
Every morning by 7:00 A.M. I am sitting by the fire, sipping a cup of cocoa, while my Dad or Heimo makes breakfast (I am the camp’s lunch cook). Usually we have oatmeal for breakfast, but for a treat my dad fixes his special crispy pancakes with fresh-picked blueberries. After a steady diet of Arctic grayling (fish), I gobble them up like a ravenous grizzly coming out of hibernation. The mosquitoes, it seems, are as hungry as I am. Whether it’s warm or cool, I’m dressed in layers, determined not to leave a stitch of bare skin for them. They swarm around me as soon as I leave the tent and no amount of swatting or spray or smoke from the fire discourages them. They also like the pancake mix, so along with the blueberries, the mix usually contains a dozen or so mired mosquitoes. “No big deal,” my dad says. “We need the protein.” When they drive me to the point of madness, I jump through the fire like an exotic circus performer. I hear that sizzle and crackle and I am filled with a sense of satisfaction. I’ve gotten those “dirty little bastards” (Heimo’s phrase) back. Inevitably some of the dead mosquitoes end up in my pancakes. Though I’d prefer pancakes with sun-soaked blueberries from the Arctic tundra, blueberry and skeeter pancakes are pretty good, too. They taste sweet – like revenge.

Love the blog and pics Aidan. What a gritty gal!
I am so glad you liked it! And thank you for your continued support.
I’m just getting started on this blog, but I wanted to tell you what a great job you have done. BIG photos – I like that. Witty and engaging narrative and description – all too rare in the blogging world. A good sense of what it is about your life that is both unique and universal. I’m 71 now but
forty five years ago I took my wife and son to live in a couple of tamer versions of the wilderness you have been describing.( End of the road cabins in north central BC and north central Washington) Plenty of hard lessons out there and you are doing a great job of describing the ups and downs of that life. I hope your blog reaches scores of thousands. NPR, it seems, dropped the ball in not providing links to you and your dad’s online presence.
Thanks for your kind words. It seems like hard lessons are the ones that last.