The Outpost

A couple of years ago, Gino discovered that a nearby mountain didn’t have anything on top of it. Coincidentally, he had a cabin that he wasn’t using. That’s how the Outpost came to be. We’ll skip the intervening moments involving a flatbed truck, large cranes of the steel variety, several energetic accomplices, and Canadian beer.

Suffice it to say that there is a cabin, with a view to kill for, perched atop a nearby mountain. Here’s a shot of the Head Musher, our mushing friend Ruth, and Gino’s wife, Fran, standing at the entrance.

The cabin is perched on the edge of the mountain. If you look out the glass doors on the other side, this is what you see

Step out the glass doors and, five feet later, you are airborne. All you see, as far as you can see, is snow, trees, and mountains. The mountains are the Chic-Choc Mountains. One of the greatest sentences ever in Wikipedia describes the Chic-Choc Mountains. Caution: Do not read this sentence aloud if you have recently had dental implants:

“The name Chic-Choc comes from the Mi’kmaq word sigsôg….It has undergone many different spellings over time, including Chikchâks (1836), Shick-shock (1857), and Chick-Saws (1863).”

I’m not certain, but I think the valley in front of the Chic-Choc Mountains is called the Nick Nack Paddy Whack Valley, named after a Mi’maq Indian Chief who was known for giving dogs a bone.

In any event The Outpost is the place someone would go to write the Great American Novel or the Great Canadian Novel, as the case may be.

Since moving the cabin, Gino has added an entryway…with a gas grill.

The gas grill will be used later on to cook Canadian sausages. Canadian sausages aren’t very spicy but you don’t want to eat one after six o’clock in the evening or you’ll wake about three the next morning, sit bolt upright in bed, and begin singing ‘Oh, Canada”. I’ve found that a Canadian sausage eaten in mid-afternoon produces more of a benign “Frere Jacques” effect. You’ll simply have a Frere Jacques ear-worm for about six hours and an irresistible urge to say the words “sonnez les matines” followed by “ding dang dong”. I can live with that

If you take a left at the end of the entryway, there’s an enclosed front porch…

Sit in the rocking chair for about five minutes, rock back and forth and gaze out at the Chic-Choc Mountains and you’ll begin using words like “Eh?” and, because we are near the Maine border, “Ayuh”. Moreover, the answers to philosophical questions you’ve pondered for years, questions such as, “Why do doctors choose to specialize in diseases of the gastro-intestinal tract?” suddenly become crystal clear. The world makes sense. Unfortunately, this philosophical clarity is short-lived. Within minutes of leaving the chair, you’re back trying to figure out what you’ve done with your car keys.

Mosqua guards the entrance ‘till everyone is in, He has counted the sausages, and the number of people, and knows that any additional guests cuts into the leftovers. His odds of getting a sausage decrease as the number of people increases. So he’s bent on limiting participation.

After the cooking is done, he then repositions himself in the entryway to keep an eye on the door…

Maggie, acting as maitre d’, also has a stake in the leftovers and escorts you to your seat. Then she repositions herself in front of the front windows. I suspect that she has heard the story about Nick Nack Paddy Whack, the Mi’maq Chief, and thinks he might appear at any moment, or she too is wondering about gastro-intestinal career choices.

Moving on to the main room of the cabin, we find our participants lounging and discussing the important issues of the day e.g., what will the temperature be on Saturday for the big race? Will it snow? Will the trails be solid or punchy? Will they run out of hot dogs in the Ski Lodge before the race ends? Note: I seemed to be the only one concerned about this last one.

And, of course, dogs’ paws are examined. Mushers are just fascinated with dog paws. Maggie is the guinea pig this time…

Events now begin to happen rapidly. There is a pre-race dinner tonight at Gino’s. Then tomorrow we drive to Fort Kent and back for the Vet Check and the Mushers’ Meeting. Saturday morning we are up bright and early to make it to Fort Kent for the start of the race. So, reports from here are going to be shorter and less frequent.

Here is the web site for the race: www.can-am-crown.net

Click on “Mushers” on the left to get to biographies of all the mushers. Click on the tracking box underneath the CanAm logo on the right to track the progress of the head Musher in CAC-30.

Later,
The One-man Pit Crew