"Today, Jason, you become a man…"

Posted on October 17, 2008 by canoelover


Yesterday Jason became a man.

It wasn’t his bar mitzvah.   Or some weird pagan ritual or anything like that.
Yesterday, Jason learned how to weld.

Now I don’t mean to suggest that a man is not a man unless he can weld.  Actually, I guess I am saying that.
Welding is elemental, the molecular joining of two pieces of metal into one, using 50 amps of 220 V power via the Miller 251 into a very, very small spot, melting 1/4″ thick steel and injecting molten steel at the same time.
If you can weld, you can make anything.  True, carpenters can make houses.  But metal fabricators can make the tools that make houses.  Trying nailing a 16d nail into a stud using a 2×4.  You need a hammer?  We can make you one.

So Jason and I needed to build some racks to hold hitch-mounted bike racks, so we bought the steel a long time ago, Larry helped us cut it up in his shop (bigger saw than mine) and after a year of “aging” the steel to acquire the rusty patina, we finally got the sucker welded up.

Jason has a touch for welding that I only wish I had.  He was welding better than me in 15 minutes, so when we start building bike frames, I’m calling Jason.
Respectfully submitted,
  Canoelover
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One good thing about the days growing shorter…

Posted on October 16, 2008 by canoelover

…is that sunrises are more, er, accessible to people who actually sleep occasionally.  I went out to get something out of the E and there was this lovely watercolor of a sunrise.  No tripod, so I used the bike rack tray on my roof rack, set the camera on self-timer, and took a deep breath.  For a 1.5 second exposure semi-hand held, it ain’t so bad.


Respectfully submitted,

  Canoelover
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Outpatient Surgery

Posted on October 14, 2008 by canoelover

Wood gunwales are sorta like owning a pet.  You take upon yourself certain obligations, acknowledging your willingness to spend some time keeping the pet alive and healthy.  Aluminum gunwales are like owning a goldfish.  Wood gunwales are like owning a dog.  Constant vigilance is needed to avoid major issues.

Upper is abraded, lower is still sick.
These gunwales unfortunately were neglected for the better part of a season.  The boat is a demo boat I took under my stewardship, but we left it outside for while during the season, and I watched the wood gunwales deteriorate, cringing at the staining I knew would need to be loved up come the end of the season.
Well, the discoloration and potential for long-term fungus

 and/or mold was too high to do a simple office visit.  We needed outpatient surgery, a gunwalectomy, at least an outwalectomy, a complete ash epidermal abrasion, and application of Darren’s not-so-secret gunwale elixir and antibiotic.
Certainly no gunwale transplant would be needed, I could reinstall the patient’s original outwales after some treatment.  The inwales were not so bad so I treated them in place rather than do a complete gunwalectomy, the equivalent of removing the spine from a vertebrate.
So I got out the Porter-Cable Dermabrasion Device and some 150-grit and sanded down to clean flesh.  The gunwale on the left has been sanded and is ready for the elixir; the one on the right is still sick.
The warmer weather has really helped the elixir application procedure.  It spread on nicely and penetrated the wood easily, and I left it on overnight again to really allow the elixir to work its magic.  It seemed to work very well, and I decided as long as I had the outwales off I would do a full treatment, even coating the part of the outwale that is invisible and goes against the boat.  In time, this will pay off in spades, as that is often where water will trap itself and cause rot from the inside out.
After one treatment.
After one treatment, the patient is responding tremendously.  Another prophylactic treatment to really make sure we saturate these gunwales will definitely cure the patient, or at least put her in remission for a very, very long time.
It is a very satisfying to bring a patient back to health, but as a former public health professional, I feel a need to shout…PREVENTION, people!  Get some Ye Olde ‘Baga Wood Elixir from your local paddlesport shop (actually, it’s proprietary so you gotta get it from us) and soak your wood gunwales.  Don’t make your canoe go through the hell and humiliation of being disassembled, stripped down and oiled.  By all means I’m a fan of the miracles of canoe medicine, being a practitioner for almost two decades, but I’d just as well see no patients and see lots of happy canoes on the water.
‘Tis the season for getting your canoe ready for hibernation.  Don’t put her to bed with dry gunwales.
Respectfully submuitted,
  Dr. Canoelover, Board Certified Canoe Surgeon
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No, I’m sorry. This is wrong. WRONG, I say.

Posted on October 13, 2008 by canoelover

Sometimes you just gotta ask yourself what sort of society comes up with this…this…well, merda*. For the prurient readers of my blog, I apologize most sincerely.  I racked my brain and there was no other word that captured the nature of the object and the emotion it elicited.
I shudder to think what precipitated this idea.  It sounds like a consultant-developed situation; invent a problem that didn’t exist then create a product to solve the problem that didn’t exist in the first place.  Iraq comes to mind.

So…rhetorically…do we really need wee wee covers for when diapers are changed?  I dunno, I’ve changed more than my share of diapers (I figure a thousand is a good number to throw out there) between my own kids and my baby siblings, and I think I got showered once, and a quick flip of the front diaper flap saved me from a horrible drenching of baby pee.

Let’s file this one under PTRDNTBDBDBJACSWAFROPATPO.  That is, products that really didn’t need to be developed but despite better judgement and counsel, someone wasted a few reams of paper at the patent office.
If you’re really curious, go here to see it for real.  There’s a Yiddish version too.  No kidding.
Thinking the world is just a bit stranger than it was a few hours ago,
   Canoelover
*  So I said merda.  It’s Italian for feces, just a little more vulgar.  It fits.
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Mister Happy

Posted on October 12, 2008 by canoelover

Sometimes Nature gives you a gift. In this case, it was an eggplant we immediately christened Mr. Happy. Some genetic switch went off before its appointed time and Mr. Happy was born. We purchased Mr. Happy for the exact same price as the other eggplants, even though he contained 1% more eggplant than his siblings.

Mr. Happy was destined to become ratatouille, but first I had to have some fun.

Mr. Happy, pre-op.

Mr. Happy after a visit to the cosmetic surgeon. Stephanie thought Mr. Happy looked more sad than anything. So back to the cosmetic surgeon for another collagen treatment.

The surgeon botched the collagen treatment and Mr. Happy started looking like Tammy Faye Baker. So back under the (filet) knife we went.

This time Mr. Happy was just happy.

Then Mr. Happy got a little sassy with a little assistance from a bell pepper.
Then we ate Mr. Happy. He was tasty.
Respectfully submitted,
Canoelover
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Faces from the Market…

Posted on October 12, 2008 by canoelover

Normally I am a still life sorta guy…pictures of things. This week I took the 80-200mm lens to the market and thought I would shoot some people for a change, given the number of interesting faces at the market. It is definitely a great place to gather images as well as good food.

I will identify the faces based on what we bought from them.

Silas. Didn’t buy anything.

Eggplant.


Delicata.

Delicata.

Salsa (Chipotle, Habanero, Roasted Pepper).

Beets.


Leeks.

Nothing, just smiles and political wisdom.

Fingerling Potatoes.

Music.

Bittersweet.

Catfish, the Dobro Player and Market Fixture

Respectfully submitted,

Canoelover
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The Trailer Park

Posted on October 10, 2008 by canoelover

There’s a trailer park next to the shop, and it’s a sort of Boulevard of broken dreams.  It is owned by an elderly woman who’s husband, an old friend of my late father-in-law, died a few months ago.
A few years ago the owners decided to sell, and the people who lived in the park basically got screwed, as their homes were too old to move to a new park, and no one wanted them.  Given their age, it’s not surprising; some of these homes were pretty run down.  Most of them were clean and tidy, despite their age, and there was definitely pride in this little neighborhood.

I say “was.”
Suddenly faced with the prospect of moving with just a few month’s notice, a lot of the folks just abandoned their homes as the cost of removing them was more than the value of the home itself.  The woman who now owns the park didn’t do much to help the folks who were there…she is a sad case herself, now alone with no family or anyone to help her.  One of her long-time tenants went to the husband’s funeral a few months ago and was told she couldn’t stay.  She wasn’t disruptive, she was just friends with the old landlord, and the not-so-stable landlady kicked her out of the service.  So sad.

At any rate, the park is deserted.  Some of the homes have had the doors kicked open and squatters have been moving in and out of them, but that’s now under control, but I took a walk in the park to see what was up, being a good neighbor at all.

What I saw was shocking and more than a little depressing.  Some of the homes are trashed on the inside, holes punched in the walls, paint and other substances smeared all over the inside, sinks and toilets broken with hammers, and windows smashed.  Others looked as if they were ready to move in, emptied in an orderly fashion and in one, the carpet had been vacuumed and it was ready for occupancy.  The only thing left in that one was an AA pamphlet.
I called the city administrator and asked if he knew the condition of the park, and he had heard it wasn’t so good.  Turns out the landlady has a contract with a salvage company to remove the rest of the trailers by the end of the year.  So the place will be sanitized and sweetened up and ready for development…but the asking price is twice the assessed value, and as I said, Mrs. Landlady is not really operating in the Universe of Reality.



There are some startling signs of life still, lawnmowers and rakes leaning against houses, barbeque grills just waiting to be fired up, yellow pages stacked on porches.  There are palpable remnants of a small community, and these people were our neighbors for years…and very good neighbors they were.  Better than any security company, they more than once called the police when I came to pick up a boat in the late evening.  Inevitably the cops would roll up, look at me and say, “Thought it was you.  Don next door called and said someone was in the back stealing a canoe.”

Thanks, Don.  I hope you landed on your feet, my friend.
Respectfully submitted,
  Canoelover
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Staff Retreat, Part II

Posted on October 9, 2008 by canoelover

Dances With Logs shows off his j-stroke.
The second day of the staff retreat was a smaller, more dedicated group.  A few of the staff went to hit the king salmon run on the Sheboygan River, which is a rare enough event that we excused them.  Some had dog and/or kid duty.  Some we exhausted the day before, a few went back to Canada.
We had seven staff, and it was wonderful.  As we paddled along we encountered some arboreal obstacles that were tricky to negotiate, and Andy was challenged a few times, having spent most of his paddling life in kayaks or tandem canoes.  He received the Native American name Dances with Logs.  This lead to silliness, where others received their N.A. names based on physical or other characteristics.

Grey She-Wolf shows her fangs.
Marit became Crosses the Bow (based on her prowess on the cross-bow draw).  Jon was Makes a Wake, because he was always hammering it and throwing up a wave the rest of us could surf.  John was Fishes for Bass since he had a line in the water as often as not.  Mo became She Who Shivers because of her being cold the day before, but then we changed it to Wears A Rainbow due to her multi-colored paddling outfit.  Nancy was Grey She-Wolf of obvious reasons.  I was Few Feathers for equally obvious reasons.  

Crosses The Bow and Wears A Rainbow were the lone tandem canoe paddlers on this trip.


Fishes for Bass paddling the Wildfire.  The bass were hiding so instead we just enjoyed ourselves.  Makes A Wake is in the background making a wake.

The stretch of the Sugar I call the Maple Cathedral.  It just gets prettier as the colors change.

Makes A Wake and I playing obstacle course.  He went over, I went under, limbo-style.  I had to remove my hat to squeeze under the log to the far right.

Makes A Wake picking his way through a log jam.
A great day of paddling, about 11 miles, then a run to New Glarus to eat Stinky Burgers at the local bar and grill.  Some of the staff consumed nut brown ales and such.  I drank Sprecher Root Beer and smiled a lot.
I have the best staff in the world.  I could probably search the world and find people who are better at the technical aspects of their jobs, but those people would lack one important thing–they wouldn’t be these people.
Respectfully submitted,
  Canoelover
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Everything should taste like bacon, right?

Posted on October 9, 2008 by canoelover


If you care to do so, you can follow J&D’s antics via their blog, www.baconsaltblog.com.  
According to their website, “When you put baconsalt on mashed potatoes, they try to eat themselves.”
Dying to try it,
  Canoelover
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Think Globally, Paddle Locally…

Posted on October 8, 2008 by canoelover

This is the third year we’ve closed the shop for a few days to get together with the Rutabaga staff and have our Watercolors retreat.  For the past two we’ve driven up north to New Auburn (pronounced “Nawburn” for those of you who have the misfortune of not living here in Wisconsin) to Camp Manitou, an old rustic Y camp that is lovely and fun to visit.

However…we have a mission to reduce our impact on the landscape, plus driving five hours each way reduces our time actually spent paddling.  Lovely rivers and such up there, but for the most part, it was a lot of driving.  This year we decided to stay local.
Day One we decided (okay, I decided) that we should paddle from the shop to the little Norweigian burg of Stoughton* via the Yahara River.  It’s a little over 16 miles, a healthy day’s paddle considering the lack of current and wind.  18 of us headed out a little after 10:00 A.M.
It’s quite a lovely site to see a large fleet of canoes on the water.  And they were mostly solo canoes, which is even sweeter.  The weather was cool and windy and the forecast was for rain.

Paddling in the rain is one of those things that is wonderful if you’re prepared and a completely miserable experience if you’re not wearing the right gear.  I was wearing a Kokatat set-up, both a Goretex Paclite Parka and Paddlers Pants.  I was impermiable.  Or as the French would say, impermiable.  Kudos to Kokatat for making excellent kit.

The boys from Nova Craft canoe came down (note Canadian flag) to paddle with us (and drop off a dozen boats).  They brought a “special” canoe, this Bob’s Special, which was laminated with tie-dyed cloth to make it a Bob Weir‘s Special.  It’s cool in the same way a Delorean is cool.  I appreciate the concept, but I’m not sure I’d buy one.

And yes, I saw a dragonfly.  It’s Sympetrum, probably an S. rubicundulum.  He was on the sidewalk, barely moving, so I perched him on my thumb and breathed on him until he was warm.  Then off he flew.

We finished Day One with a big feed at Brocach, an Irish pub downtown.  The food bill was a decent chunk of change, but the Guinness bill was almost as much, as the good proprietors of Brocach manage to pull down $6.00 a pint.  I swallowed, handed over the credit card and thought to myself of the frequent flyer points I was earning.
I highly recommend this place, even if you are not a drinker (I am not).  The Shepherd’s Pie contains very tender shepherds, it seems, and the Bailey’s Cheesecake is to die for.

Tomorrow…Day Two, the Sugar River.
Respectfully submitted,
  Canoelover
*Reminds of the old joke:  What do you get when you mix LSD with lutefisk?  A bad trip to Stoughton.
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