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The Maple Grove Gang |
| By Sue |
Sue, what's that story you tell about the Maple Grove Gang up on the Miramichi?
 Looking downstream on the Miramichi toward Otterslide Mountain |
Everette and I were all nicely set up enjoying our brew when the Maple Grove Gang (an annual local trip, neighbourhood boys and men who transform into moose-callin River Rats) arrive at their site and acknowledged us. "HI SUE AND EVERETTE, CUMMON OVER FOR A BEER!" "MAYBEE LATER GUYS!" Ev. shouts back.
We go on about our business as more "Grovers" arrive and set up their wet provisions. Much later, "Ev? We should grab a beer, go visit, just for a short, Sugarbear will think we're snotty." We take two beers each, cigars and smokes, pole the boat up river, quietly in the approaching dark, listen to the voices and cipher who's all there.
Just then, "YAHOOOOOO DAMNNNNNN!!!!! NO ##%&&#$ WOMEN!!!" Everette quietly allows the canoe to readjust itself with the current. We poke our campfire upon our homecoming. The Captain is brought out of the duffle bag and we sit chuckeling, listening to Indian Rain Dances, Moose calls, Duck calls, country tunes, poetry, and gibberish.
Even the Miramichi runs out of rapids past Falls Brook. It's a long flat haul, but there are ways to beat the boredom down to Boiestown.
