Canada Part II: What Really Goes On, May 2013

Welcome back.  I guess I did not sicken you enough with my previous "flowery" Zen and you are back for more.  Okay then, good for me, here we go.

Since most of understanding anything that went on up here in Canada meant that you had to be here, the rest of my relating this trip to you will come in the form of what went on inside my head when I was either sleeping, eating, reading, working, or in a boat fishing 3 to 5 hours at a time.  This means that these thoughts may seem incoherent and I may never be invited back!

Disclaimer…Some of you may be offended by the nature of the content that follows…therefore, you’ve been warned.  Look away from the screen at anytime you feel is inappropriate.  This is a self-regulating blog.  Don't point the finger at me later for what you choose to read now.  (How can you not read ahead now, with that challenge?)

If you have been with a group of people (in this case, 8 guys…men’s men…studs in their own minds) for an extended period of time, in close quarters, with no escaping, things happen, things are said, and sometimes things happen and a gem comes forth.  Some are sweet, some would be at the other end of the spectrum.  Some will be explained, some will not, and some will be explained for cash only.  I’ve learned that when males are together, it doesn’t take long for maturity levels to decline, innuendo to fly, and that is when great shit happens.  This may be too much to imagine for you or maybe you just had to be here, but to me, these were some awesome moments from Fiart Island, May 2013.  Things happen on islands all across the Canadian Shield like this, or do they?  These are some things that happened on our island.

Our Anniversary:  Miki and I celebrated our 31^st anniversary together on May 29th, separately this year.  I don’t believe it is the first time, but for whatever reason, I mentally celebrated it more than I have before.  I thought about Miki and us between casting, between fishing spots, between stories sprinkled with bullshit, and between staring at my cards during cribbage, among all other waking moments of that day (and all other days too!).  It is strange not seeing her since we have been together the majority of time outside our classrooms since we met.  I miss her very much and can’t wait to see her, but I will miss those playing card substitutes.

Water:  Unless you buy it and bring it in, there is nothing to drink but water here.  My first trip here, around 10 years ago or so, we drank Labatts Canadian beer…like it was water.  Since then, my better judgment has lead me to drink water as my choice of hydration.  Normally the lake water is boiled and added to tea or a drink mix, but this year I brought a backpacking water filter, just because.  Now, I don’t know if this water only cleanse that I have self induced is responsible for my higher volume of urination or the “I pee freely” effect that has it’s visitors (mainly males I presume), peeing anywhere outdoors deemed appropriate, to help preserve the septic system, but it has certainly had a freeing affect.  

These are some things that were said over, and over, and over, and over again.

- “Sometimes you get the beaver and sometimes the beaver gets you.”

- “Now you’re just making shit up!”

- “The difference between diarrhea and the shits…diarrhea is when you get to the bathroom 

   on time and the shits is when you don’t.”   After listening to Greg fart it up one evening, we

   all agreed he had the shits.

- Retirement spending…  Greg:  “You gotta watch what you spend in retirement.”  Rodney:  “I watch Carol spend my money and she watches me spend hers.”

- “Getting our rocks off the bottom”

- “We got a hundred yards further than last year!”

Good Morning!:  It didn't take me long to realize I needed to travel with ear plugs, being the light sleeper I am.  So what kind of day do you think I was gonna have when the first sound that greeted my ears after removing my ear plugs from the overnight snore ensemble, was a fart that thundered out from an un-named corner bedroom.  I literally took both plugs out at the same time and like the simultaneous flash of light with a clap of thunder…the air vibrated with such anger that I thought the source would yelp like a dog.  That is no way to greet the day.  Then I thought, "find the positive"…it took awhile, but I came up with…at least it didn’t happen any closer than it did!  I could have been hurt.

A Bedtime Story:  We had great food interspersed with fishing, “board meetings,” a few (thousands) games of cribbage, and some spectacular sunset watching.  The one common thread each day that made this trip so enjoyable was the laughter.  We relived great stories and jokes and one night before going to bed, Rodney read to us from the book, “Small Gas Engines…How to repair and maintain them.” (which just happened to be sitting on a table between two recliners.  It was one of those rare and spontaneous moments when nothing inappropriate was said or done (just thought)…and on the surface, nothing particularly funny was said (just thought).  But it wasn’t more than a few sentences before I couldn’t see due to the tears in my eyes and uncontrollable laughter began.  It was one of those, you had to be there moments, I will never forget.  But it was shared with 7 other guys that know the exact same experience.  If you could imagine listening to how a 2 or 4 stroke engine works combined with the sophomoric humor and immaturity of an 8th grader, you might be getting a glimpse inside my head (kind of scary, I know).

Asstronomy 101:  One afternoon we were setting up a telescope (like most cabins in the middle of the north woods, miles from civilization), figuring out how it works, so we could use it to view the moon one night.  We had it almost horizontal, viewing a neighboring island to see it’s magnification, when out of nowhere a foreign body came into view that reminded the 3 of us setting it up, of the planet Uranus (pronounced the elementary student way…”Ur-anus”).  As we turned our attention from the viewfinder to see what had eclipsed our view of the island, we were shocked to have discovered it really was an anus!  Not “Ur’s,” but Greg’s anus and the rings that accompanied it.  It just so happened that His-anus came into alignment with the Fiart Island Observatory, a once in a lifetime occurrence (we hope).  The only discovery in addition to this rare and shocking site was the discovery of the two small moons that appeared to be orbiting this planetary mystery, the cousin to Uranus...named Greganus (not to be confused with Greg Louganis the Olympic diver).

Sounds of the Night:  Sure there are the stereotypical sounds you may assume go with being out in nature, away from civilization, on a lake, surrounded by forests.  Like the loon’s haunting calls in the evening that echo across the lake or the faint sounds of rushing water from Hammerhead Falls.  But the sounds I am referring to are the ones that slowly build like a steam locomotive preparing to leave the station.  First comes the heavy breathing.  Rightly so, for the hard work that is accomplished each day, both in and out of the boats!  That is followed by the inevitable, deep-throated snort, that if it doesn’t wake the snorer up, will only daisy chain onto a full blown snore-a-thon.  On those rare occasions when you have multiple gifted snorers, a symphony of snorts, blurts, smacks, and other guttural throaty sounds, temporarily fill the cabin (it is hard to spell snoring sounds, but I think you get the idea).  I won’t point fingers or name names, but we have some gifted folks on this island.  One night before putting my baton down from directing this talented group (not literally of course), three were snoring and accompanying them was someone’s heavy breathing.  At the crescendo of the piece being performed, someone farted to punctuate the third movement (pun intended) and in a pitch black cabin, in the north woods of Canada, I laughed out loud, put my ear plugs in and went to sleep. 

This last one I am taking the time to partially explain, due to the lack of maturity you might infer from anyone using the words “jack off”…

"Jacking off the crib":  You might imagine the two words, “jack off,” would bring howling laughter to middle school boys in the back of any classroom before class starts, but those two words nearly brought tears of laughter to 8 grown men (well, maybe grown boys) as they worked on raising and stabilizing the dock.  With a bit of background information, you might not think as poorly of us as you are already might.  Once the crib (mentioned above) was in place, we literally used a jack to raise the middle of the dock to rest it on top of the new crib.  The jack was set on rocks within the new crib to raise the walkway between the existing cribs.  In the planning stages and throughout the process itself, when giving directions and asking questions, “jacking off” was used innocently and necessarily so many times and each one more humorous that the one before.  I would be laughing so hard, tears became common place.  Each reference started innocently, yet was degraded almost instantly to a level of hilarity that I will remember forever.  I guess you can take the boy out of junior high, but you can’t take the junior high out of the boy.

Along that same line of thought (sorry, one more)…one morning at breakfast, the previous paragraph had just been relived (again) and another conversation had just finished about the sweet Gherkins (pickles) we had left in the cupboard, when someone began a comment with…”Sweet jerkin,’” by mistake and I almost blew my drink through my nose!

I will finish with some photos from the 15 days on and off the island.

Weighing in before loading the plane for our flight out.

Fiart Island.  You can see the red roof of the cabin on the right end.

Harvesting 6' logs for a future crib.

My friend was lucky and was given a reprieve to grow
a little more.  We shall meet again.

Rodney's birthday!  Who would have thought a Hooter's Birthday card
would arrive in the mail...on his birthday no less and end up on the cake?

Lunch!  Nuff said!

Jeff, boning up on his Assrtonomy notes before class.

Shore lunch.  MMmm  Mmm!

Fat and sassy hooligans after a shore lunch.  The boats moved a bit
slower on the way home.  Don't mean anything by that...just sayin'.

Jeff learns the camera trick of holding the fish with an out
stretched arm, as close to the camera as he can, to make the
fish appear larger than it really is.  Who knew that Northern
was only 6" long.  Good catch, Northern Slayer!

This just doesn't look right.  You would think an owner
would show a little restraint.

A fitting final farewell.

My Zen from the North Woods:  I started to wonder these last two weeks, why is it, that in general, guys feel relatively free to share bodily sounds and smells (those are the only senses I care to cover) with other guys and not feel exceptionally embarrassed about it.  Was it our junior high gym teachers that instilled this equality in us as young men...okay...young boys?  As far as I know, most women would not display this behavior written about above, if on an island and in close quarters with no escape.  I am not privy to the ways and whys of the female in this arena and at the same time, I am glad they appear to not have these behaviors (at least most of them).  I am assuming it has to do with balance.  If Miki did some of the things I do and we did them together around friends...we may not have those friends very long.  So think about what you do around others.  Appropriate or not, is there some kind of balance around that makes you tolerable?

Canada Part I: Back to Paradise, May 2013

Forgive me bloggernauts, for I have not blogged.  It has been a little over 3 months since my last posting.  So much for confessing my traveling sins or pretending I know what I am trying to mimic, but I have broken the Missouri border once again.  The blog is up and running for a few days to let you know I am heading north to Fiart Island, on Donald Lake, in Ontario, Canada.  To go to school on where this is and what I am doing here, visit the Walliebloggin’ archive (on the right side of the blog site) and look for Canada Part I, under the month of September 2011.  What I am most looking forward to is The North Star.  Astronomy be damned.  This north star is not a star at all, but a good old fashioned outhouse.  It has a view worth the 19 hours it takes me to reach it.  No better view for taking care of business.  And of course you leave the door open!

The North Star

The view...

Sample of the decor.

Jeff, my roomy, taking care of business...pondering
lures, Walleye hiding places, ways to get this photo...

If I were to post our daily activities on this trip as I have other trips, there would almost be no point after the first day or two to continue, due to the Ground Hog effect (like in the movie).  For the Cliff Notes version, it goes like this.  We awaken to the smell of breakfast wafting over the partitions that separate our bunks, prepared by Chef Ron and his trusty assistant Phil.  This varies from pancakes, to bacon and egg breakfast sandwiches on fresh rolls, to egg and sausage casserole, to French toast or whatever strikes Ron’s fancy (and you don’t ever knowingly want to strike his fancy or you could go hungry). 

Here we worship at the alter at the Temple of the Walleye.  Good eats!

After a good portion of storytelling, intermixed with a fair amount of laughter and questionable truths, thoughts turn to what color spinner will your worm rig have today.  Will you use a skinhead on that jig or a bee fart (or was that beef heart?), minnows or worms?  Walleye fishing is the reason for so many wives, families, and friends left behind in our respective hometowns, as we get farther and farther north to the Canadian border.  For about 4-5 hours each morning, 3 boats and 8 fishermen (for some of us that label is used loosely) take off from the dock in search of Walleye, which have been elusive this year.  To sustain these men’s men, each boat is to bring back two fish for lunch.  So far, so good.  But (knock on the new wooden cribbage board) we have not wanted for anything at the conclusion of each lunch, other than the daily board meeting (nap and downtime).

Shhhh!...Board Meeting in progress.

Once re-energized, the flotilla heads back out to resume search, as each boat goes about their spontaneous gut feelings as to where the fish must be now (since they weren't where we thought they were before).  For many of these guys, they have been coming up here for so many years, that they have their favorite spots or old stand-bys where they have been successful before.  But for me, I am pretty must lost if I am out of sight of the dock and every rocky shore looks like a spot I would hang out if I was a Walleye.  But this time around, new places are being explored and tested.  Evidently the word is out that the boys of Fiart are back.  And as Ron found, among the Walleye and Northern Pike, a Lake Trout of significant proportions (26 incher) can be found when you least expect it.  After an approximate 8 hour work day, we filter back to the cabin, where dinner is what you make of it.  Leftovers, sandwiches, and/or cereal complete another day of perfection.

Evening entertainment

This particular group that visits this Canadian Shield oasis, also doubles as a work detail.  Many of the more physical, maintenance endeavors are tackled by Greg’s group of rag-tag, retired old farts (the youngest being me...I know, right?).  It is an amazing accomplishment that all of us fly out that flew in together!   This time, the main dock has sagged and our focus is dock stabilization by adding a new crib below the center of the dock.  A crib is a Lincoln Log type box that is constructed of logs with metal rods in each of the 4 corners to hold it together.  Once it is floated in place, it is sunk by filling it with large rocks to hold it down and becomes the support for the dock.  The “L” shaped dock did not have the support in the long side of the “L” it required over time and has sagged to walking on water status (literally). 

Dock with dip...or was that dips on dock?  Not important.
Formulating a plan in the works...sshhh.

On the fourth day, we created a crib.  We skipped the daily board meeting after lunch and began construction from 4 and 1/2 foot logs.  These were harvested from downed trees on the island.  And after much hauling, measurement, drilling, beating on, prying, and more measurement and drilling, it went together to make one fine crib.  It was the Canadian version of “Pimp My Crib” (for those of you that are cable TV watchers).  Thanks to ancient Egyptian modes of transporting heavy objects without Cummins diesel engines or sky cranes, we used leftover logs to “roll” (and that terms is also used loosely) the crib to the waters edge, where with some persuasion it was floated to it’s new and permanent location.  There, it was weighted down to its final resting place.  That description does not describe the time, hard work, scratching heads, more prying and beating efforts that made it happen…you had to be there!  If you could cross King Tut and the Three Stooges and reproduce 8 of them, you could imagine the Keystone Cops-like activity it took to get the crib to the water’s edge, floating, and sunk.

The weather prolonged the crib construction, but there is always a plan B.  More fishing, board meetings, and cribbage are the rule, but ultimately the crib is completed and walking on the dock does not mean your feet may get wet. Cribbage is the mainstay during darkness, inclement weather, and in general…anytime you were not in the boat fishing.  The inclement part arrived on day 5 and for some reason, better judgment has determined we hunker down indoors for a while.  There is a cribbage game going most of the time and sometimes two at once.  I don’t know if the attraction to the game is the skill (or luck) innate to us fishermen or the 3 decks of sophisticated playing cards available to use, compliments of the Hooters Calendar Girls.

New improved dock without dip (or dips on it!).

It would appear that we were playing "Strip Cribbage," but what appears
to be the losing card player is merely a tad warm (as I sit in my long
sleeved shirt, with two t-shirts underneath,...I know how to play
strip cribbage...I mean dress for comfort).

A drone's view of the Man Cave within the cabin.

This brings you to the end of Part I.  Good eating has begun, fun has been established, and work is being accomplished between the two.

My Zen from the North Woods:  I am not sure if I could have imagined this before my first trip to Fiart Island, but imagine sitting on a sloping slab of granite, as small ripples of water wash up to shore below your feet.  A cool Canadian breeze freshens the warmth of your skin as it is bathed in sunshine.  The only real sounds that seems to be between you and civilization are the calls of a pair of loons, whose haunting notes echo far from down the lake, yet sound as if they are within a stones throw.  That is one of my "happy places" recently added under the file name, "As Needed."  Ignore the over dramatic use of adjectives, adverbs, or any other parts of flowery speech I am gagging you with and think of what your "happy place" is when you need it.  Do you have one?

One more sunset, just because I can.  Same horizon, different day.