Paddler's Guide to Happy Camping

Speedo Man Visits Algonquin

• Posted on June 11, 2008 at 7:58 PM
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Speedo Man Visits Algonquin

I’ve had some odd-ball canoe partners in my life but my neighbor, Ashley McBride (a.k.a. Speedo Man) takes the cake. The first time I experienced his odd behavior is on a mid-summer paddle down the French River when he proudly sported a skin-tight, G-string black Speedo (with rainbow racing strips down the side). He loudly announced that he was wearing something far more appropriate for swimming at the campsite then what I was; I happened to be swimming naked (I prefer it that way). Remembering back, I was more concerned with him being caught by female paddlers passing by then myself being spotted nude, which by the way ended up happening. The only saving grace was that I came back with a great story – a story that gained me enough financial incentive to head out with him again. Next trip he dressed in a women’s wig, lipstick and two-piece ladies bathing suit. I snapped a shot of him posing with a plastic martini glass and sold the photo and accompanying story How to Make a Bush Martini – it ended up winning a writers award. What followed was the best yet; Ashley with a blow-up doll with the head-line How to Make Love in a Canoe. My editor recently confirmed that the photo and a full chapter on the event will be appearing in my next book – Wilderness Pleasures (Sept., 2008)! As a paddler I was a little concerned. After all, who you’re traveling with can make or break any wilderness excursion. As a writer though, I couldn’t ask for a better canoe partner. So, when planning a Spring trip to Dickson Lake, Lake Lavieille and the lower Crow River in Algonquin park this year I asked Ashley to return to the woods with me once again, and I have to say it was it a life altering experience. I also have to say that I’m certain my writing career will definitely continue to flourish. The route chosen was to back-track a good portion of the route taken by author John D. Robins in his 1943 classic book The Incomplete Angler. Joining us were good friends, Jim and Ben, who were both excited to fish for brook trout and lake trout only a week after ice had melted off the lakes. And they did catch fish. Everyone did, except for poor Ashley. Truth is, he caught three brookies, all smaller then the lure he caught them on. To put it mildly, Ashley was having a bad trip. This was to be his first real full week canoe trip (all the others were mere weekend ventures) and things didn’t exactly go as planned. For starters it was a chilly ride on the boat shuttle across Lake Opeongo and Ashley (and the rest of us) absolutely froze. Then we ran into a bear (a nice bear) on the second of the two short portages taken before walking across the notable 5, 305 meters to Dickson Lake (there’s a 285 meters to Wright Lake and 260 meters to Bonfield). The five-kilometer portage was grueling to say the least. Ashley did great, however. The guy literally danced across the trail in just over two-hours, staying somewhat ahead of the hoards of black flies and mosquitoes chasing him. He did even better on the return trip across at the end of our week out – cutting the time down to an hour and forty-six minutes. Of course, his added momentum might have a lot to do with two attractive female paddlers dressed in full spandex passing him by. They completed the portage in an hour and thirty-seven minutes, which proves my wife’s point she’s always trying to make with me - women rule! Apart from the cold weather, lack of fish, the bear, the bugs and women beating him on the portage, Ashley managed fairly well with the majority of mishaps. It was when he showed off his Speedo costume to Jim and Ben that the trip went undeniably downhill. The air temperature was so cold Ashley had to wear a wool tongue and knee-high black socks to keep from freezing, lessening the effect it had on Jim and Ben. In fact, they took little to no interest with his outfit at all. Sulking somewhat he wondered off in the back of the campsite to make use of the thunderbox (this, by the way, was to be his first full bowel movement in the woods). That’s when the storm hit. Hail the size of marbles came plummeting down and winds started toppling trees, trees that were rooted around the poop-chest Ashley was sitting on. He came out of the ordeal without major injuries (not sure how, to be quite honest).
The poor guy was extremely shell-shocked from the incident. I wasn’t. I gained yet another story to publish, and a solid reason to go paddling with him once again. I can’t wait to see what will happen next year.