During the 90’s I made a couple of trips a year with my friends, Charlie “Doc” Hinson and Chester DeMary, to our friend Harry Shier’s cottage on Georgian Bay in Canada. We would fish, play cards, drink some fine wine, eat wonderful food, tell stories and relax. We generally made these trips in the spring and again in the fall, prior to the weather turning harsh and driving everyone off the lake and back to town.
We made one such trip late in the fall and I brought along a half gallon Wild Turkey bottle, filled with jalapeños, vinegar and spices. This I utilized on eggs, grits and other foods for a great, extra kick. When l presented it to Harry, he did not understand how it was to be used and directed his cook to fish out the peppers, placing a few on my plate for every meal. Not wanting to be thought of as a sissy, I ate these peppers for about three days at every meal.
On our last full day of fishing, the weather turned cold, sleet was falling and most of the summer lake shore residents were heading for the city. Harry obtained a great guide (Downtown Raymond Brown) for Chester and me, while he and Doc went to a different fishing site. We were headed for Horse Shoe Bay, with lovely lake cottages dotting the shore line...an alleged great fishing spot.
We arrived at the spot, drifted and fished with live bait for the killer pike fish we knew were just below the surface. The ice was pelting us. We added more layer of clothes, drank coffee and shivered. All was quiet, except for the sleet getting larger and larger.
Chester is starting to get a fish nibbling on his bait and Ray told me to reel up. I did and at that moment, those 3 days of jalapeños wanted out of my body. The coffee had kicked them into an awakened state and I needed to find a secluded spot to relieve myself from all this agony.
I said, “Ray, we need to go to the shore.”
Ray responded with, “OK, just a second, Chester has a fish about to strike.”
“RAY! WE NEED TO GET TO SHORE AND WE NEED TO GET THERE RIGHT NOW!” Ray looked at my face, started the engine, Chester reeled up and we made a dash for the shore.
On the way, Ray explained the cottages would be empty, as the residents would have gone back to Toronto. There was often an outhouse behind these cottages and if I could find one all would be well.
We pulled up to a cottage dock. Ray handed me the toilet paper and with short, deliberate steps I quickly made my way up the walk. The sleet was coming down very hard now and I was grateful everyone was gone from the cottage because I could tell this was not going to be pretty.
I managed to get to the back of the cottage…no outhouse. Only a patio and I did not want to defile their lovely parquet setting. I quickly reasoned it was about to snow and sleet here for the next 7 months. Anything I had to leave as a memento of my visit would soon be returned to nature and all evidence would be erased.
I began stripping raincoats, sweaters and long underwear off and was soon standing in my birthday suit in the sleet, rain and snow. I dropped about 20 pounds of jalapeños and their seeds onto the ground in front of the big bay window at the side of the cottage.
After tidying myself up (and feeling considerably better) I dressed and made my way back to the boat. We pulled back to our original spot and resumed fishing. I commented to Ray it was a good thing these cottages were vacant, I did not know what I would have done otherwise. At that moment, I looked back at the cottage grounds I had visited and smoke was coming out of the chimney.
These people were home! My Lord Ray…there are people in that cottage! Ray fired up the boat and we left Horse Shoe Bay in a hurry and returned to Harry’s cottage.
Of course, I took a lot of harassment from my cohorts. We could never go back to Horse Shoe Bay; there was likely a photo of my big, pink butt on the internet as we speak, on the “Most Wanted” Canadian List. They would have to rename Horse Shoe Bay, Jalapeño Bay when spring rolled around, everything melted and jalapeño plants sprang from the earth.
We got back home and I am telling my bride, Nancy, the story, while she holds her side laughing. I commented that I don’t think anyone in the cottage saw me, because no one tapped on the window or made any other signal to let me know they were there. She chortled, “Bucky…if a giant comes onto your property, takes off all his clothes and takes a massive, steam-rolling dump on your lawn in the middle of an ice storm, you don’t tap on the glass. You gather up the children, race to the basement with a shotgun, douse the lights and wait in terror. You will never know what went on in that cottage.” I realized she was right and neither Harry or any of us ever ventured to Horse Shoe Bay again.
Hysterical! Now, tell the story about John Louis Yoo Ya!
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