*This blog post was written last Friday November 14, 2014 from a cabin in Lake Arrowhead, CA. It is the first post of a series of posts written at a self-imposed writer’s retreat.*
For the past couple of months, until really recently, Id been suffering from some intense writer’s block. My blog lay dormant and unloved. My screenwriting projects sat solemnly piled on my coffee table, silently begging me to edit them. I ignored them and watched more Netflix than I care to admit to on so public a forum as this.
(Are we noticing a theme in my life, yet? Netflix may be one of the greatest Technological Wonders of the World, but addiction to it can honestly be crippling.)
I tried to get down to the heart of the matter and find out why my creative machine stopped clanking. In the end, I determined that it was equal parts exhaustion, distraction, and lack of willpower—all three also equal parts depressing. Hoping to cure all three by honing in on one, I focused my attention on escaping from distraction.
Fast forward to this weekend and a cabin in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead. I needed cheap, yet safe and comfortable, and two of my friends were willing to accompany me on my journey. Using the website AirBnB, we were able to locate a one bedroom cabin with a sleeper sofa and two inflatable mattresses (which we don’t intend to use) for just over $100/person TOTAL: 3 extended days (we are allowed to check in early and leave later because no one booked before or after us). All we needed to do was bring food (or plan to eat out at one of the many local places). Best of all, there’s no wifi in the cabin so there will be minimal surfing of the internet while trying to type.
We made the two hour trek outside of Los Angeles and found ourselves at the foot of a gigantic mountain. Silly geography-ignorant me had no idea that Big Bear/Lake Arrowhead was at the top of a horrendously tall peak (over 5,000 feet above sea level). This does not bode well for a driver who doesn’t “really do heights”.
5,000 miles above sea level later, I found myself trying to navigate curly winding roads at the edge of a cliff while also trying to catch my breath in the thinning air. I was second guessing my decision until we encountered our sweet new digs.
Holy moly. Talk about quaint, and welcoming, and picturesque.
Check out these sweet pics!
After unpacking a bit, we made a trip into “town” for some groceries, moscato wine, and blueberry beer (Lord, please never let me become diabetic because then I’d have to quit alcohol altogether).
The people in the store were more than friendly and incredibly helpful—especially Rob in the wine section and a handsome young gentleman that helped us with the beer.
Back at the cabin, we decided to tackle the fireplace. We wanted a roaring fire in which to toast our marshmallows for s’mores and because I needed ambiance to write. Two out of three of us were Girl Scouts with only one of us actually learning any camping skills (me) so I set about starting everything up.
I stacked the wood, found the matches, and went outside for kindling. That’s when I realized that it’s a lot damper 5,000 miles above sea level and most of the detritus I intended to use wouldn’t light, catch, and hold the fire. We tried, anyway, to very little success. And we were out of luck in finding something like a fire starter or lighter fluid, etc. People don’t really store that sort of thing in an area known for forest fires.
Then we noticed a small gas handle sticking out of the side of the fireplace. This was confusing for all of us as we had only previously seen a wood fireplace or a gas one (both of which I know how to operate). I quickly Googled this phenomenon with the limited cell reception I had on my phone and found out that some fireplaces have a gas pipe to help get a fire started. And then this happened.
And now, I’m sitting by the fire typing this, and other work, wondering why I didn’t make a reservation for the rest of my life.
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