My husband and his family are really one of a kind. And they've got hundreds of stories to tell to prove it. Not many pictures though... cameras are one of those commodities that don't survive bush life very well- nor the photos they produce. So the few pictures that have survived the decades of porcupine, marten and bear taking up residence in off-season cabins are precious to say the least.
One such story that comes to mind, is one that Ben's mom tells about when he was just a wee one. 6 weeks after his birth, Debbie flew back into the bush to the only cabin on their remote trapline... an 8x10 log job with a 4 foot high door and a dirt floor. Ed had chopped enough wood to get her started, but wood goes fast when the temperatures drop below zero.
She bundled up the little guy as best she could and tied him from the purlins in a Johnny Jump-up. And out she went to get more wood. There was something wrong with the chainsaw and she couldn't get it started... so she was armed with a bow saw and an axe.
She picked a spruce tree not far from the cabin that looked to be easy pickins. But it took most of the day to cut that tree and get enough lengths back to the woodpile to make a difference. Every once in a while she'd duck into the cabin to check on her little one... usually to find him beet red and screaming... but also warm and safe.
She was doing what she had to do to keep them both alive, and an unattended warm baby is better off than a frozen mother and child. It was to be another 6 weeks before Ed would buzz the cabin and airdrop a cheeseburger to her, unable to land because of airstrip conditions. When he finally got back from hunting, he got an earful I'm sure.
In the midst of that first stint alone in the bush with a newborn, little Ben got sick with a high fever, and mama was worried. There was no way to communicate with the outside world, and no way to get help except to spend a week walking out in dangerous ice conditions. She chose to make a sign on the airstrip gravel bar out of driftwood stating SOS.
Unfortunately there was no air travel through that valley... no pilots to see her message. So she did what every good mama does, and did the best she could. With careful assistance, little Ben got better and didn't need a bush flight out.
Those were the days. The funny thing is that nowadays its just as easy to get lost in the last frontier and live a life that is far removed from modern conveniences. The cool part is that now we have satellite phones and take care to see that they are handy and in working order. So its unlikely that I will face the same hardships in a remote camp with our kids.
But you can bet I plan to stay prepared and ahead of the game. You never know when disaster can strike... the possibilities are endless. A wrecked plane, a satellite phone gets wet, incapacitating injuries or illness, earthquakes... yep, its worth it to keep your wits about you and be thinking ahead.
There's alot of responsibility attached to the independence and freedom of this lifestyle, but living to tell the stories and hand down knowledge to your grandkids makes it all worth it.