Cabin Pleasures vs. Cabin Fever

I have taken this day off as my New Year’s statutory holiday. A good day to recover from a lot of skiing and committing to starting a lot of other things on my resolution list for the New Year. Committing to my resolution of doing an archiving project, as I said I would do in a recent entry, was one of them. Monitoring the moving and copying of a couple of terabytes of data to sort through later was beginning to be a bit of a monotonous process; filled with snags. So, on the side, I’m doing a bit of writing as a practical and meaningful diversion, as I watch things close by. I have purposely kept the TV and music off for the sake of being free of distraction.

Despite being struck with a big cramp in my foot today from starting all this off a little too eagerly; I’m still thankful that I’ve been able to get out and do some skiing. I sure wasn’t able to last year. The absence of the noise, with technology being a pain in the ass right now, and being grateful for the fact that I ski this year brought me around to exploring a challenging question that came to me recently. I don’t usually pick out subjects from Facebook or other social media to give an in-depth commentary on, but this particular one captured my interest. Perhaps some of you saw, or even commented on it. I don’t know what was more poignant: the challenging question, or some of the answers people gave for it. It was the Cabin in January question that has been getting a lot of attention in Facebook. It was presented such that it looked like a probe for auditions for a reality TV show offering $100,000.00 in prize money. My response I gave was initially for the prospect of easy money, but I realize that this was a rash answer. After some introspection, there is more to it than that. I had to get real with myself and remember how much of a trial it was for me last winter when I was incapacitated for much of it: unable to walk outside in the chilly air without extreme risk and discomfort, or even inside without feeling like I was going to collapse. Thus, I was forced to be a shut in for more than a month; left to deal with my own unwelcome isolation. Even with the company of my dog, and being surrounded by all sorts of technology and the amusements of games, puzzles, media, and literature that it could provide, I realize that I didn’t manage very well when the solitude was too prolonged. It was quite a miserable situation. So, would I really have it in me to last in a cabin by myself in the middle of nowhere, even it was for a modest fortune? I realized the hard way that it takes health and energy to deal with and endure isolation. The thing that majorly made it so bad was the fatigue and lack of energy depriving me of even the ability to focus and think straight. That was the most dreadful thing to deal with, plus being drained all the time by both anxiety and depression. I was left fearful and wondering what I would be doing with my life if the recovery stalled at point where I was going to be chronically disabled, and if that would be the limits of the energy I’d able to muster for each of the remaining days of the rest of my life. Thankfully, I’ve come around to being healthier than that, I can re-access and review why I think it would be a good, if not entertaining or interesting, exercise to do. Moreover, to do it by myself. It’s ironic that I dwell on the subject of coping with winter isolation with contrived conditions of scarcity, while I’m trying to deal with the mediocrity of it here, using technology within the comforts of modern civilization.

There are a lot of valuable disciplines and lessons one should achieve with this challenge of coping with isolation away from a noisy, instant gratification society if one does it right. The ones I see that are the most valuable that appear off the top of my head are these things

1. Lagom:  to gain a sense of that nice, concise word, invented by the Swedes: to instill a value of learning how to consume or use just enough; not so much to be wasteful, and yet not so little as to feel deprived. I would think that after a while it would change how you direct your energy for real living. I had spoke more about lagom in a past entry about Sweden and Unions (Learning what Lagom Is). Given that you have limited to the things in your cache of supplies here, and no option to just dash off to a store, learning to ration and make the more out of your materials is critical.
2. To be Grateful: a cabin without electricity or access to media is about as bare essentials as you can get, but realize that so many in the world have even less than this. What is even yet more profound is that among the many of them who do have less than this, there are those who are able to find happiness and gratitude.
3. You May Find Out What your Authentic Self Is: once you take away the trappings of this material world, or at least get put in a place where such things have no practical use, or where there is no one else around to admire them, or be impressed or covetous of them, you may be forced to see that knowledge and skills, not things, are the real treasures. I think that this would allow one to realize exactly what kind of skills one would inherently want to have. This brings me to the next point . . .
4. You May Find Out What You Are Truly Lacking: without interference from the rest of the outside world trying to sell you shit, or adverts trying making you feel like less of a person just because you aren’t consuming and hoarding more junk, you might tune into the qualities you wish you had instead of quantities of stuff you want that go obsolete and out of fashion quickly
5. You May Soon Discover That Most of the Stress You Have Living in a Modern Society is Artificial, and Ultimately Trivial: I’ll leave this one open for debate.

The ideal location options I’d like for this cabin (if, as in the picture, it is indeed in a Boreal location):

1. Definitely out of Saskatchewan, unless it was by a lake with a good ice-fishing. Maybe somewhere else in Canada, like probably Northern Ontario or Quebec, (BC is too alpine for me; I don’t fancy avalanches). The hint that reveals that this cabin in the picture is somewhere in North America is the sign with the English word “Welcome” over the door.
2. If in the USA, hopefully in a northern state by some (unpolluted) lake.
3. If in Europe: I’d opt for either Norway, or Sweden, or Finland (because there’s a good chance then that I might conveniently have a sauna nearby to use).
4. The lowest I’d stoop to is this . . . Russia, that is if this place is situated close to the borders of Western Europe. I’d hope to hell not in someplace inside deep in the Siberian regions of Irkutsk, Yakutsk, or Omsk. It’s fucking insanely cold over there! It’s often such that the coldest places on Earth in January are within those regions. Too cold for even me: one who is usually well adapted to it. That would make it a very hard earned $100,000.

The 15 most basic tools that I would hope were provided for me:

1. An Axe
2. Matches
3. Candles
4. A sighting compass, with both degree and mil readings, plus a map including the area within a 10 km radius of the cabin
5. A good hunting/filleting knife (with a sharpening stone)
6. Fish hooks and fish line (at least 20 lb test) if near a lake or river
7. A good length of rope (15 metres)
8. A shovel
9. A bucksaw
10. Snowshoes or skis (depending on the terrain)
11. A camping lantern (with spare wicks/mantles and a good supply of fuel for it)
12. A kettle
13. A wash basin
14. A cast iron frying pan
15. A bucket

If there is absolutely no electrical power in said cabin, what things would I have with me to keep myself mentally stimulated? (Let’s say I was limited to five)

1. A set of writing instruments and paper - I grouped this to be one thing, as each is useless without the other. The paper would be in a ruled notebooks and blank sketchpads. Journaling, listing, cartography, schematics, calculating, for the practical side. Creative writing, sketching, calligraphy, origami for the recreational side.
2. A Carving Knife/Blade - with an abundance of wood around it would be a practical implement. I'd use it for carving utensils, harpoon points, snare trap riggings and such if I wanted/needed extra protein beyond the provisions. Also, for crafting an abacus/Napier bones (a non-electrical homemade computer for the sake of saving paper while doing complex calculations). It would probably be more likely to be used for whittling figurines for something leaning towards the recreational.
3. A novel – I couldn’t guess which one right now would be the perfect one to include with this experience, but it would certainly be a long one.
4. My Guitar – It would be an ideal time to re-acquaint myself with it, and try to master it better. The bright side is that there would be no one around to complain. A chance perhaps to compose a song for someone special. If worse comes to worse, i.e. I lost my all my food somehow and was starving, and I have no firearm¹ for hunting, the strings could be used for snare wires, or a fashioning a crude bow.
5. Ella, for an animate form of companionship to talk to (and to give her the job of being my alarm system, and helping to keep the bedding warm).

Assuming that food was indeed provided, but there’s actually no power keeping anything preserved in a freezer/fridge, (or no meat, butter, cheese, or other goodies frozen and cached in a cellar pit dug into permafrost) here’s what I’d hope to at least find as essentials for dried or canned stores in the larder:

1. Dry pasta of various types, and tins of sauce (not my favourite, but it at least has some vitamins and serves as good energy)
2. Packages of Instant porridge (slow-cooked porridge is better, but instant needs less water and heating to prepare)
3. Canned evaporated milk
4. A few jars of assorted sour pickles, including sauerkraut
5. A couple jars of jam (at least one of them strawberry)
6. Olives
7. Crackers
8. Jerky/dried sausage
9. Tins of corned beef (I’d just have to mash in some olives and pretend that it’s pâté)
10. Canned ham
11. Tins of smoked oysters
12. A bag of flour (so I’d be able to at least make bread, or bannock, or if I’m desperate . . . crepes!)
13. Yeast (at least enough to make a sourdough starter)
14. Nuts, or dried fruit of some kind
15. Soup stock powder/bouillon cubes
16. Various pulses, legumes, and grains (like Lentils, Chickpeas, Beans, Rice)
17. An assortment of spices and seasonings
18. Salt
19. Sugar
20. Baking Powder

What I would hope not to find in there in abundance:

1. Canned Salmon
2. Sardines
3. Instant Coffee
4. Turnips
5. Rat turds

If I were permitted five creature comforts for this adventure, they would be:

1. Tea
2. A large bag of Jujubes, or other candies to suck on
3. A sizeable bottle of either Jägermeister, or some other form of spirit/sipping whiskey (for medicinal purposes)
4. Dog chow and a rawhide bone (not for me; for Ella)
5. A picture of someone I really love

Media and technology I would I really happy to be without:

1. Receiving 20 junk e-mails for every one I get that’s useful
2. Requests for games I don’t play
3. Any political news from the United States, especially about Donald Trump
4. Any news about terrorism, and the constant fear-mongering related to such things
5. Political opinions on Facebook from sanctimonious assholes who think they know all the answers, but who spell and use grammar at the level of fifth graders in their comments

Media I would miss during this time:

1. News feeds and humour from my genuine friends on Facebook
2. You Tube
3. iTunes
4. TED talks
5. Netflix

Five useful apps that I would miss for a month:

1. Duolingo (my language learning app)
2. Google Translate (for testing myself in composing non-English sentences after learning some new vocabulary)
3. iPhone Camera
4. Note/Evernote/OneNote
5. Weather Network

Television series I might miss:

1. Jeopardy!
2. The Walking Dead
3. Vikings
4. The Big Bang Theory
5. The X-Files (new series)

The things I’d most likely enjoy and value about the experience:

1. Adjusting to a more natural rhythm for my waking hours of the day, no alarm clocks
2. Free to use my energy to its fullest when I have it, rest at my leisure when I don’t
3. Watching nature and the wildlife
4. Complete freedom of other distractions, to get a more honest peek at what I place down on paper, and to come back with a sounder idea of an ideal career and lifestyle change
5. Far away other peoples’ negativity, and hopefully a chance to smarten up about dealing with my own
6. An extra 100 G’s baby!!!!

1 - Despite growing up in the Central Parkland of Saskatchewan, I never really coveted firearms, nor needed to prove my manhood through big game hunting. I know how to use a gun; I just do so with greater discretion and practicality. It doesn’t thrill me to kill animals for sport; I’d use one only in absolute desperation as a last resort. I won’t bother to own a gun if I don’t actually need it, and using the reason of defense to keep one is a bullshit excuse. I lived this long without one, so I don’t need one now. Even in this scenario of being alone in the middle of the wilderness, if my food is already provided, I’d see little need to keep a one handy. I’ll use the fish hooks first. Again though, it depends on where this cabin was. Some places have wildlife that is a little more nutritious (or savage) than others. The gun I’d have around in this cabin would probably be just a plain old .22 calibre repeater, with a simple telescopic sight (to compensate for my bad eyesight), and a 10 round magazine: for scaring off varmints, and picking off the odd hare, or game birds like partridges, grouse, or ptarmigans (if I was way up north). I’d probably really only take advantage of using it to entertain and test myself with creating my own winter biathlon course, shooting targets along with the skiing, in a remote place where I would have less of a risk of accidentally shooting someone else, or their property. The only other gun I might consider keeping around for a risk of more serious action in a scene like this is a semi-automatic Russian SKS carbine. It’s relatively cheap, rather crude, and utilitarian. I find those qualities of it fitting.  It isn’t fancy or pretty to look at: it’s simply a tool. I don’t want aesthetics, nor would I pay a lot for something I rarely use. I want just basic function and economy. To be deriving any pleasure, fixation, and fascination in admiring the aesthetics of an object which has the sole purpose of killing other things verges on being both disturbing and creepy. It’s actually an archaic-looking military carbine, using the same 7.62 x 39 mm ammunition as an AK-47 assault rifle takes, meaning that it should be adequate enough in dropping something that is as big as I am, or larger. The ammo can be bought in bulk by the thousands in shabby looking wooden cases at Cabela’s, also for super dirt cheap. I’d need a lot of practice shots. The model I’m thinking of even has a fold out bayonet, and it’s so heavy for its size that could be used for a melee weapon to bludgeon something to death, and still be able to shoot afterwards. Options to consider because again, I have bad eyesight, and would probably miss something fierce like a cougar or wolf charging straight at me. I would hope that things would never get that drastic.