Zup'in Canada - Part 14

Epilogue

            By the end of the trip, I think everyone was ready to go home to their routine lives. People were getting bossy. Others were getting crabby and cranky. It was time to go. However, we all decided it would be great to go again in a few years. We might be able to even convince some of the non-campers to go next time and stay in the lodge – since the campsite was only a 5-10 minute boat ride from the main lodge or the cabins they have on the other side of the Main Camp island.

            Besides, I think it was my grandfather’s final opportunity to go camping and fishing like we did. He turned 71 during the trip, and we all had a small birthday party putting a candle on a cookie and singing “Happy Birthday.” It’s not that his spirit wouldn’t want to go, but time takes a toll on one’s body, and age has begun to settle in.

            It was a great experience getting to go this time again. It’s not always easy getting family together to go on trips like this. Let alone, having a family that doesn’t fight or argue, but rather accepts everyone for themselves and moves on with life.

            It was wonderful getting to drive across part of the states with my grandfather as a co-pilot. Most people don’t have the time to do such a thing, and I was happy for the opportunity. It’s good to hear stories being told. It’s good to find wisdom. It’s good to be alive and Zup’in Canada.

THE END

Zup'in Canada - Part 13

The Ride Home

            We had to get an early start Friday morning to get out of the area in time and back to the airport to drop off Keith, Lori, Tommy, and Rene. Bob had already left a few days earlier to get back for work. We got up at 5:30AM, made sure everything was packed, and headed back to the main camp while the dock boys took our gear to Dawson’s Portage. This time we were going by vehicle over the rough terrain and would be picked up by boat to be taken back to the United States.

            When we got to the portage, everything was ready. We jumped into some old SUVs and went through Dawson’s Portage. It took about 45 minutes never going over 5 miles an hour. I was in the SUV with Grandpa Joe, Lori, and two dock boys – one being the “Cabana Boy.” I bet Rene was upset. However, I would have rather of gone in the other SUV had I been paying attention. The only good looking woman who worked at Zup’s was going home for her week vacation, and I was in the SUV with two dock boys instead of her. At the end of the trail, we unpacked the gear and waited to repack it in the boat coming from Scott’s.

We picked up the mini-van after checking in with U.S. customs at Scott’s. Once again, uneventful at customs, but the man on the U.S. side was not as jovial as the woman on the Canadian side. We drove the four to five hours to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. We had gotten there with plenty of time to spare and dropped them off in order for us to continue on our round-trip road trip – which for me, in total, ended up being 3,840 miles.

            The ride home was uneventful. This time we did not encounter any vehicular difficulties. Once again I saw plenty of fields of corn and soy beans. Billboards littered the highways as people speeded by. We did our normal routine of driving – first shift, second shift, third shift, sleep, wake to do it over again. We would stop, like we did on the way up, at rest areas to use the restroom, smoke a cigar or cigarette, or have lunch. There wasn’t much stopping along the way until the evenings, and we didn’t hit much traffic until this one spot close to home in Florida.

            Evidently, a few people had been killed in an accident. We had to wait an hour until we got on our way. As we passed by, it was not all cleaned up yet, and you could tell that in the flipped SUV someone had probably died. The other car had been removed already, but from the debris and the green bumper on the side of the road, it had been smashed as well.

            We listened to a different book rented from Cracker Barrel. This one was “The Lighthouse” by P.D. James lasting twelve hours. I slept through pieces of it, and my grandfather caught me up when I awoke. It was a detective mystery novel, so it wasn’t too hard to catch up on. All I had to know was who died and find out at the end who did it.

            I didn’t see any deer on the way back, but I did see that giant cross and the windmills. We didn’t get lost in Atlanta – probably because we passed through it on one of my grandfather’s shifts. All I know is by Atlanta, I was antsy to get home and out of the van.

            We finally arrived at my grandparent’s house around 5 PM. We unpacked my grandfather’s stuff. I didn’t stay long at all since I still had about two hours ahead of me until I would be home. Driving through Tampa, anxious to get out of the vehicle, is not fun. However, the causeway into Clearwater was a nice change to see knowing I was getting close to my Uncle’s house and only forty minutes from getting home and seeing my cat – Alley – who was probably going crazy with me being gone for twelve days.

            I hope I wasn’t short with my aunt, uncle, and cousin when I showed up with the mini-van. I didn’t want to socialize. All I wanted to do was transfer Rene’s and my stuff to my vehicle and get home. They laughed when I told them that saying that a 3800 mile round trip of driving was about to be over, and I just wanted to get there. They helped me load the gear into my little SUV and I was off.

            When I got home, Alley was meowing, waiting for me, and happy to see me. I dropped all of my gear on the floor intending to unpack and put things away tomorrow. I went and jumped in the shower to rinse off the dirt and sweat of the day. The trip was over. I was home. And I didn’t get poison ivy.

Zup'in Canada - Part 12

Bathroom / Toilet Paper

            I saved the best part for last. This had to of been the one thing the women were worried about – especially Rene. It was also something Tommy was concerned about before the trip. His mother told a story that he asked her if he could practice out back of their house before he went. That gave everyone at the family gathering at the time a long, hearty laugh.

            Everywhere on the trip, Rene carried toilet paper with her. She even took a roll for the portage trip home, just in case she needed to stop. The portage out was early, and she avoided coffee that morning so it didn’t percolate her digestive system into motion.

            The women used a lot of wet wipes, but in defense, they had to dig a hole every time they went. Men have it a bit easier in that aspect. The line for the shovel, in the morning after coffee, was amusing. Someone was always looking for the shovel or waiting for it to return from use in the woods.

By the time we were done with the trip, the area we used looked like a mine field. Carefully dug and refilled holes sprouted up out of every nook and cranny. The most popular spots by trees and rocks (to hold your balance on) had been picked away - leaving a person to get creative on where to go number two, drop the kids off, pinch a loaf, cop a squat, or take a dump.

            We never did run out of toilet paper, but it probably would have been the right amount had the women not brought wet wipes. One roll even ended up in the mini van for Grandpa Joe’s and my ride home – left by Rene – just in case.

            Using the bathroom in the woods isn’t difficult. It just takes some balance and a way to hold the toilet paper. It’s uncomfortable, but doable. However, I’m sure everyone was happy to sit on a porcelain commode once it was all over.

Zup'in Canada - Part 11

Entertainment

            I found there were four forms of entertainment on this trip. Three of which will be retold here, and the other will take up its own section. There was no television set to watch or radio to listen to. The only humor I had was in the form of human comedy from my relatives.

            The first was Uncle Keith and his obsession with twisty tie clean up. At first, there wasn’t much on the ground, and none of our group threw any there. However, from past groups on the island, they showed up as we walked over and disturbed the Earth under our feet. Everywhere he went we would hear one or a combination of the following: “Another twisty tie.” “Wow, there’s another one.” “Where are all of these coming from?”

            It was amusing, and there were enough of them for him to find the entire time on the island. I kept thinking someone was pulling them out of the bag and throwing them back on the ground for Keith to find later. But I know it wasn’t me, and if it was another relative they never owned up to it.

            Keith was also obsessed with making the fire every day and washing every day. I don’t think there was a day where he didn’t rinse off. He’s a cleanly man and likes things in order. He also didn’t shave the entire trip, which is very unlike him. It took his daughter to make a deal with him that she wouldn’t shave either.

            The second funny incidents came from Rene after she had a few shots of tequila and whiskey during the course of the day and got back to camp. Uncle Bob, Rene, Tommy, and I decided to head back to Zup’s lodge and have a beer and take some to go (each beer was Labatt’s Blue and cost $3). On the way there, as Bob was driving us back to Zup’s, Rene said one of the rememberable lines of the trip. Through squinted eyes, holding her hat on her head, she stated, “Look. I can paddle real fast!” Then she proceeded to make a paddling motion. Tommy found it amusing, and laughed all the way back to the resort.

            At the lodge, Rene told Tommy she thought one of the dock boys was cute and called him her “Cabana Boy,” which made Tommy laugh the entire camping trip. When we returned to camp, Rene made everyone laugh as she talked through squinty eyes. By the end of the night, Bob and I were almost caught up to her – which was the night I stayed up late with Tommy and caught a tick.

            The third laugh we all had came from Tommy. It seems Tommy sleep talks and walks. This time, however, he didn’t walk, but he did talk and make motions in the middle of the night. He had the night moves. The first time I only heard it, being too tired to turn over after hearing Keith ask Tommy if he was alright. The second time, Keith tapped me on my back to turn over and watch Tommy play characters in his sleep.

            The first time it happened, I heard muffled talking. I listened without turning over thinking it was Keith and Tommy talking. Then I realized it was only Tommy. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, and I overheard Keith say something to Tommy. The next morning, Keith told us all Tommy was sitting up in his cot, doggy paddling like a dog over and over, mumbling something. I started laughing and blurted out, “Yeah, he was saying, ‘Throw me the stick! Throw me the stick!’” We all laughed, and thought he had to of been doing it because of Dawson the yellow lab. Tommy wants a dog, and I think he was acting it out in his dreams.

            After dinner the next night, we were wondering if Tommy would act anything out again in his sleep. He did, and this time I saw him. Instead of playing fetch, he was fishing. He was sitting up in his cot, reeling in his line as if he was catching a fish. Over and over he pulled back and reeled. It was hysterical, and Keith and I just watched for a bit then went back to sleep. Like I said, Tommy always had a pole in the water, even in his sleep.

Zup'in Canada - Part 10

Bugs

            This trip was not like the one I had taken fourteen years ago when it came to bugs. I only was bit by one hateful fly, which I already mentioned. And, as for mosquitoes, it was relatively mild. It was probably because we were covered in 98% deet, and were glowing fluorescent green to anyone looking from off shore. I will say it kept the bugs off of us. Of course, there was the ever daring or starving mosquito who decided to come in for a bite or a meal. The deet didn’t deter them.

            One night, Tommy wanted to stay up a little later, and I was willing to test out the deet. As the sun was setting, and we were fishing, you could hear the rumble of the hordes coming. It was as if a freight train was heading towards us. In the pitch black, I could hear them swarming my head – at a consistent distance all around.

            I turned my flashlight on and was in awe. There had to be over fifty or more of them hovering around me deciding on whether to stay away or danger the deet and come through. Like I said, not many did, and it was bearable. What was unbearable was the sound, so we ventured to the other side of the island where there were less of them since we weren’t in the cove area.

            After a while, Tommy’s lure got caught on a rock. We had to climb into the canoe and unhook it. We ended up climbing through brush and weeds. Luckily, this time, I did not catch poison ivy. Tommy, however caught a tick on his thigh, and I caught a tick on the side of my ass. Our grandfather helped us get them both out. Tommy noticed his when he woke up in the morning. I noticed mine when we were bathing later on the sandbar beach area.

            Besides those incidents, I think we usually made it inside before the bugs came out in force. The sun didn’t really go down until 10 PM anyway, and it rose at 5 AM. That was a great time to sleep and avoid the bugs. 

Zup'in Canada - Part 9

Weather

            The weather was a little hot. The way the tents were set up and the island was situated did not allow for the breeze to flow through. The days were hot under the sun, and the nights were hot inside the tent. A couple of nights, it was cool. However, the main perception was that it was hot – but not as hot as Florida.

            One night a thunderstorm blew through. There was a ton of lightning and thunder rumbling through the wilderness. The animals were quiet, and the rain was coming into the window of the tent on my side. I reluctantly closed it, because that meant less cool air from the outside rain. This was the one night I didn’t need the white noise of my Uncle Keith’s sleep-aid-breathing machine that keeps him from snoring. And, believe me, it works. The one night he didn’t have it - because his machine’s battery uncharged - Keith snored like the thunder of the storm.

Zup'in Canada - Part 8

Fishing

            Overall, fishing was ok. I wouldn’t say it was great, but it was not horrible. I think overall I caught fifteen fish. Tommy caught the most, but he also had his fishing pole in the water the most. Whether it was on a boat or off the camp shore, he was fishing or doing something. I guess at thirteen you get bored easily. If he wasn’t fishing, he was throwing rocks into the water, peeling bark off trees, or canoeing out into the middle of the lake to get water for later use. He was always moving around, but it seems he had a blast. He was either smiling or looking serious. And the seriousness was only when he was trying to catch a fish.

Rene finally stopped being skunked on the third day. She finally decided to listen to me on how to set a hook. Previously, she had plenty of bites, but never landed a fish. On the third or fourth day, she landed a whopper – I think 32 inches. It was in the protected limit, so we had to throw it back.

            Actually, we threw most every fish back. No one seemed to want to eat any. So, one day, after one of the fish Rene caught died, we started keeping them. Lori wouldn’t keep hers on principle, but would eat some later if we caught enough. As a result, Uncle Keith didn’t keep his either. By the end of the day though, we had enough to fry up. Beer battered and all, the fish filets were good. The only problem was all of the y-bones. Once I got the hang of it, it was easy to find them. Before that though, I accidentally swallowed one. Luckily the bones were flimsy, and it didn’t get stuck in my throat.

            The last day, Rene and I got stuck on rocks in the boat. The one and only time it happened while I was driving the boat. Uncle Keith accidentally air jumped one day over a rock, scratching the motor and the rock he jumped over. I only hit the plastic trolling motor on a little rock. The reason we ended up on the rocks was Rene’s fault.

            As we were floating towards and inlet of rocks and grass, she thought she caught a fish. Then she thought she didn’t, so I put down the trolling motor to get us out of there. Then Rene changed her mind and did have a fish. She pulled it close to the boat as I tried to maneuver the motor and the net. I got the fish on the boat then tried to watch the motor. Rene refused to unhook the fish due to the pike’s teeth. I tried to unhook it, but it was deep in its throat. In the end, the fish had died, and we were on the rocks. If I had known the fish was going to die, I would have made sure the boat was off the rocks. But, in the end, a life is more precious than some plastic and aluminum rubbing on some rocks.

            The entire trip, no one caught a walleye. Well, Lori might have caught one, but they weren’t sure. I think she got it up beside the boat, but it kicked the hook. I also think my grandfather was disappointed he didn’t catch any walleye. He was partnered with Tommy, and Tommy didn’t like the slow monotony of trolling the bottom. He liked casting and my grandfather knew it. So he humored his grandson and missed out on the walleye.

Zup'in Canada - Part 7

Day Portage

            The next morning we all decided to take a portage to an inland lake. We were told by Mark that it would be a half mile trek up a hill and half mile trek down the hill. He said it wasn’t easy, but there was a canoe and two motor boats waiting at the lake.

            We didn’t know how much of a trek it was going to be, so we planned on taking our two canoes in over the portage. Boy were we wrong. Once we got there, I wasn’t even sure if my grandfather would make it up and down the hill. So I went up first to check it out. What I found was a very rocky, steep hill surrounded by tons and tons of bugs. I went back down to tell everyone to deet up and asked my grandfather if he wanted to still try, because it wasn’t going to be easy.

            Replaced hip and all, he nodded yes and started walking. I followed behind him keeping my hand on the small of his back during various times. Needless to say, he did well and made it. All of us were a bit worn out from the portage, so I could only imagine how my grandfather felt – let alone knowing he had to do it again in a couple of hours.

            We untied the boats and canoe, climbed in and started fishing. It was a hot day, and little to no fish were caught. We tried fishing the bottom, but all we did was catch rocks. I didn’t catch a fish the entire time on the lake, but did catch one later that evening at camp – one of the biggest caught so far for the trip. However, at the inland lake, we decided to find the flat area on the shore in order to jump in, cool off, and bathe.

            The water was very cold, but refreshing. The rocky bottom was algae covered. So instead of walking in, I basically surfed in trying to avoid stubbing my toe on one of the larger rocks littering the bottom. We all washed up in the cold water, then stood on the shore for a while drying off. It was there that I got my one and only bite by a giant fly. It hurt like hell and welted. The mark didn’t go away until a few days after the trip.

            After everyone was done drying off and changed back out of their bathing suits, we portaged back to our boats. The portage this time didn’t seem as bad since I knew what to expect. However, I think it took a toll on my body and everyone else’s, because after catching my two pike for the day and eating a wonderful dinner, I was beat. I had to be tired, because, once again, I slept through the night mildly tossing and turning.

Zup'in Canada - Part 6

Wilkins Bay – Island Tent Camp

            We woke up early in order to eat breakfast and use a real toilet for the last time. After that, our gear was packed into three motor boats – two boats held two people, the third boat held three. My Grandfather and Cousin Tommy went in one boat. My Uncle Keith and his daughter, my cousin, Lori went in the second boat. My Uncle Bob, Rene, and I went in the third boat. We followed a few of the dock boys (who had all of the supplies and food we would need) to our island tent camp. We docked on the shore, unloaded our gear and tackle, and set up camp.

            The camp consisted of three tents. One tent was for Grandpa Joe and Uncle Bob – the two tallest of the group. Lori and Rene occupied the triangle tent. Keith, Tommy, and I slept in the middle tent. The tents had a cot and a sleeping pad for each person causing the tent I was in to have no room whatsoever to move around in. The others were packed tightly, but not as tight as we were.

            There were two grills to cook food on – and the food they left for us was delicious and plentiful. We definitely did not have to worry about running out of food. In fact, at the end of the trip, Lori, Rene, and I took some stuff home with us – Kool Aide, oatmeal, tea, coffee. The only hard part about the food situation was the drinking water. No one wanted to drink out of the lake itself, so Uncle Bob brought a portable filtration system that you could pump the water through. The water wasn’t delicious and it was very soft, but it did the trick and no one got sick.

            We even had our own friendly squirrel on our island. Seems, some of the small creatures migrated there during the winter when the lakes were frozen, but then got stuck when they melted. They were friendly, as squirrels usually are – constantly looking for food or barking from the trees.

            There was other wild life out there during the days and throughout the nights. I heard many a loon’s call, whistling elk, and howling wolves. At times it seemed as if they were talking to each other, and at others it merely seemed like they were talking over each other. One day I caught a small frog, and one night Tommy and I caught a toad. I only spotted one deer the entire time we were on the lakes. However, we did see fish, and that was the reason we all came up there in the first place. To camp, fish, and get away from everything in the real world.

            After the camp was prepared, we set up the reels and poles, put the tackle in the boats, and started up the motors to fish. Once again, everyone went in the same boats they started in with the same people. Bob, Rene, and I headed out. We started out close to our camp. Bob caught a couple of fish – two northern pike I believe, but then we received no bites. It decided to rain on us for less than half of an hour, but we were prepared with our rain gear. After the short shower, we decided we were going to go to the other side of Zup’s and try a spot over there where Mark - the owner of Zup’s (he is the original owner’s son I am told) - had marked on the map for us before we headed out that morning. Bob was driving, Rene was in the middle, and I was at the front.

            Driving over the water, my uncle gunned it. The wind whipped against my face as my brimmed fishing hat bent from the force. We held on, bouncing over the little waves and the wakes of other boats. We cruised around little islands and through inlets until we came to a small cove area. We opted to fish there.

We caught some fish – all smallmouth bass – and tossed them back to nature. I have never eaten smallmouth bass, but from what Bob and Keith say from past Canada trips, I don’t want to eat it if I have a choice. The sun was beating down on us; we were getting hungry, so we decided to head back to camp. Again, the ride back was fun. We docked at our island and climbed up the trail. Everyone else was there and we had a late lunch.

            I think we went back out after that to go fishing again, but I caught no fish. For the first day, I caught two smallmouth bass. At least I wasn’t skunked like Rene had been, but to her defense, she didn’t know how to set a hook – which she finally learned on the third day. Everyone else caught something the first day – whether it was northern pike or smallmouth bass.

            We ate a big dinner. I can’t remember what we had on what particular day at what particular meal. However, I do know we had hot dogs, sausage, hamburgers, steak, lunch meat, salami, eggs, hash browns, oatmeal, coffee, orange juice, and more. My cousin Tommy got the nickname “Garbage Disposal” since he ate whatever was leftover. I can’t blame him. When I was thirteen I ate like a horse too. He’s a growing boy, but man. At night, after the food had started through his digestive system, he would let out roaring farts – some causing the squirrels to cry for mercy and the wolves to howl in fear.

            That night was a bit uncomfortable sleeping on a cot without a pillow. However, I must have been tired, because I don’t remember much tossing and turning until later on during the trip.

Zup'in Canada - Part 5

Zup’s Resort

            Zup’s was pleasant to the eye. It looked like a camping resort. A giant lodge, small cabins placed around the area, a shower room, garage / storage area, tons of aluminum and fiberglass canoes, motor boats, and of course, two dogs – one young, one old – both yellow labs. The entire time we spent there, the young dog wanted to play fetch – on land, but mainly in the water. He was good at it, and we all thought he’d be a great hunting dog.

            When we arrived and checked in, it was dinner time. We all sat down to a giant meal of salad, steak with mushrooms, French fries, a vegetable, and lemonade or iced tea. It was too much to eat, and I don’t think anyone finished their entire plate, but I could be mistaken.

            After dinner, we were shown to our cabin. It was big and could sleep ten. There were four bedrooms – two with two beds, two with three beds. There were two bathrooms. That was it. There were portable fans to keep us cool and a fridge if we needed one. We all took our gear to our rooms and settled in for the evening.

            Everyone knew it would be an early night. We enjoyed the outside on benches downstairs from our cabin. It was hot in the cabin rooms so we sat, chatted, and played fetch with the yellow lab, who I think was named Dawson. My grandfather and Uncle Bob smoked a cigar. My sister and I smoked a few Winston cigarettes. My sister and I had packed a bottle of Jim Beam, and Uncle Bob had stopped off on our way up and bought some Jose Cuervo. We took a few shots, laughed a little telling stories, then waited for the sun to go down and the bugs to come out. It was time for bed. In the morning we would be heading to our tent camp on an island in Wilkins Bay – Ontario, Canada.

Zup'in Canada - Part 4

Scott’s Transport

            Scott’s sat on Crane Lake. It wasn’t only a transport. It seemed it also owned land and sold lots based on the signs I saw amongst whatever else this mysterious Scott did. The lots all ran over $300,000 – much more than a humble teacher can afford. We unloaded all of our gear and tackle then waited for our turn to be taken into Canada via boat. Last time we road a giant bus, and we went through a different outfitter. This time, instead of driving through Dawson’s Portage on a bouncy 45 minute drive, we were going to be boating it – and they had an interesting way of portaging the boat from lake to lake which I’ll get to in a minute.

            The people at Scott’s piled all our gear into the jet boat and we were off. Our first stop was at Canadian customs. We had the appropriate identification, and it took a whole five minutes for all of us to be back in the boat. The kid driver was a crazy fool. He had to of driven this passage many of times, because he was cruising through little inlets and taking giant sweeping turn around bends.

            We drove to the end of one lake and got out. The driver hitched a chain to the front of the boat and loaded it onto the platform. The boat was pulled over land on railroad tracks to the next lake. It was an interesting set up. Walking over the short portage was much easier and more pleasant than portaging in a vehicle after spending three days on the road in a mini-van. We had one more portage like this to go through then we would be at our destination for the evening.

            The kid driver took us all the way into Zup’s. The dock boys unloaded all of our gear and told us to leave it on the dock. They would put all of it up by the cabin we would be staying the night in.

Zup'in Canada - Part 3

The Drive Up

            I don’t work in the summers. The perk teachers get for being paid a lower salary than most of the working world. As a result, I volunteered to drive with my Grandfather in Uncle Keith’s van. The two of us decided to drive all of the fishing gear and tackle, along with everyone’s packs and bags, from Florida to Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota to pick the five others up at the airport. Uncle Bob was flying in from Phoenix after being in California on a business trip. The four others were flying in from Orlando.

            We opted to drive the gear rather than fly because of all the terrorism paranoia going on in the country. We surely couldn’t bring fishing gear, tackle, and knives on a plane without a headache. Besides, it had been a while since I drove across country, and this time I’d have someone driving with me rather than driving solo. It would be quality time to spend with my Grandfather as well.

            I left Seminole, Florida on Wednesday, July 5th, to drive to my Uncle Keith’s house in Safety Harbor to pick up the mini-van. When I got there, it was already packed with my uncle’s stuff as well as my Cousin Lori’s gear. I transferred my sister’s and my gear into the van, left my key on the counter inside for them to move my vehicle, hit the restroom, and was off to my grandparent’s house in The Villages. When I arrived at my grandparent’s, we packed the van with the rest of the gear, ate dinner, slept, and woke up early to head out onto the road.

            I had already warned my early-bird grandfather that I wouldn’t be awake enough to drive until about 9:00 AM after the coffee kicked in. So we made a silent deal. He would drive the morning shift. I would dive the middle shift. And he would finish off the last leg, ending by pulling into a hotel so we could start if all over again the next day. It was a good compromise to me, because a few mornings I fell asleep while my grandfather was driving.

            We left Thursday around 6:30 AM. The drive was uneventful for the most part. We drove north through Atlanta, Georgia – getting lost a few miles by me taking the wrong exit. However, we were soon back on our way to cruise through Tennessee, Kentucky, and the beginning of Illinois. There we a lot of farming fields of corn and soy beans along the route. At one point there was a giant cross in the middle of no where. We saw a few deer along the side of the road grazing. We also saw a huge land area of windmills – over 50 of them by my count – powering, hopefully, the entire city. We had driven about ten hours and thought that after entering the Illinois border we would stop for the night and find a hotel.

We were driving five miles over the speed limit, as we did the entire trip to avoid speeding tickets. Just after mile marker six on I-24 I heard a sound like a tire blowing out. My Grandfather was driving and thought it was the mini-van next to us until all the air deflated and we realized it was us. We pulled over to the side of the road right before Exit 7 for Goreville / Tunnel Hill and called AAA.

            While we were waiting for AAA, we decided it would be a good idea to try to get the flat on. It took a while – figuring out where the spare was, lowering it down, pulling on the lug nuts (which were tight as hell), replacing the tire, then realizing the spare was too flat. We waited for the tow truck, and when he arrived, he told us he’d have to tow us to Marion, because he didn’t have air in that truck. He said Wal-Mart might still be open and they could help us. If they weren’t open, he could drop us off there and we would have to get it fixed in the morning.

            The tow truck driver was very nice. The poor guy had a migraine, but he still was helpful. He called ahead to a buddy he knew in case Wally World, as he called it, wasn’t open. The buddy could help us. He just wouldn’t be able to balance the tires.

            We pulled up to Wally World at 7:55 PM just as the shop keeper was putting up the closing chain. He saw us, and looking a bit disgruntled, put down the chain. They would help us, and we were saved. Luckily, we would not have to wait in the morning and could get on our way. We had a feeling we would lose a lot of time if all of this hadn’t turned out perfectly well.

            The next morning we were on our way again. We had picked up a book on tape – The 5th Horseman by James Patterson – to listen to the day before – ten hours long. We continued listening to the story as we drove on through Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. We arrived in Minneapolis-St. Paul around 6 PM. Uncle Bob had gotten a suite for us on his company’s tab (I believe). We were planning on going there, eating dinner, and picking my uncle up at the airport later that evening if he was able to catch an earlier flight out.

            Unfortunately, Uncle Bob didn’t catch the flight and wasn’t going to get in until around 11:30 PM. So my grandfather and I went and checked in, dropped off our clothes, went to eat at Chili’s, then returned to our room to watch television and fall asleep. Everyone else would be picked up in the morning, and we would all head directly out from the airport to Canada.

            The others arrived around 11:30 AM Saturday. Earlier that morning we had taken Uncle Bob to rent a car. He had to leave a few days earlier than us due to some business – so he needed his own way to get back to the airport. Everyone piled in to either the rented Jeep Liberty or the mini-van. Rene and I went with Uncle Bob. Everyone else went with Grandpa Joe. We were finally off, and in about 5 hours we would be at Scott’s on Crane Lake ready to be transported by boat to Zup’s Resort. 

Zup'in Canada - Part 2

Introduction

            I had been to Canada on a family trip fourteen years ago back when I was eighteen. It was during a simpler time before I grew into an adult having adult responsibilities. The trip was different than the one we were planning on going on this time. People were older – my Grandfather was turning 71 on the trip. A different group was going – half those that went last time wimped out this time. The group consisted of the following: Grandpa Joe, Uncle Bob, Uncle Keith, Cousin Lori, Cousin Tommy, Sister Rene, and me – seven of us.

           During the previous trip, it was hot as hell. The black flies were out biting through jeans, socks, deet, and anything else you could find to cover your body but still try to stay cool. I also enjoyed the personal experience of poison ivy last trip. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone – itching, blistering, sweating . . .

We were camping on an island with motor boats rather than portaging with all of our gear in canoes day after day. This trip would be different. At least before we started out, I hoped it would be.

Zup'in Canada - Part 1

Prologue

            This is an attempt of preservation, written to preserve a memory before it leaves the confines of my brain, or I lose it by killing more brain cells that hold these pieces of information. I am writing this as I remember it in order to look back on an experience and enjoy it again in my old age.

            Those members of my family who were also on the trip will probably have different versions of the same experiences. As with any experience within a group, each person has their own take on what happened. And this is how I perceived it . . .