Stories from the über-secret sect of boys' weekend.

Every year, me and some guy friends get together at a cabin along the Greenbrier River in the mountains of West Virginia. It's always a bunch of beer, games, competition, and unruliness, complicated by sensitive men, who are mostly married, can cook quite well and look good in flannel. The cabin was built by our friend Micheal and many others out of straw and old timbers, and we like to think that there is never a better time than the long fall weekend that we gather to pretend that we can still play sports like we used to. This year I actually took a first-aid kit and we actually used it. There is much secrecy that surrounds such gatherings and I certainly won't divulge all of the details now, but I have prepared a little photo essay on boys' weekend. This really is the first look into what has previously been kept under tight wraps, so count yourselves lucky to see this...

The top of the lane, where we drank a couple beers waiting for Nick and his four wheel drive to transport us to the "Brier Patch".

The Brier Patch.

Trent on the banjo. Nate and Andrew taking it in.

First we had to mow down the ball field. Andy started us off.

Then we had to sit and drink some more beer.

This is an action shot of Neil hitting a real-live-whiffle-ball- home-run-but-it-depends-on-where-we-drew-the-line-I-guess.

We also played a very competitive game of frisbee golf, while the courageous Phil kept us stocked on beer. This is Nick looking pensively at Hole 7.

Andrew and his own personal style of throwing the disc. (Andrew also makes super cool t-shirts. You should check them out.)

Look how Michael and Phil cook so tenderly while wearing Carharts.

This is how sensitive cabin going men like us eat. (See me sleeping on the couch to the left? I was on breakfast duty.)

Nick enjoying himself. We did lots of this. Enjoying ourselves, not necessarily pointing.

Michael, Phil, and the sunset.

Michael, Nate, Trent.
Phil, Andy, Neil.
Nick, me, Andrew.