Life's pretty good

It was about 6:30am. I had the satellite radio on. The solar panel was waking up with the sun rising over the toe of Fortress mountain. An old song by Steve Winwood was playing. The light hearted nature of the high life caused me to pause for a few minutes. Alone, I stood behind the kitchen counter and just listened to the song, feeling a few pangs of emotion. The counter I stood behind came as a result of a solid week's work with our business partner, Kevin. A couple years ago, in the peak of renovations, we spent a week together in the kitchen yurt. It was hot that week. +35 to 37C with no wind. I'm not sure how hot it was in the yurt. Kevin led the project. I supported. I can't recall a moment of stress between us. Just a mutual "let's get this done right". By the end of the week, cabinets were put in place and solidly secure; the counter top was cut and cemented; the oven put into place; the fridge and freezer put in; the sink put in and secured; all plumbing lines installed; the electrical lines dedicated; the furniture arranged; the pantry items and dish racks moved in. At the end of the week, the day we finished, the weather turned as the guests that were there left. We were alone as the last of the boards on the back drop of the cabinets were installed and oiled. Dinner that night was a tortellini pasta dish with a heavy meat sauce. The fridge had 5 types of cheese. We ate 5 types of cheese melted and bronzed atop the pasta. Coupled with a few dark ales for him and a Coor's Light or two for me, we had what was the best, most satisfying meal I can recall. Sure, there might have been far better assemblies, but that meal meant something to us. As I stood behind that same counter a couple of years later, just this week, the moment of having the sun pour in the windows of this great kitchen was so satisfying.
Later that day I walked around the grounds. I looked at the wood area and the split wood pile, recalling the old bath house that required 3 or 4 hours of wood burning to fire the boiler to get enough hot water to 1/2 fill the old tub. After a week without bathing and working hard, splitting enough wood to burn to get hot water, and just as you thought about hopping in to the bath, a guest inevitably would ask about having a bath. My bath. But you didn't mind giving it up. Guests that liked baths always seemed to love the old bath house, with its cedar walls and sauna like feel. But it certainly inspired us to build the new bath house yurt, with the pressure water system in the utility shed pumping 55 pounds of pressured water into an on demand water heater. And the teak shower is a very nice touch, along with the sink and vanity.
As I walked past the wood pile I noted the two sheds next door. The manpower to move them came from having people on site. The original owner, Mike, and his son, Mike, as well as Bob, Byron, Kevin, Grant, Kevin, Brian, Eric, and several others all had hands in moving the two buildings. One cabin's floor was so heavy it took 6 strapping lads to lift one end onto a cart that would act as a wheeled platform, much like a heavy duty semi trailer. It took a long time, but we got it moved. It was either that or dissemble the floor and spend two days re-pounding the boards.
Even the deck building of the 3 new yurts came as a result of hard work. I'll never forget the day and a half of helicopter sling loads to get the materials in. 4 people worked hard to get the sling loads prepped on the highway side, I got the pleasure of manhandling the loads to position them and unhook the slings on our end. There was a wee discrepancy those 2 days. I was exhausted by the end of it. I was at the peak of gym work outs at the time, which certainly served us well. This guy couldn't do the same today, having dropped 40 pounds of muscle since. But man, were we all excited to have everything on site. Seeing the chopper coming across the lake with a couple of couches under it remains a permanent mind's eye vision. But prior that, even unloading a semi or two with a small fork lift into the storage locker in Calgary was an experience. I'd never operated a lift before, and doing so with our yurts in crates was a tad nervy. Once everything was at Fortress, opening the crates for the first time and envisioning the end result was dreamy. The simple beginnings of moving 4x4s, 4x6's, concrete blocks, and decking from the wood pile to the construction site took its time in the hot sun. There were some tense moments with that first yurt deck, as the rush of excitement was rightfully offset with "let's slow this down and do it right so it lasts 30 years". It's funny, the two ideals never meshed and to this day the first deck is noticeably wobbly compared to the 2 subsequent. But it'll last, most certainly.
Still walking around the site that morning, with Steve Winwood still ringing in my ears, walking alone in the early morning sun, I heard a rumble above. An early morning avalanche. And I could see it. The last owner cleared no brush. We'd just spent a couple of days, Nick, Dustin, and I, clearing brush. Last summer I spent 3 hot days clearing brush and moving it to the burn pile. The sight lines around the grounds now allow for good viewing of the avalanches that stream off Mt Sadlier most of June. But just looking around the site, I'm reminded of the hard work we'd all put in to making the sight lines safe and enjoyable. Something so simple, but something that really adds to the ambiance of being there.

Perhaps the most satisfying of all these things, much of which our partner Kevin led, was that none of us had ever previously done them, much less knew a damned thing about prior to actually doing them. The most significant part of it all, however, was that there is no opportunity but to have done renovations during the short summer windows, culminating in having to do operations and renovations simultaneously. There were certainly moments of stress due to that, and some service offerings likely suffered in moments. But to see where everything is at now... it was all worth it... and more.

All this, and every single time I drive a boat back from the west end of the lake, I come around the slight bend in the lake, past the small island, looking east. An incredible panoramic view unfolds. Fortress, Sadlier, and Quincy mountains tower above the lake as I drive past Chisel to the south. The lake looks so small and insignificant by comparison against the massive mountains. Then, if you look closely, you can see a few white specks of roofs along the shoreline where the retreat sits. And it always strikes me how insignificant they are against the back drop. And to think that 4 years of hard work with so many involved... 4 years of work is but a speck in one remote valley in a far off location. It really hits home how insignificant our efforts are. Nothing humbles a man in a shorter moment.

As I sit here now, Steve Winwood playing, the sun shining in my window, just having come off the most enjoyable month we've ever had at Fortress, with no worry of renovations, no stress of having to accomplish, with very happy, excited guests, and good fishing, I'm again feeling that feeling of satisfaction that we are fully providing a great service with the focuses in the right place, offering people what we envisioned from day #1. And nothing makes us happier. Life's pretty good.