That's how accidents happen

Our trip to Koocanusa required multiple vehicles in a caravan. With trucks towing trailers or boats, a moving truck, two busses, and a passenger van – walkie-talkies were essential to keep communication between vehicles. They were especially helpful when we became separated by an SMC (slow moving Canadian).

It also proved to be amusing and almost regrettable during border crossings. Our two-way radios used the same frequency as the Canadian Border Patrol, a fact that we were not aware of until we reached the border. The trip north was not much of a hassle. We got to listen the their funny little accents while awaiting our turn to answer “no” to all of the questions about produce, firearms, and alcohol. There was no need at that time for all of us to communicate, so the crossing went fairly smooth.

The return trip however was not quite as easy. Entertaining, yes – but not easy.

To begin, the line to the border was longer than usual. We were all worried that we would be stuck waiting to cross for at least a couple of hours. That was troubling news for Zach, who had to pee. We told him to jump out of the van and go pee in the bushes. He declined. One of the kids from the bus behind us ran into the woods, peed, and then ran back to the bus. We suggested again that Zack should go relieve himself in the woods, and again Zack declined. He said with his luck, we’d start moving the second his pants were unzipped. Looking at the traffic ahead I knew that even if we did start moving, we wouldn’t go far. But there’s no arguing with a teenager who is having a potty emergency. What made his circumstances especially dire is the only bathroom we could stop at was on the American side of the border.

Time passed and a CBP officer stopped by our van to tell us that we could bypass the line (much of which were semis and motor homes) as soon as oncoming traffic cleared. Once around the jam of commercial and recreational vehicles, we ended up third in line. By this time, Zack was on the verge of wetting himself and was rocking back and forth so violently that the whole van was rocking. He said it was the only way he could focus on something other than his bladder.

Going back to our radio frequency, a little Canadian accented squawk described the reason that the border crossing line was so backed up – the trucks’ license plates were difficult to read. Many of the plates were so dirty or caked with mud that they could not be read at all. One CBP officer complained about her difficulty reading the license plates.

“Oh, this one is so dirty, we’ll need to clean it to get the plate number.” A few seconds of radio silence, and then she continued. “What’s with this yahoo, gettin out of his truck. He’s opening up the back door to his trailer. That’s how accidents happen!”

Up until this time, we had kept off of the radios. All listen, no talk. Yet after that comment, one of the other drivers in our party could not resist his need to be funny.

“That’s how accidents happen!” said the CBP officer.

“I was an accident,” said our driver.

“And who is that?” (sound of crickets chirping)

The CBP officer didn’t sound too happy. We were so worried that a student was going to say something stupid while crossing the border, little did we know that it would be one of the adults that almost got us in trouble.

Zack continued to rock in his passenger seat. Between Zack’s bubble about to burst and the awkward dead air on the radios, the next few minutes waiting to cross the border were quite nerve wracking.

Koocanusa skies

We have returned from houseboat camp, equally exhausted and revived. The first half of the week was beautiful and undeniably hot. I was lucky to snap this picture Tuesday evening.

Unfortunately, that is a storm cloud invading our previously blue skies. We went from bright & sunny to wet & wind swept in less than an hour. Shortly after this picture was taken, we were scrambling to clear the beach and secure the boats. The storm tore three of our seven boats away from our anchors and created four foot waves that rocked all of the boats enough to make us feel like drunken pirates.

Off the Grid

As of tomorrow morning, I am off the grid for a week: out of cell phone range - no internet access.

"Why is that?" you ask.

Because I am spending the next week in Canada, on a houseboat, beached on the sandy shores of Lake Koocanusa.

"Sounds great," you say, "I wish I could go!"

Why thank you. It should be a blast. This is the only real vacation Bekah and I get during the summer. The two of us, a small hand full of other adult leaders, and seventy some odd high school kids...

"What?!?!? You're spending your vacation with high school kids."

Of course. I am a part of my church's youth staff, and every year we do our high school camp up in the Great White North. (Although, this time of year, it is warm and green.) I'll be sharing my boat with a couple other leaders and 17 high school guys.

"Are you CRAZY????"

Quite possibly, yes. But it is one of the only times during the year that I get to relax.

"How can you relax with all those kids running around?" you ask.

Easy. There' no babies waking me up at seven o'clock in the morning.

"But the high school kids might wake you up that early."

True, but they can feed themselves.

real life conversation

Upon return from Canada, my wife made an interesting discovery while unpacking my bags.

Bekah: What are these? (holds up a pair of boxers) Are these yours?
Me: No.
Bekah: Who's are they?
Me: I don't know.
Bekah: How did they get in your bag?
Me: (shugs shoulders)
Bekah: What do you expect me to do with them?
Me: (shrugs shoulders again)
Bekah: That's so gross.
Me: So, throw them away.
Bekah: And waste a perfectly good pair of boxers? I'll just wash them.

if stupidity was a crime, he'd be guilty of attempted murder

We are back from Canada, but with the triple digit temperatures in the Coeur d'Alene area I kind of wish I was still there.

Of all the things that could have happened or gone wrong when taking 100 high school aged kids out of the country and then throwing them all onto crowded houseboats beached on a lake in the wilderness... It went pretty well.

I had 15 kids on my boat. Six of them were (are) involved with the worship team, one of the big reasons that I was a leader on their boat. Few of them were friends, but they got to know and tolerate each other fairly well.

A lot happened during the week, enough for me to keep you up all night reading. Some I'll save for later, and some will just be verbal anecdotes for those of you who speak to me on occasion. There is one single event that stands out above all others. It is, as a captain from one of the other boats called it, a classic camp story.

Lake Koocanusa is nestled in the Canadian Rockies. While it's southern most tip is in Montana, the majority of the lake, including the beach we camped on, is in British Columbia. The lake is also a reservoir, one that is slowly being drained. That draining was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good: we gained about ten feet of beach over the course of five days. Bad: it created some rip tide like currents.

I gained first hand knowledge of the strength of those currents Tuesday when we took our boat out from the beach and let our kids swim for a while. We had a small group; four guys, one girl, myself and Big John (the other leader on my boat). We got out to the middle of the lake, Big John shut off the engine so the kids could swim and we chilled for a while, listening to an interesting mix of Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffet.

A couple of the boys were jumping off of the top deck, a fun thing that was not allowed while beached (it would be breaking the camp's only rule: don't be an idiot). There was also a water slide attached to the boat, and for some strange reason, I felt that riding the slide would be safer than jumping from the second story deck. Silly me. Shortly after hitting the water I realized hey, these currents are rather strong. If it had just been strong currents, I probably could have overcome it, except for one unfortunate fact. It was a windy day. Worse, the wind and currents were going in opposite directions.

Once in the water, I was about ten feet away from the boat and no matter how hard I tried, that's where I stayed. The current was pulling me south, and the wind was blowing the boat north. Thankfully I wasn't losing ground but I wasn't gaining any either. It was like a treadmill... for swimmers. One of the kids jumped in and tried to help, but then we were both stuck in the current.

Finally, Big John told the three remaining passengers to throw me a rope. One kid (the worship band's techie) threw a rope. The whole rope. The kid is smart when it comes to Power Point presentations and running the sound board, but not to bright when it comes to more important matters like saving some one's life.

Initially, I was excited for the rope, swam over and started tugging on it. Seconds later I discovered that it was not attached to anything. The people on the boat didn't realize the failed rescue attempt until after I yelled "A lot of good this does me!"

Finally the two of us in the water were pulled in with a life ring. And I learned a valuable lesson: never trust the sound tech with your life, he might accidentally try to kill you.

However, he did put in a bit of practice with the life ring the next day, throwing it out to a bunch of girls who didn't like cold water. He then began calling himself David Hasselhoff... despite being shorter, chubbier, significantly younger, and bearing no resemblance of any kind to Mr. Hasselhoff.



P.S., if you click on the link for David Hasselhoff, be prepared, it's kind of frightening.