Manweekend 2001
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.