I'm awake in the dark, the almost full moon going down behind the cabin, shining on the snow and through my bedroom window.
The clock chimes six.
We have come to the cabin for the eight darkest days of the year with the solstice right in the middle of them. Daylight won't come until close to ten.
I love the early morning time in winter. Everyone is still sleeping. I have the cabin to myself. I put wood on the fire, light the lantern by my chair, make coffee and toast and curl up with something that deserves time to read. Today, the Smithsonian that has been waiting for weeks.
When finally the chickadees make their first stop at the feeder we know the day has come. Over breakfast of Dan's sourdough pancakes we talk about our plans for the day. First for Dan is to shovel the bridge. Will and I nod. About five years ago the spruce beam supporting the bridge cracked under the weight of heavy snow. Since then the bridge gets shoveled early leaving just enough snow for skis and snowmachines. Will offers to set ski tracks for me. Today will be my first day on skis this winter and I'm reluctant to take on the hills so he will put them in on the long wide bench that follows Lane Creek for miles.
After breakfast we get organized for our stay. My job is to unpack and find places among the nooks and shelves and cabinets and drawers Dan built into every available space. Will and Dan will groom the trails.
Mid morning I look out the kitchen window to see them taking on the hill. We have three ways out of our little compound, the bridge across the creek, the trail around the ridge and the hill. To get up the hill with a snowmachine the snow has to be packed. Will is in front bouncing up the trail, stomping down his snowshoes, all full of energy, speed and agility making fast work of it. Dan comes lumbering behind him using only as much movement and energy as he needs. No need to get hot. He carries a shovel to scoop the snow on the uphill edge of the trail and move it to the downhill edge with a rhythm of his own. Two steps, shovel, two steps , shovel. When he gets to the top, the trail is just widened enough for easy passage.
Watching them brings to mind all the many scenes of Dan and Will doing things together.
I can see them on this very hill five years ago, Will riding down atop a spruce pole needed to replace the broken bridge beam holding up the tow bar so that it won't dig into the snow just as his Dad had done twenty years before with little Will standing on the ridge watching his every move.
There is a certain skill set for thriving in the wilderness: how to find your way from one place to another without roads or a map and not get lost, how to fix everything that needs to be fixed, how to brew your own beer, build your own bridge, how to stay alive and well.
In the off-road community along the Susitna, Dan is the guru for living in the woods and Will is the heir apparent.

Dan with Will watching up on the ridge

 Will with Dan up on the ridge although he is not in the picture