The Earth Lodge

(Six)

The next week was a quiet one. In between my hide tanning lessons I spent my time cleaning up camp as we were informed that the kids were arriving soon. I let my brain wander as I picked up plastic buckets and random bits of fur and discarded deer legs from the camp yard — hiding the evidence from the children that there were dead animal parts and scavenged pieces of garbage from the local dump (the usefulness of which was highly debatable) strewn all over the property. There was also no real way to wash your hands with hot water unless you heated it up on the stove, which made my internal past camp counselor for the City of Seattle cringe at the thought of the amount of regulations that were about to be broken with these camps. But this was rural Montana and apparently they did things differently out here.

I slowly slogged through tanning my first hide and was finally at the point where I could soften it, which entailed stretching it over and over again with my hands and even using my knees to pry the fibers open when my arms were too tired to do it anymore. This was one of the final steps in the process and I had to finish it in one setting without a break or I’d have to go back and repeat multiple steps and I was not about to do that. Thankfully it was best if the hide was kept somewhat warm, so I got to do this inside the Earth Lodge instead of out in the middle of the cold and windy pasture. The Earth Lodge was the only other permanent structure on the property other than The Shed and it was a large circular creation made from rough wood beams and cement plaster. It imitated an ancient roundhouse made of clay, with a four foot wide hole in the ceiling to let out the smoke from the open fire pit in the center of the room.

With a steady fire burning in the pit, Michael agreed to help me that evening after dinner with the next step. We tied the hide up in a rack and he showed me another way to soften it by pushing and dragging a thick pointed wooden stick along it to open it up. It was remarkable to watch as this previously wreaking, sopping wet piece of dead animal skin was slowly turning into soft and supple buckskin that was white and fluffy and inviting to the touch. It was still a laborious process however and by ten o’clock at night I still had an hour or two to go at this rate and Michael was yawning loudly.

While I softened, he sat in the corner of the lodge playing his guitar and softly singing made up lyrics to “Boots of Spanish Leather.” I paused to watch the light from the flames dance across his face and guitar while he played. I put down my softening stick and walked over to him, sitting down criss cross in front of him. When he finished the song, I gently took the guitar out of his hands and laid it down next to him. We met each other's gaze, and he got up on his knees. I did the same, the edged a little bit closer to him so we were facing one another, just inches apart. I grinned, giving him permission, and the next moments were a beautiful blur of grasped faces and clutched bodies as we kissed and kissed, finally giving in to the feeling in my gut telling me that this was right. While I felt the familiar guilt rear its ugly head again, I didn’t invite it to stay, and I wouldn’t let it ruin this moment too. We clung to one another, two forms glued together like they were made to fit. When we pulled away, we both beamed and blushed and he helped me up from the ground. Then I tracked his eyes as they spotted my abandoned hide and he ran over to it to make sure it wasn’t dried out and ruined. 

“You have to keep softening it,” he said, running his work-blistered hands over it. I rolled my eyes, but knew he was right. 

“Are you still going to bed?” I asked sweetly, hoping that he might just stay and finish the damn thing for me. He knew I was determined to finish it myself though, and wasn’t going to let my sore arms and tiredness rob me of that eventual satisfaction. He laughed, “Yes, I am,” and leaned in to kiss me once more, then pulled away and pushed aside the heavy bison hide that was hanging over the doorway to keep the heat in, gave me one last glance, and walked out of the Earth Lodge. I turned back to my hide and spent the next two hours softening it, humming and smiling to myself as the fire warmed my now aching back. By the time I finished it was late, the fire was long dead and I could see my breath, but the stars were bright and vast against the pitch black sky as I jogged to my tipi and nuzzled into my sleeping bag.