For some reason, Chris and I were determined to shave down for this tourney (perhaps we were embracing our NAMBLA side?) In truth it was a dare that went too far, and it was too late to stop. Thick back hair took it’s toll on the razor (we ended up with patches), and as a result of these technical difficulties, we fielded our team one hour late.

The first two games don't derserve any ink. The best two teams in our division reminded us that good health and an active team practice regimen are key if you plan to give a shit. So we deferred to our tried and true beer pool tactics during our noon hour bye and came out playing some hot ultimate. Our flow returned, we lost the ‘dropsies’ and everyone was having a great time. For some reason, this crew has to be wearing a perma-grin before they pull out their skills.

The middle of our division granted us more suitably matched teams. The heat was on as the thermometer climbed to 28 C, the kiddie pool was inflated and Coed was ready to charge the field and take back the pull. During the third game, I was on the field playing and glanced toward my van where Dwight, wearing nothing but a kilt and cleats, was chatting with an RCMP officer. It turns out some locals were walking by the tournament and heard a cheer. More than likely the cheer contained references to sodomy, bondage or homosexuality (or a combination of all three), and the locals called the police to complain. Dwight played dumb and ended up explaining the rules of ultimate to the nice officer. Finally the man recognized that his presence would change nothing and went away.

Upon completing game four we headed to Kalamalka Lake for a refreshing swim, and a quick bite to eat at the pub. Back at camp the party began. The fire was firing, the fricketeers were fricketing, the blues band was playing and Coed was a freaking mess. Before ten o’clock, one of our members had already discussed his inner child with himself. I was unable to leave the comfort of my lawn chair or converse with anyone other than folks who were of similar mind. Several laughing fits later I managed to muster the strength to hit the dance floor. What I like about Vernon parties is there is something for everyone and the party is left to it’s own devices. And the best part is, you are a stumble from your tent so everyone gets home safe.

"I realized that my entire life has become centered around two things: chasing discs and chasing tournaments."

The next day, it was a miracle that we managed to have seven on the line before the other team had shown up. The Rodeo Whores sat in awe as we actually ran a drill prior to the match. Our teams enjoy a spirited synergy and that is probably why Coed never really got fired up for this game. They were short handed, stole the lead and won the game.
The rest of the day was amazing. The weather was once again picture perfect and the teams we played were really fun. High Fest attracts amazing teams: A Summer Fling gave us one of the best games for spirit and skill in Coed history. It was probably no coincidence that we were placed on the far fields for our last two games. Sure enough, early on the trunks hit the ground and there was naked people bouncing all over the rest of the day. Great songs and shots of booze were exchanged. Everyone wore a shit eating grin because when we come to Vernon, we feel at home. We can play our favorite game in it’s purest form and enjoy spirit of the game to it’s fullest. I can’t wait to do it next year.
— Craig Davidiuk

Craig is one of the minds behind Playulty.com videos,
and plays in Vancouver, BC.

After playing this eclectic sport for almost 5 years, I’ve realized that my entire life has become centered around two things: chasing discs and chasing tournaments. I used to chase girls at the tournaments, but I met my partner Sara on a road trip and now I have one less pursuit in life. I’ve even begun making bad consumer choices because of my quest for the open road and the spirit of the game. Case in point: a 1976 Dodge van named Minto, which suddenly needed a new transmission and brake job prior to this journey. I’d just bought the damn thing 4 weeks previously. It’s only money, right? After all I live for road trips, combining ultimate with a little white line fever, and this is the perfect vehicle for both.

My favorite yearly pilgrimage is to Vernon High Fest, located in BC’s Okanogan region. For me, there is a lot of nostalgia invested in this tournament. My team Coed Tickle Fight made it’s inaugural showing at High Fest in 1999.

My logic as a novice captain back then was when you take a team full of A level players, enter them in A division, you play at A level, right? Not so. Instead, it resembled a “fear and loathing” style gong show; our 18 players were too over indulgent to play good ultimate. The positive side was that we were a cheer powerhouse, boasting a drama teacher, a writer and a crew of perverts.

That tournament remains etched in everyone’s minds as one of the most memorable ever - especially the party. Who can forget carrying our teammate to his tent in a comatose, plank like state? This guy (who will remain nameless) had that “deer in the headlights” look and kept lapsing in and out of consciousness around the campfire. His girlfriend was starting to question whether medical attention should be sought as we carried him to his tent. I had the pallbearers stop, and I shone a headlamp in his face and said “I think I know how you’re feeling buddy. I suspect you are OK. Can you give us a sign?” His pupils were the size of quarters and he wasn’t blinking, even though the light revealed the back of his eyeballs. The left corner of his lip managed to curl into a smile. He was OK! He was thrown into bed, shoes and all, and after that party, I knew Coed would return to Vernon again and again.

Since that first taste, we have always had a fantastic time at this tourney. The bagel days are over and we can hold our own in Beer pool. Needless to say, we come for the amazing spirit and not the glory. In 2000, we were shown up by Edmonton’s Rodeo Whores, who geared down to their birthday suits on the first point of our match. Nobody had ever done that to us before! Not only that, they had a woman who laid out topless to catch a point. I damn near switched teams then and there.

"we were a cheer powerhouse, boasting a
drama teacher, a writer and a crew of perverts".

Within 15 minutes of the game starting, the road was lined with gawkers. Some folks returning from Sunday service were compelled to call the RCMP and complain about our sacrilegious behavior. This year, our annual pilgrimage started in it’s usual way. Attempting to get four Ultimate players going in one direction at the same time can be a trying endeavor. There is always one person who chooses the worst moment to do that last minute errand. This trip was no exception.

Everyone was waiting at my house, ready to go. Except Colin. He was at the Employment Insurance office applying for pogey. Of course, we all know that the best time to do bureaucratic things is immediately before you are supposed to be somewhere. Colin arrived an hour late, and we finally raced off to grab one of our passengers, who had been left waiting in front of the Sky Train the entire time.

Once we rolled out of the city and on down the road I was able to relax and enjoy the day. I switched out of the drivers seat at Tim Hortons in Chilliwack, where we fueled up and grabbed some beer. I got to party with the rest of the passengers while Colin got behind the wheel and paid his penance for being late. We played guitar and took our time, which included a riverside token throwing session just outside of Hope. If anyone has ever been to Hope, you will know the name of this town is an oxymoron. Once we were beyond Hope (sorry, I couldn’t resist that one) there was 4 hours of quality road tripping: singing, laughing, scenery and plenty of ‘other’ entertainment. Ah…these are some of my favorite things.

"Dwight, wearing nothing but a kilt and cleats
is chatting with an RCMP officer."

Upon arrival in Vernon, we zoomed up to the Girl Guide camp about 15 minutes out of town. As far as tournament accommodations go, this place can’t be beat. This private camp comes complete with kitchen and dance floor, ample space for frickets [cups] and a huge campfire pit. We said our hellos, drank a few pints, and went to bed early. The rest of our team wasn’t there yet.
Fast forward to 3 am, when I awake to profanity, banging, and of course, heckling. Chris was having trouble setting up the tent. Ash was taking great pleasure in reminding him of this fact. The tent tension built between Chris and his tent assembly partner, Christine. In a moment of unforgettable new age conflict resolution, he made a fatal mistake. “I appreciate that you feel that way”. He was a goner. “Oooooooh! Ahhh-preeee-she-ate!!!” chimed in the hecklers. At that moment, we were all up verbally appreciating Chris. The giggles from this misadventure kept us up until four.

Needless to say, the troops were tired in the morning and it took a number of spiked coffee’s and other morning pick-me-ups before we could prepare ourselves for this great day. In true Coed Tickle Fight Fashion, we decided that being an ultimate team was not good enough at a tourney like Vernon. We were synchronized swimmers! There was work to be done. Like any good swim team we recognized that aerodynamics were key to earning a place on the medal podium.