Almost a month to the day after our floundering father executed his week-long gooch fest on the Bulkley, I took doctors advice. My below the belt excitement surpassed the 4 hour mark weeks ago and after a matter a fact discussion with Doctors Apple, Prengle, and Wilson it was clear there was one prescription left to dam the blood flow. I too needed to head North.
We knew we were in store for something special. But special has several meanings. I once had a good friend in grade school that was held back in second grade and spent the rest of his days behind the curve. This is the type of special we're talking about here. But no worries, we also had a bit of lady luck on our side.
First stop - THE biker bar on the mighty Thompson. Any time you've got Harley burnouts on the floor, you know you're in for something very special.
Second meal on our 20 hour jaunt. Lesson learned at this fine Prince George diner - when ordering 4 Rueben sandwiches, be very clear with your south of the border annunciation. Otherwise you may very well end up 4 double cheese burgers. It's the last thing you want in your gut after eating the same thing just 8 hours earlier. We didn't clean our plates on this one.
Ever wonder where the creative side of Fishizzle comes from? Here's one source.
Dispite the libations, we were up early and ready for a Bulkley assault after a quick coffee stop at 7-11.
Day one on el flow and Prengel already knows whatdaphuck is going on.
Turns out that run was good for nothing more than a couple of shots from Swingers.
We did however find some water that held a player or two.
While the Gooch and RP gear did keep us toasty, we found ourselves double dipping here and there (don't worry, our captain was all show on this shot - sobriety is always first and foremost while on the stick).
Day three threw us a curveball. When you're a film crew on a river in another country with little to no late season pressure the last thing you suspect is running into these jokers. AEG - on same said river, with same said agenda. Libations, double handed mayhem, and bullshit story after bullshit story. This party started here - but was far from ending. For more on this ever so important leg of the trip check the Chum on Monday. Pask's full report will be present in all its filth.
It was cold this morning. The river was low. Locals said the upper Morice was impassable. But this is Steve Apple were talking about. And look at the quality of that sled. It's bombproof. Unfortunately the evil skinniness upriver didn't agree. And, it took every bit of alcohol saturated muscle we had to unearth that bitch.