On my second night at the Cabin Creek Cabin with darkness enveloping the remaining daylight, a persistent mist falling, and my options limited, I decided to relax on my cot, enjoy the warmth of the fire, and read by candle light. Having brought two books I had choices but those were set aside for a more interesting read: the cabin’s journals.

The journals were stacked on a small table near the door of the cabin. On top was your standard, faded, lime green, office-looking journal. Underneath it were journals of other colors and styles with the same standard look. The last journal, large enough to stick out the sides of the stack, had a black decorative cover and worn edges. I almost felt Potter-ish as I picked it up and rubbed my hand along it’s soften edges. Being on the bottom I surmised it would be the oldest of the journals and opened it to check my theory.

The cabin was built in the 1930s and the earliest entry in the other journals was from 1991 so as I held the magical book in my hands I wasn’t expecting entries from the Lewis and Clark expedition. However, I was hoping something from the 1970s or earlier but as I opened the book and began reading the entries the earliest date was June of 1987. Not exactly Nicolas Cage/National Treasure type of stuff but under the candlelight the faded writing felt from a time long past.

The journal doesn’t read in an exact order. The first writing in the book is dated 6-20-88 and after four names are listed it reads “There’s nothing to do up here,” to which someone added “Then stay home.”  The earliest dated entry occurs on Page 2. There are a few modern entries from 2014 and 2015 written in spaces between older entries. After a cursory glance through the pages I began to read in earnest, wondering what the people of the 80s thought of this great place.

Turns out, not much different than the visitors of the 90s, 00s, and 10s. Except for a few nuggets like “can’t wait to get the film developed!”) the entries are timeless. Most of the entries wax poetic about how beautiful the area is (the term “God’s country” gets thrown around a lot), and the need to preserve the land for future generations. There’s a lot of exclamation points (“We love it here!!”) and weather reports (“It was 20 degrees today with 14″ of snow on the ground”). How they measured either I don’t know. Many felt the need to give cabin updates (“The cabin was clean although no firewood”) and enough sunset descriptions to fill a book. In fact they do.

Since my trip up to that point had been wildlife-free it was frustrating and fascinating to read all the wildlife sightings. While most were of the elk or moose variety there were plenty of bear sightings to read. One couple saw a black bear next to the outhouse behind the cabin (that must have made for an interesting trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night). Another wrote how a friend who they were supposed to meet up with at the cabin showed the next day with a tale of having to turn around after encountering a grizzly on the trail the previous day.

One of my favorite entries written on 07-30-88 read- “Showed up at the cabin to find a window broken. A tuft of brown hair was caught in the barbed wire (the windows today have bars on the outside, they used to have barbed wire). Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Almost a year later on 08-19-88 someone wrote- “Window broken and screen door was torn. Claw marks on door.”

The cabin is frequently used by hunters with varying success. There are tales of bagging elk while others lament an unsuccessful trip. To their credit I didn’t read one entry from a hunter(s) regretting the trip. I also didn’t read many hunter entries that didn’t include tales of boozing it up. Seems they go hand in hand.

There is a sort of high school yearbook feel to the journal. There are cliques and snide comments written on entries. When two ladies write about their weekend at the cabin and sign both of their names, someone writes “lesbians” next to the entry. The snowmobilers and off-road motorcyclist give it a “bro” feel with their “We, the Three Amigos conquered!” or “Fuckin awesome weekend!” remarks while the tree-huggers get ranty in their view of how the land should be used. They frequently comment on each other’s entries. The sparring appears throughout the journal.

Some of the my favorite entries are from Forest Service workers who come to provide maintenance on the cabin. They are long, well-written, and give insight to what it takes to keep the cabin ready for visitors. A few complain about their positions except for the bonus of getting to use the cabin. One calls working for the government a “thankless job.” LIke I said, timeless.

One entry, written by a woman named Helen in the most remarkable penmanship I have ever seen, laments the journal itself. She wants the others to write more than “What a wonderful sunset!” but in the end her elegantly written entry provides more insight to her thoughts of her fellow man than her visit to the cabin. I agree with her assessment of most of the entries, they tend to read the same, but unlike her I wasn’t expecting literary greatness in a book filled with answers to the mundane question “How I spent my summer (cabin) vacation?”

An interesting discovery was found by looking at the entries in all the journals written on or near the dates I spent at the cabin. Reading over the entries from previous mid-Octobers it was clear that even with the drizzle falling outside the cabin, I had luck on my side when it came to the weather. Several wrote about temps in the teens or twenties and with major amounts of snow on the ground. One entry was from a solo visitor who wrote he arrived before nightfall with heavy snow falling and was planning on leaving the next morning before the snow accumulation made it impossible to leave.

In the end it wasn’t an entry from the original time period of the journal (the book was used mostly from 1987-1990) but a more recent entry written in a space between older entries that left me feeling warm on that cold night. A young couple from the east coast spent a few days at the cabin and the guy wrote a standard paragraph on how much they enjoyed their stay. The paragraph was signed with both of their names but below their signatures it appeared the woman had come back and added her own thoughts on the weekend. It read- “I may have fallen in love with this man while we stayed here.”

I closed the book, rubbed my hand over the front cover, and stacked the journals back on the table. The temperature in the cabin had lowered to a crisp chill so I crawled into my sleeping bag as the fire in the wood stove faded. Earlier in the evening I had written my own experience in the newest of the journals. No love was fallen into but I think Helen would approve. However, the sunsets are wonderful.