Ahh, a rustic cabin beside a clear mountain lake, deep in the woods somewhere; one that is hard to reach and difficult for casual visitors to drop into. Many of us have had such a dream in the secret recesses of our minds, especially so since our modern world seems to be getting ever more stressful. Simpler times seem to be fading farther away in our memory.
My wife, Ann and I have been exceedingly fortunate, not only to grow up in the best of times, but also in the most beautifully quiet places. Our parents both had tourist resorts near each other in a provincial park, where often our courtship days were spent canoeing (almost out of our back door). On our honeymoon in April we used my uncles one star trapper’s cabin as our Shangri La. Except for a three year stint at a university, after we were married, we moved to another provincial park, this time five hundred miles to the north! This time, with four children, we canoed and skidooed through many dozens of lakes, often camping in sub-zero temperatures in the snow with wolves howling nearby.
I was no stranger to rustic log cabins. My dad and three uncles each ran registered trap-lines, all with log cabins for living quarters. Each spring school break I would accompany my father, walking early mornings on the spring ice (clear of snow) and spending nights in the log cabin near the glow of the tin ”box-stove” while reading by a kerosene lamp. These were among the most memorable days of my life with the music of the wind in the pines by day and the crack of the ice on the lake at night.
It’s no wonder, then, that spring always brings out the itch in me to get out there and paint! This painting was inspired by a lake high up in the mountains above Pemberton, one spring day, just as the ice was breaking up. The mountain looming over the top of the scene in its immensity gives the lake and its surroundings a feeling of security and contentment. Let me share a secret with you: there was no cabin! It was purely a “pigment” of my imagination!