I wasn’t surprised at the size of the cabin. The amount of time we spent driving down the back roads, while rocks and dirt chewed up the underside of my sedan, told me we were quite a ways back in the woods. As we traveled deeper in, the camp sizes got smaller. It makes sense. Who wants to haul building materials that far back into nowhere? And people don’t build from the natural resources like they used to; fell the trees, cut them up and build right there. Of course, this cabin was on a very small piece of land surrounded by state forests so trying to utilize natural resources in such a way would result in some jail time, I expect.
The small building was entered by way of a front porch. This porch was two-thirds the size of the cabin’s block structure. The porch’s wood framing was enclosed by screen all the way around and a double sized bed sat at one end. The cabin proper contained a wood stove, a couch, and small kitchen sink. At the west end of the room, twin size bunk beds were built into the wall. An obvious afterthought as the top bunk was positioned directly against a window. Tucked into the corner, at the head of the bunk beds, a separate room – no bigger than an outhouse – contained the loo and a small sink. Plastic pipe ran from the back of the cabin, a couple hundred yards up the hill behind, where the end was placed into a tiny pocket of water feed by a spring. This provided just enough water pressure for the sink and to fill the toilet tank when flushed.
Luckily, it was late spring and the weather was warm. In order for the cabin to accommodate the six of us, we would need to utilize all available space. So it went that we all began discussing who would sleep where. I believe that discussion was one of the most polite arguments I recall witnessing. In the end, Dan and his son, Tom, would share the large bed on the porch. Dominic claimed the couch and since Otto had already claimed the top bunk, that meant Cyrus and I had to contend with the bottom bunk. This was okay. The bunks were large enough and everyone figured that after a day hiking up and down the streams, we’d be too tired to care where we were sleeping. Besides, I planned on throwing a few blankets on the grass in front of the cabin and sleeping under the stars anyway.
That first night after spending the afternoon on the streams, and the evening at the local tavern, everyone was ready to crash. Returning to the cabin it didn’t take long to get settled. Watching the clouds roll in and the sky darken, I decided not to join the deer in the front lawn that night and crowded into the lower bunk with Cyrus. He asked if I would take the inside and sleep against the wall. I was too tired to care otherwise. Just about the time I began to drift off, I could hear thunder and the patter of rain outside.
I’ve never been woken before, or since, by having water poured on my head. Though, this wasn’t actually a pour, but rather a rapid drip-drip-drip. Thinking about the window only a couple feet up in the wall I was laying against, I decided to give Dominic hell about his leaking cabin… in the morning. I tried to reposition myself without inadvertently kicking Cyrus off the bed – though looking back, I should have advertently done it. The sleeping bag I was on had become soaked and in moving I ended up soaking my arm and the side of my face and head. Realizing the effort to stay dry was futile, and since I was already wet and tired, I went back to sleep.
The next morning as everyone climbed out of bed and shuffled about the cabin, I sat on the edge of the lower bunk waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Shortly, the conversation turned to the prior nights storm. As the storm and its probable effect on the fishing streams was discussed, I drank the hot coffee. When a pause in the conversation allowed, I piped up, “Hey – I’m going to have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight if it rains. That window leaks and I was getting dripped on all night.” Dominic, who was standing at the propane stove frying bacon, turned to me in disbelief, “What? That window doesn’t leak!”
“The hell it don’t… I got soaked.” I replied as I grabbed the still wet sleeping bag and pulled it from the bunk. “Here, feel this.” Cyrus grabbed hold of the bag and vocalized his surprise. He and I then began to investigate the source of the leak. I crawled back in on the bottom bunk and started feeling around the window frame and wall looking for any sign of water, but everything seemed perfectly dry. Cyrus was crawling around Otto’s top bunk looking at the upper side of the window as well as the seam between the wall and ceiling. No sign of a leak could be detected. I sat back down to drink some more coffee when I heard Cyrus from the top bunk holler, “Hey – I found the source of the leak.” Everyone turned to see him holding up a large laundry detergent bottle. The coffee cup paused almost to my lips. Why does Dominic have laundry detergent here? There’s no washing machine.
“OH! Give me that!” Otto shouted as he grabbed the detergent bottle and ducked into the small bathroom. What’s he doing with laundry soap here? The thought flashed through my mind and for a moment we all stared in silence with only the sizzle of the bacon in the background. Then the toilet flushed. Emerging from the small closet of a bathroom, Otto explained about the use of a detergent bottle as a his “pee bottle” so he wouldn’t wake everyone up going to the bathroom several times a night. The guys were voicing their opinions consisting of confusion, disgust and scolding. For a minute I sat, coffee cup still half way to my mouth, staring at him. The great debate ran its course for only a few seconds before everyone turned their attention back to me as if they suddenly remembered I was sitting there. I drank more coffee, thinking of how I had resigned myself to sleeping in the wet blankets all during the night. Nothing could change that now. I stood up, placed my mug in the kitchen sink, rubbed my face with both hands and headed out the door to get my fishing gear ready… “Tonight, I’m sleeping in the top bunk.”