A Scary Moment: Never Want to Repeat

Now as you have read in the previous blog by Crazy Joe, we had a little fire problem. I can honestly say I have never been more terrified in my life. Now I wasn't scared for my life, I was just scared by how fast it took off and how we couldn't get it under control. If you have never had the pleasure of seeing/starting a forest fire get going, pray to God that it stays that way. I really never want to experience that again. I will admit there have been times when we have had a bonfire get a little out of control but we have never had a problem with managing it.

So the Mule and I were sitting over by this little inlet, watching the Semi-Incredible Hulk sulk in their canoe, when we heard the call. I have never really heard panic in someones voice until that day. Crazy Joe's voice held a very distinct note of panic and my mind reacted to that note. Once we heard the cry for H2O we raced to the coolers and grabbed some H2O bottles. By the time the Mule and I got there with our few bottles of H2O, the fire had spread to about a six foot circle and it was growing fast. Those few bottles of H2O were so ineffective that I feel kind of bad for wasting the. Maybe if we had known how fast it was going to spread we would have grabbed something bigger but who knew it would get so out of hand.

It really didn't take us long to realize that 911 had to be called. It just got out of hand way too fast for us to do anything about it. We continues to fight it after 911 was called, stopping it from going towards our canoes became a priority. Hey by this point in was already in the field and being that there was only 6 of us I have to say we did the best we could, especially with what we had. Finally we realized that there was nothing left for us to do but wait for the firefighters to get them and fix our little boo boo.

The field that burned

Many say that when the adrenaline gets pumping in your system you can just go, go, go. Either I have a defective adrenal gland or I am way too out of shape. I was sucking air so bad and my legs felt like lead after running to the river a few times. After awhile I just stayed in the river and filled the buckets that people brought to me. I thought I was being helpful and I didn't have to run as much so that was a win win for me.

Once we stopped fighting the fire most of us grabbed H2O bottles and just sat around waiting for the firefighters to get there. It wasn't until awhile later that I heard people calling for Crazy Joe. I couldn't believe it when they told me he went to check out where the fire was headed. OK actually I could believe it. My brother has a tendency to act first and think later in some situations. (If you are reading this Crazy Joe think of the last time we were camping there and what you and Cousin Josh wanted to do. Admit it you do act first without thinking things through.) So when we finally hear him crashing through the brush/trees I am thinking he hurt himself in the fire. Boy were we all surprised to see him coming through the trees carrying a little fawn.

Seeing that he was struggling with the little guy I ran up and grabbed it out of his hands and didn't let go until the fire was under control. I was grateful that Crazy Joe wasn't hurt but I really could have kick his ass for what he did. OK I was happy that he saved the fawn but damn it, he could have been hurt.

When Make-Up Girl and Sugar Daddy came up we were starting to load up the canoes due to the fact that the fire was in a sense turning a corner and heading back towards us. I will give those two the benefit of the doubt, they probably saw us packing up our canoes and thought we were running for the fire we started. Still once we told them what had happened and how we were just being proactive due to the fire heading back they should have laid off. I am not saying we didn't f*#$-up, we did but we were also being adults about it and waiting for the proper authority to come and let us know what we had to do. I kept my mouth shut she Make-Up Girl started to go off. I knew right away there was no reasoning with them, so why should I even bother, it wasn't like they could do anything to us.

Then she went off about the fawn in my arms and then I stared to get a wee bit pissed off at them. Here we are, tired after fighting a losing battle with the fire, scared by what had happened, crashing from the adrenaline rush and then these two come flying up and start accusing us of stealing canoes (because we were from southern Minnesota, eg the cities), being on private property (it wasn't marked as such), and of what stealing Bambi from it mother. I was thinking "For Gods sake woman, get a grip! You are acting like we are the Anti-Christ come to destroy all in our path!"

Finally I said, "What do you want me to do, let it go? Fine I will let it go and it can go die in the fire, OK?" Yeah she didn't like that. There really wasn't any pleasing that woman. At least Sugar Daddy kind of settled down once we had explained what was what.

The View to the River

All in all that is one day I would Love to take back and redo. I know there isn't redo's in life but one can always wish. So once Crazy Joe gets cracking on the next part of the story I will go into why I feel like I am cursed forever on this canoe trip that I love so much. Of course this has to do with The DUCK, but that is another ball of wax I can't get into tonight.

The Birth of the Semi-Incredible Hulk and Marshal Sparky the Dick

Instead of hooking-up again we motored down the river trying to make a little time; the rumble in our tummy's egging us on. Em and I were in front and that is when we saw the strange animal attempting to cross the river. Shortly after that we came to a field, so we slowed up to allow the others to catch us.

"General," I said pointing with my paddle, "is that the field?"
He squinted, surveying the shoreline. "Is there a down tree?" He yelled back.
"Nope."
"Keep going then." Back in the water went our paddles.

It is amazing how fast people can really travel on a river if they have a decent current and keep a steady pace with paddle strokes. The shoreline zips by as the tinkling sound of the canoe's ripple compliments the sounds of nature. Within fifteen minutes of our decision to camp the field with the fallen tree came into view, a welcome site if there ever was one.

We selected a nice spot along the shore to dock our canoe. There was a small little hump of land that served a a nice stop-block to wedge our canoe into so Em could climb out and then steady the canoe as I did the same. The Mule and James went about fifty feet downstream from us and Ducking and the General came to rest about fifty feet upstream. As soon as I got out of the canoe, Em and I grabbed the front and pulled it as far out of the water as we could. We got about a fourth of it out of the water when we stopped to peel back the tarp and take a what we could of the gear out of the canoe to lighten the load; then we repeated the process. We did that until the canoe was light enough to pull all the way out of the water. Then a roar broke the tranquil sounds of nature.

The roar came from James. I turned just in time to hear him say something about "unloading"the canoe and see him try to heave a beer and liquor laden cooler almost to the shore. Missed it by that much. I looked at Em and she at me, we then turned to Duckie and the General, all four of us just shrugged our shoulders and went about unpacking our gear. This was the annual Mule and (the now newly dubbed) Semi-Incredible Hulk fight. It has happened every year since he first started coming on the trip. It is almost like tradition. There's the blow-out, the cool-down period, the make-up then everybody is happy and the party continues. It just wouldn't feel like a canoe trip if it didn't happen. Although this year it did seem to come a little earlier than usual. Usually the "argument" happens at the Doons.

After the Fight and Fire

With a good chunk of our gear already out of the canoe I grabbed myself another cold one and headed to have a little chat with the General as to where to set up camp. I had also grabbed the shovel from our canoe, the one brought along to dig up the bottle of Windsor, to use to dig our a fire-pit. The entire field was covered in long, dried out and crunchy dead grass. The General and I walked over to the fallen tree.

"I remember sitting on that tree and cooking breakfast," I said.
"Yep, and we had my big tarp stretched out over to there to provide the shade," the General reminisced. I turned around to survey a spot to dig the pit, picking one about halfway between the fallen tree and the wood line I stuck the shovel into the soft earth.
"Sure is fucking dry," I commented as I just left the shovel and took a swig from my beer.
"Yep," the General replied. "Good you have the shovel. A fire could get out of hand real quick. Let me see your lighter." I handed my blaze orange camo lighter to the General, he bent down and flicked my Bic. Instantly a tiny fire sprung to life in the dead, dry grass. I knew the General was going to burn an area to create the fire pit. Then something we didn't expect to happen, but should have having just had a conversation about it, the little fire began to spread...and quickly. I pulled the shovel from the ground and handed it to the General. He took the flat side of the blade an attempted to squelch the fire, to our horror the fire did not die, but rather spread. What was only moments ago the size of a quarter was now the size of a large dinner plate. Another swipe of the shovel blade and the fire then became the size of a trashcan lid.

"Ah," I said with a touch of terror in my voice, "I think we are going to need some water!" I yelled over to Em. "Grab the water jug!" By now the fire had grown to and area the size of our tent and getting larger by the second. The General and I began to stamp at the fire, but it only seemed to spread it. Em got there with the water and the General tried to dose the flames with the water. On one hand he did prevent the fire from spreading towards our canoes and gear, but on the other hand the other side of the fire continued to lick greedy lips at the fresh fuel and feast. When the water in the jug ran out the our gear was safe, but the fire had by then tripled in size. It was quickly approaching some low lying pine branches from a tree near the fallen one, which is an oak by the way, and they caught. A jet of black smoke shot into the sky as the snap, crackle and pop of the pine needles succumbing to the flames sounded in the air. I said a little prayer to myself, "Please Lord don't let that tree catch completely". No sooner had I finished my little prayer when the flames died out and the tree stood with a few smoldering branches, the fire, however, continued to devour the dead grass as it moved on.

Everyone was using whatever they could to put the fire out. James, or Semi-Hulk as I will refer to him for now had grabbed our green tarp in the process of coming to help fight the fire and tried to use it to smother the flames. It make have aided us if it had been a blanket, and a wet one at that, nevertheless, the only thing that happened was he helped to spread the fire and melt the tarp. I still commend him for the effort. Sometimes it is tough to think clearly when in a panic.

I don't know how I ended up with it, but I had my small utility tote in my hand and was dipping water out of the river to fight the flames. I had tried to use the water jug, but it proved too slow in the filling process to be effective. I think Duckie and the Mule had grabbed the mess kit tote, dumped the contents and were using that for the fight. I recall Em asking if she should call 911, but in my eternal optimism I said no. I had a slight hope that we could get the situation under control and no one had to get in trouble for the damage being caused. However, within thirty seconds reality finally set in and I new we had a snowball's chance in hell of containing the fire. By now the fire had consumed and area the size of a baseball diamond infield an only getting bigger...oh how fucked we were.

This was our trail of water, showing where we were trying to fight the blaze.

"Call 911," I said in a defeated voice. "There is nothing we can do." I hung my head. In a selfish way I was happy that I hadn't started the fire, but I was feeling really bad for my uncle whom I love dearly. Again I prayed to the Good Lord to just let the fire consume the grass, don't let it serve as a catalyst for a forest fire.

We continued to fight the fire the best we could as the General made the call for help. At one point I had to stop fighting to grab the map so he could tell the operator the name of the road that crossed the last bridge we went under, it was County Road 42. I gave him the information and went back to fighting the fire, a futile attempt if there ever was one. Before long I stopped and dropped to my knees, sweating and panting from lack of breath. The fire had now grown to half the size of a football field, showing now signs of slowing and getting closer and close to the tree line. My God, what have we done.

We made our way back over the scorched earth towards our canoes. Gear from emptied totes littered the sea of dead grass. I righted my cooler and started to refill it with its emptied contents, trying to save as much of the ice as I could. The rest of the crew just stood in amazement at the power of the fire. Having finished refilling my cooler I cracked open a fresh beer and stared into the smoke filled sky.

"There's a plane," someone from the group yelled and pointed towards the south. Five minutes had passed, maybe a little more, in any case, I was impressed by the response time. The plane had to be the spotter because it began to circle our location. The fire had grown to the size of a football field and was now creeping into the treeline. I noticed that it had gone through several clumps of smaller trees that dotted the field, but hadn't burned much more than the dead stuff that was less than three feet high, so this added a glimmer of hope that the forest itself may not catch.

Still in a bit of shock from the events that were transpiring I did something that may or may not have been one of my greatest decisions of my life. I made the choice to take a meander through the burned area and check out where the fire was going. The field had a peninsula of trees that came out to a little past the fallen oak, and then curved back around to the north. I could see the fire through the trees as it moved that direction. I wanted to see how far the field went and what was back there. Off I went on my investigation.

As I rounded the peninsula I say to terror, and relief, that the fire was headed towards a swamp. Swamps had water, but because of our late spring, this one also had a lot of dead grass. At least the water may slow its progress. Then a movement caught my eye.

Focusing on the movement I saw that it was a tiny fawn, not much bigger than a large cat. It had hunkered down in between some trees which the fire was quickly closing in on. I surveyed the landscape for the mother, but didn't see anything but fire and more fire. Looking back at the fawn the fire was mere feet away. Then I did something stupidly heroic. I took off at a dead run for the fawn. Jumping the flames I landed next to the clump of trees, scooped up the fawn in my right arm, my left still held my beer, and took off through the woods back towards the canoes. The fawn began to bleat for its mother.

The grove area where at all started

By this time everyone was getting a little excited at my disappearance, especially Em and my sister. They had been calling for me to come back since I had first saw the fawn, but my concentration on the rescue prevented me from responding. I didn't want the little guy to burn up because of our lack of common sense. Nevertheless, as I made my way through the trees I called back that I was OK.

I emerged from the woods, with the fawn still bleating, to wide-eyed looks from the group. Duckie came up and snatched the fawn from my arms and asked where I had got it. I quickly relayed the story as I petted the little guy. I could tell from the way the spots lined up that it was a male. He continued to bleat for his mother, but seemed to relax a little in my sister's arms, almost like he knew that he was no safe from the flames.

The wind then shifted and the fire stated to move towards the peninsula, which was back towards the river where our gear and canoes were landed. The General suggested that we get out shit loaded back into the canoes just in case we had to make a quick getaway back onto the river. Without tying our gear in, or worrying about how the shit was balanced, we stuffed our gear back into the canoes, praying we didn't have to launch.

Suddenly the sound of a boat motor started to drown out the crackling fire as a john-boat with two people, a male and a female, came roaring down the river. They docked their boat between ours and Semi-Hulk's, then got out. Being from the area I instantly recognized the gal, but was a little unsure who the dude was, but I had an idea. The gal was wearing enough make-up to make Tammy Fay Baker jealous and the dude was easily twenty years her senior. In light of that we will call them Make-Up Girl and Sugar Daddy.

They started up with questions that we all expected. What happened? Who is in charge? What were we doing on private property? The General started to explain everything and even showed them our shovel and ax when the didn't believe that we had the tools to make a fire pit and contain a camp fire. Then Make-Up Girl asked where we were from. Duckie and I didn't say anything, however, when the General said he was from down south she commented that if figures people from the urban area of the state would come up an act like we owned the place. Most of us took that as an insult because we never intended for the fire to happen and that when we do this trip we take the utmost care in making sure that we leave a place in better condition that we found it, always have, always will.

Then Make-Up Girl noticed that Duckie was holding the fawn. She asked, "what the hell is that?" as she pointed at my sister. Duckie tried to tell the story of how I saved the fawn, but the bitch tried to make it out like we had kidnapped the deer and we were trying to take it as a pet. In hindsight I wished I would have said, "the fawn was going to be our supper, why do you think we started a fire. Fawns are tender and taste a lot like veil." Then she took out a pen and paper to take down the licence numbers on the canoe and saying that we were all fugitives and had probably stole the canoes from someone up-river. I thought to myself, "yeah right lady. We lugged four hundred pounds of gear through the woods to steal some canoes and a deer all because we were from the cities."

We were thinking that the land we were on was Sugar Daddy's, but learned that it was their neighbors. He had said something to Em and she said something back, then he said that if the land had been his he would have hung her. This really made my hackles stand up on end. I could understand why they were upset, who wouldn't be, however, we didn't run from the fire, we stuck around and called in for help, we had attempted to fight it, basically we were taking responsibility for our actions and didn't justify their insults. I then looked at Sugar Daddy and said, "dude I'd cut your fucking throat before you even got a chance to tie the noose." Looking back it was a dumb thing to say, but I was getting pissed at their false assumptions. All of us are good people that made a dumb choice...shit happens.

Another shot of that grove, you can see where we did stop it

About that time a firefighter dressed in yellow came walking through the smoke that smudged our surroundings. Instantly Make-Up Girl ran to him followed by Sugar Daddy and the General. I'm unsure as to what was said, but when Make-Up Girl walked away, she looked even more pissed off than before. I later learned she tried to get the General arrested by the fireman, but he said that he was only their to fight the fire and there wasn't anything he could do to take the General into custody. The General talked a little more with the firefighter, I'm sure he was just filling him in on the facts of the situation, which was the most important topic at the moment. Then the General rejoined us, walking up to Sugar Daddy and Make-Up Girl, who were still ranting about the fawn and the rest of us being the scum of society.

The General tried to reason a little longer with them, but his words were falling on deaf ears. The he noticed that they didn't have any life jackets in their boat or a visible fire extinguisher, as per the law in our great state, so he took down their boat information. This really pissed them off so they got back into the boat and took off upstream. We waved as they sped by, we were all happy to see them leave. They didn't need to add to the stress we were all under.

Shortly after Sugar Daddy and his woman left, the helicopter showed up. Below it hung a basket that looked to hold at least a hundred gallons or more. It swooped right down between the shorelines and dipped the bucket into the brown flowing waters, kicking up a mixture spray of wind and water; the sound of the engine reverberated back and forth against trees, making it sound louder than an AC/DC concert...then the pilot hit the gas. I had to hold my hat on my head as the accelerated force of the wind and water slammed into me. We watched as the helicopter climbed into the air, forcing the full bucket out of the water.

The Helicopter scooping water from the river

We couldn't see where it dropped that first load; my only guess is that it was where the worst part of the fire burned. Then it came back for another dip. Over and over we watched in amazement as the helicopter came in to take more salvation from the river that has given us, as well as many others, so much enjoyment over the years. Little by little, which was probably more like yards, the fire was extinguished by the two pilots, who's concentration never wavered. They kept the fire from coming through the peninsula, which kept us from having to do an emergency launch.

When the fire was close to being out, the General got a call from the local Conservation Office. He instructed us to proceed up stream to the bridge where we could meet him. Back to our canoe's we went. We preped them for launch; which basically meant that we launched them as they were, poorly packed. Yet we stopped along the shore less than a hundred feet from where we had originally landed; the General had gotten another call saying that we should stay put and Bob, the Conservation Officer, would come to us.

We stayed in the canoes because an all terrain vehicle on a track pulled up to the river with four or five fireman to fill the water tanks. The machine looked to be brand new, there was hardly a sign of wear and tear, and the firemen looked to be in good spirits. While dedicated to their job, their demeanor sort of told us that the fire was under control and they didn't have a major incedent on their hands. We breather a collective sigh of relief.

After ten minutes or so we decided to rel-and the canoes and wait for Bob on the shore. Our wait wasn't long when he showed up with a fireman at his side.

The General answered all of Bob's questions, even the one about the fawn. He agreed that I probably shouldn't have gone through the flames as a risk to my own safety, but he wasn't upset either. He was very cordial about the whole thing and was glad that we had shone some backbone and took responsibility for what had happened. He informed us that we had burned fifteen and a half acres of grass land and that the forest was for the most part safe.

Bob left us with a warning, but also said that this isn't going to be over; we still have to deal with the person that own's the land. As I learn more about the repercusions of our actions, I will update.

Crazy Joe in the charred field

Sometime during the corse of events I said we needed to give the General a new nickname. I suggested Smokey The Dick, but someone suggested we call him Fire Marshal Dick. We finally setteled on Sparky The Fire Marshal.

Even though we were happy that the fire didn't consume any of the major forest, we still held heavy hearts. Unsure of what to do we did the only thing we knew, we climbed back into our canoes and kicked off back into the river and headed down stream.

To Be Continued...until then I will remain...Crazy Joe

We now have MUSIC!!!!

OK we now have a play list for the blog so if you give me an idea of what you want on hear I can get it. There is a theme right now if you haven't guessed. It has something to do with fire. So think of your favorite songs dealing with fire and let me know. I will get them on for you.

We're Back and Blue...(part II)

As you may have well noticed that some of the nicknames have changed during the course of the most recent excursion down the Bigfork, as you continue to read the log of our journey you will learn why.

There is something about canoeing a river that can't be explained, it just has to be experienced to truly understand. It is a quiet, peaceful beauty that takes hold both inside and outside the body. Gliding across the serene waters, being pulled along only by the use of a couple of paddles and the current itself makes a person feel like they are slipping back a little in time to when life wasn't full of the hustle and bustle we endure most days. Simply put, it is a tiny slice of Heaven.

That is the emotion that grips me each year the crew takes to the river. When the initial yearly chatter about how the canoe is centered or why we didn't allow ourselves a decent amount of leg room for the journey dies out, we drift along in silence for a short while, drinking in the moment. "Then the General says, "This is what I live for." Everyone chimes in their approval and we toast to the moment with a sip from our brew.

Crazy Joe and The General enjoying the River

It takes about an hour before the houses start to thin out and we begin to enter patches of wooded areas. The houses we pass aren't new to the world, many of them a house 2nd, 3rd and even 4th generation families. It is always fun to imagine what it would be like to own a house on the river. Someone, usually me, always makes a comment on about stealing one of the river boats to help the General lighten his load. Swampy areas also dot the shore line on the Bigfork and almost always kicks up a duck or two. This year Em and I had a beautiful green-headed mallard fly about five feet away from the canoe. It was gone around the corner before Em had a chance to pull out the camera and snap a shot. Once in a while we will startle a deer, or most likely it will startle us. This year Em and I came across a strange, yet very large creature attempting to swim across the river. While Em was pulling out the camera I was trying to paddle as quietly as possible to close the distance between us and the mystery animal. It got halfway across the river before noticing us, then it turned and went back to the shore from which it come. We weren't able to get close enough to see what it was, but Em did get a picture. By the time we reached the spot where we saw it, it was gone. In hindsight we should have stopped by the shore and checked for prints to determine what it was, but we didn't. I thought it looked like an elk, but that is probably very unlikely. It could be a young moose by its coloring, or maybe even a bear. We will probably never know, just another mystery on the Bigfork.

Emily not wanting her picture taken.

After that first hour we did the traditional hook-up where we tie all the canoes together and just float the river and drink some beer. This is one of our favorite things to do on the trip. Not only does it make the canoes stable enough to stand up in a stretch the legs or hang them over the sides in the cooling waters, but also allow the bullshit to really fly. James, the General and I were all the pilots this year, which is pretty much standard, nevertheless, we started to pass the Jagermeister back and forth. James and I had already done a couple of shots with some Red Bull so we were feeling pretty good. The girls didn't join in on the shots, they were content to just drink their beer. Em had a couple of Mt. Dews before she started to take part in the festivity's.

We separated when we got to the Rice Rapids. Duckie and the General went first. They had a little trouble at the middle of the rapids, a nice sized rock got in their way and threw them a little of course. Em and I we second, and took a route a little to their left, Em was right, it was a mistake. We hit a different rock, got turned a little sideways, then backwards. Before we new it, we were wedged between two rocks, facing backwards. I yelled back to James and the Mule to take the route to the far left. When we got stuck, I saw that it was the best way to take rapids. And you wouldn't fucking believe it, but James and the Mule made it with no problem, as did Duckie and the General, us on the other hand, we were fucked.

The Mule glad shes dry

We got the canoe stable to the point we wouldn't tip, then we attempted to push off the rocks to get the nose pointed back in the right direction. But no matter what we did, we couldn't move the canoe but a foot or two in either direction. The current was too strong to move the canoe upstream and this stupid rock prevented up from moving the nose down stream. I even switched to my back-up paddle, which was a small all wood paddle, for added strength to push off the rocks...still nothing. Having been in this situation before, I knew exactly what I had to do, hop out of the canoe, turn it back down stream and hop back in without flipping. If the weather had been nicer I would have had shorts on, however, on that day I was in my jeans. I took everything out of my pockets, secured them on top of my cooler and hopped out of the canoe. The river's temperature was enough to cause a little shrinkage, but overall not as bad as I thought it was going to be. With little to no trouble I got the canoe turned and got back in, then we got stuck again, since I was wet I once again jumped out. This time I got us set for good, I didn't want to have to do this again because I was bringing a lot of water back into the canoe with me. We did have all our gear we needed to keep dry in dry-bags, but having a couple of gallons of water sloshing around the bottom of your canoe just plain sucks. We shot the rest of the rapids without incident. When we got to the end, there was the rest of the crew cheering us on and snapping pictures of our arrival. Being stopped we made a quick rest stop so people could relieve themselves, then back down the river we went.

It didn't take long for us to hook the canoes back up again, as we did I made myself a portable bilge pump from an empty beer can and began to bail our canoe.

Down the river we floated, the outside canoes took turns paddling to keep us from running into low lying branches or snags hanging out in the water. Snags I can handle, but its the low lying branches I hate to go under. Simply because I hate fucking spiders, and they love to hang out in those branches. Every year some asshole has to shake a branch we come to close to in hopes of knocking a big ol'hairy spider into my canoe. When they sometimes succeed, I swat at the damn thing with my paddle as I cures them out like a salty old sailor. Pricks.

"The moment came as it comes to all when I had to answer nature's call" - Tom Paxton Talking Vietnam Potluck Blues

During Em's brother's first two years on the trip, he soloed the entire trip in a shorter canoe. This was great when we hooked up because if someone had to take a leak they would just crawl across the canoes and into his; he would then take them to shore. Once they were done, he would bring them back to their canoe. This year we didn't have that option. I came prepared by bringing myself along a one liter Mt. Dew bottle for relieving myself. The General and James have perfected the art of standing and kneeling on the gunwall of the canoe, (only when connected in the group) and peeing that way. Neither of these option were really available to any of the girls, yet they did come up with a way of "going" while we were all grouped-up. We had a small wash-bin in the front of our canoe, and that became their "portable john". Em and the Mule had great success with this new system, Duckie on the other hand kept getting stage fright. No matter how much she had to go, she couldn't. Each time she finished trying she would say, "I just need to drink another beer, then I can do it". Never happened. Eventually we had to disconnect so the General could take her to shore to do her duty.

Semi-Incredible Hulk, probably singing

By the time everyone got back on the river I had had time to take a good look at the map and access just how far along we were on our journey. We had planned to make it all the way to the Busti Camp Site, but we had spent a lot of time hooked-up, so we didn't make the best of time. We had gone a long ways, but it was getting close to 3:00 PM and we were getting hungry. If we continued with our plans it would be between 5:00 and 5:30 by the time we reached the camp, much less set up camp, start a fire and cook our grub. I then threw out the suggestion of stopping at the same spot we did a couple of years back and camp there. By my calculations it would be only a mile or so down the river. Then we would have a little more time on the river the following day and be a little more sober before we went through the Highway One Rapids. The General and I had a short discussion on the topic and offered the choice up for a vote. It was unanimous, we would stop and camp in the little field we did back in 2002.

To Be Continued...until then I will remain...Crazy Joe

We're Back and Blue...

Well all, we are back from our Thirteenth Annual Memorial Weekend Canoe Trip; the trip didn't go the way we planned. It started out great, Duckie, The Mule, Mule's Man, Em and myself assembled Thursday night at my parent's cabin. We got all our gear ready that night, to save time getting things just right for loading into our canoes the following morning. I even went as far as to pack, and repack all of our gear in our canoe to make sure everything had the perfect spot for the trip. The key to loading a canoe is to keep your gear low and balanced. Canoes can become very tippy if they are loaded wrong. This can become quite a problem when attempting to shoot any rapids because if you gear is too high, the canoe become top-heavy, if the gear is too heavy one one side or the other, it can throw off the balance and make the canoe lean towards the heaviest side.

After our gear was set to go, we celebrated The Mule's birthday and the happy couples recent wedding with some terrific fried chicken and a coupe of bottles of wine, then it was off to bed.

My anticipation was so high that I barely slept a wink that night. Em and I had to get up a tad earlier so we could bring my dad to work that morning. I did this so he could then pick up my truck after work, thus leaving none of our vehicles in the town of Bigfork. I whipped up a couple of fried eggs and a few slabs of toast for my breakfast, Em wasn't hungry, so she just had Mountain Dew. By the time I was done eating, the rest of the gang were up and preparing thier breakfast before the trip. Then my Dad, Em, and I took off in my Explorer with two of our canoes in tow.

We dropped the Old Man off at work and headed for the public access to the Bigfork River, before we had gone a mile from the hospital, problem number one arose. As Em and I crossed the Rice River bridge, I rolled my window all the way down and stuck my head halfway out, something was wrong, the trailer was making a funky grinding noise.


"Do you hear that," I asked Em. She paused in the middle of a puff on her smoke.

"No, what is it?"

"I think a bearing is going out on the trailer."


Sure as shit, the moment I took the corner next to the Bigfork Village Hall, the bearing cover popped off and tinged down the road way. I stopped and picked up the bearing cover, thinking to myself on what I was going to do. I knew the trailer was in no shape to make the seven miles back to Effie and I didn't want to leave it sitting at the landing because there wasn't a lot of parking. Being that it was the start of Memorial Weekend, I didn't want to be rude.

Nonetheless, I decided to continue with the plan to leave by 9:00 AM, it was only 6:45, so I had time to come up with a solution.

We got to the landing and I backed the trailer down to the water to unload the canoes and our gear. Em worked on unpacking the Explorer and I got the canoes off the trailer. When that was done, Em took a walk to the local gas station for some hot coco and to use a modern bathroom for one last time. I was going to pull the truck up and start loading our canoe.

As I mosied down the ramp I came across a horrible sight, while pulling the Explorer and trailer up to the parking area I ran over my good can cooler, crushing it flat. With a few choice words I picked it up and chucked it into the garbage bin. "At least I brought a back-up," I said to myself.

Shortly after Em returned, Ducking, The Mule and her man showed up in Duckie's Durangoo, smiles hanging out of the windows. She backed it down the ramp and we all pitched in to get it unloaded. Then like a well oiled machine, we set about get our canoes situated, waiting for the General to arrive.

At a quarter after seven, I started to get a little worried that we would once again miss our departure time, the General wasn't there yet. He told me the night before that he would either be waiting for us at the landing when we arrived or he would be there by seven. At 7:32, the General pulled up in his navy blue Suburban with his yellow canoe strapped to the top. I gave him the traditional meet and greet of a handshake and the phrase, "we made it again", we started to unload his canoe and gear.

By 8:00, Duckie and the mule were headed to the gas station for our last stocking of ice and the General had the makings of what looked like a green baby hippo laying in the middle of his canoe.

"I thought we were going to down-size this year?" I joked.

"I did," the General replied with a slight grin.

"I guess, last year's hippo was twice that size." I shook my head.

"It's all in how you pack your gear."



While we were waiting for the General, I had got in contact with my Dad and told him about the bearing. He told me to take it over to a friend's house and leave it there; he would take care of it when he got off work. However, as I expected, he stopped in on a mail run to check out the stituation while the girls were on the ice run. The problem of the trailer was solved and we were still on track to leave at 9:00.

Once all the coolers had their fresh ice in them and all the gear was securly tied and bungeed into the canoes, Duckie, Em and The Mule took off for Effie in the trucks, two to be left at the folk's home and one to bring them back. As I said before, Dad was going to use that one to get home after work.

They got back to the landing with fifteen minutes to spare, The General was finishing up with some minor adjustments to his gear, The Mule and her man, James, were doing the same. Our gear was all tied in and covered in a blue tarp to help keep things dry and my new diamond willow paddle was reading for its maiden voyage. By 9:00, Em and I were pushing off from the shore, Mule and James were getting ready to do the same, and Duckie and the General were still adjusting varios items, still the same old General.

The First Launch of the Weekend

As with every year, the initial launch of the trip was a harrowing, sitting in a canoe was a little different because they always feel tippy at the start. Both Em and I agreed that it felt like the canoe was leaning towards the left. It baffled me because I could not come up with what would be throwing off our balance. I dismissed it and cracked open a beer. I was probably just the fact that we hadn't sat in a canoe for almost two years and needed to get back our river legs, or butts if you will. As Em and I drifted under the Bigfork Bridge, praying we didn't get shit on by the hundreds of barn swallows that call the bridge home, I snuck a glance back at the rest of the canoe. Both canoes were in the river, the trip had officially begun. I smiled and took another swig from my beer. Life was good.

To Be Continued...until then I will remain...Crazy Joe

Twenty Hour To Go And Counting...

Woo! Hoo! We are almost ready to head for the cabin to meet up with Duckie, The Mule and Mule's Man. The shit is all packed, repacked and packed one more time just to make sure we didn't forget anything. This is by far the longest day of the year, but the trip is well worth the wait. Have a great Memorial Weekend...until I return I will remain...Crazy Joe

Almost Ready

Well Crazy Joe has written some stories about our past trips. I have given you an idea about what it takes to prepare for one of our adventures.

So starting on Fri we are off on another trip down the Bigfork River. We are all excited and thrilled to be off again this year, being that we missed canoeing last year. As in Crazy Joe's last blog we will be in the hunt for the elusive bottle. The idea this year is to place the glass Jameson bottle in a PVC pipe with caps and bury that, this way the bottle doesn't shatter when the frost comes in this winter. I can't wait to be on the river with friends and family, sitting back, having a few brews, listening to toons and not having a worry in the world. So until we get back on Monday the blog will be at a stand still but the stories will be in the process of being made. So stay tuned we will be back before you know it.

The Secret of the Bottle

When my sister and I were younger we would go and stay at our grandparents for for a week or so during the summer vacation from school. One year we came up with the idea to bury a hidden treasure somewhere in the farm's grove of trees, and then the following year on our visit try to locate the hidden booty. I remember that I buried a few quarters in an empty air rifle pellet box. It was the perfect little chest to hide my meager coins. I picked a spot near a young oak tree that had split about three feet up to form a huge peace symbol. The perfect marker to help me find my treasure. I'm not sure where Duckie hid hers because one of the rules was to not let the other know where they hid their treasure. This was done out of fear that the other would go find and steal their treasure. Brother/Sister rivalry, you know.
The following year when we made our annual visit and I went to go find my hidden bounty, I found to my horror that my Grandpa had cleared out that section of the grove for one reason or another. To this day my three quarter, four dime, a nickle and a dozen pennies lays hidden in the soil of the old farm. I believe Duckie had found hers, but she never did tell me where her hiding spot was located.
On the year that Duckie and I were the only ones to take the trip, 2001, we reminisced about the old days when we still lived at home with Mom and Dad. Somehow we got on the topic of the hidden treasures from the days of the old farm when one of us suggested we do something like that again, only this time bury the hidden treasure somewhere out here, at the Doons.
At first I suggested we bury a notebook we could dig up every year and write down tales of our adventures on the river. We both liked this idea, but weren't quite sure what to bury the notebook in to protect it from the elements. A little cooler was mentioned and then a metal box. One of us even threw in the idea of buying a home fire safe box, but neither of us wanted to spend that kind of money on a notebook protector. Then it came to one of us; instead of burying a notebook we should bury a bottle of our favorite whiskey...Windsor.
On the following year of the annual canoe trip, be brought along a 1.75 liter bottle of Windsor. Since the Doons are the only constant as to where we camp every year, it was to be the place we would bury the booze.
That evening, when the first signs that the sun was going to be setting soon we pulled the bottle from the cooler, grabbed the shovel that was brought specifically for this purpose and took off down that trail that leads north from the hill top camp site. We went alone, this was going to be our own private tradition.
We travel a hundred yards or so and then took an old beaver skid trail down towards the river, the crashing sound of the water grew as we neared its shore. We looked around for a suitable spot to bury the bottle. It was decided that we should move away from the shore because if we were to have another year like 2001, the burial spot wold be submerged beneath the rumbling Bigfork. Moving to a level spot between the hill and the river we found the perfect location. After clearing away dead leave and musty moss I tore into the soft earth with the shovel; I stopped when the hole was a foot deep and large enough to accommodate the shiny brown bottle. Cracking it open we each took a mighty swig, no wash mind you, sealed it back up and tossed it into the freshly dug hole. We carefully replaced the dirt, moss and leaves, attempting to leave no trace that we had been there. Then we went back to the camp.

I Knew Right Where IT Was

That evening TBD carved a tiny sapling into what looked like a pencil. Duckie said it would be the perfect marker for our bottle, so TBD gave it to her to place before we left the Doons the following day. The crew then proceeded to get just totally shitfaced and enjoy our time at the greatest camp site in Northern Minnesota.

Proud of The Damn Thing

The week following the canoe trip I got a phone call from Duckie, she explained how when she was unpacking her camping gear she came across the "pencil" TBD carved. The same one we were going to use as our marker. It seems we celebrated a little harder than we thought.

When we arrived at the Doons the next year we set off for out bottle after we had gotten camp all set up for the evening. The topic of the bottle was hot that years as it was the first year we were going to dig it up, take our annual swig and set her back in the grave for another year's worth of aging.

We trampled up and down the bank for a good twenty minutes, checking here, checking there and even arguing about which beaver skid trail we should take. Duckie was right, it was closer to camp than I thought. We had to dig a few holes before we found the sweet spot. Then, before our eyes, the dirt gave way an our bottle was unearthed. We each took a horn, took a picture with the bottle and chucked her back into the hole. However, this time I brought an ax and marked the tree closest to the bottle.

The next year we didn't make it to the Doons because of the Curse of the Yellow Rubber Duck, but that is a story for another day.

We have been to the bottle a couple more times, but missed last year because of the low water level in the river, that however, didn't stop us from having another adventure with the gang. This year when we visit the bottle's grave we are going to replace it with a bottle of a finer whiskey, Jameson.

We found it Again!!

This will be my last entry until we return on Memorial Day. Until then I remain...Crazy Joe

The Backyard

Like I said before, in the beginning we took the bare minimum for gear. Yet like the seasons in Minnesota, things always change. When the General became a regular on the trip he always seemed to have some new item or gadget that made the time canoeing and camping a lot easier. There is a saying on the trip now, "If you don't have it, ask the General because he probably has two." The saying is more often true than not.

During the last few days I have been making my lists for this years trip. Here are the things Emily and I will be putting into our canoe this year.

Two people with life jackets - A must have not only for legal reasons but also to keep your ass afloat if you happen to fall out in the rapids. It has only really happened once.
Two to Three boat cushions - Canoe butt sucks
Two Large Coolers - One for beer and the other will be either half bottled water and half soda, or it will be the cold food cooler.
One Large Tote - In this we are going to put two sleeping bags, our tent, shaving kit and clothes. The sleeping bags and clothes will be in dry bags and the tent will be triple bagged in garbage bags.
Three Lanterns - We like to light the night.
The Coleman Stove
One ten pound propane cylinder with a (T) attachment for either two stove burners or two lanterns, or one of each.
Six Gallon Jug of Fresh Water - One can never take too much water.
One compact folding table - Another archaic piece of camping gear from 1978. But it is light and works great.
Three Tarps - For this, that and the other.
Three Paddles - This year I will be using a paddle that has a black hard plastic blade, from a paddle I broke a few years ago, with a custom diamond willow handle. This was a gift from Grandpa to me this year. I will make sure to have pictures of it up on this blog ASAP.
Two Chair-in-a-bags - This have been a staple ever since Duckie went on the trip. It sure beats using a cooler.
One Utility Pack - With every thing from Bug Drug to bungee cords, extra tent stakes to nylon cord. I have all kinds of items that go in here to aid with the trip, way too many to name.

There maybe some other odds and ends that will go into our canoe, but that really isn't truly decided until the mourning we load all the shit into our water crafts. I also have a tote that is filled with cooking items, such as two large pots for boiling water, a smaller pot for beans and a fifteen inch frying pan, all the cooking utensils, cutting board, knives, griddle, can opener, coffee pot, various spices, dish soap, scrubby pads, pot holders and so on and so forth. I'm not sure if this is going in the General's canoe or the Mule's.

I do know the General will also have a table in his canoe, however, his isn't as compact or light as mine. His own ten pound propane cylinder, the stereo, chain saw, although this year we are going to encase it in a sealed five gallon bucket. Last time we took the chainsaw it got a tad wet and we had a hell of a time trying to get it going. A horse-shoe kit, always a camp favorite. Two lanterns of his own. Two coolers and possibly the dry food tote. The General also has a mobile grilling great the my cousin Tallywacker made for him out of stainless steel one year. It is a great set up and makes grilling steaks or burgers a breeze. He also has a utility pack filled with all kinds of strange wonders, most of which we tend to need on the trip. Can you believe that one year we had our rain tarp rip and the General just so happened to have a grommet repair kit in his utility pack. He made one hell of a Boy Scout.

In recent years I have considered buying a portable shower for the trip, but then I get to thinking about the ritual bathing in the Muldoon rapids. There is a calm spot on the Muldoons that is perfect for taking a much needed bath while on the trip. The water is still very swift, but extremely cool and refreshing. On the second day at the Muldoons we take turns at this spot to freshen up and prepare for one last night of hard core partying. I think it is going to be a few years before we buy that shower, if ever at all.

As you can see we take along just about everything you can possible imagine on this trip. The General once brought along a small TV so we could all watch the video from the previous year. We truly don't want for anything on the trip, which sometimes makes it out like a camp out in a backyard. Nevertheless, something is always forgotten...I wonder what it will be this year.

Well it is time for me to go round up some more gear. Only sixty one hours to go before the scheduled launch from the Bigfork landing. Until next time I remain...Crazy Joe

Only 2 Days, 11 Hours & 11 Minutes Until Launch

Well the food shopping is done. What a relief it is knowing that I now only have about 101 things left to do instead of 151. Now as mentioned in Crazy Joe's previous blog when he first started to go in this trip booze was the most important item to bring. Basically it was the bare essentials with a ton of alcohol. Nowadays we still bring a lot of alcohol. (The Mule and her man brought along five, no wait I think it was six cases of beer one year.) So like I said booze is a must. Yet we do bring along more things than we really need. but hey it's our trip so we can bring whatever we want right.

SO as I have said food it bought and ready to go now it comes time for the other things. Here is a list of what we deem necessary for this trip:

1. Canoe - how can you canoe without one of these
2. Paddles - steering is a little hard without these bad boys, some have found out when they lose them
3. Tarps - to cover the gear in the canoes and to place under the tents to keep them dry
4. Coolers - need to keep the alcohol cold somehow
5. Tent - sleeping under the stars may sound romantic but do you know how cold it can get and how many bugs are out there?
6. Sleeping bag - way better than blankets on a cold night
7. Air mattress - if you don't have one of these there will almost always be a rock right under your back
8. Pillow - comfort item but I sure do appreciate it
9. Lanterns - we usual have about 6 going at night, the drunk have to see where they are going otherwise it is not very safe for us
10. Rain Gear - there have been time we haven;t needed it but I would rather carry it along just in case than have to spent the night wet, no matter how drunk I am
11. Warm Clothing - this can be jeans and long sleeve shirts to hoodie sweatshirts and long johns, when the sun goes down it can get really cold
12. Summer Clothing - I'm talking about tank tops, shorts and swimsuits, we go through rapids that are bound to get you wet
13. Sandals - not the cute kind that just slip on, we had a cousin that had on leather sandals the Year of the Duck, you need ones that can get wet and won't fall off in the water
14. Tennis Shoes - these are for the camping portion of the trip, at night you want dry, warm shoes on your feet
15. Sunscreen - every year we bring this along to prevent burning, yet every year there are some pretty crispy people at the campsites
16. Bug Spray/Skeeter Beater - the mosquito's come out at night and if it has rained look out, they might just carry you off
17. Camp Stove - hey you need something to cook on right
18. Cooking Utensil's - we are talking pots, pans, spatulas, spoons, knifes, tongs, can openers, everything but the kitchen sink (we haven't figured how to get than one in the canoe yet)
19. Camp Table - yes we bring a table there isn't too many of them just sitting out in the woods
20. Radio/CD Player/CD's - music makes the world go round and it also makes floating down the river so cool
21. Camera - this is my main item, you must capture the moment otherwise you might forget
22. Camcorder - we had one of these one year and got to capture the Mule and her man going down the Muldoons backwards, another story another time
23. Chainsaw - yes we have brought this along, unfortunately it got a little wet when we swamped the canoe, but that is another story
24. Canoe Partner - this may seem kinda dumb but trying to solo a canoe is a lot of work and being one who has lost their partner almost every year, (not lost lost, lost as in can't go anymore, won't go anymore or finds a new partner), this can be a pain in the you know what
25. Propane Tanks - these are the little ones for the lanterns, you need about one a night for every lantern you have

This is just the things I can remember as of right now. There are probably over a dozen things that I have forgotten but someone always brings them. So now imagine a normal sized canoe that will be hauling two people and all their crap in that one canoe. Basically double all the things on this list and imagine it in one canoe. Doesn't seem possible does it? I can guarantee you that it is possible, we do it every year.

From Backwoods to Danm Near Backyard

The first couple of years of this tradition we took the bare minimum for gear. The crew for the trip in 1996 include Brother John (my uncle) and Stuball, (pronounced Stew-Ball), Snakes, (my best friends younger brother) and myself. Stuball and my uncle were in one canoe and Snakes and I were in the other. Out journey that year took us from the town of Bigfork to the bridge in Craigvill, a thirty mile jaunt downstream.

Being that this was a river trip, most of us knew some of the basics. Things like, make sure all clothing, sleeping bags and tents were double or triple bagged to prevent soaking. Always take an extra paddle just in case one is lost or broke. Last but not least, but probably the most important, ALWAYS TIE YOUR SHIT TO THE CANOE JUST IN CASE YOU TIP! The last of these rules IS the most important, but the one that always seems to be ignored the most. I will definitely get to stories concerning that rule, but not today.

Growing up in the north woods, a kid tends to do a lot of camping. So when it came to the canoe trip, I knew what I would need to bring to make things a little easier. Between the four of us on that trip we had:
One camp stove - A Coleman white gas unit that my folks bought back in 1978 that still goes on the trip to this day.
Two tents each - Stuball brought his little three man dome tent that he and Brother John slept in. I brought a little pup-tent that my folks also bought back in 1978, however, by this time I had to cut poles for the ends because the aluminum ones we broke and lost many years before.
Four Sleeping Bags - Nothing to add here
Two Lanterns - Both Coleman units that also used white gas. One was Brother John's and the other now sleeps at the bottom of the Bigfork. (Like I said, tie your shit down.)
Four Large Coolers - Two and a half of the coolers were reserved for the beer and bottles, the other half of the third cooler was for soda and mixes, and the fourth was used for the meager amount of food we brought. And some water.
Two Small Coolers - These were used for beer while we canoed during the day.
One Medium Tote - In this we had a frying pan and pot, a peculating coffee pot, salt n pepper, a Tupperware container of coffee grounds, one pot holder, some paper plates, keg cups, a couple of forks and spoons, one spatula and a can opener for the beans.
Four Tarps - Used to cover the gear while in the canoe and for under tents at camp sites.
One Small Bow Saw - Firewood
Hatchet - Firewood
Various ropes and bungees - For strapping shit in the canoe and for hanging things.


Nothing else really comes to mind in the way of gear. I'm sure there were other odds an ends, but that is like any other camping trip.

When we planned the 1996 trip we didn't give much though to food. What concerned us the most that year was bringing enough beer, booze and smokes to last the four day trip, hence the devotion of 2 1/2 coolers to strictly alcohol. We brought a bunch of hot dogs and one loaf of bread. Ketsup and mustard, but nothing else. One dozen eggs and a couple packages of bacon and sausage. I think we may have brought stuff to make smores, but that part of the trip is a little hazy.

Oh how things change in thirteen years. People have actually been amazed at all the shit we cram into our canoes these days. In truth, many of us veterans of the trip have been talking about down-sizing for the last few years. Never happens though, we somehow always find a way to drag something new with us onto the flowing waters of the Bigfork. Next time I'll tell you how we have transformed the backwoods into the backyard.

Until then I remain...Crazy Joe

Food for the Trip

I am at work right now but my mind is on the 150 things I still have to do for the trip. We may have been talking about this trip since Christmas but most things get done the week before we launch and never any sooner. I'll admit it, I am a procrasinator, always have been, always will be. Still when it comes time for the canoe trip I am more together than usual. I will talk about one of the many things I must do before launch day.

Tomorrow I have to go buy food for the six people going down the river this year. After a few year of havin people bring certain things it became apparent that having one person buy all the food was more sensible, this way nothing was forgotten. Being that Crazy Joe and I are always on the trip and that I have a membership to Sam's Club I became elected to be the food buyer. I love having the responsibility of buying the food.

So just to give you an idea of what we bring food wise, here is a list of what we bring ever year, amount varying on how many people go:

• 1 sm tub margarine


• 1 block butter (for ragin cajun taters)


• 3 lb pk cheese slices (for cheeseburgers and eggs)


• 1 pk shredded cheese (new addition, ragin cajun taters)


• 1med sz cooking oil (not really sure what for)


• 2 eighteen ct eggs (breakfast)


• 4 lbs bacon (breakfast, day 2,it's a Marthaler thing, can't have too much bacon)


• 4 pk sausages (breakfast, day 3)


• 3 phk hotdogs (supper night 1)


• 2 pk brauts (supper night 1)


• 4 Big cans baked beans (supper nights 1 & 2,thank God I sleep alone in my tent)


• 4 loaves of bread (breakfast and supper nights 1 & 2, no hotdog/hamburger buns this year)


• 1 gal milk (down sized form 1 1/2)


• 2 gal of OJ (good in am to replace what alcohol took out)


• 4 lbs hamburger (supper night 2)


• 5 lbs taters (supper night 3, ragin cajun taters)


• 3 pk of hashbrowns (breakfast, new addition)


• 4 Big cans mushrooms (breakfast and ragin cajun taters)


• 4 rolls paper towels


• 2 cloves garlic


• 1 bottle each ketchup, mustard, relish


• 1 jar miracle whip

There are a few things I don't pickup such as the steaks and spices. I leave that to Crazy Joe. he is the chef along with the General. For the most part as you can see we stick to the basics for camping, hotdogs, brauts and burgers. Yet one night is dedicated to a meal of steak (chicken breast in the case of the Mule, a story we will tell another time) and Crazy Joe's Ragin' Cajun taters cooked over a bed of coals. We have had corn on the cob or some other type of vegetable but the steaks and taters are always there. The steak meal is always at the Muldoons campsite and it is a tradition we hope to keep going on as long as we are capable of making the trip down the river.

Well I have to get back to work, but making lists in my head of what to do when I get home.

See next post for how it all started and how far the supplies have come.

The Start of a New Blog

OK My brother Joe started this blog but gave me permission to help out with it. Being that I am the one with all the pictures I get the be the resident photographer of the group. Joe on the other hand being the English Teacher is the writer of the family so all stories from past trips will be from him. (Well maybe not all of them. I can turn a phrase quite well ever once in awhile)

Sister (Duckie) and Brother (Crazy Joe)

All that being said here goes on the first offical blog post.

I have been going on the trip since 1999 and have to say that this has been one of the few constants in my life. I have went every year since 99 and plan on going every year until I am physically unable to. There have been years where we have had only 2 of us (myself and Joe, the year of the white water muldoons) and other years where there was 8 or more. (Sorry after so many years I can't remember all the people that went and what year. We keep meaning to write it down but we never get around to it.) Some of the stories are the same every year and others are so origianl that you would never even have dreamed them up. Yet every year when the trip is done we will already be talking about the next year and how we can't wait to do it all over again.

Please come back and enjoy our stories, pictures and accounts of The Birfork River Runners Annual Memorial Weekend Trip. We can't wait to share our great times on the Bigfork River with all of you.

Overview

It is tough where to begin, what to say. So much has happened during the last thirteen years that I am at a loss as to how to start this blog. Since the spring of 1996 I have been taking trips downt he Bigfork with family and friends on Memorial Weekend and making some of the greatest memories of my life. The reason I say (I) is because I am the only person to make the trip every year, wheather it was only two of us or fourteen of us.

We are a week away from the thirteenth trip and the anticipation meter is running high. My sister and I have been discussing the trip since Christmas, which is pretty normals ever since her first trip back in 1999. There are only six of us going this year, my woman and I, The General and Duckie, and The Mule and her old man. The Mule and her old man will be making history this year as they will be the first married couple to go on the trip. They have gone on the trip together before, but they just got married at the begining of the month so congrats to them.

Ever since Grandpa went on the trip back in 2003 we have been trying to get every possible combination of relationship to take the journey down the Bigfork. We have had an aunt, uncle, brother, sister, girlfriend, boyfriend, fiance, father, son, daughter, grandfather, and bestfriends, I believe that is all of them. We have yet to have a grandmother or married couple, up until this year. Opps, I forgot one, cousin.

I have been monitory the river's leve since ice-out this year and from comparisons from past year's levels this years is looking to be about average flow. Today I checked the level on the Bigfork bridge today and the gage read six and a half feet. It shouldn't drop too much before the launch at 9:00 AM Friday morning.

As with most years we will be taking off in the town of Bigfork this year. We will travel approximatley fifteen miles on Friday haveing to shoot the Rice Rapids and the Highway One Rapids. Both sets only rank as class one rapids we requires a basic knowlege of canoeing skills. Even still, both sets of rapids have claimed some victims to where they either swamped their canoe or tipped it over an lost some of their gear. We will camp about a mile away from the Highway One Rapids at the Busti Camp Site.

On Saturday we will have a shorter strech of river to cover, only seven miles, however, we will have to shoot the first part of the last set of rapids we will go through on the trip. The last set of rapids that we shoot are the Muldoon's, which are ranked at a class two level. They stretch for over a half mile, however, that half mile is broken up a little with short calmer center. Nevertheless, there is still quite a few obsticles to dodge within the calmer center of the Muldoon Rapids. Like I said, on Saturday we will have to go through the first part of the Muldoons to reach the landing for the campsite. The Muldoon Camp Site is one of the pretties in all of Minnesota. It sits atop a huge as hill, which by the way is a bitch to get all the gear up to, but the view is absolutley worth the pain. It overlooks a section of the rapids with some white water and some tiny islands. The best part though is that the deep valley creats a gentle thundours hum that hangs thickly in the air.

As you haver probably guessed, the Muldoons have claimed the most people as far as dumps and losses of items. As this is the start of the blog, these stories will come in due time.

Well, it is time for me to go, until next time...I remain Crazy Joe