McCrea from Freeland

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Hi, I’m Mike. I hail from northern Baltimore County, Maryland, in the notorious “Hereford Zone”.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hereford_Zone,_Maryland

I refer to Freeland as being “30 miles south of York PA” rather than “30 miles north of Baltimore City”. Been there, seen that, don’t care to go back.

(It is pronounced “Balmer”, and “Murlund” dammit, get it right. Just mumble slur every word you say and you’ll fit right in)

I paddle canoes, and decked canoes. Much like “30 miles south of York PA”, most of those decked canoes started out as open cockpit tandem kayaks, now soloized with a raised seat.

Decked canoes, ya got that!”. Not kayaks!

I can see why some of you might be confused; I paddle everything with a double blade, and throw up a downwind sail every breezy chance I get. Call me lazy, call me late for the camp potluck, just don’t call me a kayaker.

OK, really, WTF do I care? It’s a small, or sometimes not so small, boat propelled with a paddle. All are welcome. Except Walmart $200 Sun Dolphin rec kayakers. No? I should be woke (Awakened? Awokened?) and not sneer even at them?

Dang, I recall us elite paddlers all started out with the best canoes (Grummans, or worse) and the best gear (Featherbrand paddles, garbage bag “dry” sacks, jeans). Can’t I at least look down on paddlers just starting their progression? I never did do that anything like that.

EK_0018 by Mike McCrea, on Flickr



Can’t we all be friends? Even with the engine-users. Eh, mini rant over. Those rants occur occasionally when over-stimulated.

I spend most days messing with boats and gear in my shop. I don’t have a shop beer frig like some canoe tinkerers, which may be a good thing, but make do with other crutches and stimuli that don’t need refrigeration.

I am often entertained with repairing, retrofitting and outfitting boats, and experimenting with gear (what is inside hammer-smashed cord locks anyway? Wouldn’t ALSG like to see for himself?).

I enjoy Hoppy IPA’s and long bromance walks along the marsh edge, looking deep into each other’s eyes while. . . . . . wait. . . . . .What? No! Too much stimuli.

I (obviously) enjoy pecking at a keyboard while I wait for paint or epoxy to set up, which, with some crutch stimuli, leads to overly verbose posts like this one. I haven’t yet forced anyone to read my blather, although I was tempted to bed time story read-aloud the sequential steps to making a spray cover to a local paddler friend who, like me, apparently has trouble following instructions.

My inter-net fortune has been to meet, paddle and trip with a dozen folks on this board, some starting decades ago. Among the finest, most generous, most sharing people I have ever met. Paddlers often are.

Let’s all hold hand and sing Kumbaya around the campfire. No? Ok, then pass me that bottle.

I hope to meet more of you someday, tin foil hat and all.

P8140001 by Mike McCrea, on Flickr

Back to epoxy work.
 
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