Paddling to the Packers game

There's no TV up here. And I like it. Almost always.

Living without television for the last five months has been good for me, and I didn't miss my DVR at all until the NFL season began. I follow the Packers very closely and while I was fine missing preseason games, it hurt deeply to have missed the Carolina game entirely (it was on the same channel and time as the stupid Vikings). Listening to the Saints game on the radio out around the campfire was fun, but the NFL game is made for HDTV. I needed to see my team.

So as Packers-Bears day approached (one of my favorite holidays), I knew I had to find a television. My co-worker and fellow UW-Point alum, Doctor K, is a long-suffering Bears fan, and we both had Sunday off, so we hatched a plan amongst a feast of Saturday-night drinks to paddled to the nearest tavern. Thus, we could fish along the way and ensure a safe ride home after the game. Brilliant. I had paddled to the same tavern earlier in the summer with Erik and it honestly only took about a half-hour longer than driving.

The fishing wasn't that great, but I caught the biggest (and only) smallie, so I naturally took it as an omen for Packers victory. We decided to head in early to watch the Vikings blow another lead and get started on some beer. The Vikings fans in the house were amazed that a Packers fan and Bears fan would share a canoe or a pitcher, but we explained that great rivals also respect each other. Then I made a wise-crack about the Metro-dome and resumed cheering for the Lions in a boisterous manner.

Being near the end of the Gunflint Trail tavern season, we had two choices on tap: Extra Pale Ale or 90-Shilling. We ordered the EPA and immediately killed the barrel. Free beer! Then with the game about to start, we ordered a pitcher of the 90 (go Raji!), and dispatched that barrel as well (more free beer!). Things were looking up!

Of course the Packers went on to dominate the Bears and I got lots of friendly looks at my Packers sweatsuit... and eventually we enjoyed a perfect September sunset on the ride home.

I've been to more taverns than was probably necessary in my 30 years, but before this summer I had never taken a canoe out for a night on the town. Much like living without a TV, I also recommend giving this a try where/when possible. You don't need lake-front property, either, especially if you have a canoe, which can be portaged many city blocks from water to final destination. So any place where you have water between your home and favorite tavern is eligible. If you want to paddle to a Packers game, however, you better plan on doing one before ice-up.

Da-duh-da...du-da-da...
Go PACK Go!

Playing with light

Photo by Erik Danielson

The sun is sunnier and the dark darker in the northern wilds, the contrasts more vivid, the quiet more loud.

The photo above was taken by Erik, who I work with at the lodge, using a tripod and long-duration exposure. He's got a nice camera and he knows what he's doing with all the settings and whatnot. Everyone in the shot had two marks and we shifted on a cue so that our light was in sync. This was one of the better shots from a number of different attempts and variations in technique by cameraman and subjectry.

I knew this form of photography existed, playing with light and time for effect, but this has been my first experience being involved with - witnessing is a better word maybe - the use of a camera as a reflective device for an extended moment. I always think of a photograph as a frozen slice of time, but there is something hypnotic about leaving the shutter open to drink in the light, the night, us.

Of course I had to try and play with light, too. But I don't have a nice camera. I have a $90 Fuji, and while I can apparently take it 10 feet underwater, put it in the freezer or cover it in sawdust without ruining it, I cannot leave the shutter open to drink drink drink... The best I can do for now is use the 'nighttime tripod' mode, which begrudgingly allows me a few seconds of exposure along with one or two randomly-time flashes that follow no pattern whatsoever. While this limits my ability to play Junior Photographer around the campfire, I've had a lot of fun absorbing the scenery on my last few Nights In Hammock [NIH].*

These are a few interesting results I've gotten so far. If the Fuji will give me two good flashes and about three seconds of exposure, I can usually highlight a near-target (face/person) and then wiggle or pan the camera to blend or accelerate the background and/or target. I really hope someone who knows about photography reads that last sentence and laughs/cries, because I'm sure it sounds ridiculous.

I am certainly not sharing these moments or my inept descriptions of my Fuji's capabilities as examples of artistic photography... Please don't think I'm taking myself seriously. These are doodles, nothing more.

I only raise this obscure side-bar to my summer in the north as a bridge to a broader discussion on light and our perceptions of that energy in this human dimension.

How often do you think about how the light is playing with you? Do you play back?

By getting away from the city and out of the office I have been noticing the wild variations in light that exist every day, how it is always playing with us and everything around us. The sun is sunnier and the dark darker and all that... The contrasts more vivid, quiet much louder, and so forth...

The other morning I woke up and it was still dark, and there was a crack in the curtains and I could see these specks of bright white light bouncing through the window... I rubbed my eyes, pulled myself further from sleep and looked again. Stars? Way too many stars? I reached for my glasses, and finally realized it was the sunrise needle-holing it's way through the birch trees outside. But it was still dark in my cabin and the sunrise was over an hour away. I've been in fog so thick I couldn't see the lake 20 feet away. I saw distinct rays of the sun on Alpine Lake a few weeks ago that looked like Aurora Borealis, and I've seen Aurora so intense they reached the southern horizon, and everyday I try harder to really absorb this beautiful, wild energy. And my eyes drink drink drink.

* - NIH is a measure of camping frequency... as in: "After my trip to Caribou Lake this week my NIH is up to .388!" See previous post on the Art of Hammockry.

I can can jam

[Bluegrassy]
The fireweed flowers reached their ay-pex, beware the end-of-summer-scaries...
Scott and T are heading back to schoool, now it's time to split the berries...

Fifteen cuuups we thaawed by the hot stove, wild strawberries-tinily-sized,
picked one-by-one in the sunniest spots, by animalized humans, harmonized...

~Oh they speak... (Oh they speak) With the shruuuuuuuubbery~

Oh I never have canned, 
No I never have canned, 
I'm making grandma proud, 
So now I sing aloud, 
Yes I can can jammed...

I kill potted plants, can't raise a tom-ay-toe...
I don't have a pantry and my garden won't grow...

Don't know shit about PEC-tin or purrr-ezza-vation,
But now the Clearwater Crew has a phat berry raa-shun...

~That will last... (That will last...) The whole weeeeeeeenter~

(Insane banjo solo)

Yes I have canned, 
Yes, Yes I have canned, 
I'm making grandma proud, 
So now I sing aloud, 
Yes, I can-can jammed...

Lennie would say 'we're living off tha fattathaland'...
Eating wild berries picked with my own hand...

I agree with that and the proverb, wise:
He who chops firewoood, warms himself twize.

~Oh I can't wait... (He can't wait...) To spread it some toaaaaaast~

(Satisfying harmonica solo)

And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you about BLUUUUUUE-BERRIES!

Author's note: If anyone with real musical talent feels compelled to write actual banjo and harmonica parts to go with these lyrics, let me know.