The flight into Calgary was followed by a five hour car ride. The four of us, BiL, Sister, Dog and I, piled into the truck and headed north.
Had you have asked me then if I thought I was going to tackle a bull calf to have it castrated I would have said there is a vas deference between that and how I'm going to be spending my weekend.
I would have been wrong.
I also wouldn't have figured I'd be fishing on a pontoon boat , let along catch 10 or so fish (two of which we end up catching, and one of those I'd get to gut myself).
There would be campfires and fireworks and lazy river rafting. There would be old traditions shared with new friends, and tradition setting fathers remembered. Younglings would sip beer and everyone would find it cute.
However that was what the weekend promised to contain, and we weren't to those places yet. We were stuck on the hwy, heading north stopping only for bathroom breaks every 40 mins and at the Canadian Tires we saw between the bathrooms.
Currently I'm seated on my flight home, and I hope to recount a few of the weekend's events. At least as much as I can.
(greg, it's just occurred to me that we didn't meet up last night. I hope you enjoy Stampede!)
In flight,
Bird
Written with the help of a thousand monkeys
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