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Searle's Sack of St. Augustine, FL, March 2010
(Photo: Some Tourist)
(Photo: DB Couper)
Chapter 1st - Of the arrival in the park, and being
greeted (and hugged) by many people your surgeon knew as well as several
he didn't. Also featuring Shay's exhibition of photographs of her
(other-) period vehicles, which I had wanted so badly to use in the
Pirates in Paradise Surgeon's Journal, 2009 Edition. So you can
look forward to seeing those. Containing much more detail on an antique
truck that you've likely never heard of before as how it relates to your
surgeon's weird obsessions. Also giving the details of a sojourn into the
park with Diosa to see what there was to see and do what there was to
do. (Drink water.)
(Photo: Mission's Collection)
Arriving at the
Fountain of Youth Park, we ran into (almost literally) Michael Bagley.
After chatting with him, I decided I had better get into garb if I didn't want
to have to continue to suffer the jibes of my fellow pirates for being in street
clothes. So I borrowed Michael's keys, figuring it would be easier to change in
the van than it would be in Diosa's Toyota. Diosa stuck around and chatted
allowing me to become part of the first of several situations where a re-enactors
saw me in my underpants. You know, there was a time when I abhorred the thought
of anyone seeing me in my underpants. I'm not sure exactly what happened to
change this, although I believe it happened as a result of becoming involved
in pirate re-enacting. So I wound up not bothering to get into Michael's van
and just changed in the parking lot while Diosa chatted merrily on.
Right: Shots like this make you glad to be reading, eh?
(Photo: DB Couper)
(Photo: DB Couper)
Doug, stopping for a moment to chat.
In camp I was immediately greeted by Sergeant Jeff. He was most gracious and hearty in
welcoming me. In fact, Jeff was a most considerate and helpful host all throughout the
event. You know how some people say, "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to
ask," and then wander off to tell someone else the same thing? Well Jeff says it and
means it. As Shay of the Keys later told me, "I trust him. Everything he's said he would
do has been done, so don't worry." Jeff introduced me to his group, many of whom I knew
from PiP. William from PIP 2008 was there,
apparently having chosen a group, and he was buzzing around camp getting things ready
(although he was not in gear so I now felt I had license to razz him about this. I may as
well not have bothered.) His stalwart partner in crime, Doug, and Willie Wobble were also
working to get the camp put together, but they stopped to say hello and chat for a bit.
(Willie gave me a huge hug.)
(Photo: DB Couper)
Speaking of hugs, I have given up all hope of being able to avoid hugging at pirate
events. (Who would have thunk?) Diosa told me as we were walking towards the campsite
that she had advised everyone that I didn't like being hugged so they would all
probably go out of their way to hug me.
Alas, the effect has worn off and I just accept this as my lot in life now. In fact, this was probably the first step towards not caring if people saw me in my underpants. (So long as I do not have to see me in my underpants, it's all good.)
Jeff explained the food tent, which was already (mercifully) stocked with bread, cheese, dips, fruits, crackers and you name it. He seemed desperately to want to introduce me to his wife Melissa, but she wasn't around at that point. They had all heard that I was afflicted with vegetarianism and were very concerned. Truth be told, I can usually find enough to keep me happy in a smorgasbord of this magnitude.
Left: Sergeant Jeff's wonderful wife Melissa and a sampling of the splendid provender for the weekend.
(Photo: Mission)
(Photo: DB Couper)
People were wandering in and out of the food tent, most of whom I met. I promptly forgot
their names which is helpful in making these journals as difficult to write as possible.
One notably swarthy mustached gentleman wandered over with Patrick Hand and I thought
sure he must be one of the Spaniards. (Searle's Raid is about the English Captain Searle
(played by William as you will see) attacking the Spanish fort in St. Augustine. Anyone
with such a mustache must be a Spaniard. Not so! It turned out to be Shay of the Keys
who had done a fine job in making sure she could pass the 10' rule (In order to be
involved in the battle, women must look like men from 10' away.) So it was a very pleasant
early afternoon of food, meeting and greeting and, of course, endless hugging.
Left: Patrick and the mysterious moustached man. Right: Shay dolled up for the 10' rule.
(Photo: Shay of the Keys)
Shay announced that she had something for me at her tent. When we got there, she presented
me with a page of photos of her in 20s garb and her two vintage autos. Regular Journal
Readers will
recall me mentioning her other hobby in the PiP '09 account. She has a white race car
of a vintage I don't recall which is housed in a nondescript garage somewhere in California
(below), as well as a Model A Ford, which she keeps in the Keys
(right). Shay is all about cool cars. She promised me that if I
come to visit her in Key Largo she will put me up and we can tool around in the Model A. I
now feel compelled to drone on at this point, despite the fact that it will drag us far off
topic because a Model A figured briefly into my past. (Sorry to do this; hopefully you're
used to it by now.)
(Photo: Shay of the Keys)
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(Begin irrelevant aside.) When I was a lad, I got it into my head that I wanted an AC model Bulldog Mack dump truck. For months and possibly even years, I went on and on about getting one. Finally my dad made a deal with me that if I accomplished some goal he didn't think I could accomplish, he would buy me my Mack.
(Photo: People living in a very flat, dry place)
He was most surprised to find himself in hock to his son for an ancient dump truck.
Of course, he had no idea where to get such a thing and was always on the lookout
for a placebo. On a trip, I spotted a beautifully restored Model A Ford for sale
in someone's front yard, which excited me. My dad stopped and we looked it over.
It was far too expensive to fill the AC Mack debt, but it turned out that the owner
had another Model A he used as a parts car for the premium model. That my dad would
buy, but only if I agreed to work the long hours required to fund its restoration.
I finally decided against this course, but there has been a Model A-sized hole in
my life ever since. (End irrelevant aside.)
Left: You would think I could afford something like this, even as a kid, wouldn't you?
(Photo: Mission)
(Photo: Mission)
While we were sitting in Shay's tent discussing Model A
Fords, vintages race cars and now useless chain-drive dump trucks, they
started firing cannon and black powder weapons on the other side of the
camp. Somehow, Shay had been put in charge of a Chihuahua, which,
although it was not hers, she felt responsible for. When the noise of
the gunpowder started becoming serious, the Chihuahua started shivering.
Chihuahuas are a funny sort of dog. In addition to that odd name, they
also look like something left the day after the horrible shaving and/or
bonfire accident. When you add a tendency towards a nervous condition,
you have a silly dog IMO. This Chihuahua started by hiding with Shay (left)
and then took to me (right). Any port in a storm,
eh?
(Photo: Jess Bagley)
Elsewhere in camp, I ran into Ivan Henry, (aka Mooseworth) who was returning
from a black powder weapon-firing session with Michael Bagley. He was testing
one of his untried guns. Mooseworth and his wife Kelly had a very nice campsite.
He had brought some of the guns that he imports from India with him to sell.
He told me that he had gotten into the black powder gun importing business
after trying to order a gun from an on-line retailer only to discover that the
company he ordered it from didn't have it, weren't quite sure when they were
going to get it and couldn't promise when he would see it. So Mr. Henry
decided to import it from India himself which led to his new business venture.
He had a dozen or so pieces at the site that he was interested in selling, I
guess he now receives enough aluminum cases filled with guns that the neighbors
have been considered reporting him to the DEA.
Right: Michael and Ivan Henry test firing. Below left: Camp Mooseworth; Below Right - Kelly and some of the guns.
(Photo: Ivan Henry)
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 (Photo: Mission) |
(Photo: Ivan Henry)
Since the day was loosely scheduled, I asked Diosa if she wanted to go and see the
Fountain of the Fountain of Youth fame. We ambled over to the buildings located at
the front of the park. The Fountain of Youth Park contains all sorts of encrusted
cannons, bowls, anchors and other sea-oriented paraphernalia (left
), so it was an interesting stroll. Diosa introduced me to some
of the peacocks, who were not nearly as impressed with me as I was with them.
(Below left and center: Peacocks can fly!) Peacocks
tend to scream something to each other that sounds remarkably like "Help!" but
which presumably means, "Hey baby, get a load of these feathers!" Still, I was glad
not to be sleeping in the park. Diosa also showed me
the emu of William and Doug PiP '08 stories fame (below right).
(Note: my editrix Brig informs me that this is not an emu, but a rhea. She even
provided me with
helpful links to the wiki on rheas for reference. So now you know.)
 (Photo: Mission) |
 (Photo: Mission) |
 (Photo: Mission) |
(Photo: Mission)
The Fountain itself turned out to be a bubbling spring in a small building
with two dioramas, several photos and a lot of little plastic cups of water.
Maybe it was because we were in garb, but somehow the little plastic cups
seemed anachronistic to me. I dutifully tried the water, hoping the would
not result in my living forever unless it also cured everything else that
came with aging ("It's not the years, it's the miles.") The spring water was
slightly sulfuric. I can't say I understand what Leon saw in it, myself. I
later learned that they used this very same water from the acclaimed Fountain
of Youth to clean the dishes during the weekend. I noticed that they did not
use FOY water for drinking, but used bottled water which may be suggestive.
(Although I have had strong sulfuric water and this was reasonably decent.)
The first diorama at the Fountain was directly behind the girl parsing out the little plastic cups of water. It appeared to feature Ponce and the boys coming up the beach in the15th c. The other diorama contained several native Americans going about their daily lives in a stiff manikin-like way. The best part of that diorama was a small native American boy who was chopping on a large branch. He had apparently been chopping for a long time because he seemed to have worn out the motor that kept his arm going up and down, causing it to rise slowly and then jerk down suddenly. Either that or they were trying to represent some sort of strange nervous system issues. I took a bunch of pictures trying to capture the motion, but it eluded me. (Diosa said, "You're not going to put that in the journal...you are!")
 (Photo: Mission) |
 (Photo: Mission) |
(Photo: Mission)
There was also an unearthed Indian burial area inside another building which
(naturally) interested me a great deal. They had found several skeletons as
I learned from one of the photos on the wall of the building housing the
fountain. So Diosa and I went over so I could see it. Alas, there were no
skeletons, except one guy in a case (which, strangely, I failed to photograph).
This was probably because it was disrespectful or something. Let me state for
the record that they can display my skeleton in public after I no longer have
a use for it with my blessings. (Ignore the doleful pleas of my family.) This
is assuming the old Fountain of Youth water doesn't work its magic, of course.)
This display featured some nice photos of the archeological digs showing an
absolute forest of skeletons. (Right.)
(Photo: Mission)
(Photo: Mission)
In fact, there were still archeological digs going on around the park. I
heard during one of the battle briefings that the park had been scheduled
to be turned into a large hotel in the 20s, but that fell through when the
Great Depression hit. It was again scheduled to be turned into condos a few
years ago but the housing bust took hold. So not everyone was sad the
economy has taken some hits. It was a gorgeous park and if I liked to camp,
I would have been quite happy to have been allowed to camp here. There was
also a planetarium that we did not see. It's really a very nice park, a truly
lovely place for the this event.
Left: the secret bridge path to the encampment. Right: I love stuff like this...
The Encampment
And now the second in a series of unrelated photo groups, used somewhat as filler and otherwhat as a way to explain some of the places, dogs and events that went on around the camp.
(Photo: Ivan Henry)
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 (Photo: Mission) |
(Photo: Mission)
Clockwise from top left: The beloved food prep and serving tent;
tents in the round (I'm not sure whose they all are); Cannon
Place - or Carlos' far away hideaway (he had a tent where this
text is); Sergeant Jeff & Melissa's chateau, complete with Sgt.
Jeff; the Mooseworth's Manse and finally, a Spaniard admiring the
view from his front porch.
 (Photo: ) |
 (Photo: Mission) |
 (Photo: Mission) |