring the cost of placing beams a little higher than what would allow the clearance of a fraction of an inch over her hair. That also explained the shortness of the handcrafted door. She was now living in a retirement home and needed to sell the property to pay her upkeep.

It did not take long to negotiate the final price and Ravi and Saraswati were the owners of the cabin and a thousand alive and dead spruce and aspen trees before the month was over. Saraswati hired a young man to clean the cabin, install a woodstove, do some essential repairs, build an outdoor fire pit and fix the outdoor toilets and the clearing for the car to the cabin. Ravi took over the responsibility to clear the dead trees. It needed just one failed attempt to cut off a branch by hand saw for him to realize that the job needed a chain saw. All he knew about chain saws was that they were dangerous and needed great care in handling. He undertook a careful search on the internet, noted recommendations of the bloggers, inspected several models and grilled the salesmen about their safety and maintenance needs. By the end of the week the most expensive chain saw ever built was in the trunk of the car along with safety gloves, apron, goggles and the right fuel. As soon as they got to the lot, Ravi poured the gasoline in the tank, donned the safety gear, found a tree needing to be chopped and started the chain saw. The noise from the machine almost deafened Saraswati and scared the birds for several miles. But it did not worry him. He steadied his feet and put the metal to the wood. Sparks flew as the chain saw bounced a little out of control. As luck would have it Saraswati was watching intently from a safe distance the progress, or the lack of it. The bouncing saw and the sparks scared her out of her wits. “Stop, stop” she screamed. Ravi followed her orders as any novice trying to learn a dangerous job would. But a few seconds of observing her husband was enough for his good wife to make up her mind. She ordered him to put the saw away and never touch it again. Like any loving husband, he took her words to his heart and never thought of using it even in his wildest dream.

The couple spent many afternoons and a few odd nights in the cabin before the winter arrived. Ravi’s friend from school days and his wife insisted on spending a week there. They fixed two water barrels, hung two hammocks outside and suspended hummingbird feeders from the lower branches of Aspen trees. Ravi and Saraswati became more daring with each visit. So much so that on their last night of the year there, they dragged the bed out and watched the stars twinkle in a bright blue sky from a comfortable horizontal position till exhaustion won over the excitement. The swarm of mosquitoes did not bother them but the sleep was interrupted nonetheless. A downpour had them rushing inside the dark cabin. How they managed it in pitch dark without getting drenched and their heads still in one piece will always remain a mystery.

In spite of the ever-present fear of banging her head, Saraswati enjoyed the cabin and furnished it such that it was comfortable without being cluttered. Ravi could not suppress the urge to show it off and persuaded his better three quarter to invite some friends for a winter barbecue to inaugurate the fire pit. Dame Fortune smile on them, as she does on the novices, and on the appointed day sky was blue, sun bright, gentle breeze not unpleasant and temperature not high enough to melt the three inch thick layer of snow on the ground. It turned out to be a fun afternoon even though some cars skidded into the ditch and had to be pushed out by younger and muscular members of the party. The success of the event reached their daughters’ ears and prompted them to visit the cabin on the New Year’s Day for a picnic lunch. It was a miserable cold day, made worse when they looked at the thermometer on the wall – the level of mercury below heavy zero Fahrenheit line sent shivers down their young and sturdy spines. The wood stove was lighted and the fire was roaring within a few minutes. However, the frozen heart of mercury was not moved by all the shivering around it. After an hour of cursing the cold and sipping tea or coffee from the flasks they noted that it was indeed warmer - by five degrees. Young people these days are not as patient as their parents' generation, nor as hardy. They decided to call it a day and had their picnic in the car on the way home. Ravi knows their hands were not all that steady; cleaning the crumbs from the seats of his car was a tough job.

Saraswati met a young man in her Yoga class who had just moved to the city from a small village in the foothills and was feeling homesick. She told him about the cabin and invited him to use it if he wanted to. He jumped at the chance and visited it regularly. Although six feet tall, he did not seem to mind the low beams but he did look after the fallen trees, improved the toilets, fixed the fence and vastly improved the appearance of the property. Then he met a young lady who also loved rustic outdoors. They took to visiting the cabin and did whatever young people of different genders do these days when they are together. Before long they married; bought a property nearby and settled down to a life of pastoral bliss. Saraswati now has her eyes open for another homesick young man from the boonies; there are several trees that need attention.

Other than the low beams, dusty floor was another problem, particularly because Ravi banged his head harder when sweeping the floor. But it turned out to have an easy solution – two generous coats of paint carefully applied by Saraswati with a thick brush. Not only did the floor become dust free, it was easier to clean and the cabin became a little brighter. One improvement led to others. An architect friend devised a way to raise the beams. He also put two skylights on the roof, added a porch and replaced the old door by a new one of standard height. The cabin still kept it old charm but it became so much more inviting. Porch became the living room, with cooking facility, i.e. a propane camp stove, along the wall and a large table with comfortable chairs around it. They are so pleased with their cabin in the forest that plans are afoot to spend next New Year’s Day there. Ravi somehow doubts that the daughters will join them even if offered substantial bribes.

It took them ten years to get their cabin in shape. The journey was long and hard, not to mention expensive. But it was worth it for it helped them get over the empty net syndrome and was a major step towards integration with the host culture.

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