Going to our cabin in Montana during the dog days of winter is always enjoyable. Well actually, being at the cabin during the winter is enjoyable, getting to it can be a bit of a crap shoot, as one never knows what the condition of the road going in is going to be until one is on the road going in.

Calling the road going into the cabin a road may be a bit of an overstatement. It’s more trail than road, a trail that only accounts for about 1.5 miles of a 350 mile journey, a short stretch that occupied a long bit of thought and concern as my good friend Paul and myself made our way west back in January.

The temperature was a concern, stuck well below the donut, it was going to take some time to put the “cozy” into the cabin upon our arrival. More concerning was the record snowfall that eastern Montana had been experiencing. Record snowfall that we were unaware of until Paul, bored of conversing with me, went Googling when we were about 50 miles from the cabin.

Concern upon concern, but we ventured on towards the unknown, with the bravado and confidence generally reserved for the moronically delusional. So it goes.

As I pondered the list of concerns, some ancient Stoic philosophy drifted into my concerned consciousness and reminded me of the dichotomy of control. The dichotomy of control simply states that there are things that we can control and things that we can’t control, and concerning ourselves with things that we can’t control is a waste of time.

What could I control regarding my concerns? I could control the pickup, stop it, turn it around, and come back when the record snowfalls gave way to record wild flowers. Paul had only completely rearranged his schedule and put in two hard days of pre-feeding his cattle and assorted ranch prep to accompany me. I’m sure he won’t mind.

I can’t control if he minds, so why should I concern myself with such a concern? Well, as the great philosopher Forrest Gump once said, “he’s my best good friend, and even I know that ain’t something you can find just around the corner.” So onward I drove, contemplating my concerns and reconciling them with that which is and that which is not under my control.

Record snowfall…nope, nostril freezing temperatures…nope. Moronically delusional it is…it’s gotten me this far.

It turns out the trail in wasn’t so bad. The cabin heated up nicely and we had an enjoyable few days of staring at the fire. Sometimes staring in silence, sometimes staring as we chatted about things we’ve most likely chatted about before, but that’s of little concern. Most things are of little concern when you’re at the cabin.

I was mildly concerned when one of the lanterns had a bit of a flare up, and had a bit more of a flare up when I tried to remedy the situation by blowing out the flame. The logistical issue with blowing out a flame is that you have to get your face close to the offending flame. Otherwise, it’s just heavy breathing in proximity to a potential concern. Safer, but not particularly useful.

The angry lantern only managed to singe about half the hair on my sparsely populated scalp, and my eyebrows were in need of a reduction in force anyway. Thankfully, Paul didn’t appear too concerned. I’d hate to disturb his R-and-R with burn care responsibilities.

What can I control? Good question, and a worthy concern.