Easing my kayak down the rocky bank and into the river, my mind instantly began to wander. Thinking of the peace and quiet to be had over the next several hours as I glide silently along, no worries, just me and the river.
Shortly down stream a large blue heron wades stealth like through the shallows, searching for an unsuspecting fish or crayfish. Not more than an hour into the float, I round a bend and surprise a doe whitetail deer standing on a shallow gravel bar in the river with her triplet fawns. In between observing the many wonders nature has to offer, I spend some time tossing a fishing lure and letting my mind wander.
It is easy for the mind to wander when there is literally nothing to have to really think about. No traffic, no crowds, just me, the river and peace and quite. The quite might be broken on ocassion by the quack of a mallard duck who is startled by my sudden appearance, or the caw of a crow allerting the rest of the flock of my presence, but these are wonderful and peaceful sounds. Sounds that I can live with day in and day out. My own little piece of Heaven. But like most good things, they never seem to last long enough.
After several hours of what seemed like Heaven, I was suddenly tossed into the midst of Hell. You see, it was the 4th of July and I was now leaving the river and entering the lake into which the river flowed. What had been a quite, lazy float had now become a torrent of crashing waves, loud motors, and people, lots and lots of people. Jet skis race up and down the now 150 yard river, dodging between pleasure boats, pontoons and boats with motors that sound like they belong in Nascar vehicle. Rarely was there a gap of more than 75 yards between watercraft, each creating its own set of waves. Waves, waves, everywhere were waves. Big waves, little waves. Waves with sharp breaking tops. Slow rolling waves. More waves and boats and noise than I had ever pictured on such a small, narrow section of water.
My little 14.5 foot kayak was more like a big fishing bobber than a boat. Tossed up and down, side to side, I keep my attention on the next set of waves or where the next boat might come flying by. No longer could I just let my mind wander. Concentrating on staying upright was consumed every thought for over 1 1/2 hours until I made it to the far south end of the lake, where it was wide enough to allow some of the waves to subside. I pulled up to the shore and beached my kayak for a moment. I stretched my legs and had to laugh about my day. It was like I had been through Heaven and Hell in the course of 8 hours. It might seem strange but that is exactly why I love living in Mid Michigan.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Reliving a Ride.
At 20 minutes till 8:00 in the morning it actually hit me that I was about to attempt a 100 mile bike ride after only training for about 3 1/2 months. I figured I could do it but was skeptical about doing it in the course of a day. My goal was simply to finish, but I really wanted to do it in 10 hours or less, which is actually quite slow considering that more than half of the 300 bikes to enter would be finishing around 5 hours. As I looked around at all the bikes lining up, it become apparent to me that I might be the only one crazy enough to try it on a mountain bike with offroad tires.
At 8:27 I lined up with nine other bikes and began the journey. A steady pace was all I wanted and was not brought down as bike after bike that started behind me made their way past me. In fact it was quite a sight to see some of the better riders all lined up, front tire to rear tire, drafting as if they were on a nascar track. One line of bikes that went past was about 12 bikes long and sounded like a car coming up behind me as they pushed the wind in front of them and made their way past, giving the biker at the end of the line a free ride for a short time before that individual would pull out and make their way to the front of the pack and let someone else have their turn in the draft. As they past the wind from the pack shook my handlebars like a car on the expressway when a couple semis go by. Simply amazing.
Approaching the first feed stop, about 30 miles into the ride, I felt great. The steady drizzling rain helped to keep me cool and the training was definitely paying off. My legs and back were holding up great and the couple hills so far were not even a challenge. A couple pieces of melon and a muffin and I was on my way.
The next 15 miles or so were up one hill and down the other and I realized that the hills were not as challenging as I had expected. In fact they were my strong point. On the flats the people in front of me would slowly pull away, but when the hills came, the crest of the hill would put me almost even with them again. And though there were only a couple riders as far back as me, it really felt good to know that I could keep up with a couple.
As I closed in on the 57 mile mark it was a welcome sight to see my mother in law coming down the road to offer some encouragement and some fuel for my body. A quick gatorade and a stretch of the legs and away I went.
My legs were now starting to get weary and I knew there was a giant hill to come. My mother in law had informed me that a big percentage of the riders walk a portion of this particular hill so I should not be to concerned if I needed to do the same. I was hoping to not have to walk any of the hills but would not feel bad if had to be done, and at just 80 yards from the top of the monster at Alcona I had to get off the seat and walk it the rest of the way. I still can not figure out why my body would let me push the bike up the rest of the hill but would not allow me one more pedal. Huh?
After cresting the hill I was able to enjoy a nice coast before having to continue pedalling. My next break would come with about 25 miles left, where my wonderful wife and son were waiting for me with a couple of the volunteers. I indulged in a couple more muffins and some fruit, stretched once more and off I went. Now wearier than ever and wondering what I had gotten myself into. I was sure I could make it now, but my legs and butt were really starting to feel the ride and I started to question myself as to just how sure I was that I could make it.
Just 8 or 9 miles down the road wife and son waited again, and wished me well as a grabbed a drink and a couple crackers before heading off on the last 11 miles.
The final 11 miles was by far the hardest 11 miles I have ever spent on a bike. I could sit not more than a minute or two, then I would have to stand and pedal. Alternating between sitting, stand, pedalling, and coasting, that last section seemed like an eternity. I was never going to make it. Then out of nowhere a car came by and slowed down by my side. The passengers of the car cheered me on and said I could do it, only a few more miles, great job. That was all I needed and before I knew it I could see my family and the timing lights at the finish line.
8 hours 59 minutes and 56 seconds after starting I crossed the finish line. Legs aching, neck sore, and fingers numb, but I made it. As my son kindly loaded my bike into the truck and I sat in the car a chill came over me. I had not really paid any attention to the fact that it rained, a cool rain, for the past nine hours, and now that I was not moving it was actually quite chilly. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that my body was drained.
A motel room was calling, and do not get me wrong about this because I am definitely not a bath man, but the next twenty minutes soaking in the warm tub was one of the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced, and was enough time to convince myself that I really did it and was definitely going to do it again next year.
Thanks to my wonderful family and friends for all the support.
At 8:27 I lined up with nine other bikes and began the journey. A steady pace was all I wanted and was not brought down as bike after bike that started behind me made their way past me. In fact it was quite a sight to see some of the better riders all lined up, front tire to rear tire, drafting as if they were on a nascar track. One line of bikes that went past was about 12 bikes long and sounded like a car coming up behind me as they pushed the wind in front of them and made their way past, giving the biker at the end of the line a free ride for a short time before that individual would pull out and make their way to the front of the pack and let someone else have their turn in the draft. As they past the wind from the pack shook my handlebars like a car on the expressway when a couple semis go by. Simply amazing.
Approaching the first feed stop, about 30 miles into the ride, I felt great. The steady drizzling rain helped to keep me cool and the training was definitely paying off. My legs and back were holding up great and the couple hills so far were not even a challenge. A couple pieces of melon and a muffin and I was on my way.
The next 15 miles or so were up one hill and down the other and I realized that the hills were not as challenging as I had expected. In fact they were my strong point. On the flats the people in front of me would slowly pull away, but when the hills came, the crest of the hill would put me almost even with them again. And though there were only a couple riders as far back as me, it really felt good to know that I could keep up with a couple.
As I closed in on the 57 mile mark it was a welcome sight to see my mother in law coming down the road to offer some encouragement and some fuel for my body. A quick gatorade and a stretch of the legs and away I went.
My legs were now starting to get weary and I knew there was a giant hill to come. My mother in law had informed me that a big percentage of the riders walk a portion of this particular hill so I should not be to concerned if I needed to do the same. I was hoping to not have to walk any of the hills but would not feel bad if had to be done, and at just 80 yards from the top of the monster at Alcona I had to get off the seat and walk it the rest of the way. I still can not figure out why my body would let me push the bike up the rest of the hill but would not allow me one more pedal. Huh?
After cresting the hill I was able to enjoy a nice coast before having to continue pedalling. My next break would come with about 25 miles left, where my wonderful wife and son were waiting for me with a couple of the volunteers. I indulged in a couple more muffins and some fruit, stretched once more and off I went. Now wearier than ever and wondering what I had gotten myself into. I was sure I could make it now, but my legs and butt were really starting to feel the ride and I started to question myself as to just how sure I was that I could make it.
Just 8 or 9 miles down the road wife and son waited again, and wished me well as a grabbed a drink and a couple crackers before heading off on the last 11 miles.
The final 11 miles was by far the hardest 11 miles I have ever spent on a bike. I could sit not more than a minute or two, then I would have to stand and pedal. Alternating between sitting, stand, pedalling, and coasting, that last section seemed like an eternity. I was never going to make it. Then out of nowhere a car came by and slowed down by my side. The passengers of the car cheered me on and said I could do it, only a few more miles, great job. That was all I needed and before I knew it I could see my family and the timing lights at the finish line.
8 hours 59 minutes and 56 seconds after starting I crossed the finish line. Legs aching, neck sore, and fingers numb, but I made it. As my son kindly loaded my bike into the truck and I sat in the car a chill came over me. I had not really paid any attention to the fact that it rained, a cool rain, for the past nine hours, and now that I was not moving it was actually quite chilly. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that my body was drained.
A motel room was calling, and do not get me wrong about this because I am definitely not a bath man, but the next twenty minutes soaking in the warm tub was one of the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced, and was enough time to convince myself that I really did it and was definitely going to do it again next year.
Thanks to my wonderful family and friends for all the support.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Oh What a Beautiful Morning
3:00 a.m. came extremely early, and as I woke my 12 year old son Bryan his first words were, "I am to tired to go", but I knew he would not miss the day we had ahead of us. Waking so early was a must as it was Saturday, September 19, and was the opener of the 2009 youth waterfowl hunting weekend and I was sure all Bryan needed was to wake up a bit and clear the cob webs out of his head. I had loaded all of our gear the night before so all that was needed was to get dressed and drive to Jays Sporting Goods in Clare, where we would be meeting my friend and co-worker Matt Miller and his niece Jordan. Jordan was just 10 years old and, from talking to Matt, she was quite excited about the days hunt. With the short drive from our home in Beaverton, Bryan and I arrived at Jays where we chatted briefly with Jordan and Matt then headed out for our 45 minute drive north to my favorite early season waterfowl hole.
We arrived at the lake around 4:45, and as Bryan, Jordan and Matt unloaded our vehicles, I set up the grill and started cooking breakfast burritos. The grill was a welcome sight to us all as we were hungry and the kids were a bit chilly with the temperature holding around 40 degrees. As we all dished up a burrito and warmed by the fire, Jordan and Bryan loosened up a bit and began to chat. Jordan had said she really did not care if she shot a duck, she would be happy to just see one. I think she was a bit doubtful when I told her that not only would she see a duck, she would probably see a couple hundred ducks, and I was sure she would get her first duck. She just smiled and finished her breakfast. Bryan was a bit more confident as this was his second trip to this particular spot and he knew we would see plenty of waterfowl. Once we finished eating breakfast, Matt let his dog Sage out of the truck and told her to load up in their canoe while Bryan and I got into our 14.5 foot tandem kayak and were ready to lead the way across the lake to hunting spot in a small point of cattails on the west shore.
As we pushed off shore and into the lake we were greeted with fog, thick, dense, white fog. It was like our paddles were cutting through the center of a 3 Musketeers candy bar. I can normally make the trip across the lake in 5 - 10 minutes but the fog was worse than I had ever seen on the lake. Using lights to try to stay in the main river channel and avoid the flooded stump fields, we eased our way toward the west shore. We did get off track and into the stumps for a couple minutes but were lucky enough not to get hung up and were able to make our way back into the river channel. Once we entered the open water of the river, and it was heading west, I knew we were not far from our destination, and when the river made a sharp bend to the south, that was my clue to head due west for a 50 yard shot through the weeds and stumps to our hideout in the small point of cattails between a small bay to our north and another to our south. Just prior to the cattail point Matt placed decoys to the north and Bryan and I placed decoys to the south. Keeping all the decoys within 20 yards would allow for some close range shooting for the kids once the sun started to come up and the morning flights took to the sky.
Tucked into the cattails, we all sat quietly, just waiting for that first lonely hen to quack, or the soft whistle of a wood duck waking to the rays of the morning sun. With daylight starting to appear over the tree line across the lake, it was as if someone reached into the center of the lake and pushed the fog away just for us. As dark gave way to the pale grey morning sky we were suddenly able to see a half mile in any direction. The first hen of the morning sounded her lonely just as a wood duck gave a subtle whistle. Shortly thereafter the first ducks of the morning took to the air.
"Get ready" whispered Matt to Jordan as a couple wood ducks made there way through the brisk morning air and headed in our direction. Before Jordan could even think about a shot the little feather covered lightning bolts zipped by. Just as fast as those appeared and disappeared a few more were in the air.
"Off to the right",
"10:00 oclock high"
"Here they come'
In and out flew the speedy little ducks, some times only one, other times 4 or five at a time. Once or twice they would drop into our decoys just briefly before jumping back into the air and heading to another part of the lake. I was finally able to warm Bryan early enough when the next couple wood ducks approached and his little pump 20 gauge shattered the silence of the morning. That was all it took to get him going. Although he did not connect, he was now ready to roll and not shy about shooting. When I said "take em" , he fired. Shot after shot came unsuccessfully but he was not about to give up. Jordan had yet to fire a shot when a nice little woody approached from the left and Matt told her to take it. One quick shot and she had her first duck. The little wood duck was able to make its' way into the cattails before Matt released his dog into the water, but Sage is a wonderful hunting dog and was able to retrieve the bird from deep into the tangle of cattails. As Matt and Jordan came around the point of cattails from retrieveing her duck, the smile on Jordans' face was almost to big to fit on her face. A moment I will never forget.
We were barely able to enjoy Jordans success when Bryan spotted a duck coming in from our right and he put it down real quick. A second shot to finish it off, and Bryan now had a wood duck for himself. What a day already and it had been barely a half hour since we tucked ourselves into our hiding spot. We were obviously well concealed as the morning flight continued right in front of us and offered many opportunities for shots. A small group of wood ducks came rocketing in from the right and with a quick mount of his pump 20 gauge and a squeeze of the trigger one of the flock tumbled to the water. The bird immediately uprighted itself and headed for some tall weeds. I told Bryan to take another shot but it was to late as the duck disappeared. Matt sent out Sage for a recovery but she was unsuccessful. Even with our help the duck was not to be found. Bryan was a little bummed but I explained to him that it will happen to every waterfowl hunter at some point in time and not to get to bummed about it. With that said we made our way back to our spot for a few more minutes before Bryan and I took off for some jump shooting and hopefully to push some birds toward Jordan and Matt who would remain on the decoy sets.
With Bryan in the front seat of my tandem kayak and his gun at the ready, we made our way through the many bays and canals around the lake shore. Wood ducks and mallards flushed from just about every little nook and cranny offering Bryan a few shots and sending ducks in every direction. From time to time we could hear a shot or two coming from the area of Matt and Jordan. As we crossed the main lake and started heading north on the shoreline where our partners were waiting over the decoys, a nice drake wood duck bolted from the cattails straight in front of Bryan and he dropped it immediately. A couple shots from Jordans area followed as a couple dozen wood ducks took flight along the shoreline in front of us.
As we rounded the point of cattails we could see Matt and Jordan were picking up there decoys. Bryan said that he had taken another nice drake giving him 2 ducks for the morning and with another big smile Jordan announced that she had taken her 3 wood duck limit.
I can honestly say there are very few moments in my life that have or will rival that.
OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!
We arrived at the lake around 4:45, and as Bryan, Jordan and Matt unloaded our vehicles, I set up the grill and started cooking breakfast burritos. The grill was a welcome sight to us all as we were hungry and the kids were a bit chilly with the temperature holding around 40 degrees. As we all dished up a burrito and warmed by the fire, Jordan and Bryan loosened up a bit and began to chat. Jordan had said she really did not care if she shot a duck, she would be happy to just see one. I think she was a bit doubtful when I told her that not only would she see a duck, she would probably see a couple hundred ducks, and I was sure she would get her first duck. She just smiled and finished her breakfast. Bryan was a bit more confident as this was his second trip to this particular spot and he knew we would see plenty of waterfowl. Once we finished eating breakfast, Matt let his dog Sage out of the truck and told her to load up in their canoe while Bryan and I got into our 14.5 foot tandem kayak and were ready to lead the way across the lake to hunting spot in a small point of cattails on the west shore.
As we pushed off shore and into the lake we were greeted with fog, thick, dense, white fog. It was like our paddles were cutting through the center of a 3 Musketeers candy bar. I can normally make the trip across the lake in 5 - 10 minutes but the fog was worse than I had ever seen on the lake. Using lights to try to stay in the main river channel and avoid the flooded stump fields, we eased our way toward the west shore. We did get off track and into the stumps for a couple minutes but were lucky enough not to get hung up and were able to make our way back into the river channel. Once we entered the open water of the river, and it was heading west, I knew we were not far from our destination, and when the river made a sharp bend to the south, that was my clue to head due west for a 50 yard shot through the weeds and stumps to our hideout in the small point of cattails between a small bay to our north and another to our south. Just prior to the cattail point Matt placed decoys to the north and Bryan and I placed decoys to the south. Keeping all the decoys within 20 yards would allow for some close range shooting for the kids once the sun started to come up and the morning flights took to the sky.
Tucked into the cattails, we all sat quietly, just waiting for that first lonely hen to quack, or the soft whistle of a wood duck waking to the rays of the morning sun. With daylight starting to appear over the tree line across the lake, it was as if someone reached into the center of the lake and pushed the fog away just for us. As dark gave way to the pale grey morning sky we were suddenly able to see a half mile in any direction. The first hen of the morning sounded her lonely just as a wood duck gave a subtle whistle. Shortly thereafter the first ducks of the morning took to the air.
"Get ready" whispered Matt to Jordan as a couple wood ducks made there way through the brisk morning air and headed in our direction. Before Jordan could even think about a shot the little feather covered lightning bolts zipped by. Just as fast as those appeared and disappeared a few more were in the air.
"Off to the right",
"10:00 oclock high"
"Here they come'
In and out flew the speedy little ducks, some times only one, other times 4 or five at a time. Once or twice they would drop into our decoys just briefly before jumping back into the air and heading to another part of the lake. I was finally able to warm Bryan early enough when the next couple wood ducks approached and his little pump 20 gauge shattered the silence of the morning. That was all it took to get him going. Although he did not connect, he was now ready to roll and not shy about shooting. When I said "take em" , he fired. Shot after shot came unsuccessfully but he was not about to give up. Jordan had yet to fire a shot when a nice little woody approached from the left and Matt told her to take it. One quick shot and she had her first duck. The little wood duck was able to make its' way into the cattails before Matt released his dog into the water, but Sage is a wonderful hunting dog and was able to retrieve the bird from deep into the tangle of cattails. As Matt and Jordan came around the point of cattails from retrieveing her duck, the smile on Jordans' face was almost to big to fit on her face. A moment I will never forget.
We were barely able to enjoy Jordans success when Bryan spotted a duck coming in from our right and he put it down real quick. A second shot to finish it off, and Bryan now had a wood duck for himself. What a day already and it had been barely a half hour since we tucked ourselves into our hiding spot. We were obviously well concealed as the morning flight continued right in front of us and offered many opportunities for shots. A small group of wood ducks came rocketing in from the right and with a quick mount of his pump 20 gauge and a squeeze of the trigger one of the flock tumbled to the water. The bird immediately uprighted itself and headed for some tall weeds. I told Bryan to take another shot but it was to late as the duck disappeared. Matt sent out Sage for a recovery but she was unsuccessful. Even with our help the duck was not to be found. Bryan was a little bummed but I explained to him that it will happen to every waterfowl hunter at some point in time and not to get to bummed about it. With that said we made our way back to our spot for a few more minutes before Bryan and I took off for some jump shooting and hopefully to push some birds toward Jordan and Matt who would remain on the decoy sets.
With Bryan in the front seat of my tandem kayak and his gun at the ready, we made our way through the many bays and canals around the lake shore. Wood ducks and mallards flushed from just about every little nook and cranny offering Bryan a few shots and sending ducks in every direction. From time to time we could hear a shot or two coming from the area of Matt and Jordan. As we crossed the main lake and started heading north on the shoreline where our partners were waiting over the decoys, a nice drake wood duck bolted from the cattails straight in front of Bryan and he dropped it immediately. A couple shots from Jordans area followed as a couple dozen wood ducks took flight along the shoreline in front of us.
As we rounded the point of cattails we could see Matt and Jordan were picking up there decoys. Bryan said that he had taken another nice drake giving him 2 ducks for the morning and with another big smile Jordan announced that she had taken her 3 wood duck limit.
I can honestly say there are very few moments in my life that have or will rival that.
OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
My Soul Mate!
June 25th, 1982 was by far, the most important day of my life. It was on that day that my wife and I went on our first date. It was a bit strange as I had never really considered dating her. Not that she was not beautiful, because she was certainly "hot", with a body to kill for. It was just that I was never really much of one for dating. My time was spent on more productive things like hunting, partying, fishing,partying, trapping, partying and partying. I trapped and helped my father paint houses and install floor covering all through my childhood, providing me with all the spending money an adolescent boy could ever want, but spending it on dating seemed like a waste of my hard earned money.
Why would I spend my money on taking a girl to a movie, or out to dinner when I could by a new shotgun, or fishing gear, go skiing with the buddies or to a concert. Lots of headbanging in those days. Of course there was always the cost of mind altering, recreational activities also, but we will not go into those details, it was just a part of my life back then. Then came June of 1982, the summer between my junior and senior year in high school.
I was playing basketball with a neighbor when my brother and his girlfriend , along with her best friend Dawn, both of whom were also in my graduating class, showed up and asked me if I wanted to go to a Blue Oyster Cult Concert. A concert? Duh! Yeah, and it didn't seem like a date to me as I thought I was just tagging along for a good time. We partied, we rocked, we had a great time and I asked to see her again, then again and again.
I was hooked from that first moment, June 25th 1982. We immediately bonded. I let her look into my soul. We talked, we laughed, we kissed goodnight, and several months later we made love. I had honestly never wanted to have sex with another girl, but Dawn was different. My heart belonged to her and I prayed that she would always want me in her life. It was the first time for both of us and it was great. A bit awkward, but great.
Now 28+ years later we are still together. Still the only sexual partners either of us have ever had, and she is the only one I have ever wanted. She has given me 3 wonderful sons and 2 grandsons. She has always been there for me when I was down. She puts up with all the BS that I could possibly throw at her and continues to love me in return. She made me my sauteed peaches and ice cream last night for Gods sake. I love her more every day and pray we live to be 100 just so that I will have more time with her.
If anyone wonders if there are such things as soul mates I would have to say yes. From the deepest part of my being, yes, for I have found mine.
I love you Dawn
Why would I spend my money on taking a girl to a movie, or out to dinner when I could by a new shotgun, or fishing gear, go skiing with the buddies or to a concert. Lots of headbanging in those days. Of course there was always the cost of mind altering, recreational activities also, but we will not go into those details, it was just a part of my life back then. Then came June of 1982, the summer between my junior and senior year in high school.
I was playing basketball with a neighbor when my brother and his girlfriend , along with her best friend Dawn, both of whom were also in my graduating class, showed up and asked me if I wanted to go to a Blue Oyster Cult Concert. A concert? Duh! Yeah, and it didn't seem like a date to me as I thought I was just tagging along for a good time. We partied, we rocked, we had a great time and I asked to see her again, then again and again.
I was hooked from that first moment, June 25th 1982. We immediately bonded. I let her look into my soul. We talked, we laughed, we kissed goodnight, and several months later we made love. I had honestly never wanted to have sex with another girl, but Dawn was different. My heart belonged to her and I prayed that she would always want me in her life. It was the first time for both of us and it was great. A bit awkward, but great.
Now 28+ years later we are still together. Still the only sexual partners either of us have ever had, and she is the only one I have ever wanted. She has given me 3 wonderful sons and 2 grandsons. She has always been there for me when I was down. She puts up with all the BS that I could possibly throw at her and continues to love me in return. She made me my sauteed peaches and ice cream last night for Gods sake. I love her more every day and pray we live to be 100 just so that I will have more time with her.
If anyone wonders if there are such things as soul mates I would have to say yes. From the deepest part of my being, yes, for I have found mine.
I love you Dawn
Monday, August 23, 2010
What was I doing yesterday that I did not have time to post a blog?
Huh?
Worked 4 hours and was not all that busy at work.
Work is the only place that I have internet accessability.
Tweeted a bit.
Checked facebook.
I think I posted on Studio 30+.
Closed 3 deals at work for a total of about 1 hour of work.
Worked a bit on companies website, (a little bit).
Spent about an hour at work cleaning up and finishing stuff that co-worker should have done.
Had lunch, a whole 15 minutes of my day.
Checked inventory, another 15 minutes.
Posted a few photos of my drawings on Studio 30+.
Went home, watched a movie, bed early.
What a wonderful day it was.
Huh?
Worked 4 hours and was not all that busy at work.
Work is the only place that I have internet accessability.
Tweeted a bit.
Checked facebook.
I think I posted on Studio 30+.
Closed 3 deals at work for a total of about 1 hour of work.
Worked a bit on companies website, (a little bit).
Spent about an hour at work cleaning up and finishing stuff that co-worker should have done.
Had lunch, a whole 15 minutes of my day.
Checked inventory, another 15 minutes.
Posted a few photos of my drawings on Studio 30+.
Went home, watched a movie, bed early.
What a wonderful day it was.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Why Me?
With the first touch of my pencil tip to my paper I step into my work. The first mark of graphite on paper is like a tip toe into a room of silent observers. Where am I going? What have I gotten Myself into?
From one line to another my footsteps grow heavier and my pencil leads the way into a new adventure. An outline soon becomes and image and my feet have found the map. They now know where to take me, but how do they get me there.
Shades begin to fill in the space between the lines and my steady walk across the paper becomes an emersion into the piece itself. Swimming amongst the graphite and paper particles, I begin to see the piece from within.
A dark line here, a black spot there, looking out from within. I see the back side of my art. I am surrounded by wonder. The flatness of the paper begins to take on a new dimension, appearing round, but that is not possible. I see it. It is there.
Just around that corner of brilliant must be the total darkness of the back side of the moon. Beyond that I emerge to the surface, remove myself, and take a look from the outside in.
It's OK, but the shade in the corner of the eye is off. The corner of the lip is just a bit to high. The body color must be darker.
I dive back in. This time into deep water. Totally surrounded by my work. I can see nothing but the drawing around me as my pencil takes me deeper with each stroke. I stroke until my hands cramp, then shoot to the surface and extract myself once again.
It's done. My work is complete and I have no idea why I can do it.
I was not trained. I have no formal teaching. I just see it all there. A third dimension on a 2 dimensional object.
Why me?
From one line to another my footsteps grow heavier and my pencil leads the way into a new adventure. An outline soon becomes and image and my feet have found the map. They now know where to take me, but how do they get me there.
Shades begin to fill in the space between the lines and my steady walk across the paper becomes an emersion into the piece itself. Swimming amongst the graphite and paper particles, I begin to see the piece from within.
A dark line here, a black spot there, looking out from within. I see the back side of my art. I am surrounded by wonder. The flatness of the paper begins to take on a new dimension, appearing round, but that is not possible. I see it. It is there.
Just around that corner of brilliant must be the total darkness of the back side of the moon. Beyond that I emerge to the surface, remove myself, and take a look from the outside in.
It's OK, but the shade in the corner of the eye is off. The corner of the lip is just a bit to high. The body color must be darker.
I dive back in. This time into deep water. Totally surrounded by my work. I can see nothing but the drawing around me as my pencil takes me deeper with each stroke. I stroke until my hands cramp, then shoot to the surface and extract myself once again.
It's done. My work is complete and I have no idea why I can do it.
I was not trained. I have no formal teaching. I just see it all there. A third dimension on a 2 dimensional object.
Why me?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Who Rearranged the Keyboard?
A little nausea the last 2 days, but nothing I can't deal with. Drink lots of water, small meals, relax. Everything is good. World caves in around me last night, tried my best to deal with it. Started pacing on my crutches, which really sucks. Worked up a sweat and it wan't even that hot out. Took wife and son for a drive, bought them and ice cream, seen a few deer in the fields, mind relaxed, went home. Whew, not so bad. Sat out in the lawn with my wonderful wife and watched our 13 year old son hit apples with a golf club. Quite enjoyable actually, and took my mind off the stupid terrors running freely deep inside. Ok, calmed down enough to go inside and finally chill. Sit on couch to relax. That lasts all of about 1 minute and my mind starts running rampent again. Mouth gets dry. I can feel it coming and fight to keep that demon away. Back on the crutches to the kitchen for a fresh glass of ice water. One sip and I think I am going to drown. Fuck. Relax Frank, it is just in your head, everything is ok. Put on funny movie and just can not get into it. My mind is overwhelmed. My son moving to Wyoming is going to get in trouble and end up in jail. My marine son is going to war and I won't see him again. Something horrible is going to happen to my grandson while they are in Wyoming and I will never see them again. My 13 year old is going to crash his bicycle and end up in the hospital, no wait, he is going to drown this winter falling through the ice in front of the house. My wife is going to get some terrible illness, no wait, it's me that is going to pass before my children become true adults. My chest is tightening. Now 1:am and still awake. Have to leave for work at 7:am. Getting really tired and mind fading. Lay on couch and realize I am going to fall asleep. Very tired. Nothing can stop the sleep now. Nothing! Well, maybe the fact that I am now in debt up to my ass from this damn broke leg surgery. How about insurance for the vehicles. My 13 year old is going to be bored to death tomorrow while the wife and I work and it's my fault. She is going to get in a car accident on the way to work. I have a fucking migraine. My leg hardware hurts. Pain in the incision. Screws must be out of place. Metal plate must have bent when I slipped. Now going to have to go back for more surgery. All this nonsense in my head. None of it real and that freaks me out even more. I GIVE UP! 2 narcotic painkillers for the leg, 2 pain killers to prevent stomach pain from the narcotics, and 2 xanax for the freaking out. Not a great mix at 2:am and now, 1:30 pm, I am in a serious fog. And who the fuck switched the keys on the keyboard? Or maybe I just can't quite feel my fingers.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Relax Dude!
So if you pull up behind me in the straight or right turn lane,next to the left turn only lane, and the right turn arrow turns green but I do not move, maybe you should check to see if I have my right turn blinker on before you honk your horn and start shaking your fist at me.
It was not like I was going to go straight and there was not a green light to go straight.
You know I was just sitting there to annoy you.
Did that 10 seconds you had to wait for me to go straight once the main light turned green cost you your job?
Were you late for an important meeting?
Did you really have to go to the bathroom?
Leave a minute earlier just incase you run into someone like me who actually pays attention when they are driving. Lay off the coffee and chill a bit.
It was not like I was going to go straight and there was not a green light to go straight.
You know I was just sitting there to annoy you.
Did that 10 seconds you had to wait for me to go straight once the main light turned green cost you your job?
Were you late for an important meeting?
Did you really have to go to the bathroom?
Leave a minute earlier just incase you run into someone like me who actually pays attention when they are driving. Lay off the coffee and chill a bit.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Mind Over...Me
No pain medication for almost a week now, doing great, then out of the blue last night I hurt like crazy. I swear I could feel all 8 screws in my leg. Felt like the incisions on both side of my leg were splitting apart. My knee hurt from holding my foot off the floor all day. My shoulders hurt from hobbling on crutches all day. My ass hurt from sitting on it 10 times more than I usually do. To put it clearly, I hurt.
And then my wife and youngest son go to Bay City to pick up my art display stands from my oldest son who is moving to Wyoming. So I am sitting there, hurting all over, home alone, and it really set in that my son is actually moving and taking my grandsons half way across the country. So now the panic sets in. My throat begins to get dry. Shortly thereafter the opening in my throat seems to be closing. I can not sit still but it is a pain in the ass to stand. My mind floods with images of all the things that could go wrong preventing me from seeing my son or grandsons again. Shortness of breath followed by sweating. And not just average, everyday, man is it hot out here sweating. No, I am talking about, my t-shirt soaked and sweat running down my forehead and dripping off my eyebrows. I try, but my mind will not let me think of all the good that might come out of the kids moving.
Face it, if your mind wants control, it will take it, and it sucks.
I really do not care for prescription medication, or medication of any sort for that matter, but I was really left with no choice.
Now many of you may say, what a wuss, but trust me, if you were 45, a bit overweight, had broken bones for the first time in your life being held together by things that look like they came from corner hardware store, and add a serious panic attack, you might just give in also.
Faygo Rock and Rye on ice, 2 hydrocodone for the pain, and 2 xanax slipped under the tongue for the anxiety. (under the tongue with the xanax works fast, 5 - 10 minutes and no worries)
Relaxed enough to finish a painting, and fall asleep by about 10pm. I don't think I moved and inch once I fell asleep.
Today I am a bit cloudy but I can see clearly, unmedicated enough, to understand that it was just a bad couple hours and everything is going to be ok.
Or is it?
I wish I could convince myself that all is going to be good, but I know deep down inside that it is only a matter of time when I lay my head on my pillow to go to sleep and in less than a minute I will spring up, crazy thoughts of panic running through my mind, and not just thoughts of missing the kids.
How about thoughts of losing my wife and being alone?
What about me getting some terminal illness and leaving my family without a husband, father, and grandfather?
Or the next time my youngest goes to a friends and thinking that he is going to get hurt somehow?
Oh, and then there is my son who is a Marine. Yeah, like I am going to handle him going off to Afganhistan (spelling?) in a few months.
Then top that off with the fact that it really freaks me out thinking that I might have to take this anxiety/panic medication the rest of my life.
WTF is that all about?
And then my wife and youngest son go to Bay City to pick up my art display stands from my oldest son who is moving to Wyoming. So I am sitting there, hurting all over, home alone, and it really set in that my son is actually moving and taking my grandsons half way across the country. So now the panic sets in. My throat begins to get dry. Shortly thereafter the opening in my throat seems to be closing. I can not sit still but it is a pain in the ass to stand. My mind floods with images of all the things that could go wrong preventing me from seeing my son or grandsons again. Shortness of breath followed by sweating. And not just average, everyday, man is it hot out here sweating. No, I am talking about, my t-shirt soaked and sweat running down my forehead and dripping off my eyebrows. I try, but my mind will not let me think of all the good that might come out of the kids moving.
Face it, if your mind wants control, it will take it, and it sucks.
I really do not care for prescription medication, or medication of any sort for that matter, but I was really left with no choice.
Now many of you may say, what a wuss, but trust me, if you were 45, a bit overweight, had broken bones for the first time in your life being held together by things that look like they came from corner hardware store, and add a serious panic attack, you might just give in also.
Faygo Rock and Rye on ice, 2 hydrocodone for the pain, and 2 xanax slipped under the tongue for the anxiety. (under the tongue with the xanax works fast, 5 - 10 minutes and no worries)
Relaxed enough to finish a painting, and fall asleep by about 10pm. I don't think I moved and inch once I fell asleep.
Today I am a bit cloudy but I can see clearly, unmedicated enough, to understand that it was just a bad couple hours and everything is going to be ok.
Or is it?
I wish I could convince myself that all is going to be good, but I know deep down inside that it is only a matter of time when I lay my head on my pillow to go to sleep and in less than a minute I will spring up, crazy thoughts of panic running through my mind, and not just thoughts of missing the kids.
How about thoughts of losing my wife and being alone?
What about me getting some terminal illness and leaving my family without a husband, father, and grandfather?
Or the next time my youngest goes to a friends and thinking that he is going to get hurt somehow?
Oh, and then there is my son who is a Marine. Yeah, like I am going to handle him going off to Afganhistan (spelling?) in a few months.
Then top that off with the fact that it really freaks me out thinking that I might have to take this anxiety/panic medication the rest of my life.
WTF is that all about?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I Think My Wife Actually Likes Me?
If you are not up to date with my latest trauma, then let me fill you in, if you are please stand by.
About 3 weeks ago I broke both bones in my lower right leg and had to have surgery to put install a plate and several screws to hold the bones together. Blah, Blah, spare the rest of the details.
The first week after the injury I was pretty much out of touch with reality due to major pain, and anxiety meds. Yet I somehow managed not to mess myself or further injure my leg. I was also able to maintain enough nutrition in my body to keep me from shrivelling up and dehydrating.
Week 2 I was back on our planet and realizing what a pain in the ass this is.
Now week 3 and I am fully aware of the fact that my wonderful wife is the soul reason that I am clean and healthy, even though I am "broken".
That first week she must have waited on me hand foot. I can only imagine the extra burden on her. Making sure I had my medication, my meals, plenty of water, clean clothes, and her shoulder to lean on when I was freaking out from anxiety.
Week 2 and 3 have been just as bad for her because she is back to work full time and still brings me my meals, sets out clean clothes for me for work, and has managed to keep her chin up and have a great attitude through it all.
How does a guy deserve such a terrific person in his life. 28 years with her has truly been a blessing.
About 3 weeks ago I broke both bones in my lower right leg and had to have surgery to put install a plate and several screws to hold the bones together. Blah, Blah, spare the rest of the details.
The first week after the injury I was pretty much out of touch with reality due to major pain, and anxiety meds. Yet I somehow managed not to mess myself or further injure my leg. I was also able to maintain enough nutrition in my body to keep me from shrivelling up and dehydrating.
Week 2 I was back on our planet and realizing what a pain in the ass this is.
Now week 3 and I am fully aware of the fact that my wonderful wife is the soul reason that I am clean and healthy, even though I am "broken".
That first week she must have waited on me hand foot. I can only imagine the extra burden on her. Making sure I had my medication, my meals, plenty of water, clean clothes, and her shoulder to lean on when I was freaking out from anxiety.
Week 2 and 3 have been just as bad for her because she is back to work full time and still brings me my meals, sets out clean clothes for me for work, and has managed to keep her chin up and have a great attitude through it all.
How does a guy deserve such a terrific person in his life. 28 years with her has truly been a blessing.
Our Tax Dollars Hard at Work
So I hobble into the Post Office on my crutches this morning. A big purple cast covers my lower right leg. I have a hell of a time opening the door and making my way up to the counter.
Clearly exhausted, I set a newspaper up on the counter and inform the postal clerk that I would like to mail this to the address I showed her. She looks at me, somewhat dumbfounded, and says, so what do you want me to do with it?
I wanted to reply , shove up your .... you crabby b, , but instead I just ask her if she can tell me how much it will be to mail it.
Once again in a "man you are really bothering me" tone she says, "You have to put in one of those envelopes and weigh it" as she points to the back of the room at a rack full of various envelopes.
It amazed me that she either did not see my crutches leaning up against the counter and the purple cast or she really did not give a darn. So I grab my crutches and slowly make my way to the rack of envelopes. There are 3 different envelopes that would fit but they were slightly different from each other and I was not sure if they had specific uses. Now, almost afraid to ask, I look over my shoulder and inquire as to which one, if any, would be the correct envelope.
"The one on the right I said!!" was her irritated reply.
I was obviously disrupting her morning of standing there and staring out the window at nothing. No other customers, just traffic going by, the place was empty.
I pick the envelope on the right and return to the counter and this "lovely" postal clerk. Setting the envelope and the newspaper I wanted to send on the counter I ask her if she can now tell me how much it will be to send.
$1.39 plus 99 cents for the envelope.
"Thank you" I reply, trying to ignore how poorly I was being treated.
I begin filling out the envelope and was immediately halted by my "friendly" neighborhood postal clerk.
"You can go fill that out over at the counter by the envelopes, there is a pen there for you" she says, no longer making any attempt to refrain from being a bitch.
My jaw about hit the floor. She actually made me pick up the envelope, the newspaper, and my crutches and hobble back across the room to fill out 4 lines of an address on an envelope, just in case someone else came in and needed service. Lord knows that 20 seconds it took me to fill out the address could have been the end of the U.S. Postal Service had another customer come in.
I fill out the envelope then take it back to the counter and pay to send it out. Now she is miss wonderful, obviously glad to see me leave.
"Have a good day" she says, as I try to shimmy my way out the door with my crutches.
Clearly exhausted, I set a newspaper up on the counter and inform the postal clerk that I would like to mail this to the address I showed her. She looks at me, somewhat dumbfounded, and says, so what do you want me to do with it?
I wanted to reply , shove up your .... you crabby b, , but instead I just ask her if she can tell me how much it will be to mail it.
Once again in a "man you are really bothering me" tone she says, "You have to put in one of those envelopes and weigh it" as she points to the back of the room at a rack full of various envelopes.
It amazed me that she either did not see my crutches leaning up against the counter and the purple cast or she really did not give a darn. So I grab my crutches and slowly make my way to the rack of envelopes. There are 3 different envelopes that would fit but they were slightly different from each other and I was not sure if they had specific uses. Now, almost afraid to ask, I look over my shoulder and inquire as to which one, if any, would be the correct envelope.
"The one on the right I said!!" was her irritated reply.
I was obviously disrupting her morning of standing there and staring out the window at nothing. No other customers, just traffic going by, the place was empty.
I pick the envelope on the right and return to the counter and this "lovely" postal clerk. Setting the envelope and the newspaper I wanted to send on the counter I ask her if she can now tell me how much it will be to send.
$1.39 plus 99 cents for the envelope.
"Thank you" I reply, trying to ignore how poorly I was being treated.
I begin filling out the envelope and was immediately halted by my "friendly" neighborhood postal clerk.
"You can go fill that out over at the counter by the envelopes, there is a pen there for you" she says, no longer making any attempt to refrain from being a bitch.
My jaw about hit the floor. She actually made me pick up the envelope, the newspaper, and my crutches and hobble back across the room to fill out 4 lines of an address on an envelope, just in case someone else came in and needed service. Lord knows that 20 seconds it took me to fill out the address could have been the end of the U.S. Postal Service had another customer come in.
I fill out the envelope then take it back to the counter and pay to send it out. Now she is miss wonderful, obviously glad to see me leave.
"Have a good day" she says, as I try to shimmy my way out the door with my crutches.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Get Screwed!
Here's to all the people in my life that ever told me to get screwed.
7 screws and a plate in one bone in my leg, and one long screw in the other bone in the same leg. Yeah but I am sporting a cool new purple cast. I think I will do it up with some original artwork over the next 4 weeks.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Lost Grandpa
How do you deal with knowing that your son is moving half way across the country and taking your two grandsons far away. We do not make enough financially to be able to visit them more than once a year, at best. I know it might be what is best for them financially, but dang, what am I going to do without seeing those little guys? Any help or comments would be greatly appreciated.
Not again
Maybe it is just me, but wouldn't you think that once you have worn the picture off,cracked and chipped, and can no longer read the magnetic strip on your food stamp card that it might be time to look for a job and stop living off the rest of us. I know some people really need the assistance from time to time but come on. Yeah, I know you have probably already heard something of the sort from me before but it really burns me up, blah blah blah, and on I rant.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I wonder if...
a guy can brake his leg, while walking on grass, while "watching" a canoe race, without being drunk. YES!
a guy can be so bored at home, because he broke his leg "watching" a canoe race, that he would drive his pickup truck to town with a cast over the two broke bones in his leg. YES!
a guy can get at ticket for driving his pickup truck to town while his right leg is propped up on the seat to keep his broke leg elevated while he operates the brake and excellerator with my,oops, his left foot. NOT YET!
a guy can be so bored at home, because he broke his leg "watching" a canoe race, that he would drive his pickup truck to town with a cast over the two broke bones in his leg. YES!
a guy can get at ticket for driving his pickup truck to town while his right leg is propped up on the seat to keep his broke leg elevated while he operates the brake and excellerator with my,oops, his left foot. NOT YET!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
WTF?
It's 90+ f'in degrees out, no breeze, no ac at home, broke leg, live by lake can't go swimming because of broke leg, can't go to work just for the ac because of broke leg, leg does not hurt enough now to justify taking meds, no anxiety to justify taking other meds, maybe if I keep thinking about all this bs I will have an anxiety attack and trip on the way to get my anxiety meds and hurt my leg again,,then would it be all better?
Nope, I guess not, just go home and don't worry about the heat exhaustion and become a human baked potato. Love the crutches and the fact that it might only be 80 degrees tomorrow.
Who is putting this bs in my head? Wheres the meds?
Nope, I guess not, just go home and don't worry about the heat exhaustion and become a human baked potato. Love the crutches and the fact that it might only be 80 degrees tomorrow.
Who is putting this bs in my head? Wheres the meds?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
My Medicated Vacation
Can you really loose a day in your life? How about a week? Sure you can, just snap both bones in your lower right leg, have surgery to put them back together with screws, then take two kinds of pain killers (one for the pain of the surgery and broken bones and one for the stomach pain caused by the pain killers), throw in some aspirin to prevent blood clotting and then top it off with an injection of adavan(spelling?) chased by four tabs of xanex and then eat 2 - 6 more of those a day to get over the anxiety of being laid up for 6 - 8 weeks. Yep a one week medicated vacation that I did not even realize I went on. Dang that sucks.
Lost a Week, Here's Why
As I sit typing, I think to myself, “How can it be Saturday?”
“Where did Sunday through Friday go?”
The excitement of being a spectator at the 63rd annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon was simply overwhelming this year.
As summer progressses in the small town of Grayling Michigan, thoughts become focused on the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. Held each year on the last full weekend of July, it is the longest nonstop canoe race in North America and is said to be one of, if not the toughest spectator sport in the world.
Now please do not take this as me “stealing the thunder” from the canoe racer, as that is the last thing I intend to do. The men and women who paddle this exrtraordinary race are themselves extraordinary athletes. To run full speed for 4 blocks carrying a canoe on your shoulder, hoping to keep in sync with your partner who is carrying the other end, all the while trying to avoid crashing into one of the other almost 200 racers who have the same goal in mind, get to the river. Not necessarily get to the river first, just get to the river.
The canoe racers must jump in their canoes in the river and paddle 120 miles to the finish in Oscoda, Michigan,stopping at least 6 times to get out, pick up their canoe, and carry it up and over a dam, just to continue on the other side. No breaks for feeding or resting, that is all done in mid stream. The fastest of the canoe racing teams will arrive at their destination in Oscoda, about 14 hours after they started in Grayling. Oh, and keep in mind that this all begins at 9:00pm so the majority of the race takes place in the dark of night.
These paddlers are tough. I could not do it. Right now, this very day, or just about any other day in my life I could not do it, but the Ausable River Canoe Marathon is also known as one of , if not the toughest spectator sports in the world,and though I can not say I am , or have ever been a contestant but I can say that I have been a spectator.
I have personally attended nearly 30 of these races, and am proud to say I am a serious spectator. In fact on many ocassions I have followed the entire marathon from start to finish, an event which I hoped to accomplish this year.
I began my spectatorship in ritualistic style, arriveing in Grayling about 5:30 pm, a couple cruises through town, park a couple blocks from downtown and make the walk through the street vendors and all the arts and crafts tents. The local bars, restaurants, and retailers were brimming with business. Always the same ole thing but always exciting to be among the crowd which had reached about 2000 spectators, so many in fact that one of the 3 lanes through town was closed to allow for better passage for spectators.
Amongst the crowd of thousands I managed to run into one of my oldest friends, Mike Petrie. Mike and I graduated from Graying High School in the mid 1980s along with many others who no longer live in Grayling but still make the annual pilgramage to be a spectator in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. A short visit then back across town to park on Madsen St.,heading East. ( Trust me, some seriuos spectatin experience here)
I make my way to a 4 city block area where the racing canoes and their paddlers are lined up and anxiuosly awaiting the start of the race. Spectators from all over are meeting the paddlers, talking to feeders, getting photos with paddlers and canoes. I met my friend Tim Sheldon who was a Grayling High classmate of mine but was also paddling the marathon. We shared a little chit chat, I wished him luck and then made my way to my favorite little viewing spot behind the back corner of the old city police post.
By 7:00 pm the grassy bank in front of the Old Ausable Fly Shop and Canoe Livery (Rays as many old timers might know it)is shoulder to shoulder with spectators from around the United States and several other countries. 5 city blocks are lined 8 and 10 spectators deep. The “back bridge” is full of cheering fans.
As the clock ticks closer to the marathons’ 9:00 pm starting, there becomes a steady humm of excitement. A stirring buzz of adrenaline that can be heard from 10 blocks away. The emcee builds the crowd into a roaring wave just as the starting gun goes off signifying the beginning of the 63 annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon.
Marathon spectators have several options when it comes to following the race. The easiest, and most often chosen option is to watch the start and then just go home. Maybe catch the updates throughout the night on the radio and watch the news to see who wins the next day. Almost not a
true spectator by the “diehards”, but hey, you showed up, I bet you even cheered and had your own little rush of adrenalin as the canoes and their paddlers raced by. You are just as much a spectator as those who follow the race beyond the start.
Next are the spectators who will not only be at the start of the race, they will be loud, they will holler, they will cheer and whistle. They are glad to give the big beach ball a whack as it bounces its’ way amongst outstretched hands. These spectators will generally wait until the very last canoe team has entered the water,then they will scurry for their vehicles and rush to one of the first viewing bridges, Stephan or Wakeley bridge. They will hang out for an hour, maybe two, hoot and hollar a bit as the first 10 or so teams go by, and then they will call it a night. You folks are alright! You really get the crowd rallied and prepared for a long night.
Then there are the “GOING ALL THE WAY!!!,,,To Mio” group. You know who you are, and there are a lot of you. You are a serious spectator. We hear you as the crowd starts to get big around 1:00 in the morning. Hundreds of spectators are gathering on the sloped, downstream side of Mio Dam. Hundreds more are at the top of the dam, watching with wary eyes for the faint glint of a canoe headlight. The spectators eyes have strained through hours of vehicle headlights when driving, and near total darkness while waiting to view the racers as they ease by in the night. We here ya holler..” GOING ALL THE WAY”,,,, then mumble “to Mio” . You have already been on the go for at least 5 hours. Probably in and out of the vehicle at least 3 or 4 times. Walking the ½+ mile, to and from each viewing bridge. Refueling your body and mind while traveling from one viewing area to another. Hey, you did great. Mio is a tough place to make it through.
And on we go
Through the darkness of night.
There was just enough traffic to help me keep myeyes open as I traveled from McKinley to 4001 Bridge, where at around 5:00am I watched Tim and Ted paddle swiftly by. I warily made my way back to my vehicle and drove to one of the 5 dams that remained to be crossed, surviving only on protein bars, and coke, and cheese and crackers, oh yeah and some chips, and a couple waters, jerky, blah, blah..
RUSH!!!
Off to Alcona, the first of 5 consecutive dams at which a spectator can view the racers. One of the first places along the route of the marathon that spectators will see padders at sunrise.
My eyes blessed the morning sun. Happy to not have to strain to see a distant paddler or a fellow spectator who may have wondered off path. The rays of the sun recharge my entire body. I was alive and loving it at Alcona Dam in Northern Michigan at about 6:00 in the morning. Warm coffee and doughnut tent. Hundreds of spectators greeting the morning chill. The outline of a canoe swiftly making its’ way across the still of the pond. I took a few pictures as Tim and Ted went by,then off to Loud Dam. Only a few hours left and I will have completed, by myself, one of the toughtest spectator sports in the world.
I believe I arrived at Loud Dam around 7:00 am. I approached the dam from the bottom, having walked about 500 yards from my truck. While standing at the bottom of the dam I recognized at least 50 people that I had seen at every stop along the way, and now, 11 hours from the start of the race, I wondered what their nights had been like. I stood in awe and embraced the fresh morning air before making my way up to the high side of the dam. I would be able to watch as the paddlers make their way through the morning calm of the pond at Loud Dam.
Loud Dam was much like all the other stops after Mio. Quiet, subdued, casual conversation, maybe even a little cat nap with a brief round of cheers and encouragement as each canoe team approaced and made their way over the dam. I silently observed the crowd and looked for a good viewing point. It would be several minutes before the first racers would arrive so I decided to make my way across the path and onto the other side of the racers crossing area. With the downstep of my right foot on the edge of the path, where gravel meets grass, my foot slipped just a bit and my body went instantly to the ground with a croud shivering, gut wrenching snap. I think about 50 people in the crowd moaned in unison.
And now to be honest with you, the past 4+ days since Loud Dam have basically been a blur. I do recall a few datails.
I know several wonderful people asked me if I was ok. I know I stayed over an hour to see Tim and Ted come through then walked 500+yards to my truck and drove 80+ miles home. I also know that I have an xray sitting next to me of the bones in my lower right leg, just above the ankle.
I know I just realized that it is Saturday, and, apparently, the extreme pain in my leg is from the surgery I had Tuesday. Surgery that was necessary to put a few screws and other hardware in my right leg to fix both the bones that snapped at Loud Dam.
To all the spectators who made it all the way, GREAT JOB!
To all the racers who have ever competed in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon I say thank you. It is the extraordinary athlete in you that allows thousands of us to call ourselves the toughest spectators in the world.
See you next year!
“Where did Sunday through Friday go?”
The excitement of being a spectator at the 63rd annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon was simply overwhelming this year.
As summer progressses in the small town of Grayling Michigan, thoughts become focused on the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. Held each year on the last full weekend of July, it is the longest nonstop canoe race in North America and is said to be one of, if not the toughest spectator sport in the world.
Now please do not take this as me “stealing the thunder” from the canoe racer, as that is the last thing I intend to do. The men and women who paddle this exrtraordinary race are themselves extraordinary athletes. To run full speed for 4 blocks carrying a canoe on your shoulder, hoping to keep in sync with your partner who is carrying the other end, all the while trying to avoid crashing into one of the other almost 200 racers who have the same goal in mind, get to the river. Not necessarily get to the river first, just get to the river.
The canoe racers must jump in their canoes in the river and paddle 120 miles to the finish in Oscoda, Michigan,stopping at least 6 times to get out, pick up their canoe, and carry it up and over a dam, just to continue on the other side. No breaks for feeding or resting, that is all done in mid stream. The fastest of the canoe racing teams will arrive at their destination in Oscoda, about 14 hours after they started in Grayling. Oh, and keep in mind that this all begins at 9:00pm so the majority of the race takes place in the dark of night.
These paddlers are tough. I could not do it. Right now, this very day, or just about any other day in my life I could not do it, but the Ausable River Canoe Marathon is also known as one of , if not the toughest spectator sports in the world,and though I can not say I am , or have ever been a contestant but I can say that I have been a spectator.
I have personally attended nearly 30 of these races, and am proud to say I am a serious spectator. In fact on many ocassions I have followed the entire marathon from start to finish, an event which I hoped to accomplish this year.
I began my spectatorship in ritualistic style, arriveing in Grayling about 5:30 pm, a couple cruises through town, park a couple blocks from downtown and make the walk through the street vendors and all the arts and crafts tents. The local bars, restaurants, and retailers were brimming with business. Always the same ole thing but always exciting to be among the crowd which had reached about 2000 spectators, so many in fact that one of the 3 lanes through town was closed to allow for better passage for spectators.
Amongst the crowd of thousands I managed to run into one of my oldest friends, Mike Petrie. Mike and I graduated from Graying High School in the mid 1980s along with many others who no longer live in Grayling but still make the annual pilgramage to be a spectator in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. A short visit then back across town to park on Madsen St.,heading East. ( Trust me, some seriuos spectatin experience here)
I make my way to a 4 city block area where the racing canoes and their paddlers are lined up and anxiuosly awaiting the start of the race. Spectators from all over are meeting the paddlers, talking to feeders, getting photos with paddlers and canoes. I met my friend Tim Sheldon who was a Grayling High classmate of mine but was also paddling the marathon. We shared a little chit chat, I wished him luck and then made my way to my favorite little viewing spot behind the back corner of the old city police post.
By 7:00 pm the grassy bank in front of the Old Ausable Fly Shop and Canoe Livery (Rays as many old timers might know it)is shoulder to shoulder with spectators from around the United States and several other countries. 5 city blocks are lined 8 and 10 spectators deep. The “back bridge” is full of cheering fans.
As the clock ticks closer to the marathons’ 9:00 pm starting, there becomes a steady humm of excitement. A stirring buzz of adrenaline that can be heard from 10 blocks away. The emcee builds the crowd into a roaring wave just as the starting gun goes off signifying the beginning of the 63 annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon.
Marathon spectators have several options when it comes to following the race. The easiest, and most often chosen option is to watch the start and then just go home. Maybe catch the updates throughout the night on the radio and watch the news to see who wins the next day. Almost not a
true spectator by the “diehards”, but hey, you showed up, I bet you even cheered and had your own little rush of adrenalin as the canoes and their paddlers raced by. You are just as much a spectator as those who follow the race beyond the start.
Next are the spectators who will not only be at the start of the race, they will be loud, they will holler, they will cheer and whistle. They are glad to give the big beach ball a whack as it bounces its’ way amongst outstretched hands. These spectators will generally wait until the very last canoe team has entered the water,then they will scurry for their vehicles and rush to one of the first viewing bridges, Stephan or Wakeley bridge. They will hang out for an hour, maybe two, hoot and hollar a bit as the first 10 or so teams go by, and then they will call it a night. You folks are alright! You really get the crowd rallied and prepared for a long night.
Then there are the “GOING ALL THE WAY!!!,,,To Mio” group. You know who you are, and there are a lot of you. You are a serious spectator. We hear you as the crowd starts to get big around 1:00 in the morning. Hundreds of spectators are gathering on the sloped, downstream side of Mio Dam. Hundreds more are at the top of the dam, watching with wary eyes for the faint glint of a canoe headlight. The spectators eyes have strained through hours of vehicle headlights when driving, and near total darkness while waiting to view the racers as they ease by in the night. We here ya holler..” GOING ALL THE WAY”,,,, then mumble “to Mio” . You have already been on the go for at least 5 hours. Probably in and out of the vehicle at least 3 or 4 times. Walking the ½+ mile, to and from each viewing bridge. Refueling your body and mind while traveling from one viewing area to another. Hey, you did great. Mio is a tough place to make it through.
And on we go
Through the darkness of night.
There was just enough traffic to help me keep myeyes open as I traveled from McKinley to 4001 Bridge, where at around 5:00am I watched Tim and Ted paddle swiftly by. I warily made my way back to my vehicle and drove to one of the 5 dams that remained to be crossed, surviving only on protein bars, and coke, and cheese and crackers, oh yeah and some chips, and a couple waters, jerky, blah, blah..
RUSH!!!
Off to Alcona, the first of 5 consecutive dams at which a spectator can view the racers. One of the first places along the route of the marathon that spectators will see padders at sunrise.
My eyes blessed the morning sun. Happy to not have to strain to see a distant paddler or a fellow spectator who may have wondered off path. The rays of the sun recharge my entire body. I was alive and loving it at Alcona Dam in Northern Michigan at about 6:00 in the morning. Warm coffee and doughnut tent. Hundreds of spectators greeting the morning chill. The outline of a canoe swiftly making its’ way across the still of the pond. I took a few pictures as Tim and Ted went by,then off to Loud Dam. Only a few hours left and I will have completed, by myself, one of the toughtest spectator sports in the world.
I believe I arrived at Loud Dam around 7:00 am. I approached the dam from the bottom, having walked about 500 yards from my truck. While standing at the bottom of the dam I recognized at least 50 people that I had seen at every stop along the way, and now, 11 hours from the start of the race, I wondered what their nights had been like. I stood in awe and embraced the fresh morning air before making my way up to the high side of the dam. I would be able to watch as the paddlers make their way through the morning calm of the pond at Loud Dam.
Loud Dam was much like all the other stops after Mio. Quiet, subdued, casual conversation, maybe even a little cat nap with a brief round of cheers and encouragement as each canoe team approaced and made their way over the dam. I silently observed the crowd and looked for a good viewing point. It would be several minutes before the first racers would arrive so I decided to make my way across the path and onto the other side of the racers crossing area. With the downstep of my right foot on the edge of the path, where gravel meets grass, my foot slipped just a bit and my body went instantly to the ground with a croud shivering, gut wrenching snap. I think about 50 people in the crowd moaned in unison.
And now to be honest with you, the past 4+ days since Loud Dam have basically been a blur. I do recall a few datails.
I know several wonderful people asked me if I was ok. I know I stayed over an hour to see Tim and Ted come through then walked 500+yards to my truck and drove 80+ miles home. I also know that I have an xray sitting next to me of the bones in my lower right leg, just above the ankle.
I know I just realized that it is Saturday, and, apparently, the extreme pain in my leg is from the surgery I had Tuesday. Surgery that was necessary to put a few screws and other hardware in my right leg to fix both the bones that snapped at Loud Dam.
To all the spectators who made it all the way, GREAT JOB!
To all the racers who have ever competed in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon I say thank you. It is the extraordinary athlete in you that allows thousands of us to call ourselves the toughest spectators in the world.
See you next year!
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