One thing leads to another ... V2.0

In the last post, I revisited a funny story from Rugby Ontario days gone past that was prompted by the re-discovery of a memento of the situation thanks to rugby friend Nick Rowe. Recounting that story made me think of another funny story that happened on that very same tour, involving a young man who played loose forward, or flanker, for us that summer.

NFLD Flora 1; RO player 0
Back on "The Rock" again, one of the other touristy things that RO treated the players to was a visit to Cape Spear, the most easterly point in Canada, or so I'm told. The cape offers its guests to 100+ foot shear cliff that drop straight to the raging surf of the Atlantic, accompanied by some of the briskest onshore winds these old eyes have felt. How brisk? My full 275 LBs were supported as I leaned near about 45 degrees into the wind. Take my word for it, it was brisk!

As a part of the visit, we took the kids on a hike inland along some of the established trails they have built through the marshy areas around the cape. While it was a pleasant walk, the memory was established when one of our loose forwards spied a "pond" just off the trail and decided to make a mad dash left for a quick dip.

Now, if you're not a rugby person, I feel compelled to admit that there are loose forwards that are intelligent ... Richie McCaw or Jake Boulding types ;) ... and some are wired to simply seek and destroy, with not a lot of forethought.

Well, this particular young man fits the second category, so off go the shorts, off comes the shirt, full out sprint to the "pond" as I am screaming, "NOOOOOOOO!" because I had a pretty good idea that one did not want to voluntarily partake in those particular ponds.

If you can picture the famous cliff divers or Mexico, that would give you a sense of the quality dive that was executed, but the unfortunate thing was our silly city boy failed to comprehend that the reality of a lake ... on a cape ... in NFLD ... not happening. My exasperation quickly turned to relief when he resurfaced, spitting chunks of fresh BOG, covered from head to foot in goo, resembling the Swamp Thing from my childhood comics. And the STENCH! Even all those years later I can still recall it. The worst of it was the bus ride back to the hotel, since no one offered to loan him a change of clothes.