⸻

The Warmth of a Winter Shack

The cold has a way of sharpening memory. When I think back to last winter, I don’t just remember the fish or the hockey game on the radio — I remember the glow of the fire, the hum of family voices, and the way the wind tested our little shack on the lake.

We had set ourselves up not far from the house, but distance on a frozen lake feels different once night falls. The shack became our world: a fire burning low, rods bending with perch and walleye, and the steady rise and fall of NHL broadcasters echoing through the wood. For a time, the game and the laughter drowned out the winter silence.

⸻

When the Wild Pushes Back

But wilderness has a way of reminding you who’s in charge.

When it came time to pack up, the fire gave its last breath, the wind began to rise, and the snowmobile — our lifeline back to the house — refused to start. I pulled until my shoulder ached. Once. Ten times. Thirty. Nothing.

Each minute slipped deeper into the night. Cell service was gone, the temperature falling. The shack that had been a stadium of cheers and a cabin of comfort now stood as a reminder of how small we are against the winter.

“The wild is never to be underestimated, and family is never felt more strongly than when you face it together.”

⸻

A Roar Like Salvation

Forty minutes passed — maybe an hour. My hands were numb, my body aching, the thought of family waiting in the cold pressing heavier than the frost itself. Then, as if the lake decided to show mercy, the machine sputtered and roared to life.

That sound was more than an engine; it was deliverance. Relief rushed in, sweet as the first sip of warmth after a long freeze. We climbed aboard, heading home beneath a sky sharp with stars, grateful for every breath and every turn of the track.

⸻

What the Ice Taught Me

The fish became an afterthought, the game just background noise to the real story. That night carved two truths into me:
    •    The wild will always humble you.
    •    The bond of family glows brightest in the cold.

Between the frozen silence and the miracle of a sputtering engine, I learned that the best adventures are not only about where you go, but about the people beside you when the wind rises.