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GODERICH SIGNAL -STAR, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5, 1987
Celebrating Tiger Dunlop Days
SECTION
WILLIAM
THOMAS
imaimmerommliNIMIle
Weekend
of activities
Tiger Dunlop Days events were held all
over townon the weekend: Clockwise
from upper left: Dong Ryan shows his
Winning: form in the frisbee contest;
Royal Canadian Legion Branch 109 form-
ed the calour guard for the opening
ceranionies held in Harbour Park; little
Jordon Scott can't quite get his hands on
a Tiger Dunlop balloon; George
Williams (left) town cryer for Stayner
and Jack Parsons town cryer for Camp-
bellford raise aQtoas_jt toy�GWpoderich inqthein,
re ent ' f the .me T be e ' ` .....
Tiger unlop and John Gaf ompetitors
for the best decorated bike ' included,
from left to right, Sean McConnell,
Mogan Marshall, Roslynn Gottschaok,
and Sarah Marshall; Trevor Stephens
looks cute .in his decorated stroller;
folksinger Jim McMillan performed at
the opening ceremonies; Tim' Chisholm
smiles in the rain as he wins the first Per-
rier waiters -waitresses race which rais-
ed more than $5,000 for handicapped
children; and, in'the centre photo, LW -
say Affleck shows off her decorated
trike.(photos by Ted Spooner)
North to
Algonquin
once again
In the last episode of "The Middle Aged
and The Rusted" two semi -tough
canoeists in Tilley hats and a harried
hare named Sid were hunkered down for
the night on the brink of Bonfield Lake in
a $19.95 two -men tent made in Korea. Sid
was not in the tent. Sid could not fit in the
tent. The problem with a two -men tent
made in Korea is it's designed for two
Korean men who are by and large small.
When removing your • socks gives you
-more-.leg-moan-3'.re-talking_ a_. tight=_
fitting tent. I'rh not saying it was
cramped but if syncronized tossing and
turning ever becomes and Olympic event
Calgary Red and I have a lock on the
gold.
At first light of day I heard what sound-
ed like Sasquash with The Hunch Back of
Notre Dame on his back running toward
our campsite breaking limbs and snapp-
ing twigs in his path.
I tried to yell '`RED!" but though my
mouth framed the word, no sound emerg-
ed. I tried to yell "BEAR!" but that one
got aborted in the brain stage by a mind
which would not entertain the thought.
& "What the hell's that?" asked Red in a
voice that begged not to be answered.
Red went from snoring on his back to a
kneeling position with a hunting .knife in
his hand in the time it took to ask the
question.
"A bear" I whispered, thinking that if
the bear heard me it would dawn on him
who he was and he'd rip into the tent
straight away and kill us and eat us
where we cowered.
"A bear!?" repeated Red in
credulously.
"Ygah, Red" I explained, "you know !.
the things you see in the circus wearing
Lederhosen and driving motorcycles?"
i Red was still kneeling but by now he
had dropped his trusty hunting knife and s
with clasped hands was having a conver-
sation with our Father who art in heaven.
I was standing straight up in a tent that
at its peak was 3' high. From a distance
we lookedlike a trembling dunce cap
with a bulge near the bottom.
"We gotta get outta here" said Red
fumbling with the zippers -that open the
tent flaps.
"Good idea" I replied drawing my
famous nationally -advertised Malin 15
survival knife with the waterproof mat-
ches, fish hooks, sinkers, line and sewing
kit stashed iri the handle. The end of the
knife is a compass and according to my
P calculations, even allowing for a slight
crosswind we were west and the bear
was coming from due east.
From where we sat, stood, quaked,
quivered and spoke frankly to God the
sounds outside indicated that the bear
was no longer snapping branches and
twigs but actually uprooting trees and
heaving them over our heads and into the
lake behind us. The , bear was snorting
flow, a fierce guttural grunt mixed with
blood and dripping of saliva. Or was that
Red?
"I'm cutting my way out," I said put-
ting knife to nylon and trying to
remember if I'd kept the sales slip for the.
tent.
"No I got it!" yelled Red and two men
in Fruit of the Loorh underwear. scrambl-
ed from a would be grave.
The mind when racked with fear is a
dangerous thing. Imagine if you can two
grown men in underwear and Tilley hats
running around in circles armed with
hunting , knives and hatchets making
threatening gestures at an enemy that
has not yet made an actual appearance.
Red let out a whoop and I wheeled
around -poised to,bury my 12" long Malin
15 in his chest.
Simultaneously we screamed at each
other: "SHUT UP!" "MAKE NOISE!"
Then, "HE'LL HEAR US!" ' "IT'll
SCARE HIM OFF!"
By now half of Huntsville had heard us
and every creature in Algonquin, save
for this snorting, snapping bear that
circled the camp out of sight, was digg-
ing a hole to hide in.
We backed into each other and turned
instinctively weapons raised and ready. I
wondered if the first party through would
have considered it a double suicide or a
murder / suicide.
Shouts of "GET THE CANOE!" and
"START THE FIRE!" were followed by
"BEARS CAN'S SWIM" and "THEY
HATE FIRE!"
This menacing dance of the Tilleymen
continued until,the breathing of the bear
subsided and the last snap of brittle
underbrush was heard trailing off in the
distance.
Silence. Then "Well, we sure took care
of that s.o.b., didn't we?" and "He won't
try that again, will he!"
Silence. Then we both seriously con-
sidered vomitting.
Dressing, backpacked and canoe over
our heads we set out on the three-mile
portage and on either side of the trail saw
fresh bear paw imprints in which ' you
could have planted maple trees. Neither
of us acknowledged.
The rest of the week was wonderful.
We found a campsite on an island in the
middle of Dickson Lake that had a picnic
table and a one-holer, sort of theAlyatt
Regency of Algonquin.
I caught a huge Rainbow trout and
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