The Shit We Lost

Man I fucking hate warm whiskey! Talk about a punch to the gut. So how the hell are all of you that don't take to time to read this? I suppose you have stuff that is more suiting to your time, but this is some classinc shit and is worth a looking.

The Bigfork is a wonderful beauty, like a woman she can give great pleasure of unbelieveable pain, leave you with a smile and a feeling of triumph or soaking with a bad attitude. She has given some of the best memories of my life and some of the toughest lessons I have learned in life. One of those lessons is the unfailable truth that no matter how careful we are, how well we tie our gear into our canoe's, how much caution we take to make sure all our shit is secure, the Bigfork alwasys finds a way to claim something every year.

Ok, it isn't true that we have ALWAYS made sure our stuff is secure, those early years were such a joke compared to what the trip has evolved into these days. I know we lost something on the first year, but that has been so long ago that I can not recall what it was. Lets just say we lost a beer. That is also a given on our trip that a beer will be lost to the river being passed to another person via canoe paddle, but I'm not talking about brews, I'm talking about gear. Every canoe loses at least one beer a trip to a tip-over, not canoe but the brew inside the canoe.

I do recall what was lost on the second trip of the traditon. I was running with Jake that year as my navigator, and as I have said, the old days were power drinking days, drunk before we hit the water until the morning of the get off, which is usually because we had nothing left to imbibe. So it was the last day of the trip and we were pulling into the Muldoon landing to dock the canoes for the evening. This is the place that is located at the base of the "Fucking-Hill".

Anyway, the General was already there having gone through first. I can't remember if Stewball was behind us or already at shore, but it doesn't matter, he isn't a part of this tale. Jake and I were fucking wham bam basted by the time we got to the doons. I think between the two of us we had polished off a case of beer and a half dozen shots of some booze. Either whiskey or vodka. Needless to say we were feeling zero pain, with smiles hanging over the sides of the canoe.

We shot the first set of the Doons with no problem, we were fucking pros, at least in our minds. Jake would spot the rocks and I would manuver us around with ease. We had some good current that year. So we come up to the shore, ease into it and come in smoothly. The General grabs the front and steadies it so Jake can get out. Once he does, the General steps back to let Jake take over, big mistake. I tell Jake to pull me up so I can get up and crawl over the gear to land and help pull the canoe up. Well this is where things go bad. Good old Jake grabs the front of the canoe and lifts it up to his chest. Now picture a canoe as the lever on a fulcrum. He lifts the front and the back sinks, and sinks fast. Before I know what the hell is going on, I'm sitting in the fucking river, almost up to my arm-pits.

It took a moment for the situation to sink into my drunken skull. And I thought, "That son of a bitch just dumped me in the fucking river...mother fucker." About that time I realized that I could get up and walk to the shore since I was soaking fucking wet. I get up and our of the canoe, and at the moment I realize that my lantern, or rather my PARENT'S lanter had floated out of the canoe and was threatening to sink into the murky depths. I made a few clumsy attempts at retreiving it, but those were just pipe dreams, shots in the dark...and the lantern drifted into oblivian. Claimed by the Bigfork.

Well the General started to laugh as Jake started to apologize. I was so fucked up that I didn't care either way. I knew the folks would be pissed, but I wouldn't have to deal with that for another 36 hours, so I was golden.

I think it was the following year that I lost a nifty little portable radio on a simular incident, however, I didn't get dunked into the river, I believe I was pretty sober when it happened. We were pulling the canoe from the river and I forgot to secure it or put it away...and blub...blub...blub it went. Playing "Living After Midnight" as she sank.

Well folks, it is getting a little late, so I must say goodnight. I will finish this topic with all the memories I can muster...

Until then I will forever remain....Crazy Joe.