Love, deep as the lake

On the gravitational pull of certain places.

We call from a plastic phone nailed up by the waterside to tell them that we’ve arrived. There are no keys, just a direct line to a cheerful voice, which tells us that the boat will be over in a few minutes. So we walk out onto the small wooden dock, and we wait; bags and suitcases sitting heavy at our feet.

The late afternoon is still glorious, and the lake is static with sunlight. While we wait, a young woman pulls up in a small motorboat and shrieks. Laughter breaks the quiet of the place, as another girl, weighty backpack piled high above her shoulders, hurries down toward the dock. Someone nearby – the woman dropping the back-packer off in her 4x4 – explains that there is a girls’ summer camp on this lake.

Our boat arrives, and it’s a large canoe with a simple motor fitted to it. We pile in our suitcases, slip on life jackets and climb onboard, then our friendly water-chauffer glides us the short distance across the lake and towards our home for the next couple of days.

This isn’t something we’ve ever done before. The luxury of staying in a fully serviced cabin – running water, working light switches, fresh sheets – is a rare and indulgent way of enjoying the great outdoors, and we’re all four of us chuffed to be here.

The cabin itself is one of the oldest on the lakeside. Hearsay claims that it is, in fact, the oldest in the park, but what’s clear is that it has been deeply loved for all of its however-many years. The narrow doorways are framed with hand-carved wood, the tin bathtub has a sign declaring its 90-years of service, and all the beds are carefully wrapped in skilfully hand-quilted throws. The front side of the little one-storey building is enveloped in a mesh-protected porch, which in turn is shaded by the pine trees which tuck us into the sloping land.

The cabin, the porch, the craning trees and the pine-bedded slope all overlook the lake; with its wide open sky and far-reaching silvery light. In the distance: the irrelevant glitter of metal roofs lined up in the dockside parking lot, where we have deposited our rented car. Wheels are useless in a place like this: held together as it is by watery expanses and root-ribboned footpaths.