When Bryan Couture, Squamish Days Loggers Sports president, said that he had an axe with my name on it, he wasn't giving me an industry-style threat. Instead, he's offering to teach me the skill - and thrill - of axe throwing.
Now I stand the regulation 20 feet from a practice target, my hand in the unusual position of gripping an axe. It's not exactly how I had envisioned my internship at The Chief, but as resident Squamish Days reporter, it seemed only natural to give one of the events a try.
The Squamish Days Sports Grounds make the backdrop for my first ever axe throw. Luckily the bleachers are empty.
Couture shows me to hold the end of the handle like a golf club, one hand over the other, with my thumbs straight down the handle. In a classic red plaid shirt and scuffed jeans, he's the spitting image of SAM (Squamish Axe Man), the gigantic figure that stands by the Adventure Centre and points visitors towards the Squamish Days Festival.
Couture demonstrates the throw, rocking on the balls of his toes.
Some, like Couture, throw one-handed, the blade whizzing by his ear as he pitches it towards the target. Others throw underhand. He teaches me to use two hands and swing the double-bitted axe towards the small of my back, then whip it over my head. Chucking the axe and trying to split the 20-inch diameter target in half doesn't help accuracy, he says. The truth about axe throwing is it's a matter of finesse.
I swing the blade behind me.
"Get comfy," he says.
In a real contest, competitors get one practice toss, then three throws. The axe should rotate once before lodging in the wood of the target. Each bulls-eye is worth five points, the four outer rings worth four, three, two and one point as they move away from centre.
My gaze focused on the little red circle in front of me, I gather all my strength and hurl the axe - which glances off the black rubber mat propped up underneath the target and lodges into the dirt.
My next few throws have similar success, so Couture, who is quickly becoming "Coach," takes a look at my form.
It turns out I've got more power than my short frame suggests. He tells me to take a half-step back and try again. This time, the axe sticks in the target.
I'm a dozen throws into practice when I swing the double-bitted blade once again over my head. This time, I loosen up a bit. The axe glides easily out of my hands, twirls once before splitting the bulls-eye straight down the middle.
"Bulls-eye!" I shout.
"Right on," says Couture.
As I run to the target to check out my victory, I imagine I feel something of the pride and glory that accompanies winning the axe throw at the Loggers Sports main event, the Open World Championships.
I'm nowhere near close to competition standards, but I am a little closer to understanding why Squamish Days has lasted 50 years as one of the main summer highlights.
