How to Break the Ice

About twenty minutes later the smell of the French toast in the oven managed to rouse everyone from their beds. They all dug in eagerly to the sweet, mapley goodness as they sat around the table.

"What do you guys want to do today?" Jamie asked around a mouthful of food.

"I want to get out on that lake!" Tom said eagerly.

"Yeah, me too," Rebecca agreed, "if we all put snowshoes on we can probably hike right across it. I'd like to check out some of those ice-fishing huts too. They look pretty cool."

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

"Okay, well that's settled then. I'll wash up. Do you guys want to head out in like twenty minutes or so?" Rebecca said, eager to get going now that they'd established a plan.

Forty minutes later (two showers, seven people) they were all gathered beside the tool shed strapping on snow-shoes.

"These are sooo cool," Riley said, trying to do a little dance in hers.

"Yeah, they're great, and they're really easy to use. Wait until you guys try them on the deep snow, it's amazing how quickly you can move in them," Rebecca was in such a good mood even Riley seemed manageable this morning.

They all walked awkwardly down the hill toward the lake. Though the snow-shoes were easy to use they still took a few minutes of getting used to, especially when going downhill. In order not to trip on the front tip of the shoes you had to walk in a but of a side step, it was almost like having two mini snowboards attached to your feet.

Once they'd emerged onto the flat surface of the lake they all picked up the pace and started off towards the cluster of huts in the center of the lake. Though the huts didn't look that far away from up at the cabin once you were at their level it was actually a fair distance. By the time they'd arrived they were all panting slightly and almost everyone had removed their tuques, stuffing them into their pockets. A few guys were gathered near some of the huts, some on folding lawn-chairs, some standing. All of them looked like versions of Ben. Big guys, wearing worn in clothes, most of them bearded, all of them holding cans of Canadian or Blue in their hands. One of the closest guys called out to them.

"Hey, you guys staying at the Eagle?'

"Yeah, we got in yesterday. Thought we'd check out the lake. How're they biting?" Jamie asked, trying to swagger and sound like he knew what he was talking about despite not having the first clue about fishing, let alone ice fishing.

Rebecca met Leah's eyes and they both sniggered.

The guy laughed, but in a nice way, "Oh, pretty good. But normally we don't catch much at this time of day, this is mostly drinking time," he said, raising his beer can in a mock salute.

"Right, yeah," Jamie said.

"You guys want one?" One of the other guys gestured to a nearby snow pile in which at least twenty beer cans were nestled.

They all nodded assent. Why not? Rebecca cracked open a can and took a sip. There was something perfectly fitting about sharing a beer with these guys out on the ice.

It was just like the pictures on the website, Rebecca mused. Wonder if they pay these guys to be nice to tourists? They certainly seem to have the 'local charm' thing down...if they do though, I think someone forgot to pay that Ben guy...

As if her thought had conjured him up Ben appeared from within one of the huts. He was carrying what looked like a large metallic drill, it was curved at the top with two plastic handles. He shot them all a curt nod then placed the tip of the drill, which came up to his shoulder, into the ice. He began to twist it with both hands, and the tip sunk into the hard packed snow.

"Cool, is he like, drilling a hole?" Riley asked.

One of the guys, who'd introduced himself as Greg, chuckled as he replied, "Yup. Go on over and see if you like."

Riley and Jamie headed over. Rebecca hesitated at first but she wanted to get some action shots so she joined them. She stood just to one side of Ben and watched as he propelled the drill into the thick ice using all of his body weight.

"Mind if I...," she said, gesturing at her camera.

He looked up and shrugged his shoulders. She began taking pictures, angling up into the blue sky, making Ben and the drill look gargantuan in perspective. The contrast of his red checked jacket against the sky and snow was vivid.

Gradually he began to slow and then they saw the drill sink a few feet. He pulled it out and smoothed away the snow to reveal a perfect three inch round hole through the ice. The ice was at least two feet thick. The water she glimpsed below was dark and the ice along the sides of the hole was a light, clear blue. He walked over to a pile of equipment and grabbed a lightweight, brightly colored short rod with a flag attached to it. He laid the rod across the hole and sank the line, which was anchored by a small hook and lure, into the hole.

"How does that work, it's not a regular fishing rod is it? I mean, you don't hold onto it...," Rebecca asked, curious despite herself.

"Well, if the fish were running hard right now I'd use a rod but right now this is better," Ben said grudgingly. Each word seemed to be painful.

Greg came up behind them. "What Ben here is trying to explain," he said laughing, " is that this is better for mid-day, when the fish are scarce and we're really just here to drink. You see, if a fish bites then this little flag will come up. That way we don't have to sit right by the hole and you can keep your eye on a few holes at once," he gestured around the small area where they spotted multiple set-ups like the one Ben had just rigged.

"Thanks, Greg," Rebecca said rolling her eyes at Ben.

Greg laughed in return. "No problem."

Ben watched their exchange with a frown and she blushed, suddenly feeling bad for not giving him more of a chance.

"So how many do you usually catch in a day out here?" she said, determined to try and be nicer to Ben.

"Depends," was his curt reply.

She sighed.

Well, so much for that.

He glanced up at her and stood, tucked his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. "It depends on where the fish are running and whether we drill in the right spots, it also depends on the time of year and the time of day, the weather...it's pretty complicated really," he said, his tone implying that she likely didn't need to know much more than that. He was right. Jamie and Riley wandered off hand in hand, seemingly bored by the exchange now that the drilling was done.

"That makes sense, um, how's it going today?" she asked, trying to draw him out more.

"Pretty good, I guess," was his reply.

Okay then, well, I tried, she consoled herself. A valiant attempt actually.

"Well, great." She smiled and walked off, trying not to show how annoyed she was. She wasn't sure why his gruff attitude bothered her so much—well, she was to an extent—rudeness always bothered her, it was just so...unnecessary. And it wasn't very Canadian, either.

She wandered over to the main group where a few of the other guys were showing Marc, Doug, Leah and Tom the fish they'd caught that morning which were now in a large cooler packed with snow. The fish were relatively small, apparently mostly Pikes, Trouts and Walleyes. They explained that they usually caught a couple dozen fish a day, enough for a sizeable meal. It made Rebecca feel a little better knowing that they actually ate the fish they caught. As she watched two of the guys explain how they determined where to drill her gaze wandered across the lake. They were about halfway across, square in the middle of an icy plain. Thinking about the fact that only a few feet of frozen water separated her from the icy depths of the lake sent a shiver through her body and she clasped her arms around herself. She felt conscious of someone staring at her and she turned her head to find Ben standing a few feet away watching her with an impassive gaze.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, not really, just thinking about all the water underneath us," she replied.

"Right," he cleared his throat as if to say something more then stopped. She was about to turn away when he spoke again "So, did you get some good pictures yesterday...in the woods?"

She was taken aback by his sudden desire to make conversation. "Yeah, I did. I mean, it was tricky getting the setting right, the light is so bright and clear here, its pretty different than in the city, but I think I got some good shots. I won't really know until I get them on my computer though."

He nodded his head. "So, what do you do with them?"

"Usually not much—it's really just a hobby but I have had some photos published in magazines, online. It's pretty hard to make a career out of it. You really need a niche. I mostly just do it for fun, it's a way of looking at the world that's totally different, like a whole new perspective...it helps me to connect in a way I might not if it was just me and...I don't know my eyes," she laughed, "plus it's a great conversation starter, you'd be amazed—even the surliest people secretly like having their picture taken," she said teasingly.

Ben let out a low laugh. "I guess I deserve that," he said.

"Becca! We're going to head across to the other side now, you coming?" Leah called out.

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" she replied.

"Good luck fishing today, hope they're biting for you," she said as she walked off.

Was that a smile? Will wonders never cease...

"Wow, looks like you managed to get grumpy to crack a smile back there, what were you two talking about?" Leah said, as she sidled up alongside Rebecca.

"Photography actually. He seemed almost...interested. I know, shocking after how surly he was yesterday but maybe he's not such a bad guy. Maybe it was just a bad day or something."

"You always assume the best Becca. He's still an asshole. I mean he measures out his words as if they were friggin' gold, like it's just too much bother to actually talk to us like proper human beings."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just saying he's not a total dick, maybe just 70%?"

They both laughed.

The next day they hit the ski hill then spent the night drinking wine and relaxing by the fire. Rebecca wasn't particularly looking forward to everyone leaving in the morning. Though there was plenty to do in the area she worried that she'd spend the week feeling like a third wheel.

She knew, however, that if she had stayed home she'd have regretted it and spent the week wondering what her friends were up to. It was rejuvenating being outside all day and she loved the cabin, it oozed Northern country charm without being cheesy or stuffy. Sitting by the fire at night with a glass of wine in her hand she felt the most relaxed she had in months.

Not having a boyfriend anymore is no reason to deny myself this...all the more reason to be here actually, she thought defiantly.

To singletons everywhere! She toasted herself—and Bridget Jones in absentia, recognizing that she might be a wee bit drunk.

That realization was confirmed when she woke up in the morning with a headache and a dry mouth. She cursed as she hit head on the bunk bed—again.

When she emerged downstairs everyone was in a flurry, Jamie, Riley, Marc and Doug were packing up their stuff and grumbling about not being able to take more time off work while Leah and Tom made breakfast for everyone. Within an hour, the place felt empty. Leah and Tom went back to bed "to nap" and Rebecca decided to head out into the woods once more. She showered quickly, donned wool leggings, a sweater, her clunky boots, and her parka and headed out to strap on her trusty snow-shoes. It was another beautiful day and the bright sun reflected off of every surface. She thanked her foresight in remembering to grab her sunglasses from the car.

After a few hours the light began to fade within the woods so she headed out onto the lake. She wanted to take a few more shots of the ice huts and figured they'd be pretty deserted on a Monday afternoon. She was taking close-up shots of one of the huts—a particularly brightly colored red and yellow hut with painted shutters and a Canadian flag painted on the side—when she noticed smoke coming from one of the far huts.

She walked over, intending to ask the owner if she could take some interior shots. This particular hut was plainer than some of the others—made of weathered wood with red trim it almost looked like a mini replica of their cabin. She knocked softly.

"Hello?"

There was no answer then the door swung open. It was Ben.

"Oh, hi. Um, I was just taking some shots of the huts when I noticed the smoke. I was wondering if I could take some interior shots inside the hut?" she said poking her head inside the door.

The interior was illuminated by the large window cut out of one wall although light curtains covered it, dampening the blinding sunlight outside. A bench covered in an old quilt ran along the short side of the room, in front of which a wide, even hole had been drilled. A small electric heater complete with faux flames sat next to the bench and across from it were two folding chairs, two coolers—presumably one full of beer and one for fish—and a stack of blankets. The heater was attached via a long cord running out the door to a generator pumping away noisily outside. It was cozy and inviting. Rebecca took a step inside before being invited to.

"Uh, yeah, I guess, be my guest," Ben said, his tone implying that she was clearly going to come in whether he said she could or not.

"Great," Rebecca said absently. She noticed a few paintings on the walls, brightly colored folk paintings depicting bears and geese and other animals. "It's really great in here, are they all this nice?"

Ben smiled, seemingly despite himself, at the compliment. "Nah, most guys just chuck a few chairs in and a cooler but I tend to spend a lot of time out here so I figured I'd may as well make it nice," he seemed vaguely embarrassed at this omission that he cared about his surroundings as if it was unmanly.

"Well, it's awesome. Do you mind if I close the door? The light will be better that way," she said already latching it shut. She started framing some shots then noticed Ben standing awkwardly next to the bench.

"Sit down, keep on doing what you were doing. Do you mind being in some of the shots?" she asked.

"Nah, I guess not," he said, sitting back down on the bench and picking up his rod again.

"So you use a regular rod in here," she asked.

"Well, this time of day they're usually biting pretty thick so it works better this way."

She took a few shots of Ben, the stack of blankets, the paintings, and then capped her lens and took a seat next to him. In the short time she'd been there he'd caught three or four small to medium sized fish and she wanted to watch him in action. His rod jiggled every few minutes and he easily jerked it out, deftly extricated the fish from the hook, placed them in the cooler and tossed the line back in.

He shot her an amused glance, "Wanna try?"

She nodded and took the rod out of his hand.

"You gotta jerk it a little back and forth, like this," he said, placing his hand on hers.

A small current of electricity shot up her arm, she'd taken off her gloves when she'd entered the warm interior of the hut and the feel of his calloused hand on her own felt unexpectedly... exciting. She swallowed and nodded, imitating the movement of his hand. She felt a tug on the line and squeaked in girlish excitement, then blushed.

Could I be any more typical? she thought, chagrined.

"That's good, you got one, now pull it quick, don't jerk it though...yeah, sure, just like that," he said laughing as she jerked the line wildly out of the water and sent both fish and hook flying. He grabbed the line and tossed the fish—her first!—into the cooler.

"Nice, you're a real natural," he said smiling.

"Yeah, right, a natural...actually, its really not that hard is it?"

"Nope, it's the simplest thing in the world. That's why I like it. Just sit here, you don't have to think to think about anything much, have a beer or two, it's nice and quiet and peaceful...well, usually it is," he said with a laugh as she squealed again when the line jerked in her hands.

"Sorry! It's just kind of...exciting I guess. I used to fish with my dad when I was little but I barely remember it. Mostly we were on the ocean but a few times we went lake fishing."

Ben seemed surprised, "You didn't grow up in Toronto? I had you pegged as a die-hard city girl."

"I know you did. That was obvious. But, no, I'm from a small town in Nova Scotia. But I've been in Toronto for about six years now so it does feel like home. I know it has a bad rap with you...'country folk'," she said with a laugh, "but it's actually a pretty great place to live. You can get any kind of food you want, hear any kind of music you want, there's art, theatre, you name it. And it's so multicultural, I mean on one subway car you hear about ten different languages, it's amazing really..." she laughed at the passion in her voice, "sorry, I'm just used to people slagging Toronto, all my relatives back home can't believe I moved there and they really can't believe I actually like it there."

"Yeah, I guess I shouldn't really judge it too much. I've only been a few times—it's just too much for me, you know? Too noisy, too many people and it fucking stinks, am I right?"

Rebecca laughed. "Yeah, especially during the garbage strike, oh my god...that was the worst, the park near my house was piled five feet high with rotting crap," she shuddered, "but it only really smells in the summer and only in some areas...," she laughed, "though I guess if you're used to breathing the air around here it must seem pretty bad."

They chatted for a while about Ben's job, his family, life in the country. His father died when he was little and he and his mom ran the family business. His dad built the four main cabins himself and Ben had built the two newer, smaller ones as well as the cabin that he himself lived in, about a kilometer down the road from where they were staying. His mom managed the customer service side of the business—the websites, bookings—and did the cleaning while Ben made sure all the properties were sound and in good working order.

"Sounds like a fair trade," Rebecca said, "although, given you're truly dynamite people skills I'm surprised your mom doesn't have you greeting the customers."

Ben had the grace to laugh. "Yeahhh, sorry about that. I guess I can be a little...unfriendly sometimes. I don't mean to be, it's just, when I don't know people I don't always, I don't know, bother to exert myself too much. We have a lot of people coming through here and some of them, well, they're not the greatest, in fact they're snobby, arrogant assholes used to having people wait on them hand and foot. They come out to "escape" supposedly and then they flip out when everything's not exactly like it is back home. They're always hassling my mom and making her work too hard, you know she does her best to keep everything just right for you guys and, well, it's just pisses me off...," he trailed off, then blushed, "sorry, I guess I got a little over heated there, and you guys all seem really nice, so, um, sorry I guess."

Rebecca was a bit taken aback at the heat in Ben's voice. She could understand what he was saying but she had to wonder why someone who clearly didn't enjoy interacting with strangers was basically working in the tourism industry. "Isn't there anyone else that can help your mom out? I mean, I know it's none of my business, but it doesn't seem like you enjoy it very much"

"No, not really. For now, it's just me and her. And I mean, I like working on the cabins, I guess I just don't like some of the more...er, interpersonal stuff," he laughed, "mostly mom handles that, I only came by the other day because she forgot to tell you all a few things and I didn't want her to have to trouble herself too much so I figured I'd just go and do it myself. Plus I like people to know that it's not just her running this place, people can take advantage if they think it's just some little old lady"