Manweekend

Kudos to Glenn and Gilbert for this year’s motto.

More Men than usual succumbed to The Skirt and sent their regrets this year. This pitiful display of total wimpiness was offset by the fine performance of Ty Tobey who left a critical wedding (not his own) immediately after the second “I, do” and flew up to Burlington in time to get some serious fishing time in. It would be to the advantage of others to learn from his example.

Another fine example was set by Ned Atwater and some of his contingent who showed up Wednesday and had a proper Man Fire Wednesday night! Tom Tobey and Richard Heurtley, who appeared early Thursday, both expecting to garner the prestige of being the First Arrival, now know better what it takes.

Richard regrets to inform his fellow Men that the gorgeous woman who carted him from Richford to Highgate, Jill Lacroix, is Mrs. Vermont 2003. Jill’s husband Marc was invited but couldn’t make Man Weekend this year.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky the entire time. Temperatures ranged from a comfortable (with a decent sleeping bag) 40 to a really comfortable 70. The lake was a few feet lower than usual and ranged from perfectly calm to mildly rippled. Smaller boats could be beached down at the dock, which those of us with bigger boats thought was an entirely unfair advantage.

The fishing was good. Ned Atwater et al. put in Wes Dunham’s old boat, found a hot spot at the mouth of the creek, and sampled nearly the entire lake’s bass population. The Edgewood crowd caught a bunch of juvenile pike and bass and one nice 5lb northern while anchored “off the dock”. Ty and Richard both caught clams while casting with spinners. Gilbert and Scott, once again, did the best with several fine pike and bass, and have the pictures to prove it.

Chris cooked up a MiniMan Dinner of burgers, dogs, and corn on the cob Friday night with contributions of fries from Glenn and deviled eggs from Allen. For the Saturday Man Meal Allen brought 60 dozen clams and steaks provided by Patrick (who, being skirted, didn’t show up in person but after dinner we forgave him provided he shows up next year and brings more steaks). The surf and turf combination was very well received but a few Men observed that pigging out on clams before the steaks were done was, in retrospect, not such a good idea.

Man Weekend Mechanization took a quantum leap forward when Richard bought a timer module for the coffee urn. Now coffee starts brewing at 6:00am even if no one is in any condition to get up that early.

Combustibles at Camp were getting in short supply (note to Ned: Don’t burn all the wood on Wednesday), but while on a beer run Gilbert, Scott, and Glenn came across the end game of a garage sale and, inspired by the “Everything Free!” sign, loaded up Gilbert’s van with crappy pseudo-wood furniture and other odd and sundry items to fuel Saturday’s fire which was of epic proportions. Even Uncle Arthur (wearing a skirt) would have been impressed.

Early on it seemed like there would be a shortage of boats. Ty was coming late and the AquaPimp was imprisoned behind the Ty-tanic in the Tobey garage. Dennis, who usually hauls the Red Rocket and the HAM out of storage, was out on a medical due to an eye operation. The prospect of being limited to the Lamson’s Cadillac and Uncle Arthur’s 5HP outboard spurred the Men into action and eventually all known boats saw the light of day although the HAM and the Ty-tanic didn’t make it into the water. The Men of Grow Cottage were immune to the near boat crisis because they brought the usual array of superb kayaks.

Man Weekend gained yet another tradition, as yet unexercised. Man Weekend hats and pins were first distributed last year at Man Weekend 2003. The question of lost hats was considered during the intervening year and the result was the bright red Man Weekend Garment of Perpetual Regret, or the Man Thong. A lost Man Weekend Hat will be replaced for free with all appropriate pins provided the Man desirous of such a replacement agrees to being photographed wearing just the hat and the Man Weekend Garment of Perpetual Regret, with the image being posted to the Man Weekend web site and to be taken down only if the original hat is recovered. You have been warned. (The first Man to undergo the ordeal has an advantage. The Man Thong is clean now and will never be washed.)

The issue of lost and/or stolen pins hasn’t been resolved. There are a finite number of Man Weekend pins and since the institution of Man Weekend is expected to last for several generations, at least, there is a reluctance to freely issue replacements. Possibilities being considered are:

1. Charging a high price for replacement pins, with the proceeds going to commission the next series of pins.
2. Replacing lost pins on the loser’s fifth or tenth year anniversary.
3. Requiring the Garment of Perpetual Regret ordeal.

The attendance pin policy needs clarification. Attendance pins are accrued for each year of attendance, but are not awarded if the Man Weekend Hat is not present. All this means is that if you forget your hat one year (a not uncommon occurrence) you’ll get two pins next year.

All Men are cautioned to keep Allen Heurtley apprised of their e-mail address so that future announcements (Man Weekend 2005!) will be received. Please send Man Weekend 2004 pictures to Charles so they can be posted on the web site.

HIGHGATE SPRINGS – Man Weekend, a physical and psychological experiment that annually tests the limits of Man’s endurance for alcohol posioning, sleep deprivation, and sunburn; was another incredible success in 2003 with 23 Men representing six cottages.

Many of you will be familiar with the term “schedule creep”. Man Weekend is experiencing a unique form of schedule creep in that eager Men are showing up earler and earlier with some Men arriving Wednesday this year! At this rate it’ll only take some 360 years before Man Weekend transforms into Wife and Kids Weekend when we all go home to see them for a few days.

All the classic elements were well represented this year: boats, beer, fishing, beer, manly food, beer, golf, beer, pipes and cigars, beer, fire, and some more beer. More time was spent this year in front of the TV watching, er, hockey! Gosh weren’t those Stanley Cup prelims exciting?

Last year’s sacrifice to the Boat Gods seemed to have worked because there were no major problems with boats this year. A small armada went forth Friday morning into fine weather that lasted all day. Not much was caught on Friday. Gilbert’s prize-winning 1.6 pound bass was the best catch that day. There were some pike and other bass. Richard’s mudfish was just a warning of the deluge that was to follow.

There were no safari trips this year (please correct me if I’m wrong) but there was some gratuitous fun with speedboats. We’ve come a long way from 5HP outboards baby!

The fishing on Saturday was better with more pike caught including Mike’s prize-winning (photo proof pending) 29″ 5 pounder caught on a Mepps. Is the State of Vermont stocking the bay with mudfish or something? Richard was so sure that he’d won the exotic fish prize on Friday but then on Saturday so many mudfish were brought up that the exotic prize was canceled.

Future fistfights over fish pool rules have been averted by an emergency executive committee meeting (of whoever happened to be around) that decided that the pool will be forever abandoned and instead Frank Martin’s (a handyman that took care of Camp Randolph’s infrastructure for about 100 years) tackle box will be cleaned up and mounted on a board to be given as a trophy to the Man who catches the biggest fish each year. All men are charged to bring something to stock it with.

Instead of his ATV this year Richard brought an 18′ diameter dome tent (Shelter Systems) to house the overflow of Men he was certain would be pouring out of Edgewood. He was wrong, wrong, wrong about Edgewood but the tent (named “The Tit”) was fun anyway. (Dennis, who got stung by a wasp twice in the tent, might say otherwise.) It was furnished with cots, tables, chairs, rugs, a huge cooler, and fine literature and proved to be comfortable if a bit hot in the sun.

The coolest thing at Man Weekend this year was Patrick’s remote control four wheeler. You’re going to have to wait for Patrick to write about about it because I don’t know a thing. The nicest thing was Ned’s beautiful hand made wood kayak.

Instead of tee shirts this year all Men in attendance were presented with cheap baseball caps adorned with Man Weekend pins. One was designed by Charles and is of the “Drink up, boys!” guy from the Man Weekend web site. The others were designed by Richard and are attendance stars as follows: copper = 1 year, silver = 5 years, gold = 10 years. Additional stars will be awarded for subsequent years of attendance. The Man Weekend cap is the perfect fashion accessory for a long drive to Highgate.

Except for the Man Dinner meals are not very organized. Richard makes coffee in the Man Urn every morning he’s there. (Sorry you guys who arrived before Thursday.) Fred grilled up some sausage Friday night. Glenn was frying stuff all weekend long. Patrick took charge of the Man Dinner and worked magic on 40 pounds of steak and some shrimp and mushrooms. That’s one hell of a meal to try to top! If the evening fires get any hotter we may have the material to try lava baked chicken.

And speaking of the evening fire, Arthur outdid himself collecting (with some help from some other guys) driftwood and bucking it up and splitting it. He was caught sawing up wood at midnight on Saturday to keep the fire going. Ned brought more fine dry hardwood carpentry scraps. There was some discussion about What To Burn but eventually another boat was brought out to appease the Boat Gods. Despite the appearance of pyromania the Men prepared a garden hose and brought out a fire extinguisher in case things got out of hand.

Some Men went out fishing Sunday morning but didn’t catch much. Most of the Men have a long drive home and are eager to make an early start so they can start the wife appeasing process and get some sleep.

Man Weekend 2002 officially started at midnight between Thursday and Friday when it was discovered that there was no more beer in Tobey cottage fridge. You’ve never seen such a group of suddenly wide-awake, sober, serious, and somber Men in all your life. Then Ty remembered about two cases in his van and, after the Men swore a collective oath to never let such a thing happen ever again, levity was restored. In accordance to tradition no one but Richard tried to get any sleep that night and in further accordance to tradition Richard was kept awake by the loud laughter of the other Men at his folly.

The weather was excellent and the lake level was high. Weeds, and therefore fish, were found on the other side of the bay but while several sizeable fish were sighted the catch was almost all of the smaller variety not worthy of further mention. There were several independent navigations of the Safari route. The boat situation was enhanced by the timely and almost accidental acquisition, by the Men of the Edgewood cottage, of the Red Rocket, a boat comparable to the Ty-tanic in all respects save perhaps in the area of cleverness of name. All boats ran wonderfully which does not bode well for next year. There’s nothing that angers the Boat Gods more than being pleased with one’s boat.

Uncle Bud served in the capacity of Senior Man. Other welcome First Men were Uncle Bud’s fucking new son Alex, Allen’s friends McAnus, Ian, Patrick, and (finally) Sean; Condom’s friend Rich, Richard’s neighbor Dennis (who made an afternoon appearance at Man Weekend 2001), and David’s son Justin and his friend Paul. May they always return.(Someone’s going to have to convince Justin that he really was here however because he doesn’t remember any of it.)

Glenn awed and amazed all of Highgate by simplifying his massive production of Man-worthy consumables and frying everything. The Man Mess starred two fried turkeys. As Glenn was packing up his frying infrastructure he carefully poured the then rather experienced oil back into the jugs from whence it came and promised to bring it back again next year. Thus is the stuff of Man Weekend traditions.

Returning Man Weekend 2001 participants were presented tee shirts with Allen’s “2001: A Man Odyssey” logo. The leading candidate so far for vintage 2002 tee shirts is Charles’ “Worried Turkey” logo. (“Worried Turkey” would be a great name for a whisky.)

After dinner the Men made the traditional sacrifice to the Boat Gods and took care of the rest of the Sea Nymph in the Ridge grill. Ned donated a quantity of kiln-dried hardwood scraps and was rewarded when Emma Gove thought that the whole hillside had caught fire. The butane lighter fuel explosion video is destined to become the weekend’s definitive documentary record. This year’s sacrifice produced pounds and pounds of melted aluminum nuggets in elaborate geometric patterns, as opposed to the few ounces produced last year. Already major metropolitan art museums have made inquiries to obtain specimens of these rare works.

Photographs of this year’s event will be posted you-know-where as they clear the Man Weekend censorship committee. The committee takes its work very seriously so those of you with unpublished imagery please forward it to the Man Weekend Webmaster with confidence. You can rest assured that only the most embarrassing and incriminating pictures will be made public worldwide.

Man Weekend 2003 will be held on the now-traditional weekend two weeks after Memorial Day. The theme, meat, and sacrifice are yet to be determined and suggestions are welcome. As always Man Weekend 2003 participation is not obligatory. We already have a catalog of stories (lies) to tell about any fools who fail to show.

Friday, June 1, 2001

2001: A Man Odyssey started promptly on Friday. Not willing to waste a single minute most of the Men showed up shortly after midnight, drank beer for a few hours, crashed around 3:00am, and got up around 8:00am to go fishing. Richard was first out on the water in his amphibious ATV (unimaginatively named “The Vehicle”) for a quick proof-of-concept spin around Shipyard. Allen diagnosed and repaired the weirdness in the HAM’s engine. The Ty-tanic was already running flawlessly.

This year the Men each contributed $20 to a fishing pool to be won by the Man who catches the biggest fish by Saturday night. As of Friday night Mike Mulcahey is apparently in the lead with a 17 inch small mouth bass. But where is the proof? Do digital images of the alleged catch exist? And what is the definition of “biggest”? Expect these and other deep philosophical questions (like, “Who will be most likely to be fishing at 11:59pm Saturday night?”) to be the topics of a spirited discussion at the Tobey porch this evening.

The lake level is lower this year than last and the weather today started out good and just got better and better. We caught infinitely more fish today than we caught all last year. Digital cameras are in abundance but for some reason this afternoon all of them were in the HAM. The Men of the HAM caught some fish that could be contenders for the pool prize and we hereby offer the proof to the world! Can the other boats do the same?

The Ty-tanic’s fishing was cut short by a call from a boat in distress. These guys from Connecticut boated from Alburg to the depths of Gander Bay where their engine conked out. They wanted to be towed back to Alburg. Ty towed them to Shipyard instead and drove one of them to Alburg while the other watched their boat. No good deed goes unpunished. The Men of the Ty-tanic caught the fewest fish.

During the apres fish period Richard amused the Men by offering calm, sedate ATV rides around the Camp grounds. The number of people who can honestly state that they’ve been driven up the path to the Clubhouse is dramatically larger than it used to be. Charles took some thrilling video footage that may at some point be available on a web site near you!

Saturday, June 2, 2001 OK Men, good job with all the digital cameras. Now next year let’s bring some batteries too! More fish were allegedly caught on Saturday, including several decent bass by Allen (tough luck Lance), but you couldn’t prove it in court.

The only reason the boats came in before dark on Saturday was for food. The Man Mess was celebrated in back of the Tobey cottage this year and featured a pork loin that was probably listed in the Guiness Book of World Records when it was cut. Going to the Edgewood fridge to look at it took on the trappings of a religous pilgrimage. Glenn churned out about 60lbs of fried pre-dinner snacks and then did his usual magic with butter and potatos. There was some discussion on how long to cook the pork loin. Some Men said 15 minutes per pound. Other Men said an hour per pound. David Bliss said to cook it until it starts to smell good which is what we did. An experimental cutting-in-half demonstrated that it was cooked to perfection. A few minutes later it was gone.

The big fish pool came to a happy ending when Mike, who held the pool money and claimed the largest fish, realized that he would face some friendly and spirited disagreement if he just said, “Thanks guys!” and so the cash was redistributed to the contributers. Had the 20lb channel cat made it into the boat then there would have been no argument. The pool money wouldn’t have been enough to compensate the poor winner for the trauma.

After dinner the Men amused themselves by setting Arthur’s old train light up on the ridge, making noise after 10pm with bottle rockets and fireworks, and testing the integrety of the ridge’s wood stove and verifying the melting point of aluminum. Shiny globs of aluminum became instant family heirlooms to be passed down from father to son for generations of Men to come.

Sunday, June 3, 2001 The Men got a surprisingly early start going home Sunday morning. The threat of rain starting around noon meant all the boats were in and secured sooner rather than later. Allen in particular felt the need to get back lest he not be able to get the skirt off next year.

At the end of the day all that was left were some strange, unattributed tire tracks in places where vehicles obviously shouldn’t go, a huge pile of ashes in the wood stove, and a lingering beery aroma.

Notice: The following information has been edited for content to avoid offending the delicate sensibilities of girlfriends and wives. This year the Men of Man Weekend celebrated the dawn of the 21st century by hunting and catching wild fish, eating the flesh of dead animals, drinking fermented grain beverages, and smoking tobacco in non-ritual settings. A decidedly environmental theme was created by the decision to buy a keg of beer instead of hundreds of bottles of beer. And because it is the 21st century the events of Man Weekend this year were documented on the internet at http://www.heurtley.com/mw2k.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Man Millenium began Thursday, May 18 when people started to arrive at beautiful and scenic Highgate Springs. It was cold, cloudy, windy, rainy, and altogether miserable. The lake was a foot above the official flood level (nearly to the second wood step down at the dock, for those who understand how high that is) and the fishing was expected to suck. Accordingly, more beer was purchased. The Men of the Edgewood cottage were particularly enthusiastic about Man Weekend this year because they bought Mike Mulcahy’s Boston Whaler, the “HAM”, over the winter. This means we now have our own f’ing boat and don’t have to go around begging for boat time like last year. Because the boat had been passed along from owner to owner with gradually deteriorating value over the years Richard wanted to rename it the “SLUT” but Allen had already created some cool swine-related stick-on graphics for it so the “HAM” it remained. (For those who don’t already know, the boat was originally named “CHAMP” but the “C” and “P” fell off.)

The weekend weather was expected to be clear but cold. You could distinguish those who brought warm clothes from those who didn’t. Those who didn’t tended to engage in hearty activity in the interest of future comfort. Those who did stood around and watched. The Men of Man Weekend are highly sensitive to the signs of nature. This sunset at the end of a day of crappy weather is very indicative. It indicates better weather for tomorrow. It also indicates that a long session of smoking and beer drinking in front of a roaring fire at the Tobey cottage is about to start.

The next day, Friday the 19th, dawned clear, windy, and cool. The available boats, the Ty-tanic and the HAM, were prepped for action. The boats were duely outfitted and brought to Shipyard where the Men discovered it was much colder and windier than up on the ridge. The lake was pretty rough, the water was cold, the Shipyard put-in area was littered with washed up logs, and the high water made the put-in angle awkward. After a serious attempt to unload the Ty-tanic with near hypothermia by Ty and Allen, and a scouting expedition of the Rock River put-in area, the consensus was reached to go golfing instead. Saturday morning was excellent. The sky was clear, the temperature was up, and the lake was like glass. The Men of the Edgewood cottage were up at 8:30 and shortly on the lake. We then used a cell phone to call the girls at the Tobey cottage and told them to finish putting on their make-up and get their ugly asses out on the water. The Ty-tanic showed up a little while later.

The HAM’s old 35hp engine ran well for about 10 seconds and then started acting like a trolling motor. Allen took the cover off and found that the flywheel rubbed against a spark plug wire and severed it. We hauled the boat to a boat repair place and got a new piece of wire. A repair operation commenced. It was discovered that the mechanic we had look over the motor before Man Weekend was full of shit. There were all kinds of wiring problems. Allen and Lance managed to identify and fix all of them. The HAM really hauls! The fishing this year really does suck. The crew of the Ty-tanic was out all day and didn’t get a thing (thus no pictures). Saturday is date of the Man Mess. This is Allen’s baby. All it takes to make potatos and mushrooms edible, according to Glenn, is an equal amount of salted butter.

It’s hard being hungry when the air, inside and out, is full of aromatic smoked fat particles. Ty attempts some distraction by checking out the latest Man Weekend 2000 web site update. Eventually everyone ends up huddled around the grill.

The Man Mess consists of the Man Meat, Man Mashed, Man Mushrooms, and Man Malted. An ambulance with a fully equipped CPR crew was standing by. The meal was eaten in ritualistic silence – except for muffled grunting and soft snorting sounds. After dinner everyone helped bury the grill and all the pots and pans in the back yard and agreed never to speak of this incident again. Some six year old kid fishing with worms caught the only fish all weekend: a nine inch long catfish. The Men traded a six pack of beer for it (lite beer suitable for a Man-in-training) and brought their prize back to camp. The tale was improved upon bit-by-bit over the night. See what we ended up with!