The Chic Chocs

Dear Jim: The Chic Chocs….. Who Knew?

I think you would agree that I am not a bushwhacking, rugged, outdoorsy, nature loving, jock. Can you see me being happy traipsing through Moose trails by the day saying softly “oooooooh look there’s one”?

 I have been accurately described as delicate, maybe even fragile. When we are thinking of going somewhere I’m looking for the location of the nearest Ritz or Four Seasons .

Turns out there are a whole lot of outwardly sane looking tree huggers who love nothing better than going off in to the woods without phone or Wi-Fi to sop up the call of nature. I think if electric shock theory isn’t working for you here is a plan that might work.

I have just finished a 3 night journey to the Chic Choc Mountains in Northern Quebec. Staying in a small remote first class  lodge with 19 rooms,  our group of 10 guys took over the entire lodge with a staff of 10 .

Getting there was advertised as a snap. Lets see…one and half-hours in a private plane built during the war (I’m referring to WW1). This followed by a one and a half hour ride in a 10-seater bus with 10 people, some of who would normally be asked to shift their seat position to balance an aircraft. Then just when you think you aren’t going to live another 10 minutes you turn on to a gravel road to go up to the lodge…another one hour and 15 minutes! Arrival consists of falling out of the Van with all of your teeth loosely rolling around in your jaw and being picked up and straightened out by one of the courteous staff. Normally walking posture returned within 2 hours so it wasn’t as bad as it may have sounded.

Now let me day right away that this is a great place, planned and conceived by one member of our group over 10 years ago and it currently is fully booked by guests from around the world who even come back for several visits!! It is a beautiful facility, first class in every way and brilliantly located with views that can’t be captured on camera.

The food was loved by almost everyone. The menu included Red Deer, Elk, Caribou, Rabbit, Sturgeon, Rabbit livers and Duck. When they asked if there were any dietary considerations the group had I wasn’t smart enough to realize what items might be found in the forest where Bambi and Thumper live.

Small error on my part. The four pounds that I lost on main courses were quickly gained back by unlimited slices of sugar pie and cookies.

 The Chef used to work at the Beaver Club in Montreal, a very high-end restaurant. How did he get to the Chic Chocs you say?  Well His resume goes like this: T rained as a sous chef in France, working his way up all the big name restaurants here there and everywhere and now (drumroll) a career toping stint as the head chef at the 19 room Chic Choc lodge located Nowhere.

 I’m thinking he must have food poisoned the Sultan of Brunei or something and fled in to the bush ending up at the Lodge. He did have a nervous tick that indicated that maybe he is in hiding. Never the less he and his small staff performed beautifully and there was one standing ovation after another as each course of some animal part or another was placed in front of us.

I know you want to hear about the Moose search. Well we all dressed up in warm clothes including gloves and tuques and headed down a trail in to the valley below us looking for Moose. I can’t answer the question “Do Bears poop in the woods” conclusively but I can say without any doubt that Moose do poop in the woods non-stop and not in the most convenient places.

Our guide holds some antlers in his hand and a bottle of Moose Urine in a spray bottle in the other hand. (Don’t ask how he comes by the Moose Urine but I’m sure you can see why I’m thinking this guy deserves a big tip).

So here is this goofball scraping small bushes with his fake antlers and spraying urine in to the air here there and everywhere. He has a beard and is wearing a Tully hat!  Now the first obvious question is, how stupid are these Moose?

Turns out they are pretty much really dumb as they look at our guide like he is one of the gang. A little skinny but no problem. So we quietly get closer and closer to a 2000 lbs. male who has 3 females standing staring at him. Seems the mating dance takes a long time so everyone stands in position for 24 hours or so until someone makes a move. This gets boring real quick so after walking downhill for 30-45 minutes, taking 1100 pictures, we turn around to go back.

Now this may sound obvious to you city slickers but walking back up a hill that took 45 minutes to go down isn’t as easy as it sounds. One of the obvious take home aspects of the trip. A great time killer however in a place with nothing to do.

At any rate, there were no fish in the rivers because there is hardly any water in the river and wandering around in the bush trying not to get your eye poked out took most of our time. We were busy 14 hours a day!

I am now back home after a trip that took the same time as flying home from Portugal and trying to figure out how to say “I’m sick that weekend” when the others say “I can hardly wait to go back, the best trip I have ever been on, I loved every minute of it. Wow.”

Bill Meder

With friends like these.

Dear Jim:

Yesterday I played in a golf tournament. Yes, I know the forecast was for rain, wind and cold temperatures. I communicated that fact to the other three members of our group with a link to the radar system showing a deluge of biblical proportions arriving about 3 minutes before tee off.  If we were pre-paids in Ireland I could maybe understand but..

No reaction, so off I went to the Club secure in the knowledge that no one in their right mind plays golf in the conditions about to descend on the island. A quick coffee, expressions of "too bad" all around, and then off to a movie.

Right on schedule the rain started as we stood under the Portico waiting for clubs to be loaded on to carts etc. As the intensity increased I announced to everyone  “I see a group of senior executives and very rich people preparing to golf. How did you people become successful…you are all obviously a bunch of morons?”

Never mind, off we went to the first hole. Now the wind has come up and the rain is driving sideways. I couldn’t see a thing so I pulled out a tissue to clean my glasses.   No improvement… I wasn’t wearing glasses.

I’m first up and get ready. Now you know that my game is dependent on a sequence of finely tuned moves requiring extreme concentration and finesse. A soft drizzle adds 10 strokes to my game and wind has me picking up on every hole.

 As I stared in to the gale I thrashed away a drive 150 yards straight up in the air, which landed 20 yards from the tee. It only got worse from there.

One member of the team had a 4. Rats, I’m thinking, he isn’t going to quit if he is shooting pars. Sure enough he pars the next one as well. I can just make out his smiling face as the water cascades down his teeth.

By the fourth hole my Footjoy Dry golf shoes are making a squishing noise. My partner keeps the golf cart aimed in to the wind so that the rain is directly on my side of the cart and I have lost all feeling in my right hand. My wet suit is now useless and holds 20 pounds of water.

By the sixth hole the first drops of ice water start to roll down my back, coming from the sopping wet collar of my golf shirt. My hat is raining inside and the brim is flapping and smacking my face like a cold washcloth I used to use to sober up.

My teammates look like drowned rats but no one is talking. I'm starting to think Eulogy highlights.

Finally on the seventh hole we decide to pack it in. A good thing too, I was about to fake a heart attack.  We are on the green that is about 50 yards from the clubhouse so I walk in, my partner takes the cart to the bag shop and everyone heads for the shower.

Not the worst day of my life but one I'm not likely to forget. To make matters worse….

One of my teammates, making a joke, tells 4 of my friends that the only reason he quit was that on the 7 th hole, Bill, without saying a word, gets in the cart and drives off with the clubs, leaving the others holding a putter and nothing else. So they had to quit. Ha Ha Who would believe that I would do such a thing?

Well it seems all 4 friends believed every word saying  “Well, that’s Bill!”

With friends like these…

Four teams finished the 18 holes and good news was that there were four prizes. They were strutting around all proud of themselves and I’m thinking…stay away from these people, they are clearly mentally ill and who knows what they are capable of.

Next week I’m going up to the Chic Chocs a two hour flight due north to hide in the bush pretending to be a male Moose so that female Moose will come looking for me. I don’t know why I signed up for this or what you say to 1600 lbs. Moose lumbering towards you thinking you are up for a little hanky panky.  I think the first thing is to determine if it is a female Moose. That inspection could be down -right dangerous.

I will certainly let you know how this works out if I survive.

Bill Meder

And the days dwindle down....

Dear Jim:

So now that Florida is almost over for all the smug escapees from the North, you can all stop asking how we survived this horrible winter.

Every snow fall and record breaking low temperature resulted in a flood of northbound phone calls that threatened to overwhelm, the Bell system. “Oh you poor people, gee whiz look at all that snow, how cold is it?...no..can't be, it must be terrible, hee hee.”

First of all, most nights we slept indoors. During the day I left my indoor garage with my summer shoes on and no jacket and arrived at my indoor parking destination ready to do whatever. During the course of the winter I only spent about 11 minutes outside.  I am a little pale but that should go away in the weeks ahead. Do you think it bothered me when it was 24 degrees Celsius last  Tuesday and minus 8 on Wednesday and snow on Thursday?  Didn’t even notice. 

So here we are in the middle of May and as you are sitting in your shorts in your air conditioned environment I am sitting in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around my body and a heating pad on my back, turned to high. This all makes sense to me and I can hardly wait until our 2 month summer is over so I can start the cycle again.

The only regret I have is that this year there was no one left in the city to go to dinner with most of the winter. After 50 years living here I now can’t find one other bozo that spends the winter in Montreal to play with. How can so many people be out of step?

As for my overall well -being there are signs that things may be starting to going downhill.

Yesterday I was lying on my Pilates machine at the studio looking over at 5 porky old ladies and had a horrible realization. When did my exercise program start to  include old ladies? Here we are all doing the same exercises with the same tension on the machine. I had sweat pouring down my entire body, barely able to see and these ladies were pounding away with their mascara totally in place babbling away about their nail appointments. Not good.

It seems that deterioration may be just around the corner. And just when I found the fix to my golf game there is a danger that I may not be able to execute a miraculous comeback this spring!

I went to see my doctor who I doubt ever passed his medical exams and told him my story. My back hurts here and my arm hurts there and when I stand up too fast I fall over etc etc. “What’s going on here”, I asked . He jumps on his computer and types in a few symptoms. “Ah, here we go”, he says. “You’re old!”

Bill

 

Put me down for a 1 svp

Dear Jim:


So after 5 years of you bragging about your Golf Pro, Steve Anderson.  I finally came up to Fort Meyers to watch you take a lesson. We agreed that he would take a quick look at my swing sometime during your lesson..

 

I hit three balls with my seven iron and he said "I'm going to make you very happy. Do This, This and This."

 I then hit three balls perfectly.

"Want me to write that down?" he said.

 "Nope I'm good. This, This and This fixes everything. No need to hit any more balls. I've got it."

 Total elapsed time 7 minutes.

 

So here I am at The Country Club of Florida member guest event warm up round. I'm worried I'm going to shoot 74 with my 23 handicap and everyone will boo when I get up to collect the trophy. 

I'm wondering if I should explain This, This and This to the organizers so they will understand that this is a new me.

Off we go and I am hitting the ball like I have never hit before!! No kidding. Straight down the middle and with authority.

I step up to the 8th hole, a par 3 rated at 165 yards or so. Big wind blowing so I take out my 190 club and proceed to do This, This and This. 

 This little beauty took off so pure that tears started to well up in my eyes.

 Straight as an arrow, right in to the hole. 

Now in 50 years I have never had a hole-in-one. I never bothered to  congratulate anyone for having one because we all know it is just pure luck.

 Except in this case there  was no luck involved. Just like Steve Anderson said. This, This and This fixes everything .

Please pass this along to him and tell him that I will protect his intellectual property by not revealing  This , This and This to anyone but family and very close friends.

 

Regards,

Bill Meder

Mr. Fix It.

Dear Jim:

Since I was 20 years old I have successfully ensured that I would never have to fix anything around the house by delegating all responsibility for making things work  to Sally. I don’t know if we have any tools and if we do I don’t know where they are. I considered giving Sally a jig saw that had caught her eye  for her birthday last year but at the last moment  gave her an array of screw drivers instead which she was thrilled with.

So here it is, 10.30 am Saturday with nothing to do. Sally is at the Hospital Gift Shop fooling around with inventory and making like Bonny Brooks running the Bay.

I look over at the gas fireplace which hasn’t been turned on yet  for the season so I figure I will get it going. Never having done it before I get down on the floor and play with the controls getting the pilot light going.  Not as easy as one would think but doable. Next , over to the thermostat  to start the fire. Nothing!

My immediate conclusion is that the thermostat is broken. For someone of my technical aptitude this is a piece of cake,  I can easily replace this before lunch. Where are the screw drivers? I remove the thermostat cover and look at the wires. Wiggle the wires and one breaks off. No problem, just need to strip the cover off the wire and reattach. Tiny little wire. Hard to strip the coating off. I will have to buy some more wire and splice it.

 I unscrew the plate and disconnect the remaining wire. Now I have the thermostat in my hand and off I go to get a new one.  So far I’m one hour in to the 5 minute job. The hole in the wall and the wires hanging down can probably be fixed with some plaster and a few coats of paint. I’ll bring in a handyman to clean that up.

I won’t bore you with the details but I went all over the island,  to Canadian Tire, Rona, Reno Depot and three lighting stores. Every bozo that works on his house goes to these stores on Saturaday’s and the parking lots are like manoevering  a bumper car ride at the circus.  No staff in any of them although I did finally find a teenager who probably lives in his parent’s basement and asked him where I could find “one of these”. Aisle 45 .here I come. Now I’m looking at 65 different thermostats made in Vietnam and none of them look anything like what I’m holding in my hand.  After about 30 minutes  I find one for $19.95 that looks like it would do the job. I’ll be back. Don’t want to waste $19.95 it it isn’t perfect.

Next stop the Internet and I find a fireplace store way off the island well on the road to Toronto. I drive out there through heavy traffic and construction. The clerk says my Thermostat was obsolete in 1995 and  sells me a $171 remote Thermostat that I can install in 5 minutes. Sounds good and home I go.  It’s now 4 pm and I haven’t had lunch yet.

First off, the clerk says that I have to disconnect the two wires on the control. I see 5 wires. And furthermore where do I connect the two wires to the remote. I disconnect all the wires and then reattach most of them.  I finally get it all hooked up and push the button. Nothing.

I phone the store and say “I just just bought the Gas Fireplace remote , are you the clerk who served me? Nope. Well please ask the 7 staff members which one served the  English Guy using sign language and Charade skills to explain what he needed to start his Gas Fireplace.  Thank you and  Bonjour to you too.

I said , look you need to send a service guy. He says that will  be $175 but before we do that why don’t you come back to the store and we will install the remote on one of my fireplaces and make sure it works. We close at 5pm…it is now 4.35 and I have to go out for dinner by 6.15pm but hang on I’m on my way.

I jump in to the car and assume the Formula 1 racing position and off I go weaving in and out of traffic. What was that Flash? Not Photo Radar surely? Hell, I’m only doing 90km/hr and I’m on a 4 lane  highway! Oops, that sign says this is a 70km/hr zone.  I’m going to  protest, it wasn’t me, maybe the licence plate is dirty, no way I’m paying $275.  With the remote, a service call and a ticket I’m now up to $621 to replace a $19.95 thermostat and my fireplace still doesn’t work.

I turn in to the parking lot at 4.55pm with smoke coming from all four wheels and race in to the store.

I say to the clerk I want to see exactly what he is doing so I lie down on my stomach in the middle of the showroom and assume the cobra postion and watch. First he turns on the pilot. Check.

Hey, hold it , what did you just do? He looks at me and says “once you have the pilot light going you have to turn on the gas!”

Regards,

Bill Meder

What you can't see is killing you.

Dear Jim:

I have finally concluded that the only thing that will save me is lessons with cameras..and lots of them. Not seeing things distorts your view of yourself. Let me explain how I came to this strategy.

When I  look in the mirror every morning I see a full head of slightly greying hair. Haven’t lost a strand to my knowledge..ever.

Now you have to understand that for 10 years I have been successfully combing my hair without leaving the back sticking up. This technique was many years in the making and I have been quite happy with the result.

Trying on clothes in a changing room at the Mall yesterday I happened to look in to the mirror behind me on the ceiling and to my horror I noticed a huge bald spot on the back of my head. Not a thinning spot, an actual spot with zero hair on it.

 No family member, friend or foe  has ever even hinted at  this.  Wouldn’t  you assume that someone would have sounded the alarm seeing this thing develop. I can tell you this didn’t happen overnight given the size and sheer horror  of it.

My barber stopped holding a mirror for my assessment of her skills many years ago..who knew it was to keep me from  discovering this developing blight on my sense of suaveness.?

 No wonder my hair didn’t stick up in the back…it was Gone!

I swear I would have died thinking I had kept all my hair until yesterday at 2.05 pm, a time and day I will never forget.  You need to see things!

 I am going to need counselling to get over this, if it is at all possible.

 At any rate, all to say that this is just a perfect example of why the Golf Pros haven't  let me have a lesson with the camera. They know if I see what is really going on there I am going to either recoil in a violent manner and collapse  or leave the club forever.

I want the truth and I want to see it up close and now, so get out the IMAX 3D camera and lets go.

The only thing holding me back is that it might be late in the season. My last game was a 108 on the blue! Impossible you say.

Well as you know the back 9 of our course has water on 6 holes. I have tried many different ball types and multiple brands.  None of them will rise more than 6 inches above the water regardless of the club I hit it with. Hard to imagine but after every shot the ball does exactly the same thing. 

 Wedge through 4 wood produces the same trajectory and resulting splash down. Take 6 holes, take a maximum  8 and voila the answer as to how a 108 is possible.

Don’t give up on me yet I did hit 3 good shots during that bad round and they were spectacular. I’ve got it….just not much of it.

I will keep you posted.

Bill Meder

Quit....Never!

Dear Jim:

Here is the latest.

I have done a deep dive on all the data available regarding my game., The courses, my attitude , hole by hole scoring analysis, hitting tendencies,  etc and have determined that  the following strategy could lead to  a return to glory .

If I can play from the Ladies Tees and hit my drive straight and then hit my next shot straight and then chip on to the green and if any putt under 6 feet is a gimme I have a 50/50 chance of getting a Bogey. Bogey golf would be just fine for me.

This  strategy however has serious flaws as you would quickly point out and before I started shaving my legs I figured I need to give it one more practical  shot..

To the shouts of  “Quitter” from family and friends I  finally agreed  to take a 1 ½ hour lesson with cameras and all the bells and whistles yesterday evening.

Now in 30 years of taking lessons I have never seen a Golf Pro cry.  I don’t mean moaning and groaning I mean tears streaming down the face accompanied by sobbing.

When we started I quickly  informed him that I couldn’t translate the “to do” action from my brain to my body.

“No Problemo, I have 50 exercises that will get you to do what I am telling you needs to get done. Lets go” Cameras, action!

Around idea 23, cracks were beginning to show and I heard a faint “useless twit” comment while I was addressing the ball. By number 35 and one hour in to the session we were both understandably tired and by now I am gripping my Driver with both hands and shouting to stand back and let me hit this f …er.

Total destruction occurred around idea 43 with both of us in a bath of perspiration and each instruction barked out with spittle flying farther than the ball.

Finally the pro took  his IPAD and began typing his letter of resignation from both the club and the PGA.  Pity, our relationship may remain strained for some time as he wouldn’t even let me drive him back to the club but chose to walk back instead, right down the middle of the range

First mistake…I know an hour and a half is a long lesson. When I finished it took two guys from the bag shop to pry my hands off the driver. The cramps in my fingers and hands made eating dinner with a knife and fork a non starter. As the evening wore on other parts of my body started to cramp up and by this morning I was just able to hold a toothbrush  with both hands. I wasn’t in much shape for my regular Sat game.  I won’t bother you with the blow by blow of that round but lets just say that 8 is my magic number. On the way home I bought  a Loto ticker with only 8’s and 7s in the number.

No, I am not making this up.  Now I am determined and  will put in more work next week. I will keep you posted. Tomorrow lucky me is playing with Sally who has a lot of good ideas on how I can improve and become a better person at the same time.

Bill Meder