furthermore in 2011.

 

TEMP:  -35°C 

I'm still living the glory days of 2011 - what a year! My Yukon Dramatic Debut, birthed a baby, built a house and married my Mountain Man. I'm still savouring the highlights. 

I've also been a bit slow in the sorting of my pics and hence the posting of somewhat older photo's. These latest are of our post-Christmas adventure. 

When Mountain Man mused on how we should spend the week off between Christmas and New Years, an indulgent stay in a cabin was the first proposal. My mind wandered to snug cottages with open fires and large vistas. In the loft of this sweet cottage there is an enormous bed with fluffy, soft coverings and lots of pillows. Outside is probably a hot-tub from which I will watch Aroma Boreais dance across the Northern sky. 

"Yes," I smile dreamily to Mountain Man, "lets go to a cabin for the week."

And so we did. 

We skied in with Little Laide's 8 year-old cousin and uncle. 12km from the car down (yes, skiing down to a cabin will entail an arduous ski up-hill, on the return), and we arrived at the new cabin at Bennett. 

Here we are:

Mountain Dad and Uncle don't look as happy as the ladies as they had to tow the heaviest of sleds with all the gear. I had Little Laide snug as a bug in a rug, fleece-one-piece-&-down-snow-suit-&-fleece-toque-&-wrapped-in-Mountain-Dad's-down-vest-&-swaddled-in-down-sleeping-bag and strapped into her chariot. Light in comparison to the fella's, I still found the journey taxing. Mountain Dad's sled was so heavy I could not lift one of the bag's on my own. As the reality of the cabin differed slightly to my romantic musings, I argued that at least I shouldn't miss out on wine during this holiday. Mountain Dad says maybe we don't need so much next time. 

We slept on the floor in the same room that we cooked and ate in. We remained unwashed as there was no hot-tub. We broke the glass on the door of the fire-box within an hour of being there and so had a bit of a smoky cabin at times. 

And it was a brilliant time. 

So peaceful and quiet. We could hear the ice on the lake freezing at night. Mountain Dad couldn't be fretting and fussing around the house and so he lay and read and ate. We'd venture out for a daily ski to stretch our legs and nap the baby.

As we packed to ski out, Mountain Dad, very seriously, said to me,

"You know, four days of spending all day and night with Adelaide is pretty intense. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to traveling in a camper-van with her."

Many conflicting emotions scorched through me at that, rendering me incapable of a reply. 

'Welcome to my world,' was the first thought. 

Followed swiftly by: 'what's wrong with her? She is a baby you know, that's how she's meant to be!' 

And just as quickly: 'we have our tickets to Australia booked, five months of holiday ahead of us and no agenda but load the Family Newluks into a camper-van and mosey around on our own whims in warmer climes. We've both knocked back dream jobs here to pursue this, this, this idea that is ostensibly a long-held dream of mine. It's too late to second-guess this!'

"Oh yeah?" I murmured. 

Maybe some things are best left heard and not discussed.