Boat Show Traditions
By Sam Cook, Duluth News-Tribune, Minn.
Feb. 16–The Linde boys don’t waste time at the boat show. Hardly more than a minute after they cleared the turnstile at the Duluth Entertainment Convention Center on Wednesday night, they were touching an African giant black millipede.
They were back for another opening night at the Duluth Boat, Sports and Travel Show. This year’s show — the 40th annual — opened Wednesday night and continues through Sunday at the DECC.
This trip has become an opening-night tradition, said Ivars Linde, 42, the dad of this crew.
“They can’t wait,” he said.
Along for the evening were the boys — Conner, 9; Isaac, 7; and Asher, 5. Mom Stephanie was at home, and the boys’ older sisters were at church.
“We got the OK to be here all night,” Ivars said.
Ivars is the perfect boat-show dad. He lets the boys lead and just follows along, answering questions. The Linde family does some hiking and some fishing, he said. They own a 1987 Winnebago motor home that Ivars trusts as far as Gooseberry Falls State Park.
After the millipede, it was on to the 12-foot, 56-pound albino Burmese python. Thick as a man’s bicep, coiled on the counter, the snake slept as each boy laid a tentative index finger on it.
But all paths lead to the new boats at the boat show, and the boys led dad straight to a behemoth Grady-White with twin Yamaha 250s hanging on the stern. It took the boys no time to kick off their boots and climb aboard.
At $187,000, the boat held little allure for Ivars, but it doesn’t hurt to look. The younger Lindes paraded off the boat and eyed another.
“Can we do that one?” Asher asked.
The answer was always yes. Off with the boots. Over the gunwale. Conner liked a 31-foot Catalina sailboat.
“You could sleep and eat in it,” he said. “And it had this closet. It was really cool.”
Climbing up from another boat’s forward cabin, Isaac proclaimed it “great.”
“It was like a fancy hotel,” he said.
The show held the same kind of fascination for people of all ages. The opening-night crowd was good, slowing progress in the exhibitors’ aisles to the proverbial boat-show shuffle.
Up and down the aisles, lodge owners and knife salesmen hawked their wares. Snippets of sales pitches floated through the air.
“… cuts right through these sweet potatoes…”
“… when he shot this bull…”
“… These are some of the cabins: indoor plumbing, everything…”
The boys leaned on a railing to check the action at the trout pond. They stopped for cups of ice cream. And at Asher’s request, they left the booths on the Arena floor and climbed to the nosebleed section of the seats above.
“Everyone looks small,” Asher said.
From there, the boys led Ivars back to the main floor, where they cruised booths. Each boy carried his own plastic bag of goodies, mostly balloons and hard candies. They could spot a candy basket three booths away.
The night’s only rough spot was when Asher’s bag split a seam and began unloading candy near the $30,000 Sno-Bear, an ice-fishing rig that appeared to be a cross between a snowmobile and a Lexus SUV.
After two hours, it was starting to get late for youngsters, but Ivars never mentioned leaving. If the boys were growing weary, they weren’t letting on. And remember, they were cleared for the whole night.
They had covered the whole layout once, but when last seen, they were headed for a second lap. The boys were still in the lead, and dad knew just where they were headed.
“Back to the big boats,” Ivars said.
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Copyright (c) 2006, Duluth News-Tribune, Minn.
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