Casey and Finnegan Vs. The poopetrators and the Swiss Ham Club

Chapter 48

Casey and Finnegan Vs. The poopetrators and the Swiss Ham Club

Otter poop is one of the most pernicious and vile forms of poop that I’ve ever come across.  I’ve come across a lot of it here. There is a family if seven otters that live beneath the lodge, sometimes you hear their demonic vocalizations emanating from beneath your feet and sometimes you see them galumphing across the deck, but mostly you find their fecal  leavings. They have several kinds of gunk that come out of both ends of them, there’s the slimy brown weasel scented gack and then there’s the regurgitated shell-filled weasel scented vomit balls, then there’s the dog poop that has been laid down in the same vicinity in order for the dock dogs to show they can’t be out done.  It’s a constant chore to hose off the offending excretions and try to keep the dock tidy so that our fine guests don’t have to step in the stuff.

Of course Casey and Finnegan are at constant war with the otters. They are the canine commandos that keep our dock safe from all comers, and they are such sweeties. They are the dock bitches, that is to say, female dogs. When they scent or hear otters, they rip off barking, full of unquenchable vituperation, hell bent on destroying those weasely interlopers. In fact, all you have to do is say, “Otters!!!” and Casey and Finnegan will burst into apoplectic rage and gallop off in random directions. They are the only full time year round residents here and they often go weeks without setting paw on solid ground. Especially Casey, she is the elder of the two and has had several operations to replace her tendons; she’s a cyborg-canine. Casey likes to ride the herring skiff across the cove for pick-ups and drop-offs, but Finney is much more afraid of the boat, as she fell off the front of a boat one time and was run over by the motor at the back. That would put me off boats as well. But all the same, I’ll be taking her across with me tomorrow morning for a Big Cedar trail hike. They stay here year round, welcoming all the guests in the summer and keeping the caretakers company in the winter. When I first arrived last year, I witnessed Casey and Finnegan say a heart wrenching goodbye to Hayley, a girl who had worked as a guide here. She had tears in her eyes as she cruised away forever in a boat and the dogs stood on the end of the dock and watched her go until long after she had disappeared from sight. They waited and watched and waited until they finally plodded sadly back to their dog box to whimper and mope. Everybody always leaves them eventually.

In other news, I’m pleased to announce that the salmon have arrived and are heading up the spawning channel. We are seeing lots of bears up in the stream feeding. Unfortunately, the run is very weak so far this year and bears are spending more time scoping and wrestling for good fishing spots than they are actually feeding. That’s because pink salmon are on a two year cycle. Last year was a banner year, with 6 to 8 hundred thousand salmon cramming up the channel. The year before had a paltry 25,000 salmon. So if only 6% of the fry that leave the channel are able to make it back, all indications point to a very lousy, if not abysmal year.  Bears are still catching fish, but the stress and lack of abundance is clearly etched in the ribs of the mother bears who are desperately hoping for some salmon to eat, so they can fatten up and feed their kids. When there isn’t enough food, cubs get abandoned and the next crop of cubs is curtailed. So far, it’s a gloomy prospect, but there are fish there, and more on the way, so all hope is not lost. In fact, some of the other salmon runs have far outstripped expectations and sockeye abound in other watersheds. We’ll have to wait and see how the season here ends up for all concerned parties.

So, who are the Swiss Ham Club you may ask? In fact it sounds like a sandwich. They are actually a group of gents from Switzerland who I had the pleasure of hanging out with for several days. There were six of them, all about 60 years old, and they all wore a pin with the letters SHC. That stands for Swiss Ham Club in case you hadn’t connected the dots. They had all been born in the same town, and had been in grade one together, they all became friends at the age of seven. When they were twenty, they decided to give their friendship an official club title, so they chose the Swiss Ham Club, because they all like to eat and drink. So, they began meeting for meals, adventures and travelling, on the 40^thanniversary of founding their club, they decided to come to Canada, and the highlight and last part of the trip, was a visit to our lodge. I’m so impressed by the endurance of their friendship, and slightly jealous.

I had these fellows on an inlet cruise and we were floating in the boat in front of an epic natural amphitheatre with 2000 foot high stone walls, where I like to play accordion music for my passengers and the Buddha like mountain goats who watch us from the mountain tops. I asked them if they would sing a Swiss song, perhaps they could yodel? At first they dissembled and refused, but eventually, I harangued them enough and they burst out with some traditional lusty Italian songs that echoed across the wilderness. After I got them started, they never stopped, they sang as I soaked them beneath the waterfall, and as we cruised up the Anu-Wate river to look at the huge Chum salmon in the water. I had them get up and sing for the whole lodge at dinner every night that they were here. I don’t think they had ever sung as a group in public before and people just ate it up. They sang one traditional song about young Swiss mercenaries longing for home and then deserting the foreign armies they served and being hung. The chorus was “Yooooooo-Ba, Yoooo-oooo-Ba” like a mountain herdsman calling his cows home. It was intense and haunting and I think everyone was quite moved.

When it finally came time for the SHC to leave, they practically had to be wrestled onto the float plane, they just didn’t want to leave. Few guests do, and many come back again, or say they will return again someday. The comment I hear most frequently is that they wished that they had booked just one more night, as it was the highlight of their trip to Canada, year, or life.

The other comment I hear frequently, is when someone looks at me incredulously as we are kayaking beneath eagles, with seals popping up around us and grizzlies grazing on the shore nearby and say, “Let me get this straight, you actually get PAID to be here? You must love your job.”

Then as we sit down to another exquisite meal of fresh seafood and chicken kiev served with fine wine while we reminisce about the days hikes, adventures and grizzly encounters, I think, “Yes, yes I do. I love my job.”

How many people can say that?