Mud Olympics Time

With helpful guidance from the Monticola adviser at the time, Teri Hanneman gives it her all in the MUD TUG. I recognize part of Jeff Gustaveson on the left, and it looks like Mary Lou Snedden "passively" helping out her team. I also see Hoyt Bonar and Jeff and Willie among the competitors, all with different goals.

The contestants represented Leohono Honor Society and the Monticola Staff.

A filthy, dirty time was had by all during the great competition in our barnyard et. al. mud center back in the early 1980s.


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When I hear the Breakfast Boys reviewing last night's Olympics on K102 while plotting my pathway through our ankle/knee-deep barnyard mud, visions of past good times come to mind.

And, I'm thinking that this year may present ideal conditions for some ambitious group to set up another MUD OLYMPICS.

Back in the 1980s, while looking for fun and maybe even to win a gambling bet, I came up with an activity that probably hadn't ever happened before and more than likely hasn't happened since.

Granted, there are those with their 30-foot high 4 by 4 rigs who go up to that mudhole by Moyie every year and compete for something. I don't know if there's a prize for the most mud-crusted rig at the end, but I can tell you that the parade of champion mud boggers, numbering in the hundreds coming back on HWY 95, proves that these folks definitely get down and dirty during their weekend retreat.

Our own family-hosted MUD OLYMPICS pitted two school organizations in heated and gooey competition one Sunday afternoon at our farm on Great Northern Road.

Conditions were right and ripe.

I knew it was the right time to schedule the event after several slow trips through the barnyard where at least one of my knee-high rubber boots came off in the gooshy, mooshy combination of dirt, horse poop, sticks, sand, branches, twine---you name it.

So, plans were made; rules were written and announced.

NO ONE was to set foot in our house from the time the competition started until it ended and, most importantly, until every contestant had changed out of their competitive "uniforms." Boys changed in the barn tack room, while girls used the bunkhouse, a small building in the yard where the dogs, cats and mice lived.

Formal events included a mud tug, mud fling, mud relay, mud football and one other which has escaped me this morning. Informal events ranged from mud-ball fights to mud stuffs.

Little people, like Willie at the time, served as "equipment" for carrying out some of these exercises.

Afterward, when contestants passed a cleanliness inspection, we enjoyed a great potluck dinner and much camaraderie.

The event was a success in many ways, and it went far to curb my frustration toward the early spring slop we endured almost every year.

Instead of hating the stuff, I took on an attitude of "If you've got it, flaunt/fling it," and so we did.