A Lighter Pack for Satch

A Pink Lady's Slipper  catches the glow of a June sunset.

There goes another one. Between mosquitoes, barbeques and ankle high grass it’s even hard to spot. Father’s Day has a way of being here and gone in a flash.

Maybe it’s because most folks are in the let’s-get-ready-for-summer hype. For who can ignore those earworm lyrics in Alice Cooper’s 1972 anthem, School’s Out? Cooper’s song is much more dramatic than our signal to Father’s Day, which is an extra thick edition of Canada’s beloved tome, the Canadian Tire flyer. And even that is loaded with camping gear.

Ahhhh. Camping. Our holiday tradition does weave summer dreams on a large loom of expectations. And most of the time they deliver. Since this might be an old school summer, I suggest an extra thick blanket for warming up after your swim in Lake Superior. And bring extra doses of bug repellant. But never fear. The wonders are still out there and any day by Lake Superior is a good one.

The Kiyi

With this approach to summer, we’ve had a few regular, seasonal visitors to remind us that the warm time is near. A moose wandered down the driveway and a non-chalant, observant bear sniffed our deck before strolling away. We also watched the annual passage of the Wisconsin research vessel, the Kiyi. The Lake Superior Biological Station of the U.S. Geological Survey operates this 107 foot boat. Each year the ship comes our way as it circumnavigates Lake Superior in the quest to find schools of fish at 89 predesignated spots. The researchers trawl nets along the bottom of the lake to catch the fish and then record the subsequent data. Hearing the deep hum of the Kiyi’s engines as it slips by Montreal River Harbour has been a regular June event for years.

A June fog slides over  Lake Superior

As each summer approaches and I prepare for our own lake adventures, past summers always seem to influence the present one. Childhood memories come into clear focus. It was my father, Gord Fletcher, who brought Lake Superior into my life and although he has been gone now for almost 25 years, what he gave and taught me has never left. I still have a fondness for sitting on a warm dock and listening to the water slosh underneath me. I still enjoy the mystical nature of fog as it crawls towards shore, lifts for the hills and then slides back out to the lake again. And I still recognize our connection to the world by the timeless sway of water to rock to water. Although my father never spoke of these things to me, he did allow me to experience it on my own, which might be the greatest lesson of all. My father gave me two simple, yet profound, bits of advice from his own camping /outdoor life, his own school of hard knocks. Dad told me that it was ok to put my packsack down once in a while. And he also declared that one would die of hunger if all one had to eat was partridge. (It took me a while to figure this one out. I guess the amount of energy it takes to hunt, kill and cook the wild bird far exceeds the energy it gives you.)

There’s a thing my father gave me that still sits on an obscure shelf today. His unusual gift was an old brass school bell with a black wooden handle that wobbles when you pick it up. Once used to let kids know that recess was over, the shiny clanger last had life on a New Year’s Eve.  Sometimes when I look at that school bell, I hear Cooper’s song. And this week I found an info bit about his now famous piece of music. The title, School’s Out, came to Alice Cooper as he was watching one of those 1940s -1950s Bowery Boys movies. Huntz Hall (Satch) had done something silly and one of the gang said to him, “Hey Satch, school’s out!” The Bowery Boys meaning for “school’s out” was to “wise up”!

All this thinking about summer has fathered an idea. We know that the sand in Time’s hourglass slips through at an amazing speed. So no matter what this summer can be, it will be awesome just because it’s summer. And when the school bell rings again in September, I’ll try to take a few extra moments to remember my father.

Round Trip

That ticket price was worth it. We've made the trek. Once again we've arrived at our sunny place.And all the journey required was our patience. We didn't have to board planes, pay extra for checked baggage or go through customs to reach the sun. It came to us instead. 
Now folks can toss aside winter coats, see blue carpets of forget-me-nots where there used to be piles of snow and glide along streets and trails on their bikes instead of getting stuck in drifts. And just sitting in the warm outside gladdens the grumpy faces.

Here along the Lake Superior shore, even though one can see occasional white mounds of ice tucked in rock crevasses, our liquid version of water is back. Last week was such a treat. The lake had remained smooth for quite a few days. Mornings often carried an early dreamy mist and twilight lingered for hours with pastel blues and pinks reflecting on a silken surface.  In the middle of the night, loons called to each other from their resting places and the peepers, oh the peepers, kept trilling to their heart’s content - and mine.




Spring is also alive with the birds. White throated sparrows are singing their Poor Can-a-da. (They must know that we don’t have a Canadian team in the Stanley Cup play-offs!) Red, yellow, orange or blue warblers skim through the trees like flying flowers. And then there are the hummingbirds. According to our bird journal they always seem to arrive mid-May. They are a miracle. How do those wings beat so fast? How far have they come? And what was it like during THEIR winter?


The return of the sun also brings out another flock - the fleet footed runners. Running has become a staple in the activity diet for thousands, maybe millions. It’s great to see so many people taking up the challenge. Running a marathon used to be a rare feat (pardon the pun). Here’s an interesting story about the first “modern day” marathon I came across this winter while perusing a Bradt travel guide to Greece.At the revived Athens Olympic Games in 1896, Greeks grew more and more disgruntled because they weren’t winning anything. The final event on April 10 was to be the first ever modern marathon, with the winner doing a lap in the stadium under the eager gaze of the Greek king and his two crown princes.All the Greeks were looking for a hero. And that year the gods provided one. He surfaced from humble beginnings. Spyridon (Spyros) Louis, born Jan 12, 1873, was a poor water carrier in the streets of Athens. Since piped water was not yet in place, his job was to push large tanks of drinking water around Athens in a handcart. 

An earlier stint in the army had established Louis’ reputation as a runner. So, under pressure to compete, he borrowed a pair of shoes and entered the marathon.Twenty- three year old Louis was rather nonchalant about the race. During the 42.2 km run his girlfriend gave him half an orange and her father provided a glass of cognac. He stopped other times for more sustenance - milk, orange juice, a red hard-boiled egg (traditional Easter fare) and a beer. When it looked like the Australian leader of the race, Edwin Flack, was going to win, Spyridon Louis poured it on. Then the unfortunate Flack collapsed a few kilometers before the end of the race. Louis, who had blown by the rest of the competitors, ran victorious into the stadium. The crowd erupted and filled the air with flowers. The two princes even jumped down from the stands and finished the last lap with him. His winning time was 2:58:50. As the King presented Louis with his medal, the grateful monarch offered Spyridon anything he wanted. After a moment’s thought, the athlete asked for a donkey powered water cart.Louis never competed again, but he did appear once more in the 1936 Olympics. He went to Germany and, dressed in Greek traditional costume, he presented an olive branch from Olympia. Spyros Louis died March 26, 1940, several months before the invasion of Greece, still hopeful that he might have won his bid for peace.


As we all prepare for this new season, it is a good idea to remember how peaceful summer can be. This was a heavy winter. Like the peepers who emerge fresh from their frozen state, let’s sing to the warmth. And like the hummingbirds who return every year, let’s travel light. That way it’s easier to run the race. Plus all that extra baggage carries a big price tag.