Mother Nature could have put a damper in our Thanksgiving plans with a snow storm the day before Thanksgiving. Parts of the state were blanketed under close to a foot of fresh now. Upper Sysladobsis (Upper Dobsis, pronounced dob-see) in Lakeville (Map 35) had only 6″. We put the trucks in four wheel drive and hit the road. Routes 1 and 6 weren’t as well tended as the winding, dirt camp road.
The ride in was beautiful. Coyote tracks crossed the road in two places.
We drove through tunnels of snowy trees. Folks who live at the lake year round plowed the road. It’s primitive, no electricity other than generators, no phones except cells with iffy reception, no oil-burning furnaces, only wood stoves and propane heaters for year.
We cross the bridge over Brown Brook on the way in. The beavers made a half-hearted attempt at building a dam years ago.
An ermine visited the deck before we arrived.
This is not the view of the front deck we’re accustomed to. There weren’t any ice-cold drinks served out there.
The old wood cookstove helped warm the camp and cook part of our Thanksgiving dinner.
The back door is used to record stories of hunting season. Uncle Bobby shot a big buck, the boys did the dishes in record time, Brush got his deer and more.
We had turkey, stuffing, cornbread dressing, rutabaga, winter squash, mashed potatoes, gravy and pies. Food was the minor part of Thanksgiving. Being together with family at our family camp was most important. We could have had PB&J for dinner and been perfectly happy.
