Barking Space

Continued from here…


Saturday Day Fever

Given our level of inebriation the night before, it’s not a surprise that we didn’t get up at the crack of dawn. The sky was overcast, and didn’t really inspire anyone (including the birds) to get up early. We ended up cooking a huge breakfast comprised of eggs, bacon, English muffins, hash browns and stuffed Brook Trout.

After our hearty breakfast we clipped over to the rapids again. This time we passed by some guys who looked like they were looking to fish. We went back to our spot, and, like the day before, while Brad was getting the worm on his hook, I reeled in another Brook Trout.

Shortly after, Brad snagged a Lake Trout. Unfortunately, it was within the slot limit, so he had to throw it back. It was entertaining watching him measure it several times just to make sure.

The guys who we passed noticed our luck, and immediately started moving in, fly fishing from the shore opposite our position. It kind of sucked, as this meant more competition for us. However, they caught nothing, as we probably spooked the fish given that the boat moved around a bit (mostly due to us snagging our lures several times and moving to boat to different positions to offer us different angles to pull them free).

After we figured it was pointless to continue at that location, we headed over to another lake.

This particular lake is fed from the same lake we had just fished on, but there is a dam dividing the two.

We left the boat above the dam, and proceeded on foot to fish below it.

Across the river were two guys who were serious fishermen (It’s a shame that there is no font manipulation for sarcasm). They had matching gear, and a big boxes of tackle, and were changing lures almost every cast. Brad pulled in a Large Mouthed Bass, but tossed it back due to the fact that it was out of season (unlike the jackasses on the other shore, who kept theirs).

A satisfying moment was when I reeled in a nice big Lake Trout, right in front of the pros. Brad gave me a pat on the back and seemed to relish out-fishing the guys across the way. I admit at first I didn’t feel the same. but when I realized that those guys didn’t care about the rules, I felt much better.

A Quick Break For Lunch

We headed back to the cottage for a bit to have some lunch, and then decided to hike over to another lake. It was about two or three kilometres away, so it was a decent hike. Along the way we came across some salamanders, and a ton of moose scat. There was literally a pile every ten feet for quite a distance!

We reached this other lake and tried several locations from the shore, attempting to land some Splake. No matter where we fished, we didn’t really get more than a nibble so we headed back.

On the way back, we came upon a Trillium. I’ve never seen a red one before.

I was thinking of taking a photo of it, but the flower was bent. It was drooped over, and so would have made a poor picture of the flower itself. The following dialogue ensued…

Brad: You should smell it.
Jorge: Why? [Crouching down next to it.]
Brad: You just should.
Jorge: What does it smell like?
Brad: Like no other flower.
Jorge: Yeah right. [Stands back up.]
Brad: Seriously.
Jorge: I don’t trust you. Let’s just keep moving.
Brad: [Has that look on his face when he is up to mischief.] You sure?
Jorge: Yeah. Let’s go. [Waits behind as Brad walks away. Crouches down and sticks his finger into the flower and then sniffs. Doesn’t smell anything other than fish and dirt]
Brad: [Turns around.]
Jorge: It doesn’t smell like anything.
Brad: You have to stick your nose in there.
Jorge: [Inspects for bugs and such, sticks nose in and sniffs.] UGH!
Brad: [Laughing.] Told you it didn’t smell like any other flower. Does it smell like rotting meat?
Jorge: Ugh. [Stands up.] Not really. Kinda. Well, like garbage.
Brad: Most flowers use a sweet scent to attract insects like bees for pollination. These flowers have a scent that attracts flies to spread their pollen.

While Brad doesn’t make you feel bad about knowing things, he certainly knows how to use what he knows to get a good laugh. That rat bastard….

On the way back, we fished off a bridge and didn’t catch anything, so we called the end to another good day of fishing.

That evening we had more fish for dinner and some rum punch.

Another good night.

The Rest of the Weekend

Sunday morning was beautiful. I took the opportunity to take some sunrise photos, and hopefully they turn out. It was my first time using slide film. I was up at 5:15, whereas Brad elected to sleep for a while longer.

We fished, caught another Brook Trout, and then Brad went to fish at another spot while I tried the end of the rapids. I also almost lost Brad’s fishing rod. He had finished up before me, and left the rod behind me on the rocks so he could go exploring. I went to cast off at one point, and my hook got caught in one of the small eyelets of his fishing rod. I flicked my wrist to cast out my line, and realized it was much heavier than it was when I wound up. I saw Brad’s fishing rod go flying out, and rather than stop my cast, I followed through by swinging it back to me. Luckily the rod stayed on my line, and ended up behind me once more.

I finally decided to call it quits, and went hiking up the rapids. Brad said there was good scenery and I should check it out. I wanted to take a photo of myself with the rapids behind me. I had a scare when I dropped my 75-300mm lens (it fell out of my pocket as I was trying to set up the camera). I figured I would check it for damage later (as I had two lenses), and set it on the rock with my camera, started the timer and carefully walked out along a flat rock that skirted the rapids. I ended up slipping on the algae, and almost taking a plunge into the drink. I scrambled back up to try to stop the camera, but ended up taking a picture of my crotch.

I ended up going back to the point where I started, and we then headed back to clean up the cottage.

When we finished, we went for some wings and beer, and scooted back to Brad’s house to watch Bubba Ho-Tep to pass the time before we went to the theatre to see The Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy (which is an awesome movie).

Brad pearl of knowledge for the day: A moose can take a dump up to even twelve times a day!

Jorge nasty bastard trick of the day: After I got back to the point from my photo misadventure, I told Brad I had dropped my lens. I pulled it back out of my pocket and saw the lens cap was jammed into the front of the lens. My heart stopped for a moment, as I had to forcefully pry the cap off. Brad looked worried. I told him the lens was probably worth about $450. As I pried it off, I saw that the skylight filter was shattered, but the lens underneath was ok. I showed Brad the lens without taking the filter off, and I swore silently. He looked like he felt bad. I eventually let on that the lens was ok (there is a minute scratch, but it shouldn’t affect anything) and all was well.

All in all, a great time. When I got back to Toronto, I decided to hike home from the subway station. As I was about to leave the station, a scruffy-looking backpacker looked at me and gave me a wide smile. He said something that made me smile, too.

” Brother, with that backpack you look beautiful, but holding that paddle you look gorgeous. “

And who says Toronto isn’t friendly?

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The Boys of Summer: In Spring!

Well, it definitely wasn’t summer. I took the bus up to my friend Brad’s place on Thursday night, and he picked me up from the bus station. We hung out for a bit, had some barley juice, and chatted about the plan. The original plan was to do a jaunt through the woods, covering between 25-30 km in three days.

However, heavy rains were called for. Rain is not usually something that would dissuade nutcases like us. Rain in the cold temperatures, on the other hand, made for a prospect that spoke of no relaxation whatsoever.

The plan changed from interior camping to cottage-dwelling with extensive day trips. This way, we’d have a warm place to hang out in at night and still enjoy the outdoors.

Brad then proceeded to give me my birthday present, which was a beautiful finished wooden paddle for canoeing. Very cool.

I slept well that night, as my bus ride was crapola salad.

Freaky Friday

Brad had some stuff to do on Friday morning, so I just took a hike for a while, picking up empty beer cans along the highway (which is scary). When Brad was done what he needed to do, I tossed the Beer cans in the recycling bin and we went over to the cottage.

Then we realized that we forgot bait for fishing, and went out to get some, and then went back to the cottage.

And so, we tried to figure out the best way to proceed with our afternoon.

Originally, we had thought to canoe to the places we were going to be fishing. However, this meant that hours would be spent canoeing, cutting into the amount of time we could realistically fish. Thus, we dragged the canoe to the portage by tying it to an outboard motor boat.

We reached the portage, tied off the motor boat, and hiked the canoe over to the next lake, paddled around looking for fish, and then portaged over to another smaller lake. No one was there, and it was quiet. We paddled around for a bit, taking a few test casts, and getting some nibbles.

Soon after, my line was straining against a Speckled Trout, I reeled it in, Brad netted it and tossed it into the bottom of the boat. We started to fish again when our prisoner began flopping around…

Brad: Hit it.
Jorge: What?
Brad: Hit it!
Jorge: With what?
Brad: I don’t know. The back of the net. Use the handle of the net.
[Jorge makes a very lame attempt to clobber the fish. He ends up getting blood all over his jacket (which was sitting on the middle thwart of the canoe) and guts on his jacket collar.]
Jorge: [Sheepishly.] I’m no good at this, and I can’t quite turn around…
Brad: Not a problem man. [Soundly whacks the fish on the right part of the skull, sending it to..er…sleep with the fishes?]

Side note: I’m not really very good at a lot of things that I would like to be good at. Fishing and boating and swimming, as well as a million other things. This just reinforces the fact that Brad is one of the coolest friends on the planet. Not only does he know a million times more about all of those things than I do, but he also never makes you feel inadequate for not knowing how to do something…

Brad caught one shortly after and noted that mine was larger.

It started spitting shortly after, and then the mild rain turned to hail. We were very happy that we didn’t go interior camping at this point.

Figuring that the hail was wrecking our chances of catching anything, we headed back to the portage point where we originally left the motor boat. On the way, we trolled around the interim lake with no luck. When we reached the portage, we decided to try a set of nearby rapids for fish. We had just pulled into the rapids and anchored ourselves to a cedar stump when I cast in and caught a Lake Trout. Brad, who was still putting his worm on the hook was excited, and put this fish in with the other ones.

In next to no time, Brad caught two more, but had to throw one back, as it was in fell in the slot limit (optimal breeding size).

We stayed for a bit longer, and then called it a good day of fishing and headed back to the ranch.

Brad showed me how to clean and fillet fish, and then proceeded to analyze the stomach contents (it was like CSI: Fish).

We saved the Speckled Trout for breakfast the next morning, and battered and fried up the Lake Trout using three different seasoning combinations. I made some sweet potato home fries, and we had screwdrivers to drink.

Despite the cold and odd precipitation, it was a great day.

Brad nasty bastard tricks of the day: Yanking my fishing line when I wasn’t looking during our first jaunt into the first lake. Making a loud noise as I was turning on the propane oven.

Brad pearl of knowledge for the day: Holding a fish is like holding a muscley bar of soap. You just have to make sure your grip is tight, and you’ll be all set.

Stay tuned tomorrow for more adventures of Brad and Jorge

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More Entertaining Search Results

Here are some more things people typed that led them to my page from a search engine:

• shellie
• goad
• island of zanzibar
• crazy definitions
• barking space

I’d best be careful. If I keep checking these and writing them here it might become a new feature!

The Amazing Adventures of McLean and Figueiredo

Dave and I have known each other since high school. We met during our high school play (Bye Bye Birdie) and would take the late bus home together after rehearsals. We bonded due to our similar sense of humour and our love of Lloyd Bridges.

We kept in touch with each other over the years, and have always been there for each other as good friends should be. Dave and I eventually worked across the street from each other in downtown Toronto, and would go for Chai Latté once a week.

Dave has since moved to Ottawa, and I miss the big lug. Once or twice a week we will play Jedi Academy, and we chat on the phone once in a while (usually while soaking in the tub). At any given time, if you mention his name, a dozen stories will pop into my head. I will relate some of them now…

The Rafting Adventure

You already know that Dave helped me out when I was in a pickle (or was that helped me out with my pickle?). The day after the barfy night, we all boarded the raft that would carry us on our first of many rafting adventures on the Ottawa river. The first series of rapids is known as McCoy’s Chute (by the Wilderness Tours Adventure Company, anyway). It’s relatively mild, but once every couple of minutes someone will get rocked by this sucker. We had spent a little while watching several rafts go through, and it didn’t look so bad. So when we hit the Chute, we never expected to be hit as hard as we were. The raft almost folded. Everyone in the front got thrown back (Dave got essentially catapulted, and slid all the way back and off the boat. The movie footage is hilarious).

Dave wore tearaway pants and running shoes. The poor guy’s pants ballooned up with water, dragging him down the river like so much flotsam. He was eventually picked up by a kayak rescue guy (Come here often?) and dreaded the next rapids. He wanted to go home, and no one can blame him.

However, he never went home. Instead he had a great time for the rest of the trip. So much fun that we ended up going twice more after that.

The Early Departure to Sleepyland

Dave is younger than I am. Dave used to throw kickass parties (He still does).

Thus, when I was at his parties, I would invariably be one of the older guys there.

Dave threw a big party once when I was in first year university. He and quite a number of folks there had not gone to university yet, so I was relating a lot of my experiences about it to them. A lot of them were not so much afraid of University as apprehensive. They didn’t know what to expect.

Dave was mixing drinks that night. I had Black Russians, White Russians, and Evil White Russians. Another one of his friends was mixing Caesars, and of course, there was beer. I drank other things that night, but suffice to say I was a little tipsy.

Indeed, I was right hammered. Remembering conversations from earlier in the evening, I decided to calm everyone’s fears about university by making a speech about how you weren’t just a number in university and how it’s not so bad and blah blah blah. I thought that everyone was hanging on my slurred words. I don’t see how they had a choice, as I was speaking at the top of my lungs.

I finished up my dialogue and then went to bed. At 23:30.

I have never lived this down.

More adventures to come…

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