There are strange things
done under the Northern Sun
By the Wheaties young and
bold.
Those Northern climes spawn
some clever rhymes
And the tales are often
told.
And on those trails and
wooded dales
Where the crystal waters
roll,
Strode a swarthy lad in
khakis clad
Named McLin, Cedric, Joel.
No stranger he to the crag
and sea
Of the great Northwest
I'm t0ld;
Both the summits steep
and waters deep
Gripped his heart in a
viselike hold.
But tho his soul did grieve,
he had to leave
And an education gain;
So he left the forest in
his good "truck Norris"
And arrived at Wheaton's
plain.
And there at college he
gained some knowledge
Of the world and the ways
of God;
But he heard the call to
leave it all
For six months, and he
gave the nod!
So he left, lock and stock
for Honey Rock
And escaped campus tedium;
To hone his skills where
there aren't any frills,
In the Wilderness Practicum!
Soon to the North they sallied
forth,
In search of a challenge
rare;
Up to the shore of Lake
Superior
Where they sucked in the
chilly air.
And what did they see on
the marge of that sea,
Bobbing in the restless
tide?
But undulating herds of
small ice-bergs,
Begging for a ride.
"Now the goal" noted Joel,
"is to leap aboard"
Which he then proceeded
to do;
On this frozen turf he
pretended to surf,
And show his derring-doo!
The party ashore was a-beggin
for more,
Till another bloke followed
Joel's cue
But his foot did slip and
the berg did flip,
And he was doused in the
icy brew.
When they finally had enough
of this "goin it rough,"
And sleepin' like cubes
in a tray;
"Its time for a change,
it's the Chiso's range
We'll head for" said Ken
one day
Not one disagreed for all
had the need
To thaw out their frozen
bones
South to desert bare, and
prickly pear,
Where the Javelina roams.
But on the way, they decided
to stay
At a boy scout camp for
the nite;
Since Ken couldn't see
this "payin a fee"
When they'd be gone just
after daylite
So hopin' for luck, they
parked the truck
And the van where they
couldn't be seen
And laid out their bags
near some leafless snags
Enjoying the pleasant scene.
But it poured that night
And with daylight
They found they were out
of luck
For as they tried to leave,
the mud did cleave
And imprison the flatbed
truck!
So they pushed and groaned,
levered and moaned
Spinning duals sprayed
a cloaking mud
Till the truck inched free
and they rejoiced to be
Free of the oozing crud.
By now it was clear they
were "very much here"
So much for clandestine
plots;
So each took a shower that
lasted an hour
Just to wash off the muddy
clots.
Without fail they got back
on the trail,
Packing in the Chiso's
peaks
Where bear and tarantula
and prickly Opuntia
Threatened their lives
for weeks.
With no water at all save
what they could haul
Or strain from some stagnant
springs
They drank the water of
life and that scriptural knife
Cut away what convenience
brings.
The mortal clay begged to
be pampered each day
Till denied in a brutal
land
But their spiritual girth
of immortal worth
Grew larger as they crossed
the sand.
Till they filed in order
to the Mexican border
At the infamous Rio Grande
There-by to float in fiberglass
boat,
Along the shore of a foreign
land.
Through chasms so deep
the sun couldn't peep
On the cliffs formed in
ancient time
In that waterway low the
river did flow
Carving in cosmic rhyme.
Through rapids precarious
the Wheaties gregarious
Did flex their paddling
arms
And across a sand bar caught
a needlenose gar
Who impressed them with
all it's charms.
When the canyon got hotter,
they ran out of water
God showed He would provide
some more;
A lone fisherman with a
dark Texas tan
Was catfishin along the
shore.
Soon Joel and Tyler thought
they were fliers
Four-wheelin' cross the
mesa high;
While the dude, tho crude,
with generosity imbued
Shot his pistol right past
the boys eye
Till they slid thru the
gate of the rancher's estate
And filled up their water
barrels;
Then back to the canyons
and their faithful companions
And the river with all
of it's perils.
So time flowed by under
azure sky
Till they reached the final
bend;
And Joel could see it soon
would be
A road southward they would
wend
In a backwater town they
gathered round
With a "mission" to proceed;
Ken said the best plan
was having no plan
But to simply let God lead.
Soon they met El Mayor and
the local pastor
Who sold chicken on the
side
Then mobilized the crews
who unloaded canoes
And gave the whole town
a ride!
With eager pitterpatter
and much happy chatter
They climbed in, all who
were able
Joel instructed in English,
they argued in Spanish
Twas a nautical tower of
Babel!
Now Joel soon learned that
the tide had turned
Back north they now must
go
This time to hike, with
a mountain bike
Where a bobcat scarce could
go
But first he must try to
say goodbye
To amigoes he'd grown to
love
And with many a sigh and
teary eye
They promised to meet above.
One dare not go far without
WFR
So Joel got to take the
class;
After resuscitating dummies
that looked like mummies,
There was one test he'd
have to pass
A certain man, a South
African
Was pinned down by a log
With a broken leg, he screamed
and begged
Like the proverbial tortured
hog.
So Joel was dispatched from
the larger batch
Of Wheaties tried and true
Past pipsissewah and pine
and birches sublime
He ran to see what he could
do
Now Joel couldn't tell
if this scene from hell
Was for real, or merely
a ruse;
But he levered and pryed,
rolled the log aside
While suffering great verbal
abuse!
Oh how he could carp, this
Della Harpe
About the pain that he
was in;
While with bandage and
brace and compassionate face
Joel did his confidence
win.
From this encounter in
the wild up-yonder
Came a friendship that
would last
Twixt a certain man, a
South African
And Joel of the Great Northwest.
With no time to rest, the
final test
For Ebbett and Joel to
do;
A mission for the majors,
lead a squad of teenagers
Through Boundary waters
by canoe!
Land of shinning waters,
famous Boundary waters
of Gitchee Gumee and Hiawatha
fame
Where in canoes of birchy
barken the French Voyageurs did harken
To the call of loon and
trap abundant game.
O the tales Joel could relate
even to this very date
Of how God led and sheltered
their little band
Binding heart, soul, and
mind in friendship intertwined
Guiding and protecting
them in this land.
Then came the cold morning
when without any warning
The girls wouldn't budge
from their tent;
Joel knew for certain they
really were hurtin'
So he motivated with his
musical bent;
And with Verdi and Mozart
he warmed up their cold hearts
By singing like Andre Bocelli
And how he did sing, and
the forest did ring
With a sound like the great
Pavarotti!
The girls were surprised,
rubbed the sleep from their eyes
And those cold lumps of
clay humanized
From then on, every day
started out the same way
Not till Joel sang his
opera would they rise!
Meanwhile over the way,
across the bay
Other Wheaties were enjoying
their slumbers
Till rudely awakened as
the cold air was shakin'
The dissed on Joel's classical
numbers!
Joel continued to trill
but one girl had her fill
And "shut up Joel" echoed
across the bay;
But another young blade
came to Joel's aid
And said "Joel you can
yodel all day!"
There are strange things
done under the Northern sun
By the Wheaties young and
bold;
Those Northern climes spawn
some clever rhymes
And the tales are often
told
And they say if you listen,
and watch the moon glisten
Cross the waters, so deep
and so clear
You can still hear the
echo of that unquenchable fellow
Joel the singing Voyageur!
Ralph McLin - August '02