Saving the bridge Part 2

The Pineapple Express was late on arrival stalled somewhere out over the Pacific, probably gathering more moisture to drop on the valley, giving us the day to get things done. We shoveled the bridge of its heavy burden of snow, raked the roofs, packed the trail on the other side of the creek and got the Tundra long-track out of the moth balls in the shed. (Moth balls are used to discourage bears from chewing up the snow machine seats, something that seems to give them great pleasure.) Then we headed out to cut the birches lying across the trail because even though we were able to maneuver around them by snowshoe we would never manage it on the tundra.
No sooner had we reached the trees we heard the steady hum of a snow machine coming up the trail followed by loud whining and revving followed by quiet, a sure sign that someone was stuck. To Dan’s loud hello, from the top of the hill beyond a thick stand of trees, came a reply. “Hey you guys, thanks for breaking trail for me.” It was a neighbor who has a cabin 2 miles north on the lake. We broke up laughing thinking of our arduous hike in. “You should have come up a day sooner, said Dan, so we could be thanking you. Are you stuck?” Glen had reached the part of the trail we hadn’t packed and was bogged down in deep unsettled snow. “No problem, said Glen, got my come-along.” “Let me know if you need help.” Then another snow machine, this one from the other direction. “Looks like Jason, said Glen, he’ll help. Thanks anyway.”

After many years in the woods I still am amazed at how it is that more neighborly contact occurs out here in the wilderness with people miles apart, no roads or phones than in town right next door to dozens of friends.




 Dan went to work on the downed trees cutting away enough wood to open the trail, leaving the rest for Will to harvest for firewood on spring break and then we headed back to the cabin for a cozy cup of tea and Garrison Kielor on public radio.
During the night the stalled weather front finally barreled in, full of fury.  We woke to the sound of tree limbs cracking under heavy snow, comfortable in the knowledge that the bridge would hold but not too happy with the condition of the trail.  We had gone to bed with the trail dragged and setting up for an easy ride to the tracks to catch the train and now with a new layer of eight inches or more the trip would be a challenge. First, navigating the hill about a quarter mile from the cabin. Hills are always more difficult in new wet snow because you can get stuck pointing up hill, a real nuisance, since you have to get turned around and make a second run at it. Pulling the sled loaded with gear and yours truly riding on the runner platform doesn’t help. Almost to the top, the machine began to strain so I hopped off and on it went without me. Making my way to the top of the hill I jumped on the waiting sled and off we went again.
I’m thinking the rest will be easy as it is all down hill from where we were but as we come around a bend Dan slides to far to the outside of the curve and we’re good and stuck. Dan always travels with a shovel finding it  more useful than a come-along and it doesn’t take long to get us shoveled out and on our way again.

We reach the tracks with lots of time to spare, unload the sled, park the machine in the grove of trees where we always leave it and sit to wait for the train. And wait. And wait. Dan finally gives into the cold and puts on a down vest and cover pants. I already have on all my extra layers, hand warmers and boot warmers, so  I’m quite comfortable.
Together we hear a far off rumble and head track-side with our flashlight to flag down the train, watching for it to come around the bend. It never shows up. We decide we must have heard the wind, head back to our seat and just as we get settled the rumble comes again. Back track-side, wait, no train, back to our seat. Again a rumble. Third time's the charm we think. Wrong. No train. Another rumble. This time we ignore it until five minutes later a light shows on the hill side, the train is coming around the bend, we have to scramble to flag it down.
On board we find the baggage car full of all our neighbors up the tracks all full of the excitement they tell us we missed. Five miles north the train met an avalanche caused by last nights pineapple express and had to plow its way through, hitting it, backing up, hitting it again. That was the rumble we heard. Under the circumstances we’re happy it was only two hours late.
Riding into town we take inventory: snow machines started, trail packed, trees cleared, roof raked, and most importantly bridge saved. All in all a good weekend.