Four Seasons, Many Fires: An experiment in the life of Mr H

By Mark MacLachlan

Apparently coming-of-age stories can occur at any age. Mr. H, who was drifting towards old age despair, made the crazy decision to try a new start by camping an entire year without a single day off, rain/shine, warm/cold or whatever. Such a drastic life choice shook not only his own world but the worlds of family members and strangers he would come to know very well. Besides the challenges of relationships and the dealing with life, there is the ongoing story of how would you actually camp for a year? Spoiler alert: Mr. H’s forester friend, minor character in the story, extremely experienced in camping in every weather condition, is the true author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781678199531

Book preview

Pseudo-Reviews

I would like to say that reading this book was like pulling on a warm, comfy cardigan.  The Forester kept saying that it was good for putting me to sleep (as is our custom, he read it to me every night) even in the exciting scenes.  Now don’t take that to mean it is boring, not at all, but it has not a bit of harm in it which lets me relax.  I put it in the category of books to read again and again, like taking a trip home.

The Forester’s Wife

Fayetteville, Georgia, USA

December 2021

I love this writer!  I love him too much!  In fact, that is one of my besetting sins. 

As the one who discovered Mr H’s journal.  I can say with total confidence that the author has reproduced the contents and the facts with utmost accuracy.

In contrast to my wife, who was put to sleep by this book, it kept me awake night after night, and up at four, morning after morning.  Enjoyably so.  I for one highly recommend it!

The Forester

Fayetteville, Georgia, USA

December 2021

Copyright 2021 by Mark MacLachlan. 

All rights reserved. 

Please do not distribute or reproduce any portion of this book without my permission, in any format—print, electronic, photocopy, recording, uploading or any other—except for short quotations.  Doing so would be a theft of intellectual property.  Thank you.

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978-1-7948-3027-1

Imprint: Lulu.com

The characters in this story are fictional, not intended to reflect any real-life persons.  Likewise, opinions and thoughts attributed to characters in this story may or may not reflect those of the author. 

The exceptions: the forester and his wife are indeed drawn on real-life people! They know who they are and have given permission. 

Acknowledgements

Two people have helped in this by prereading and commenting.  For supportive words, thank you.  Debbie for patient long drawn-out months of reading drafts and redrafted rereading.  Malia for an impatient (on my part) last minute read of (much of) the manuscript. 

Also, Jonathan helped by being an electronic backup every time we got on an airplane these months.  I would send the latest version to him.  You know, wouldn’t want this lost if we died in the wreck and the computer and backup were both damaged!  Keep priorities going here.

Bird.  Thanks for letting me use the roasting pepperoni photo.  I love that picture.  Something about it speaks of the pleasure of making do, of enjoying the challenges of outdoor life.  And it does so with color and vibrancy.  Also, in some way your Great Trek was part of the spark for Mr H—the idea that it is indeed possible to challenge the outdoors for extended periods of time. 

Again, thank you.

The mistakes are mine, not theirs.  That’s for sure.

For my kids

This has gotten to be habit-forming. 

Another Christmas with a book from Dad.

I still love making up stories for you.  I can’t get it out of me.  And so here are some new characters for you to meet…Mr H, Jon, Zingy, and their families. 

These characters sometimes made me uncomfortable, pushed my boundaries, or offended me. And yet Momma found them to be comfortable—see the Pseudo-Reviews.

I hope you can enjoy this—a made-up story from times and places similar to our own, with characters dealing with life situations that you should find familiar. 

Momma often gave me ideas.  You guys used to submit to her your school assignments for her opinions—even into college years.  Well, I have submitted this one to her as well.  As you know, she gives the best critiques ever.  If you read this whole thing, it will be because Momma’s comments made it good enough to read.

PS. Don’t miss the appendix, Camp Cooking with Mr H’s forester friend!

Lennox Hastie:

Cooking with fire, for me, it’s a little bit spiritual.  Because once you start that ignition process, it’s something that has a life.  As soon as you light that fire, you’re committed.  You can’t switch off.  You have to see it through to the final flame.  But when you harness that power, all of your senses are suddenly awoken.  You’re on this edge of danger, and it’s a constant battle.  Because you’re never fully in control.  The fire’s in control.  You’re just trying to find a way of working with it, but the fire will do what the hell it wants no matter what you do. 

on Netflix Series Chef’s Table BBQ; 2020

SUMMER

Mr H was not sure why he decided to do it, really. It was something of a whim.  But once he’d settled on it, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. 

This retiree, lately in a funk, was waking up.  The idea was simple, to see if he could camp—as in tents, campfires, insects, rain, cold, heat, stars, fresh air, wildlife, birdsongs in the morning—all that, to see if he could camp for one year full on, no breaks.  It sounded like a challenge, with maybe even fun along the way. 

Mr H had never been an avid camper, no.  But Boy Scouts and family camping trips showed that he could do it and could sometimes enjoy it.  But for a year?  He did need something to get himself going and thought this might just be it. 

So, this is his story.  In it you will find what you might expect…smoky food, cold mornings, hot nights, moments of serenity, periods of loneliness.  Cold nights where he wished for summer, and hot nights where he wished for winter.  Such has been the human condition…often preferring the opposite of what we have.  I suspect that is true for you too.

How had he gotten to this place?  The move had really tired him out, physically.  No question.  An honest physical exhaustion.  But after two months of being in his new place, he could hardly blame his condition on that.  And it was not that he was feeling tired, he was sleeping plenty.  Just weak, apathetic, unmotivated.  It was hard to get himself out the door, though he did so every day.  But it was so easy just to let himself spend hours each day surfing the internet aimlessly, learning new useless trivia.  He never could get into movies, as he only enjoyed about one in ten.  But trivial learning, he could do that all day.  Read the news, find something that could potentially interest him, and one thing would lead to another and off he would go following any rabbit trail that came by. 

After settling it in his mind, the first thing was to call and talk to the people he loved the most.

It did take quite a bit of talking to himself these days to get the courage and the emotional strength to actually call someone.  Even someone he would enjoy talking to. 

Hi Sissie.. 

Little Bro!  I was just thinking of calling you!

I’d been thinking of it too…but I turned my thinking into action.

Brother!

There you go again, with that ‘Brother!’ thing.  If I called you every time I thought about it, you would never get anything done.  I think of calling you all the time. I get lonely.

I know.  Me too. And I miss you.

I miss you too.

Awkward pause.

I think I know what I’m going to do.

Finally.  Been noticing you have been at wits end. What?

Camp for a year.  Just camp.  Solid.  Or, rather, see if I can.

"Brother! That sounds awesome!  I know you can do it, and yes, I think it would get you something to work on.  But won’t it be more lonely?" 

Yes, thought of that.  I don’t want to get weird; I don’t want to be a hermit.  I still have to figure out how to interact in society and all that, be social.  So there will be challenges.

Hmmm.  But if anyone can figure it out, you can.

Not so sure, but I’d like to try.

Do you need any money?

"Well, of course.  But you ask it as if you have some money, and I know better than that."

Pregnant pause.

I sold a piece.

Really!  Great news!  How much?

Dramatic pause.

Thirty-five hundred.

He almost fell over.

Thirty-five hundred?  You’ve got to be kidding!

Nope.  It was an auction for unknowns like me, and this rich guy liked it, and so did some others, apparently, but he won out.  I met him after the auction.  He asked to see some of my other stuff, and we have an appointment.  I need to add some zeroes to the prices of my work before he sees it.

Wowser.  I don’t know what to say.  But you keep your money for yourself.  You have earned it and you need it.

Thoughtful pause.

"Would you like me to come and do this with you?  I don’t have to live here, you know."

That’s sweet of you, of course, but I think I need to do this on my own, and I certainly won’t have a space outdoors for your endeavors, wherever I end up.  But I would love a visit.

"Where are you going to do it?"

Don’t know.  But will let you know as soon as I do.

I can’t wait to visit, camp with you a bit.  But I think I will only come in the spring or fall, really.  That hot thing and that cold thing…you know.

I do know, and that is why I know your offer was so sweet.  Let’s just keep it to visits.  And I won’t be offended if you stay in a hotel.  You aren’t as young as me, remember.

Mm-hm.  He could see her look of disapproval through the phone line, and it pleased him, and he knew she loved the ribbing, still, after all these years, both (nearly) geriatric.  And nearly the same age.

You know you could come and do it up here where I am.  Cold is cold wherever you are.

Sissie, you know I can’t do that.  I am here for the foreseeable future.

Sad pause, this time. 

Then on to other things.  Chit chat, about friends, about life, about the old beat-up cars each were driving. 

That went about as he expected.

Given the amount of emotional umpf it took to get a phone call going, he decided to pace himself to one phone call a day.  But given how well this one went, he was tempted to go ahead with the next one, which he also felt would be easy.  Restrain yourself, don’t get excited.  Stick to the plan, he reminded himself.  You are supposed to be in a funk, remember?  And so he waited a day, as planned, for the next call. 

Like many American youth, Mr H’s middle childhood years were marked with reading and rereading a worn-out old copy of My Side of the Mountain, the story of Sam, who ran away from New York City to the Catskills, and lived completely off the land by his wits, with the help of a hawk named Frightful that he had captured and taught to hunt.  It was a vision Mr H had secretly harbored as a youngster, but eventually with Boy Scout trips and the like, he realized that it was highly romanticized, way unrealistic, and out of reach for normal kids like him.  Camping, yes.  Living off the land, no.

Like the boy Sam in the book My Side of the Mountain, Mr H kept a log, a journal.  From time to time, portions will be reproduced here.  Here is his first entry:

camping /’kamp iNG/ noun an outdoor activity, principally recreational in nature, characterized by nights spent without permanent structure overhead, in relatively natural setting, with activities of daily living done without modern conveniences of an electric grid and/or municipal water

I made up that definition to help me stay on track, let me know if I was fudging on my ‘camping’. 

For instance, if I build a little shed for storage, will I be camping?  Or a hard roofed shelter to sleep in, but without walls?  Or if there was electricity to the site, could it ‘legally’ be used for lighting?  Or what about using an old camper?  Some of these questions are answered in the definition above.

Mr H ruled out camping in an RV.  He wanted more of a challenge…though even a year in an RV could have its hardships.  But it just did not seem like ‘real’ camping.  Besides, Mr H did not have an RV at hand, nor the flexibility of finances, he imagined without checking into the costs, to purchase one.  Further, he was defining camping as cooking not on a real stove—only a fire, or a built-for-camping contraption. 

He broke out the old camping stuff that they had used as a family.  He was not going to need the big tent…which leaked a bit and was fine for weekends but not for long term.  They had always ‘made do’ and never gone high class with the camping kit, so it was time to upgrade.

Mr H had a forester friend, and he and his wonderful wife will get mentioned in this story from time to time.  They served as a sort of advisers to this grand adventure.  As they had been longtime advocates of hammock camping, Mr H decided to take the swing.  Not an open day hammock, mind you, but something with a mosquito screen and tarp.  Some call them ‘jungle hammocks’.  It was a step of faith, in a sense, to do so without trying one, but Mr H went out on a limb and bought one online.  It arrived from Canada, of all places, which you would think too cold for hammock camping.  Being the man of action that he was, he could not wait to try it out.  But…he needed somewhere to do it.

Hey there, Ace!

Pa! So good to hear you! 

And you.  How’s Little Denver, and Chris?

They’re great!

Chitchat chitchat.

So, I know what I am going to do.  Live camping for a year.

Camp?  Really?  Impossible!  You won’t make it.

Mr H wondered how is it that he can predict some things with the kids.  Sometimes a little less predictability would be nice. 

I can always try.

They discuss details, etc.  Blah blah blah.

Where will you do it?

I’ve thought about that quite a bit.  I can’t afford to stay a whole year at a private campground, they won’t let you at a state campground indefinitely, and national forests are just too far away.  So I am thinking of buying a little piece of property, nothing big.  I do have a little money.  Maybe with a stream, maybe not.  Maybe a little patch of woods with old farm, something like that.

Can you do that?  Remember how all the Medicare stuff, the nursing home things for Mom and all, got really funny about having property and all that?  You sure you want to go through all that again? 

No, Mr H didn’t want to go through that.  How quickly he had forgotten.  This could be a critical flaw to the plan. 

Any ideas how I could do it?

I don’t think you could do it, Pa, and you would be throwing away money, because you are just too old, for one.  You won’t last.  Pause.  But maybe you could get one of us to buy land in our name.

I would give you the money, you would buy it, and I would live on it?

Exactly!

He laughed.  Then you could inherit it?

Well yes!  Except you wouldn’t have to put it in the will, since it will already be in my name.  We could put it jointly in my name and Chris’s.

I would love to have land to leave to you.  Mr H was being honest.  He really would love to leave Ace something significant, and land would be just the thing, come to think of it.  Never have thought that I could leave you guys anything, but this might be something.  I’ll think about it.

Another thing, though.  If you bought land, Pa, where will you poop?

Dang kids.  Their mother was so good at seeing the obvious, things that he never thought of.  The kids all got it from her.

Poop???  He was buying time. Mr H did not remember Jean Craighead George ever mentioning in My Side of the Mountain where Sam went to the bathroom.  Major oversight in that book, he saw that now.  Critical flaw.

Yeah, defecate.  Shit, if you will.  You can’t just go in the woods indefinitely.  The Health Department would eventually get you.  Secondly, you would stink yourself out.  Maybe it would attract animals, flies that get in your food, what have you.

Youngster, you have too good a brain.  A good kid, that one, he thought.

Mr H was surprised by a phone call a few hours later, from Ace.  It was not the fact of a phone call that surprised him, but the content.

Pa, I talked it over with Chris.  We are doing alright at present.  We think we could buy that land for you.  I wouldn’t want to do it pell-mell, but carefully.

Buy it for me?

Yes, Pa, that’s what I said, replied Ace with slight exasperation in his voice.  Buy it for you.  We can do it.  We are not dependents or anything.  It could be an investment for us.

Well, thank you.  That’s right generous of you.  More than generous, it’s huge!

No problem, Pa, after all you and Mom have done for us through the years, it’s only fair.

Mr H promised to send him the links of some land he saw online, and said he would continue looking.  Nothing he had seen so far had been ideal. 

The next day he continued his calling.  Ratcheting up the difficulty, he called Kai, younger than Ace, but so much different.  So much.  Always seeming to be irritated to be second born, Kai seemed to live to prove superiority.  And that could make Kai irritating. 

Hello, Kai.

Oh, hi Dad.

Doing okay?

Yup, just fine.

The kids? Chris?

(Yes, Mr H’s kids both have spouses named Chris.  Confuses things sometimes.)

They’re good too.

Mr H plunged in.  I’ve made a decision.  I’ve thought about what I want to do.  Looked at all the options, put them on paper, underlined this and that, even noted my emotions about each point with a highlighter.  Then I looked at it all and decided that being outside was a good thing for me, get out of the indoors, smell the air.  Camping.  For a full year.  Three hundred and sixty-five days.  One year.

No.  Absolutely not.

Yes.  Absolutely.

"No. You’ll die."

Yup, eventually I will, thought Mr H.  Every reason to do this now.  And death cometh whether I do this or not, he continued in his mind.  Not doing this might in fact speed up the dying process. 

But what Mr H said was, Well, hmm.  Good point.  Dying was not on my lists.  Should it be on the pro side or the cons?  Not exactly less snarky than what he was thinking, but a step in a less combative direction.  Or so he thought.

Silence. 

How is it that temperature is communicated in absence of noise?  Sissie gives pauses and they are warm, friendly.  Kai gives silences and they are cold.  Punishing.  Awkward at their best. 

But spring brings a thaw, eventually.  Almost always. 

More discussion, points here, points there.  Logic, mostly, but he throws feelings in there just to make sure there is life in this discussion.

Mr H found himself rubbing the crown of his head, as they talked.  It made him think of a bowling ball with skin.  This was a self-soothing movement.  It reminded him of the way Kelley used to rub it affectionately, usually with a kiss or two as well.  Now he was left to rub his own scalp, and it irritated him that he would do it at times of stress.  He preferred to simply be remembering her, and her strokes of affection, rather than tension and anxiety. 

Kai was in real estate, in a flourishing business with a business partner, Kevin, and Mr H was hoping for some help.  So next I need to identify a small piece of property, something that will suit my purposes.

Dad, you really should not do this.

Well, maybe not, thought Mr H.  I’m afraid the decision is made, it’s something I plan to do, and I have been looking for land on which to do it.  Something to buy.

There was silence again. 

I imagine that you would like some help from Kevin and I?  Maybe also from Chris and I, financially?

Actually, you and Kevin could advise me.  That would be great.  It’s been a long time since I have bought anything.  At least I won’t be a first-time owner.

I guess we can help.  If it’s just land, it will be easier than if there is a home on it.

Just looking for land.

Alright, we can look from our resources here.  We might find something that might not be obvious to you.  But I still think it a bad idea.

I know you do.  But thanks, for offering to help anyway.  And about the money, don’t worry, Ace and Chris are going to buy it.

"Ace?  Really?  Do they have money they can invest like that, without return on it for a full year?"

I don’t have access to look at their bank accounts, but yeah, apparently, they think they have it.

Mr H went about the business of looking.  Nothing seemed right.  Too public, or not enough room.  He looked at an abandoned farm field, and realized that he did need trees.  He realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought.  Just go out and buy a piece of land—how hard can it be? 

No.  It can be hard.  Especially when he was trying to consider the cost, for the sake of Ace and Chris, in spite of them saying find the land first, and then talk price.

The next day, he tackled the final phone call.  Mr H is blessed with a good relationship with his mother-in-law.  But he figured that he and she would not see this thing the same.  He wondered if it would be a breaking of the relationship.  He needn’t have worried, though, as you shall see, but he was highly anxious going into the conversation.

Hi, Mom.

Oh, it’s you.  So good to hear from you.  She still primarily used her landline, without caller id…though in other ways she was quite progressive.

They talk about kids, grandkids.  Her farm, and the farmers who are leasing from her—what they are growing, what they complain about, the good ones and the not so much. 

Eventually he tells her his idea, and she asks what he knew she would:

What Would Kelley Say? 

Mr H had heard that question before.  He calls that question WWKS.  Mr H thinks it usually a fair question—he asks it himself, and often wonders, what would Kelley say? But asking Kelley is out of the question.

In this case, he was tempted to tell her that Kelley would want him to do what is right for him, that she would be happy to know that he was following dreams or that she just wouldn’t have an opinion.  But he knew that he really did not know what she would say.  So he told her the truth.

I don’t know, Mom.  What I do know is that Kelley would have questions and think about angles that I had not thought about.  She would make me think in new ways about it.  That is one of the things about her….  His voice sort of trailed off, at a loss for the words, letting stand instead the feeling, the sense in the air.

Yes, I know, she said. Then, with sadness, resignation, And neither you nor I are going to ever be able to give the unique angle that Kelley could give.  But I just don’t think she would like it.  She would say it’s weird.

There it was.  She answered her own WWKS question.  She would say it was weird.  Which Mr H doubted Kelley would really say.  Kelley might eventually say she had reservations, but first she would hear it out, think it out with Mr H.  Rarely if ever, when she heard an idea the whole way through, would she think poorly of things Mr H felt strongly about.

In fairness, Mr H had lived with Kelley for more than twice what Kelley had lived with her mother.  But a mother is a mother and may always feel entitled to an opinion of their own child.  And maybe, when Kelley was 15, she would have said it was weird.  Or maybe when she was eight.  But not by the time that Mr H knew her.

Even as he was arguing these things in his head, Mr H was arguing the other side…that what Mom said was important.  He didn’t want to become weird, the weirdo who lives in the woods by himself.  The not-quite-hermit.

She asks where he intended to do this thing, and he tells her his thoughts.

You could wait until I pass on, you know, and do it on the farm.  I am leaving it to you.

He squeezed his eyes and opened them without responding.  This was news he hadn’t expected.  About the farm, not that she thought she would die one day.  Hale and hearty as can be, though, he could wait a long time for her to pass.

The farm?  To me? 

The appropriate thing would have been utterances of utmost thanksgiving.  But it was just astounding, so he was reverting to his stalling technique, and then asked, What about Bob?

Bob schmob.  I have watched you and I have watched Bob.  I am leaving him the money.

Money?  He was buying time again.  It’s a good technique.

Yes, it comes in without me doing anything, this rental income.  I don’t go anywhere to spend it, so there is a passel stored up for my inheritors—which will be you and Bob.  But I have watched you both.  You have no interest in money; Bob has no interest in the farm.

But I wasn’t expecting anything at all, really.  This is such a surprise.  His senses were returning, and he finally got to that which he should have