Man I have a thousand stories I could post; like the very late moonless night we initiated our very British brother Alan Brackenridge into the glorious Order of Fog.

As the dark cloaked brotherhood paddled Allen out on the canoe, wafting that familiar perfume of smoke bombs and candle wax. Allen kept grinning under his blindfold, ‘I cah-nt swim gueys’ in his proper English accent. ‘You know I cah-nt swim’. Somehow, we got him onto the raft. ‘Ah, you know I cah-nt swim gueys’…

Drifting a few yards away in the canoe, in his most stoic voice, Greg Willis commanded poor Allan to walk toward his voice. We held back the giggles, only letting out a few grunting noises. There was a horrible splash, kind of a dunk sound – KADUNK! Bubbles started to come to the surface. …

I’ll never forget the long grinning pause before Greg Willis, Danny Slamin, Hillary Brown, Phillip Bond and I looked at each other in one synchronous realization….

‘He really can’t swim!!!’

I think we all went in the water after Allan at once. God the water was like eight feet deep from high tide. I just remember us holding Allen on our shoulders, desperately hopping and skipping across the black bottom toward the shoreline. I think we may have dropped Allen a few times to catch our breath. It was a survival situation…

Late that night, as the Chanco community slumbered in their bunks, perhaps dreaming of Big Day or Indian Night, the glorious Order of Fog almost succumbed beneath the raft. It was legendary!

Man we laughed about that for ever. But this was only one, of many hilarious adventures with the brotherhood of Fog…