Winter Gremlins
by Lee S. Wilbur
(Originally published in the Fishermen’s Voice in 2003.)
For Mainers and folks from away that have summer camps and cottages, there’s a strange phenomenon that happens most every winter. It’s the visitation of winter gremlins. You know them I’m sure if a place in your trust is ever closed for any period of time. They love to get into the electric lights, septic system, plumbing, appliances, wherever there’s a possible “gotcha” available. Not only are they of an intelligent bent, they’re ruthless. From a seemingly innocuous problem there can unravel such a twisted, time-consuming scenario to tax the mind and fortitude of many a stricken soul.
My dad the doctor decided to build a camp on Long Pond, Million Dollar Island in 1948, year after the big fire of ’47. Arnold Allen had the contract to clear any usable stumpage the fire hadn’t destroyed, which he cut at his new mill at the head of Somes Sound. So Dad bought most of the materials there and had Byd Robinson and his two men put the shell up that year. Later he finished off the inside, bought bricks from the demolished Stotesbury Estate in Bar Harbor (now the ferry terminal) and had a fireplace built. Fireplace was started on a Monday and by Wednesday they built a small fire in it. So together with the $500 he’d paid for an acre and 75 feet of frontage, $4,500 to build the camp, $250 for the fireplace, and perhaps another $200 he’d chipped in with other camp owners for the road, he’d spent the equivalent of a year’s wages for a camp that the inflated value and taxes of today scares the bejesus out of his offspring. But I’ve digressed.
For the last forty years I’ve closed it down in the fall and opened it again in the spring. In the majority of these years the winter gremlins have made their presence known. This year though, the plumbing system took full frontal attack. They were able to work themselves into the system in ways I never dreamed possible. First, the screw holding the screen on the old foot valve went too deep and held the flapper valve open. Discovered this after putting in a new line. Then the cutoff switch decides after twenty years he’d like a new setting. Did nothing but drive the pump crazy in turn calling for a disassembly of the pump jet only to find the pressure tank was a culprit as well and needed replacement. While this was taking place the hot water tank was left on by mistake. Drained down and the top element burned out. Then the non-draining design-flawed toilet valve blew water all over the bathroom. With the restoration of hot water, the pseudo-antique kitchen faucet decided he should be cleaned. After spending time reassembling this washerless twenty-part puzzle of some evil genius’ sadistic perpetration the hot water had become lukewarm. Somewhere inside a puzzle part still remains out of place so we carry hot water from the bathroom while we wait for a new faucet.
So the gremlins won. They not only delayed our move out from town, but they decided to stay a bit longer. Last night I stumbled to the kitchen for that 3 a.m. drink of water. In the dark stillness, I could hear a distinct clicking. Carpenter ants. With that and the doors that won’t close in the frost-heaved bunkhouse; I should be able to get the fishing skiff in by mid-July. And, if the outboard hasn’t been attacked, we might be able to chase a few salmon.
When the northwest winds begin to outnumber the prevailing southwest breezes of summer. When we have to turn the headlights on coming down camp road, AJ and I look at each other one day and decide it’s time to close camp down and move back to town. Now mind you all circuits are clicking, water pumps, septic pump, water heater, stoves, washing machine – all work fine. Very carefully, from a checklist (started at age 58) I’ll drain, grease, haul out, turn off, cover, and bring in everything. We’ll hide the key in a new place and try to remember where six months later. But I know that come spring no matter how careful we’ve been, the winter gremlins will descend upon this innocent abode again and I’ll spend a good week searching for their nefarious deeds.
• R E C I P E •
Spring Cauliflower
Oil
Handful of chopped white and baby Portobello mushrooms
3 spring onions, chopped
2 handfuls chopped ripe tomatoes
Hit the mushrooms with a fairly hot sauté pan and brown them a bit in the oil. Add the onions for a minute to start them and add the tomatoes. When as much liquid as possible is generated (3-4 minutes), pour the sauce through a sieve and squeeze out as much as possible. Season with salt and pepper. Reduce by 1/3. Portion over the individual cauliflower before serving.
Fair Winds and Good Roads
– Lee Wilbur