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No one else is out here because they’d need 4-wheel drive to traverse the dirt roads. During the winter, I’ll catch a few cross-country skiers, but that’s pretty much it. I built my cabin on the mountainside for the views and peaceful exclusion.
The engine of my truck roars and a massive cloud of exhaust blows out the back like the breath of a fire-eating dragon. I have to admit I like making my presence known, regardless of no one being around. It scares off the deer, which saves me from hitting one. Not something I want to deal with up here.
I'm going into town on this perfect day, but not because I want to. Some trees fell during the last heavy summer rainstorm and when I was clearing the brush, my chainsaw broke. After trying to fix it myself, I realized it needed a new chain. I was immediately irritated because now I have to drive to the store to buy the parts. I spent the entire morning trying to cut the fallen trees into smaller blocks of firewood for the winter. Considering I don't have what I need to finish the job, I'm forced to make a special trip to Jack's Hardware in town. Now I have to face civilization, which I don't like to do often, especially when work needs to get done.
With the windows rolled down, I crank the music and as my Black Lab, Shark, sticks his head out the window. When I glance at him, I see his tongue is happily hanging out of his mouth. I've had him since I was eighteen, which makes it a solid ten years of manly companionship. I love that dog so much, and I can't put into words how much he means to me. He's much more social than I am and he's overly excited to go into town. I wish some of his happiness would rub off on me.
“You just know you're getting a treat, dontcha?” Shark pants in anticipation. Every time we go into town I get him a biscuit from Victoria's, a bakery that makes pastries for dogs. I usually get a blueberry muffin for myself because they're the size of my head, but it barely satisfies my hunger. After working my ass off this morning, I'm starving and a muffin only won’t suffice. All I had were a few pieces of bacon early this morning, and I already feel light-headed since it’s been hours since I ate last.
Over the years of living a secluded life in the mountains and working the land, I’ve bulked up significantly since leaving my hometown. Between the muscles, beards, and shaggy hair, I’ve become a mountain man through and through. If my mother saw me right now, she wouldn’t recognize me, and she most definitely wouldn’t approve. I’m not the Abercrombie & Fitch poster child she once knew.
I make a right at the fork in the road and follow the route along the creek. The forest along the road is endless, and when it snows, many of the trails up the road are where the tourists ski in the winter. The town is full of people in the summer, too. Hikers, campers, and even mountain bikers come to visit Whitefish. Along the road, runs a small river that's vigorous, and I'll occasionally see people whitewater rafting as well. There's fisherman here and there, and just the thought has me wishing I were sitting along the river and getting a fresh catch myself. I love handling my meal from start to finish; from the catch to the cleaning, cooking, and then eating. My dad taught me to fish when I was a kid, which is surprising considering he was always busy managing hedge funds. But there were plenty of times he took me out on Lake Michigan. It was one of the only times I left our Chicago high-rise penthouse.
Not paying attention, I hit a bump in the road, causing Shark to go flying. I let out a laugh and find myself asking him if he’s okay as he almost hits his furry head on the ceiling of my trunk. I have to laugh because Shark looks at me with his big floppy tongue hanging out of his mouth, smiling. He lives for this kind of adventure. Leaning over, I pet his head and tell him how much of a good boy he is.
I speed down the road, dirt, and dust flying up all around us, knowing that we'll soon be down the mountainside and on the paved road that leads to town. Once the tires hit the pavement, I slow down considerably and head toward town. As soon as Shark sees the buildings on Main Street, he begins to bark, knowing he'll soon have his treat.
I park the truck and leave Shark inside with the windows down.
“I'll be right back, boy,” I tell him as I step out. I glance at myself in the window and realize I look like shit, but it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone. My white T-shirt is dirty, my jeans torn, and my boots muddy. My brown hair is flying all over the place, and there's grime under my nails. I could use a shower too.
Once I step into Jack’s Hardware, a small shop that still manages to have everything that I need, I see Jack standing by the counter chatting with an old timer. He’s a salt-of-the-earth type of guy.
“Tate,” Jack says as soon as he spots me.
“Hey,” I reply, nodding my head. The hardware store is small, with low ceilings, and it smells like oil and plastic. It's a small town shop, and if Jack doesn't have what I need, he'll order it, which means I'll have to come back into town. I walk up and down the aisles, trying to find the replacement chain.
“What are you looking for?” Jack asks. His red beard is not dissimilar to my own.
“Chainsaw parts. My damn chain broke when I was cutting stumps,” I reply, feeling like I’m in my element surrounding by the tools.
“What size?” Jack asks.
“Eighteen inches.”
Jack knows just where to go, and walks down the second aisle where various types of chains are stocked. He looks up at the shelves that climb toward the ceiling and scratches his beard.
“What brand you got?” he asks, giving me some options.
“Craftsman. Give me three, just in case. I have five more trees to cut.”
“Sounds like a big project. I know some guys that could help you out with that.”
“No thanks. I should be able to take care of it.”
Jack gives me a dubious look, and I merely smile. He thinks I’m trying to prove myself, no doubt. And in that, he wouldn’t be far off. After a life of privilege, I have a lot that I want to do by myself. Building a cabin in the mountains isn’t enough though. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch. Some days, I don’t even know how far I’ll go because it never feels like enough.
Jack pulls the chains down from the shelf using a stepladder. A hundred bucks later and I have what I need along with some other tools and gadgets for good measure. Even though I have a massive shed that’s full of tools, it always seems like I could use more when I walk through those doors.
“On the market for a riding mower?” Jack asks, nodding his head toward the bright orange zero-turn mower sitting outside his shop. “Just got that in the other day. Ca
n mow half an acre in under twenty minutes, no lie.”
Now, I'm not one to be able to turn down gadgets, and Jack plays on my weaknesses. I've been using a push mower for the past few years, so this would save me time, and since money isn't an object, I get it. Within moments, he has his guys loading the expensive beast into the back of my truck and of course I purchase ramps to get that sucker out safely. After I pay my five thousand dollar bill, Jack smiles and waves goodbye and I climb into my truck. Every time I come into town, I'm pretty sure I pay his rent for the quarter, which I'm happy to do.
Shark cocks his head at me, as though asking if I have buyer’s remorse.
“No regrets.” I pet him with a smile. The hardware store didn't take as long as I thought it would, even with the extra purchases. I'm happy about that because I still need to go grocery shopping, get Shark's treat at Ethel's, and buy some liquor. Even though I'd like to get all these things out of the way and go home to finish cutting trees, I still need to eat. My stomach growls so loud, Shark barks when he hears it. In light of being famished, I decide to stop at the first place I see. Slowing down, I turn into the parking lot of Whitefish Café, a place I've only seen in passing. I've been to a lot of fancy cafés growing up in Chicago, but this one has that hometown flair to it. It's inviting with its green awning, flower planters, and patio tables.
