Yarr- which is not to be confused with ‘Yarrg,’  -or- just what the hell is A Hoy anyhow? A Vast is something the Grog was in, at least that’s what we figured last night.

Take a bunch of serous minded adults, give them a reason to dress up like pirates and let the festivities begin! First off me matey, thanks to Bill and Earline for hosting this event once again. The docks of Land’s End Marina were again invaded by all manner of scurrvy scallawags and seadogs. Several lubbers even managed to show up!

The eight year run of dry attendees was broken last night. We had two swimmers from the docks during the festivities. It’s always been a curious thing why nobody, till this year, had taken a plunge from the planks to the briny bay before this time. Gathering anywhere between 50 and 100 people at a time on the narrow docks, sprinkle in generous amounts of Grog, and well, you can see why its difficult to understand why it took 8 years to produce a swimmer… Both folks are fine by the way, just a bit salty.

Last years award recipients picked the newest round of winners for several categories. The award was a ‘bung’ or cork like device that seals the keg of grog… yarr

“How would ye like to scrape the barnacles off me rudder?”

“No, nothings dead in the water,it’s me ye smell.”

“Shiver me timbers wench, I’m 97 percent chum free!”

“Is that a belaying pin in yer breeches or are ye…”

“Prepare to be boarded.”

All manner of pirate speak was heard by the bilge rats running loose on the planks. It was a fun time that be had by all…

Yarrg! To next year!

The cannon with 1 oz of powder, about to make a loud noise!

Picking the winners

Bilge Rats on the dock

Was Earline really giving Bill a trim???

Ahoy to my great friends and accomplished sailors!

The Cedar Keys were used by Seminole Indians, and by the Spanish as a watering stop for ships returning to Spain from Mexico and by pirates, such as Jean Lafitte and Captain Kidd. There are several know shipwrecks in the area from the 1600′s all the way up to the Civil War. There were some ferocious battles fought here during the era, along  with present day Civil War re-enactments not too far away.

Cedar Key 1884

Followers of William Augustus Bowles, self-declared “Director General of the State of Muskogee,” built a watchtower in the vicinity of Cedar Key in 1801. The tower was destroyed by a Spanish force in 1802. There were native Indians here dating back to 500 B.C. Some of you will recognize some of the names as infamous pirates! My kind of history!

My first visit to Cedar Key was about 20 years ago as a student pilot on a cross country flight. I recall landing at the little airport, on runway next to the water, and wondering about getting into town which appeared to be about a mile away. I was going to stop in at one of the restaurants for some lunch and then continue the flight.

I pulled the airplane into a parking spot and was greeted by an old woman in a wood paneled station wagon. She was salty and weathered, spoke matter of factual, and chain smoked the entire time I got to know her, which was very briefly. If I would have been able to spend time going through the multitude of odds and and ends, scraps of paper, small booklets and a various assortment of other little objects totally concealing the dashboard, her entire life would possibly been revealed. If one were to brush away the years of dashboard accumulation I’m certain the original vinyl dash would have seen the first sunlight in an entire generation of kin folks.

I was simply told to hop in quickly placing my life into her hands at the mercy of the blue smoke filled station wagon. In under two miles she had my entire life story, yet I knew little about her. Pulling to the side of the street I found that I was at the waterfront, downtown Cedar Key, if there was such a thing. She said, “Be at this pole in 2 hours if you want a ride back to the airport,” driving away.  I dared not disappoint her for fear of having myself keelhauled for not properly following directions.

There were a couple of waterfront restaurants, some boats, a seaplane, and the assorted smattering of tourists. I went into the restaurant I was dropped off at, sadly I don’t recall the name. Taking a seat on the outside balcony the waitress brought me an ice tea without being asked. She sat it down with a menu, “No beer if your flying.”

Small town, nothing goes unnoticed.

It was quiet back then. Very unnoticed and unassuming. This will be my first trip back to Cedar Key in many years. I’ve seen the price guides on land, so this is no longer unnoticed and unassuming. Quaint may not be part of the description any longer. My expectations are minimal, and I don’t think I’ll see the wood panel station wagon again.

There was a seafood festival here last weekend, but I was traveling to other parts of the world and unable to attend. There is next year to look forward to!

I found a small RV park in the bustling metropolis of Otter Creek, population 127, possibly less as when we were setting up yesterday evening there were several gunshots in the nearby woods. Perhaps it is deer season…

Were parked about 15 minutes east of Cedar Key, and just as soon as the rain stops I will be off to my exploriations… further reports to follow…

Princess Kay and Captain Jim Fudge

I have to express my apologies and concede that though a fair weaver of stories, I’m a poor action reporter.  I was right on scene on the afternoon/night of the 21st and now it’s the 28th and I still haven’t submitted an article outlining the events of that ill-famed night.  I’ve just apologized, but I would like to convey reasons, not excuses as to why I’ve been so remiss.

Try to picture the morning after, tongue swollen in my mouth, squinting at the screen through my bloodshot eyes embedded in the front of my large aching head, hoping that I would not be exposed to any loud noises or motion of any kind.  Trying to penetrate the fog in my brain, I place my fingers on the keyboard, close my eyes, picture last night in my mind, and let the words flow down through my fingers through the keyboard and onto the computer screen.

After about 10 minutes, I open my eyes to assess my progress.  Imagine my shock at seeing some kind of coded unknown and undecipherable language.  As rapidly as my impaired facilities allowed, I came to two revelations.  One, my fingers were not placed on the keyboard in the proper position and two, I was not in any shape to attempt any kind of intelligent communication.  This is just not going to work out.

I pulled my cleanest pair of dirty pants and shirt on and crawled through the hatch to squint into the blinding pre-noon sunlight.  Seeing my obvious distress, Pirate Princess Kay on Ocean Lady hailed and implored that I come over for treatment. Boat ramps and finger piers are very treacherous places during times of impaired facilities and unsteady gravity, but with a fearlessness I am known for, I made it from Snap One to Ocean Lady with a minimum of excitement.  Shortly after I was assisted to a seated position on a stable perch aboard the sizable pirate yacht, my fingers were wrapped around a glass containing one of Princess Kay’s infamous bloody Marys, and I knew everything was going to be alright.

Kay’s bloody Marys are known all along the coast for their awesome taste, unique secret ingredients, unusual dill pickle and onion garnish, and incredible healing properties.  They have been known to revive people from near death hangovers in surprisingly short times.  I sat there savoring the tart red drink as my funk lifted and found myself basking in the warm friendship of other patients of Dr Kay whose presence I wasn’t aware of when I arrived.  The closer I got to the bottom of the glass, the better and more human I felt.  By the time the drink was gone, I was able to smile, talk, and much enjoyed the light, clever interaction of the other survivors.

Grog Master Earlene and Pirate King Bill

Much too soon, it was over, and I found myself on the dock helping to cast off the lines and watch Ocean Lady and the other pirate ships cruise stately from the dock and out, returning to their respective home ports.

Standing alone in the Florida sun, watching everyone leave, sweating like a leaky sponge, I decided that I needed to take care of myself, so made my way back aboard Snap One and crawled into my bunk to sleep till better times.  Better times did not come.  I was awakened by the telephone sometime in the afternoon and informed that the mother of a good friend had passed away.  I packed all my perishable food and within an hour was on the road and headed to a land of no internet.  It’s odd how the sadness of a passing is tempered by the pleasure of spending time with friends cherished but seldom seen.

So, a week later, what can I report about the Talk Like a Pirate Party?

Trying to impress Regina

For me, it started with dress rehearsal at home, supervised by my very understanding wife, Pirate Admiral Goddess Ellen.  She gets credit for my entire ensemble, much of it fabricated or gathered by her.  I stand like a mannequin while she makes sure that clothes, hat, cutlass, coat, and earrings are squared away and authentic.  I am very proud of the earrings as they cost me a buc-an-eer….. haha, get it?  OK, Sorry, that was really bad.

Lenny

Then comes the trip over to the boat, looking like a weird oddball kook freak nut engaged in a bizarre attempt at drag.  Upon arrival at the marina, try walking through the Tiki Bar dressed like this.  I had to pull the cutlass and back off a few advances. I did get a phone number from a big guy with a tattoo.

Next comes getting the boat dressed out with pirate flags followed immediately by serious sessions of “pre-drinking” which is necessary in order to make that all important “first pirate impression.”  A little word of caution about “pre-drinking”.  Three and a half hours of “pre-drinking” may be a bit much for the faint at heart and can’t be good for the brain.

Tatooed Wenches

By the time the sun is low, the pirate boats from other marinas start arriving, the keg of grog comes out, other costumed pirates begin congregating on the dock, and the party begins, I’m out there with my camera but so $#!% faced that I’m not completely capable of operating it.  I have a weak start going up to people going “brawk brawk, Polly wanna quacker!” with the result of strange looks.  Then it occurs to me that this is actually “Talk Like a Pirate Day”.

The grog, specially and secretly formulated by Pirate Princess Earlene, has been known to cause blindness, stupidity, flat feet, and projectile vomiting.  Everyone knows not to drink it however, everyone drinks it anyway because it tastes so good, and I set about to empty the keg.  As might be expected, the night digressed into a dizzy blurr of pirate stories, flirting with wenches, blurting out of random nautical and piratical statements, and much overuse of the letter “arrrrr” all spoken with a raspy voice.

I don’t remember all that much of the night, but at some point I was honored with the presentation of the “bung”, the greatest recognition any drunken seafarer could rise or sink to. Now, before you jump to the conclusion that presentation of the “bung” is something demented, perverted, or homophobic, let me explain that the rum aboard ship is stored in a wooden keg that is assessed by a tapped hole that is plugged by a wooden “bung”.  An empty keg certainly denotes one hell of a good time and an empty keg really doesn’t need a “bung” so why not give it to some deserving soul as a prize?  So yes, I am bragging about getting the “bung”!

How bout this crew?

Back to the reporting.  Nobody fell off the dock.  Nobody threw up on the dock.  Nobody got pregnant on the dock.  A whole bunch of people were there.  A good time was had by all.  The food was really good.  The grog was wonderful.  Pirate King Bill Lemmer did a spectacular job organizing and administrating the whole affair.  We are all looking forward to next year already. We need a real reporter to do this kind of reporting.

As a past observer of this important event, I am astutely aware of it’s importance and propriety in today’s world.  I’m not making this up, and not messing with you, look it up.  There is even a web site dedicated to the worship and observance.  This may have started out as a small cult, but it’s been growing year by year and as it grows, so does it’s gris gris.  (In Vodoun, or Voodoo, gris-gris resemble charms or talismans which are kept for good luck or to ward off evil) Therefore, it’s becoming increasingly important to observe this special day, no matter who you are.

Captain Bill Pirate King

Not sure just what all the rules and cosmic laws are regarding International Talk Like A Pirate Day, I went next door to confer with Bill on Falcor II.  Bill is the Sensei, the Guru, the Head Cheese, the Master at Arms, the Pirate King of the dock.  He advised that it’s really not that big a deal.  Though the official day is September 19, you have until midnight the last day of September while the moon is still aligned with Pladeas and all you have to do is publicly talk like a Pirate.  If that simple act is not performed, bad juju will wrap it’s self around you and bad things will happen until the vernal equinox.  Bill wasn’t specific about the “bad things” but implied that appendages may rot and fall off, hair loss, pimples, digestive malfunctions, lice, and a host of other plagues would most likely identify the nonbelievers who didn’t participate.

Captain Bill Consulting with Pirate Ghosts

With this in mind, lets all jump aboard and make sure that we fulfill our obligation to the brethren departed.  It’s really not that difficult.  The only letter of the alphabet you need is the letter “aaRRR”.  As a matter of fact, that’s the answer Bill gave to a lot of the questions I asked.  Remember to talk with a rasp from the back of your throat and kick in some nautical terms if you know any.  The website is a great resource of phrases to use.  Besides warding off bad juju, people will think you have lost your mind, and how could that be a bad thing?

This Saturday night, at the dock, we are having our annual Talk Like a Pirate Party to celebrate and comply with the dictates of the law.  The party always features a “grog” that everybody with any experience warns polliwogs not to drink, but everybody drinks it anyway and it’s always fun to see who throws up first and who can throw up most like a pirate.  I will send a report of the event,  presupposing that I survive.  Practice a little in private and then get out there and…….

Talk Like A Pirate