 | GROUNDHOG TALES |
GILBOA OHIO by Penny Fink | |
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Well all you scuba dudes and dudettes, I finally have found some time to attempt to let you know what a marvellous weekend was had by all at Gilboa Ohio. I thought long and hard about what I would say, and have decided this will be a narrative...mostly truths, mingled with a little poetic license. Kent has covered some of what should be covered regarding the place and the dive so I will cover the trip and the faux pas. Enjoy the adventures of the Four Frisky Females!! I arrived at Maida’s place in St. Clements, Ontario at 10:40 a.m. Friday, only to discover a van, partially packed, 2 lovely ladies...Maida and Carmen, and a driveway containing a fair bit of camping gear. I added 2 tanks, diving gear, a tent, a chair, a cooler, and a back pack to the heap. Angela arrived a short while later with her little car loaded. She hauled out tent, dive gear, chair, cooler, BBQ, and a sleeping bag that was bigger than Ohio!!! Maida made short work of it all and cradling the ginormous sleeping bag between us in the back seat, we were soon and miraculously on our way by 11:15. I have decided that Maida must offer a course in Creative Packing 101 at the local college. As we drove merrily along, trying to get acquainted in a most polite way, I notice that Carmen, an admitted vegetarian, was enjoying homemade muffins without offering any to us in the back seat. She did mention to Maida that they were quite delicious, and contained no flour. What she neglected to mention was that they were chalk full of prunes and numerous like things that are soooo good for you. We neared Sarnia and realized that we required a ‘pee’ break, and perhaps some food at the local Macdonalds. As we left the van, Carmen broke into a gallop and headed directly for the washroom... the prunes were at work!!! After a few giggles from the rest of us, and our well deserved break, we ordered and settled in to eat our Rotten Ronnie Burgers. We threw our garbage in the appropriate bin and decided to get on the road again. When the sun bounced off the pavement, I reached for my sunglasses only to discover that they were not tucked in my shirt, .... nor were they in my fanny pack, nowhere could I find them! So back I went into Macdonalds to see where they could be. I looked in the bathroom, I looked on the counters, I looked at the place we’d been sitting, and then I cast my eyes on the full-to-bursting garbage bin. I peeked inside, withstanding the curious stares of the cud chewing patrons, but was repelled by the aroma, and the fact that I couldn’t see them in there. I decided I really didn’t need them that badly and went back out to my new friends in the van. Upon hearing of my search, and the fact that they were subscription sunglasses, they very kindly offered to check all the places I had just looked, just in case I had missed something. We locked the van, trooped across the roasting tarmac, and entered the coolness of Macdonalds once more. We spread out, ... but all ended up empty-handed back at the garbage bin, much to the continued amusement of the now interested and helpful cud chewing patrons!! We laid out trays, and began filling them with garbage, gagging and giggling all the way...all to no avail. When we got half way down, I cried ‘uncle’ and said I didn’t want them anymore if they were any farther down. Defeated, we dumped everything back into the bin, washed our hands thoroughly in the washroom, and departed once again to the van. Once inside, with the air conditioning running, I thanked my new pals profusely and turned around to adjust my seat belt. Imagine my delight and surprise when I discovered my ‘lost’ sunglasses, sitting in the little basket behind my head. You can imagine how happy my friends were for this little piece of luck... on the road again after only an hour or so. I believe we made one more stop shortly thereafter to accommodate Carmen and her battle with the prunes, ...and then on to the Ambassador Bridge. It was fairly uneventful and anticlimactic crossing into the great U.S. of A., considering we could have been hiding a nuclear bomb in back under all that baggage! Eventually, we needed gas and stopped about an hour outside our destination. We visited the ‘Ladies’, and examined the neat stuff they had in the gas station. What captured our attention completely were the tiny, tampon-sized containers of nylons hanging on the rack. They ranged from one size fits all to the mighty queen in assorted colours. I was about to purchase a pair, just for the novelty of them, when I realized that $4.95 U.S. would be about $8.00 Canadian, and I won’t pay that for a pair of nylons here (unless my son is getting married, of course). Hunger made its presence known and we saw a strip of food places near the gas station. Having never heard of "Frickers" before, we decided that it might be a good spot...they must have salad for our vegetarian friend, Carmen. The menu was brought to us by "Sparkel" (and no, I did not make my first spelling mistake, Dave...she spelled it that way) and the reason must have been because she had sparkles all over her face and neck! We had to decide between the Frickin’ Chicken Chunks or the Frickin’ Chicken wings! They also had the ‘almost world famous’, best green beans around, so what could we do but order them. Oh my!! What a healthy meal we had. Angela had deep fried frickin’ chicken wings and fries, Carmen and Maida ordered the shrimp (breaded and deep fried) but with salads and green beans and mercifully, I forget my main course . I do remember the green beans, though. They were canned green beans, in a salad bowl, sprinkled with bacon and soaking in oily water. mmm mmm good!! We declined dessert! ...on the road again! We knew we were close to Gilboa, and excited we were too! We couldn’t wait to begin the unpacking process in the mind boggling heat! But first we had to find the cement ‘steer’. "What’s a steer?" inquired Angela. "It’s a bull without balls," I replied, to a chorus of laughter. And there it was, coming up on our left. We slowed right down before turning to see if it was anatomically correct... and it was!!! So make sure you turn before the ball-less ceeeement bull!!! More chuckles! At 7:00 p.m., we arrived at the office of the Gilboa Quarry!! Thinking that we would be setting up within the next 10 minutes, we entered the office. Oh my, the regular lady who works there was watching her son play football, (he was dehydrating as we spoke) and the owner’s sister was taking her place as a favour to her, and to her brother Mike. (Sorry, but like we cared!!) She couldn’t quite decide who to wait on first so she did a little bit here and a little bit there, meanwhile forgetting what the hell she’d done with whom! To make a long story short, (yah, right...not!) she managed to bilk us of our money, in only an hour and a half. We told her that I had paid for 8 people with a $96.00 U.S. cheque about a month ago, so there would only be 4 people who would be coming in later and would have to pay. She seemed confused, but by this point it appeared to be her natural state, so we just moved on to our camp sites and hoped for the best. It was a little difficult to decide what exactly was a campsite...grass was sorely lacking and the ground was a mix of hardened clay and shale...great for inserting tent pegs. We were extremely grateful that there was no rain...I can’t imagine what the grounds would be like when wet. Maida and Carmen set up their large tent across the street from Angela’s and my two small tents. They overlooked the dive quarry, and we overlooked the primal swamp! Next to them was a man, all alone, whom we identified as Keith from Michigan. He had fire wood and we did not, so we assumed he would love to have the company of the four frisky females, and how right we were!! He smiled in a very friendly manner, as we moved our chairs into his circle of flames and we yawned and chatted with eyelids drooping until approximately 9:30 p.m. At this point, our heads were bobbing and it was difficult to keep the drool off our chins in an inconspicuous manner, so we politely thanked Keith for his hospitality and trundled off to our individual sleeping bags. (Angela could have slept all of us in hers, but it was far too hot for any such shenanegans!) Apparently, the Hunter-Duvars and Dave and Chris arrived around 10:00 p.m. and searched the darkened camp grounds for us, but were not successful. I was in a deep sleep until approximately 1:00 a.m. when I was jarred awake by the most ungodly screech I had ever heard. I lay shaking in my sleeping bag, thinking I had been transported back to prehistoric times, with a pterodactyl was just hovering above my tent waiting to attack. Then the ‘heat bugs’ began their chain saw noises and I was convinced that I was no longer in the 21st century. I had to go to the bathroom, but that would entail leaving the safety of my extremely flimsy nylon tent and exposing myself to the elements. I lay there...and another squawk cut through the warm night air...and I still had to pee!! Armed with my large flashlight, I gingerly undid my tent zipper and slipped quietly into the night, heading towards the aromatic johnny on the spot. Ahhh, I made it! And I made it back and inside my tent, before the air was split with another hair raising screech. Memory of that sound slowly returned to me and I realized it was the cry of the Great Blue Heron...they must be doing wild and crazy things in the swamp behind my tent. Knowing this still didn’t help me get to sleep right away. These birds had no shame!!! Finally, satiated, they must have fallen into a deep sleep, while standing on one leg (oh no, that’s the flamingoes) anyway, quiet and the tiny tree frogs lulled me back to sleep until 7:00 a.m. when it was decided that we had better get up and beat the students into the quarry, thus seeing it clear and lovely on our first entry. Our first dive was truly amazing. Dave decided to watch us since he was awake anyway. We hit the water at 8 a.m., in full gear, and realized it was verrry warm water! It did cool off somewhat as we descended to 40 feet, but it was amazingly warm for my idea of a spring fed quarry. We saw a Volkswagon van, a motorcycle, stoplights, and high water sign, a full school bus, many boats and assorted cars, and a real airplane...Gilboa Airlines, pilot Mike Williams, all in relatively clear water. It was magnificent! Trees grew from the bottom and we wove in and out as we finned along. When we came up, Maida and Carmen made an exceptionally great breakfast which we ate in a leisurely fashion, thinking about our next dive. As we were thinking, truckloads of student divers began to arrive with their diesel fumes clouding up the already hot, humid air. We decided that for the next dive, all that clothing was unnecessary. Carmen daringly decided to wear only one glove, while I just wore my shorty. This meant I was overweighted but the BC did it’s job and kept me off the bottom. With only one glove, Carmen became the Michael Jackson of the dive set. She and Maida took off, while Angela and I did our own thing...I had my camera and wanted some shots of the lovely bass...if only we could fish there! We eased our way over to the plane, where I spotted my one-gloved friend. I dashed up to her, camera in hand and as she turned toward me, I grabbed my crotch and raised my arm in my best Michael Jackson imitation, and it was then I noticed she was wearing two gloves. This was not Carmen. In fact, I had no idea who this stunned looking woman was as I back-finned in a most inglorious way, waving, blushing and apologizing through my reg. The silt was quite riled up by the other divers so I was grateful for the anonymity it provided. I mean, no one would be able to recognize this crotch grabbing ninny on land, right? It was then that the ‘trout’ began their attack. Hordes of extremely large rainbows and land locked ugly salmon began to swarm us from all directions. I guess they didn’t like my ‘Beat It’ impression. We beat it out of there in a hurry. They would come charging up out of the silt and we didn’t know when they would appear in front of our masks...fun...wow!! It was after noon by this time and we were hungry. We pooled our resources and ate a great lunch. We then sat in the shade, trying to cool off in the exceptionally high temps. Did I mention there is no swimming in the quarry? Only diving and snorkeling. I stood up to get my book off the table when a very nice lady stopped and said, "You’re the lady with the camera who was down by the plane a little while ago, aren’t you?" I desperately wanted to lie, but my face had turned purple and I was sputtering so there wasn’t much I could do but to fess up. My "friends" behind me were no help as their laughter drowned out my perfectly reasonable explanation!! Her name was Heather and she owns a dive shop in Michigan. She was delighted to hear that my actions weren’t as perverse as they seemed at first, and I explained to her that she must be very happy that I grabbed my own crotch. She agreed. Shortly after that encounter, I made the mistake of standing up again, this time to get some water out of my cooler. Two men in a van were just pulling out of their parking space, and they asked me if I knew anyone who might be able to use their parking pass, because they didn’t need it anymore. I said, "No thanks, we don’t need your parking pants." They drove off to the background sounds of more inane laughter and snorting! Damn!! Was there no end to this tomfoolery??? Carmen, Maida, Chris H-D, Angela and I decided it was time to hunt out the giant paddle fish for which the quarry was renowned. We donned our snorkeling equipment and entered the deep area where most divers didn’t go. Paddle fish do not like bubbles. They are shy and stay clear of divers, hence we snorkeled. And we snorkeled. We hung in the water, watching the sunbeams dance through to the depths, but did those paddle fish show themselves? They did not!!! I think I saw something swim by way down there, but I didn’t get a picture, so who knows!?! At some point this weekend, Laura made the most amazing soup/stew. Each of us thought it would be only polite if we forced down a bowl of this soup because she had gone to all the trouble of making it. One bowl, however, was definitely not enough. This stuff was amazing!! We all went back for at least one more bowl, and Josh was happy to serve it. Thanks Laura...great stuff!! That night, Dave, Chris, Kent and Keith dove for Keith’s 50th dive. We explained to him about our groundhog ways, and he was a sport as Chris threatened him with Hickory Smoked BBQ Sauce. I think he found the ice cold milk quite refreshing too. But the Italian dressing was what stayed with him the longest. He did fall back into the 80* water but felt the need to hit the showers before joining us all around his campfire. Once more, the giant heat bugs churned out there noise, and a large grass hopper landed on my head, sending me into fits of ‘getitoffme, getitoffme"s. Yukkk! The four fabulous females, that’s us, turned in around 10:30 while the rest of them sat and chatted until sometime later. One group down the way, kept Dave awake with their loud Yankee chatter until 2:30 in the morning. Next day, Davey was a tad grumpy!! But we love him anyway. Once more, the Herons enjoyed a night of pleasure, but either they or I were more tired than the night before, because I don’t recall hearing them for quite as long or as often. Diving Sunday was great...somewhat foggy for the first dive, and by the time the second dive took place, what seemed like thousands of divers were bouncing off the bottom. One nearly concussed me with his tank, and when we surfaced his buddy apologized for him...but he didn’t. Oh well, ignorance is everywhere. We wanted to get on the road by 1:00 p.m. so we ate, gathered our gear and dismantled our campsites. All that remained was to make sure it all fit back into the van. Maida made it fit. She is amazing!! There was one other incident that needed to be cleared up, and that involved getting back $24.00 U.S. that was overpaid for the campsites. Chris and Dave had planned on bringing two other people with them, but they didn’t. The Hunter-Duvars had paid for 4 campsites, I had paid for 8, but only 10 people were there. Try explaining that to owners. Mike was unwilling to give me back any money, but his lady, upon hearing the news that Maida hadn’t been charged for her rentals, and could easily have gotten out of paying, but had told the scatterbrained clerk on Friday night, that she had neglected to take her money, she handed me back my money from the till. All’s well that ends well, I suppose. We had a bloody fine trip going home. We snoozed a little, laughed a lot, and looked forward to getting back into Canada and a Harvey’s. Since Carmen hadn’t eaten anymore prune muffins, we made it to the Ambassador Bridge without incident, where we purchased booze and candy to take back. We could have bought out the store for all the customs agent cared. Over we came, to our lovely country...monitoring the outside temp on Maida’s rearview mirror...37*C...feelin’ hot hot hot! We stopped at the first Harvey’s we saw and pigged out on burgers, fries and onion rings...who could ask for anything more. We couldn’t get over how 4 people who had barely known each other before, (except for Carmen and Maida) could have had such a kick of a great time!! We truly couldn’t stop laughing thinking back to all the silly adventures we’d had. Oh, by the way, Josh. I hope you learned the lesson taught to you by Carmen and Maida. As they told you, if you burn lady bugs, when you die you will come back as one...and then when you die, you’ll come back as a dust mite, doomed to live a life in someone’s bed, with nothing to eat but their sloughed off skin. Oh how I loved Gilboa!! Penny Fink |