As a side note I have to say I will not be able to do justice with words how fantastic Mark was as a camp cook. Every meal we ate was excellent and he made it look effortless. From this day forward I will always pack a Mark Carlson in my expedition gear if possible. Seriously, you get so used to the cursing that after a few days you don't even notice it...
First night menu was a sausage and potatoes cajun kinda deal. It was great. After a day of one trying situation after another, a roaring fire and a hot meal were just what we needed to 'right the ship' and start having some fun. Maybe even loosen up a bit...
Of the six of us, Seth and I don't drink at all, Mark drinks so rarely you might as well say he doesn't drink either, Rob might have the occasional beer and we all know Greg likes his beers. And then there is Mike...
At this point in the evening we have come to terms with being behind schedule, have a great camp site with a nice fire, we are dry, have full bellies and for the first time of the actual trip we are enjoying ourselves. Mark is out exploring the island looking for his wilderness friends, Seth has cell signal so he checks in with family letting everyone know we are alright, Rob is enjoying a Pepsi Max, I break out the cigars, Greg cracks another cold one and Mike is sipping a bottle of what I assumed was iced tea.
Mark stealthily creeps back to our camp through the foliage and shouts "Hey!" we all jump much to his chagrin. "There is another camp on the other side of the island. It's like a big party or something..." A quick glance around the fire confirmed that no one was really in the mood to "meet the neighbors" tonight. I couldn't speak for everyone but I was TIRED. Getting in the sleeping bag and laying on the rocky ground sounded awesome right now.
Mike however, takes a pull off his "ice tea" bottle and starts yelling "Wooooooooooo!!!!" Like... a lot. "WoooOOOooooeeee!" Take a drag of "tea" then... Whooooooooooop whoooooop!" And so on. Of the Six, I am the biggest jokester and by far the loudest one. I always have a story to tell, some joke or just basic clowning around. Mike on the other hand is a pretty quiet, reserved guy. This "Whoooping" about was actually getting me concerned. Had he gone around the bend? Was one day of arduous canoeing all it took? Done?
As I pondered that mystery Mike began making some kind of plan, "...go over and see what the hell is going on! Wooooop!" that I had no interest in. I sort of shuffled away form the fire as my own #2 anxiety was starting to grow.
Going to the bathroom without a bathroom is not something I practice with much regularity. Full disclosure: It would have been like 1984 or so since I had used an un-bathroom. Of all the things that had me on edge about this trip, going #2 was the most unreasonable yet the most unrelenting concern. I knew I would have to go eventually but, until that moment happened I would try not to worry about it.
"Patrick! Buzzman! Get over here!" yells Mike. He calls us around the fire to begin to tell us how much he loves us (Greg immediately began nervously shuffling his feet) and how much this group of guys on this trip mean to him. Right about now is when I figure out Mike's tea wasn't tea. It was some of Clermont, Kentucky's finest bourbon. That thar tea was Jim Beam and Michael was half in the bag.
He was still speaking in complete sentences when he came over to me and said "Patrick, I may need your help..." I started to say "Anything you need..." when he continued " I was trying to warm up with a little 'Beam and I might have gotten a little too warm. Don't let me do anything stupid!" I joked and said "Too late, little buddy." Then the wheels came off...
He went from coherent to indecipherable in one sentence. Extreme cold + empty stomach + Stress filled day + Bourbon = Good Night Irene! The only way I can describe it was it was as if he had been tranquilized. Rubber knees and all! He never did go over to meet the neighbors, something I'm sure he still regrets! I won't tease him too much here. It was all good fun and we had taken his oars so he wasn't rowing anywhere!
I am using a borrowed sleeping bag because I am such an outdoorsman I don't even own one... sheesh. It's a mummy bag, which I have never used this type of bag. It feels like being in a cocoon with a small "face-hole" to breathe out of. I was super warm and very happy to be so!
I have an ability to fall asleep under any circumstances. Maybe all those years of touring still has me conditioned to "Sleep when you can!" But I am a hit the pillow kind of sleeper. Something that my camp mates apparently don't like! It may also have something to do with snoring. Which I am guilty of... but so are they! I just did it first...
Pictured above: Greg, Mr. Beam and Patrick
