It was December 22, 2009, I was 75 miles from civilization, nestled deep in the Canadian bush. Lying deep down inside the Eiderdown, not at all interested in rising. The air was frosty, and the thermometer read 35 below zero.
But, the eiderdown was a luxury I was soon going to have to leave.
Here is how the sounds and smells of morning, nudge you out of the warmth of your bag.
First, I heard the click! No, not the gun safety, only the sound of a headlamp being turned on, in the darkness at 7:00 am. Then follows the familiar swish of the woolen clothing as it is pulled on. Long underwear, heavy wool pants, a wool undershirt and then another wool shirt.
As I lie comforted inside my envelope, the sound of the metal door being opened on the small stove, creaks into my dreams. I listen for the sound of the ashes being stirred, possibly to reveal any lingering embers from the night.
The verdict, is no, for the very next sound is the newspaper from the box on the floor. It is crumpled up into balls and tossed into the stove. I hear the kindling can being moved... then I wait.
I wait for the mighty strike of the match! The roar of the whoosh of flames followed by snaps and crackle as the fire come to life. It signals me that warmth is soon forthcoming and it will be time to rise... but not yet!
I hold out a bit longer, hugging the warmth of the down around me. I drift in and out of my dreams and take note of the progression.
The lid comes off the top of the kettle, the dipper goes into the pail of water again and again, filling the pot. With one ear, I listen for the hiss to arrive in the air, telling me that the water has come to a boil and it won't be long now. Reluctantly, I realize that my sojourn deep inside the eiderdown bag, is fast approaching the end. If one is to function fully inside a log cabin deep in the Canadian Wilderness, ones needs the morning cup of java.
I guess there is no use in holding out, for as the water sinks down through the grounds, how can you resist the golden scent of the morning coffee?