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The Fun Paddlin’ Thunders On a Dime. Stay Tuned…

Herein lies the first part of the story of this year’s annual Algonquin Park interior trip. It is a long, sordid tale, full of darkness, evil and goblins. However, bear with it and it will serve you well. Or perhaps it will just be mildly entertaining.



The Fun Begins…

My wife and I arrived in Algonquin Park on Thursday in the late afternoon. People think I am nuts taking a day off just to make the drive easier. However, when it means we save 2 hours of driving and countless dollars in fuel, it makes a lot more sense. It’s also more relaxing.

We set up camp and proceeded to wait for the rest of the group that would be staying with us in Rock Lake. Our site was luckily located along the water (a little ways away from the swimming area), so it was like we had our own private beach.

I started the fire easily enough, and then sat down and to continue reading a book (The Unfettered Mind ) I had started a few weeks ago that I had put aside when the latest Harry Potter novel came out.

The sun was shining, descending slowly into what would be a great sunset in a few hours. It was so peaceful to be sitting there, with the waves gently lapping the sand, reading about how the mind should always be in motion like water. Some ducklings ran by my feet leaving tracks in the sand and waddling after their mother. It was a really nice moment.

Shortly after, Dave and our friend Isha arrived from Ottawa.

Of course, once Dave and I get together, things start getting silly. Here, for example, is a snippet of conversation that revolved around sleeping arrangements…


Jorge: I think our tent will fit the four of us. But if that doesn’t work, we can set up Dave’s tent, and I can sleep with him. My snoring doesn’t wake him up.
Dave: Yeah. I can muffle his face with my ass [Making the motions of muffling someone’s face with his ass several different ways with great enthusiasm, I might add.]. See?
[Everyone laughs.]
Dave: I’ll bet you’re wondering why ass was the first word that I chose…


Yes. This is how our camping weekend began. It began with Dave’s ass.

Isha brought her bag out of the car and put it near the picnic table. It was quite small for an interior bag. This brought out some more conversation fun…


Mrs. J: Oh my God! Look how small your backpack is!
Isha: Thanks.
Mrs. J: Jorge, check this out!
Jorge: Whoa. That’s small.
Isha: Well, Dave is carrying all the pots and stuff.
Jorge: Dave, you’re carrying everything?
Dave: [Shuffling through items in the trunk of his car.] Well, yeah. I guess. Everything except the tent.
Jorge: So, where is the tent?
Dave: [Looking about nervously.] Hopefully in my back seat.
Jorge: Err…


Luckily, Dave had his tent in the back seat and all was well. We ended up sleeping in the giant Coleman tent anyway. Dave and I stayed up by the fire as Mrs. J and Isha went to sleep. We figured we would wait for Dennis and Lorraine to show up. They eventually got there and set up their tent. We shared some beer, and then we all hit the sack, excited for the Interior portion of the trip the next morning…


A Paddlin’ We Will Go…

The next morning, we met up with our friend Brad at the launch point. We found out that our other two friends who had intended to leave at four in the morning were running late, and that we should leave without them. I wasn’t too worried.

Tien and Natalie had the meat from our dinners with them (they bought some steaks for us at St. Lawrence Market and had them shrink wrapped and froze them so they would keep). Worrying about the steaks staying cold was a moot point. They are amazing paddlers, so they would probably end up at whatever site we found a few hours after we got there, with the food most likely still quite frozen.

We headed out in several groups. Brad and Isha paddled a cedar strip canoe. Dennis and Lorraine paddled in a Kevlar canoe, and Dave, Mrs. J and I paddled a heavy aluminum canoe. We ended up at the portage point without incident, carried our gear across, and moved on. Along the way, Brad gave Isha the opportunity to destroy an Inukshuk*.

Interior camping works on the premise of first come, first served. We had an idea as to where we wanted to go, but unfortunately the sites were taken, and we had to keep paddling until we reached the other side of the lake (the lake is several kilometers long).

Last year we would paddle along until we found a site, and then one pair would stay at that site while the rest looked for potentially betters sites. This is a good strategy in theory. Unfortunately, due to the distance between sites, and the possibility of landforms being in the way, it is tough to communicate.

This year we brought walkie-talkies, which helped immensely. We fanned out and kept in touch, giving a good description of any sites we came across.

By a stroke of luck the site we ended up on was actually really good. There was lots of room for our tents. Someone had actually stacked some dry wood to burn in the fire pit, and the thunder box was located in an area that was out of the way, and hard to see.



Thunder Box?

In the interior there are no bathrooms. There are wooden boxes placed on top of pits that have been dug for the express purpose of…well…taking care of business. There is a hole cut out of the top of the box, and a lid that closes over top of the hole to prevent animals from making a mess…



In previous years, we’ve experienced thunder boxes that were placed improperly, either not quite over a pit (so some of the pit was exposed at your feet), or located right at the top of a hill in open view of the entire campsite.

This one was one of the best we had actually seen.

Pure luxury.



Dave – Camping On a Dime

Dave is not what you would call an experienced camper.

Scratch that.

Compared to most, Dave is an experienced interior camper. He has done it for three years, and he gets more comfortable every time. He has a try anything once attitude, and he takes the good as it arrives, and the bad in stride.

Being the easy-going type, he pretty much goes with the flow, and it’s tough to faze him. He started a few years ago without any prior experience, and just dove right in. So yeah, I guess that makes him more experienced than a lot of people.

This year, he made some purchases to solidify his commitment to the annual trip.

He bought a tent, for a price so low we were all questioning our own tent purchases. He also bought a cookware set for a small sum as well.

I subsidized Dave’s backpack as an early 30th birthday gift (Sept 12th, for you Dave fans), so he was raring to go….until he had to set up the tent.

I have to admit that even with the instructions his tent was tough to set up. He and Isha were having fun trying to figure out how to set it up when I stepped in. Not that I really helped at all, but the humour of the situation increased somehow…


Dave: So now, we have fed the poles through the guides and anchored them.
Isha: It says we have to stake the guy wires to the ground
Dave: Stake them?
Isha: Yeah. Here. Stake it!
Jorge: [A la Outkast.] Stake it! Stake! Stake it! Stake it!
Dave: OHH OH!
[Isha laughs hysterically]


This became a theme for the rest of the weekend…



Stay Tuned

There will be more to come later on in the week. Things like the knife in the ground game, and barbershop bathroom follies.

Dave has a point-form synopsis of events here.

Also, you can see some of the photos of the trip here. You’ll just have to search for pictures taken in July/August of 2005.




* – Inukshuks are not part of the natural landscape of Algonquin. The local native population has never used them. They are used elsewhere, though (up North). In Algonquin Park they are the equivalent of gaudy billboards. They are also quite hazardous when precariously perched on rock formations adjacent to Highway 60. For these two reasons they should be destroyed, and the rocks that they were built with should be spread about to make it inconvenient to attempt another Inukshuk…

An Extra Impractical Not-Quite-Connected Rubber Magnifico

An Extra, Extra Long Weekend

Well, I’ll be gone on a camping trip this weekend, so you won’t be hearing from me for a while. My last non-haiku entry ended up being somewhat serious. However, it seemed to generate a lot of great comments and that is a good thing.

This entry will be comprised of several not-so-serious pieces.

Have yourselves a great week, and I’ll be back on Monday!



Impractical Fashion

I understand that there are some articles of clothing out there that raise some eyebrows. Most of these are worn to make a statement, and they end up either showing more skin, or accenting something else. It’s all good.

However, when the style becomes an act of idiocy I shake my head.

I saw a girl on the subway the other day, who was probably fifteen or sixteen (it’s hard to tell because I’m convinced they put breast-growth juice™ in the water in Toronto). She was wearing a tank top which showed off her midriff (which is an acceptable thing, for the most part, these days), and she had on black cotton panties. There was nothing really all that special about them.

They were very plain. I could even draw a picture for you.

How could I do this? How do I know what they looked like so well? Easy. She was wearing her pants below her butt. I kid you not. Rather than allowing her hips to do the work of holding up her pants, she seemed to have decided that it would be far more efficient to wear her pants in a way that caused them to fall down every ten seconds.

When fashion becomes physically impractical it becomes stupid. I was hoping for some kind of emergency evacuation, just to see her try to run with her pants constantly falling down…



Not Quite Connected

Another little tidbit of conversation between Dave and I. We’ve known each other for so long that the stupidest things seem funny. I have no idea how this conversation came up, but Dave turned it into something so silly that it became hilarious. Well, it did for us, anyway…


Jorge: So, I was talking to this girl once about a female hygiene problem.
Dave: Yeah?
J: You know, a problem that has something in common with an ingredient involved in baking bread.
D: Flour?
J: And an ingredient involved in making beer.
D: Rolling pins?
J: There you go.


Incidentally, the girl I was talking about was not my wife. Also please bear in mind that I don’t just talk to women about these kinds of things for no reason. I believe that a commercial aired around the time of that discussion involving a yeast infection treatment. It was quite funny, as the commercial addressed a man’s awkwardness in dealing with stuff like that. As a solution to this problem, the commercial had a small picture-in-picture window in the bottom righthand corner with a football game in progress, just for the guys.

Classic.



Rubber Johnny

Has anyone seen this film? It is insane. It is a bit creepy, but you have to stick with it to see the really strange part. Check it out. There is no way you can predict movies like this.



Cinco Magnifico

Last year on our trip, one of our friends would handle things in the fire with his bare hands. This earned him the nickname Gloves For Hands. This sparked a conversation about what the rest of us should be called…


Jorge: So, if you’re Gloves For Hands, what does that make me?
B: How about Big Sack?
J: Er….How did you get that?
B: Because you have a big sack?


(Incidentaly, he was referring to the obscenely large backpack I had bought for the trip. The capacity was 110L. It was crazy.)

And so, the Cinco Magnifico was born. A group of superheroes with strange powers. The best power, though, was Prehensile Penis Man (Dave, of course). How did we come up with that name? I don’t even remember.

To celebrate our newfound diversion, I created some t-shirts. During the design process, I was chatting with Dave about logo colours. Essentially, each guy would have a simple man symbol (like the one on washroom doors), with the appropriate part changed to match the power (The logo for Gloves For Hands for example, has red oven mitts superimposed onto the hands of the man symbol). You can imagine what would be superimposed onto the man symbol for the Prehensile Penis Man t-shirt…


Jorge: So I am almost finished with the t-shirts.
Dave: Sweet. Does they look good?
J: I think so. I just need to finish the logos.
D: Awesome.
J: So, what colour do you want your penis?
D: Man, the things you say out loud on the phone.
J: Seriously. I need a colour for each guy. Mine is blue, what do you want yours to be?
D: I don’t know. Purple?
J: Okay.
D: Wait a minute. I don’t know about that now…
J: Don’t worry, it’s just a symbol. Besides, it will be the standard run-of-the-mill purple, not an engorged, veiny purple.
D: That sounds so much better now.


Yep. That the way we usually hash out our ideas. Scary, huh?

More Stupider Feature

People Are Becoming More Stupider

I was on the subway today listening to some kid bragging about his typing speed. He mentioned that he had the bestest technique, which allowed him to type more faster.

Honestly, do I really need to elaborate on this?



This Might As Well Be a Weekly Feature

Dave and I (and a number of others) are going camping next weekend. In his attempt to be a good guy (which he will always be, regardless of what he does), he offered to buy me a propane tank so that he might use my camp stove for cooking (we tend to do food preparation with a partner, and as sexy as Dave is, Mrs. J wins the hottie competition hands down, and so Dave is partnered with another stoveless person).

Note the exchange…


J: Hey Mano. You don’t need to worry about the tank.
D: Really?
J: Seriously. First of all, my stove burns white gas, so you showing up with a propane tank would help no one.
D: Err…That might pose a problem.
J: Secondly, we already have three canisters.
D: What do those cost? How much do they charge to fill them?
J: Napthalene comes in big drums. It’s pretty cheap, and it lasts forever. We only used a tank and a half at most last year.
D: Oh.
J: I appreciate the offer, but it’s not needed, and the cost is so small as to be relatively insignificant.
D: Well I have to do something.
J: Nah.
D: Really, is there anything I can do in trade?
J: Ummmmm….
D: Not that.

To be honest, I wasn’t even trying to be funny, but I was laughing like an idiot after Dave‘s line.

Dave and I have so many funny conversations that this should become a regular feature. Of course, by doing that, I would feel as if it were an obligation, and it would stress me out. So forget that nonsense. For one thing, I don’t really need another feature spiraling out of control. Secondly, while we find these conversations funny, we are not so egotistical as to believe that everyone would like them. That damned 10% holdout pisses us off.

Thanks! All Everyone Needs is a Zealot!

Thanks To All

I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone that came out to the show at Salvador Darling last night. No pieces were purchased, but there were lots of signatures in the guest book. Many smiling faces came to greet us and much merriment seemed to be had by all.

I enjoyed it quite a lot, and a lot of your compliments were most welcome and wonderful.

Special thanks to Tanya, owner of Salvador Darling, for all of her help and for the space to display our art. Also, thanks goes out to Mark for being the other half of “Town and Country”.



Everyone Needs a Nemesis

When I was studying Capoeira, I met a guy named Tien. Tien was very skilled (he had been doing Martial Arts for a long time), and he was also relatively pain-resistant. His speed and agility, as well as his strength were a great challenge to deal with when playing aggressive games. And so he became my nemesis (consequently, that’s just a nickname. Tien is a good friend of mine).

Tien is one of the reasons I missed Capoeira when I left my old academy.

I joined Karate later that year. I wondered what kind of challenges I would face from the sensei, as well as the other students.

And in walked my new nemesis…

Steve was his name, and he had studied Goju-Ryu before. He is a big guy, quick on his feet and pretty strong. When we sparred for the first time, I remember opening up a bit in terms of impact, and he answered in kind. One of us is always pushing the envelope. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Last night, Steve came out to the exhibition. Unfortunately it was close to the end of the night, but he put in an appearance none the less (our friend Vinnie also came out). While all the compliments were great to receive that evening, Steve’s touched me the most for some reason.

Why?

Maybe one develops an emotional attachment to someone they get into fistfights with on a regular basis…


STEVE: Your stuff is great, Nemesis.
JORGE: Thanks, Nemesis.
STEVE: [Pointing to a black-and-white photograph titled Reaching Out. It’s a landscape shot of a cliff with a deciduous tree growing out on a strange angle. It looks like a hand reaching across a fog-filled valley.] This one is my favourite. This one…is awesome man.
JORGE: Wow, Steve. Thanks!
STEVE: Yeah. I really like that one.
JORGE: I picked it because it reminded me of you.
STEVE: Because it is weak, and fragile? Because it’s about to fall apart?
JORGE: Yes.
STEVE: Excellent, Nemesis.
JORGE: Yes.


Honestly, it did remind me of Steve. Only because of the fact that the tree is so tenacious. It’s reaching for the sky even though it’s not firmly planted in solid ground. Steve is like this.

He’s from Newfoundland. You’d hear some people say Steve’s from the Rock.

But I say he’s cut from it.



Religious Zealots and Other Commentators

Today I received a comment on my site from someone in Portuguese (at least I think it is Portuguese). As near as I can figure, it’s a long-ass poem about how God is always there, patiently waiting for us, no matter where we are or what we are doing.

Maybe it’s something lost in translation, but to me it makes God look like some stalker, hiding outside your house in the bushes.

Honestly, I mean no disrespect to those of Christian faith. I am not a religious person so much as a spiritual person. While I may not believe in the same things that other people do, it doesn’t mean that I don’t respect their views. That being said, I think it’s rude to push things on other people.

I offer my own opinions on my blog. If people do not wish to read them, that is up to them. When I leave comments on other’s blogs, they are related to the content of the entry that I am commenting on. I don’t leave idiotic comments or chain-letters.

I visited some friends blogs today and saw the same comment on their latest entries. This made me feel like a bag of crap, because this person obviously found them through me.

I visited this person’s page this morning, and told them to leave the propaganda off of people’s pages that didn’t ask for it.

This type of idiocy ranks up there with those morons who leave negative comments but no e-mail or blog address to trace them to.

Anonymity is for those who fear the truth, my friends.

Happy Birthday!

Best Wishes to Barbero

I just wanted to take this quick second to wish my friend Zac a Happy Birthday…


Pale, like a vampire
With spidery limbs to climb
Like no one’s business!


Happy Birthday, my friend.