Here's a photo from one of my self produced backyard/live band birthday parties.
Story number one about Skipper...
Back when I had the house in Davis Bay ( a sweetheart of a place ) I was just home from work and getting ready to eat dinner and watch a movie. I'm in the front room, stretched out on the couch with a sockeye salmon dinner and cold beer.
I hear a diesel truck pull up out front. I don't get too concerned, whoever it is, whatever they want...I'm sure they'll figure it out.
I hear a tap tap on the back door. ( it's summertime, it's the country...door's open ) My mouth is full of sockeye salmon and basmati rice. I hear boots coming down the hall. The boot steps get to the approximate location of my fridge. Boot steps stop.
Fridge door opens.
Rattling of ice cold beer cans.
That magic sound....a beer can releasing all of it's inner glory...pppuuuu....ssshhhhh...
There are few more delicious sounds on a hot summer evening.
I can hear the ice cold beer can getting tilted back and pouring out to do the job it was born to do.
A satisfied lip smack followed close behind.
Then finally..
"Hey Mike, You home?"
Big smile..perfect...just so perfect.
"Skipper, in here, bring me another one while you're there"
One of my best memories of that place and time.
I love the fact that the house was open. My buddy went straight to the fridge for a beverage. He had a good pull on the beer to wash the summer dust down, checked out my kitchen before deciding to call out.
There is a certain comfort in that.
Skipper #2
Same house, the night of that photo.
I set up the party so that all the guests from different backgrounds would be as comfortable as possible. There were my contractor buddies, excavator guys, loggers and construction types. Also there were some suit and tie sorts from my girlfriends work. In the mix were my musician friends and artists.
My contractor friends ( I was a drilling and blasting contractor at the time ) were just gobsmacked when I greeting my musician buddies with a hug..( it's just the way it is , folks)
For properly chilled beers, I followed the lead of a master party thrower...and bought new plastic garbage cans, washed them...filled with Sunshine Coast water and store bought ice. In go the beers.
I remember the look when one of my contractor guys looks in the can and sees only imported beers floating about. He looks at me like he just saw his favourite dog get hit by a car...like he just found out his wife is pregnant by his pastor...like he just got his tax bill.
He's thinking ..
"What...no real beer????"
I rescue him as fast as I can, before he turns to leave..or worse before he tells the others that there is no real beer to be had.
"The Kokanee is in the the other tub"
"Oh Jesus and Mary...thank fuck for small mercies..Fucking hell you had me going there for a second"
Anyways, I was trying to tell a Skipper story...
I had three barbeques set up. My idea was.."You brought it...you cook it"
Turns out...for whatever reason, my party going friends didn't like that idea too much. They drank and talked and just stared at the raw meat on the platters like it was magically gonna cook itself.
Skipper, the man of the hour, puts down his banjo and volunteers his services. ( insert joke here if you want ) He dives in head first to "Head Chef " mode.
I suck something fierce at barbequing, but gave it my best. Another fella did us all a favour, and took over the salmon cooking chores.
As the meals are getting cooked and served, I get a ton of questions from the party people about the whereabouts of their wine bottles.
"Have you seen a bottle of white wine anywhere , Mike?, I had it right here, now I can't find it"
I was too busy to notice ( or care )
When more than just a few people asked the same question, my sense of "What the fuck", clunked into gear.
I immediately suspected the kids.
The perfect crime. Dozens of tipsy adults and bushels of booze.
Scan the area.
All the minors are flying straight and true.
Hmmmm
Then I notice the Skipper.
Cooking up a storm....and absolutely legless.
Knees buckled and navigation skills gone.
Trying to flip a burger and failing miserably...
Speaking in tongues and miscellaneous gibberish
Our man Skip...decided that if he had to cook for all the wankers that wouldn't do it themselves..then their booze was fair game..
Whenever the opportunity presented itself , he had been draining the various bottles of ( mostly white ) wine with in reach.
I can still see in my minds eye the puzzled looks of the "wineless" and the bobbing and weaving Skipper in the background cooking up burgers like a pro.
Skipper #3
For some inspired reason, I had decide to build a submersible ROV with an infrared camera attached. (Remotely Operated Vehicle ) Harry Bohm design
The idea was that the kids would like it and use it to explore the underwater world. As it turned out, after spending 2300 dollars...the little darlings were more interested in fishing for shiners.
So ...one day, Skipper asks if he can use my rig to assist in checking out the sewer outfall line for the town of Gibsons. ( home of the Beachcombers..if anyone gives a shit about that )
Sure , is the answer. Here is how it works...have fun.
Fast forward a long time.
I need to rent a small excavator. Skipper has a small excavator.
I ask.
He delivers.
We don't immediately discuss terms on payment.
I use the machine to landscape my backyard.
It perform s flawlessly.
I phone "The Skipper" up....
"I'm done...how much do I owe you?"
"Nothing..I'm not going to charge you"
"But I want to pay for the use of your rig"
"I don't want anything for it...no charge"
"Thanks...but I'd feel better paying you something...give me a number"
"Nothing..I don't want any money for it"
I'm getting kind of pissed now.
"Why not?"
Pause
"Remember that underwater camera you lent me?"
"Yeah"
"It's gone"
"Gone where ?"
"The bottom of the sea"
"Fuck"
"I know,..... sorry about that "
So my 400 dollar rental bill for the mini-excavator grew instantly to 2300 bucks. I didn't have the heart to ask for a reimbursement from the guy....
I was out a few bucks, but got a great story in exchange. Fair deal I guess.
Ok...I wasn't going to tell #4 Skipper right this minute, but why not?
Skipper #4
Here is the pic to get you in the mood.
OK...so there is Skipper on the ground, having hooked up a section of radio tower to the helicopter long line. He came to help me get the job done for Hydro.
My other buddy, Rockin' Robin is flying the helo.
Fast forward to the process of bailing out of the job when it's done.
It's summer and hot, The mountain we are on is very high. The helicopter in these conditions won't pack it's usual load. So we break it down to smaller parcels and do more trips.
Robin ( bless his twisted little heart ) has installed dual control sticks in the front seat. When we fly back to the heliport, whoever is in the front seat gets a go at flying the 206 JetRanger back. We all get a turn.
It's waaaaay harder that you might think to keep one of those fuckers going in the right direction. Waaaay harder.
So...we all blunder through our turns at the stick, and get back to Wilson Creek.
Skipper is the last guy out.
We ( the crew ) at the airport, pop open as many Corona beers as humanly possible, while we wait.
After a bit. we hear the hum of the helicopter coming down the Chapman Creek ravine. In the distance we can see a small smudge above the treeline...it's Robin and Skip on the return leg.
We all assume that Skip is at the controls, because that's what all the other trips were like. Co-pilot flying, and Robin standing by.
As we gaze at the on coming helicopter, it suddenly does a power dive out of sight behind the last mountain ridge. It just disappeared. Dove down like some kamikaze pilot in a John Wayne movie.
We waited ( with a bit of a beer buzz ) for the 206 to come zooming back up over the tree tops.
Nothing.
That's probably not good.
Then, way later than we would have liked...the JetRanger comes careening over the treetops at Mach 1.
We are all used to Rockin Robins hard ass flying, but this looked a little different.
The helicopter rises over the ridge and settles in for an approach to the helipad.
The crew on the ground sips on our Coronas, as the final approach to the concrete is made.
Wind and noise, dust and grass cuttings.
As the rpm's come down on the turbine, we all look into the cockpit and see Robin having an absolute fucking freak out. Arms waving, helmet thrown down, mouth going 200 mph.
Skipper has his head down. Sheepishly exits.
Robin gets out on his side, and is still in the middle of an arm waving, expletive laced tirade....spit flying in all directions.
The crew...
"What's up Skip?"
"Nothing..."
"Beer Skipper?"
"Thanks, don't mind if I do"
I go over to Rockin' Robin, who is all by himself....red faced...cursing up a blue steak and pacing like a mad man.
"Hey, bud....what's up"
At this point I can't really inject enough swearing and wild gestures to match what I witnessed.
Let's just say that Robin lost his shit.
Our man Robin unleashed a spittle laced spaz attack rant about how close he was to dying at the hands of "the Skipper"
Apparently Robin had given Skipper the stick on the return flight...same as with all of us. Skip was having a bit of a time keeping the ship on course...and Robin just let him do his thing. ( how bad could it be ? )
Well, lets put it this way...in an airplane, if you let go of the stick...it just flies along as nice as pie.
When you let go of the stick in a helicopter ( like what Skip did when he decided "fuck this" )...the helicopter wants to turn upside down ....now.
Robin was looking out the window, likely praying for this day to just be over, when "the Skipper" let go of the control stick.
A severe power dive and roll ensued soon after.
The ground was approaching fairly fucking fast.
Ex-Air Force Robin grabbed all the sticks, handles and controls to rescue both of them from a high speed impact and fiery death.
The recovery climb was what we had witnessed as the helo arched over the final ridge.
Hence the landing pad meltdown of our man,Robin.
To this day, if..... for whatever fucked up reason...you want to see a wild circus act....just ask Robin about the time he gave the controls over to "the Skipper"....you might want to stand back a bit when you do that...just sayin'.
Guitar Johnny stories will have to wait .....
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