Manweekend

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!