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Pirates of Paynetown 2010 - Bloomington, IN
(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
Chapter 2nd: Of what happened on Saturday during the day; Speaking of
the girl next door; The wonderful array of vendors that show up at
Paynetown; Gillies; and why the battle fizzled (literally.)
As is my custom, I decided to go to Panera for breakfast. The Tom-Tom was incredibly helpful in this regard. I arrived at the event late-ish to discover that people were still gathering their wits and their hair (for example, Kate Bagley, at left.) Kate had apparently overcome her concern about zombie road and was in a much more relaxed mood, showing off her new hat (below left) onto which she hand-stitched that pink ribbon. Apparently that particular project was a bitch. (I'm quoting here.)
Grace Thatcher rapidly appeared, toting the parrot that I had won for her during the eBay auction for the Santa Maria benefit last September. (Kate guilted me into buying it. Wanting it to go where it would be appreciated, I had them send it to Grace.) Grace decided to name the parrot Mission, so we had to get a photo with the three of us. Grace, being 10, thought it was best to add a dash of 10 yo. humor to the photo by making bunny ears. (Does anyone else think the parrot looks drunk here?)
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Thatchers)
Paynetown is probably one of my favorite events for vendors, so I made
it my first order of business to harass Nathan, owner of
Taylor-Rose Historical Outfitters (above left) about the shoe
buckles he owes me. Then I bought some socks. You can never have enough
socks, even though I kept taking them off on this trip. I wandered about
checking out the other vendors like
J. Henderson Artifacts
(above center) and the magnificent handmade paper and
bookstore Bonjiorno Forge and Foundry (above right). If
I'd have been smart, I'd have bought a small book for note-taking, but I
wasn't smart. Some vendors I had not seen last year included
Sign of the Green Turtle (right) where shopkeeper Elisabeth
played violin while waiting for customers. Being mostly feminine stuff,
I didn't tarry. One of the expansive stores was DanielBoone of Kentucky's(below right), which featured all
sorts of glassware, wood items and odds and ends. I promised myself I'd
return there before I left. Last, but not least was
Smoking
Iron Alterations, owned by Mike Dollinger (below left)
of Tire Rolling fame. Michael said he had
gillies,
something I'd been coveting since last year, so I bought the last pair.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
Now, those of you who read last year's Paynetown Surgeon's Journal (or
just used the handy link in the previous text) know that when I saw
them on the feet of cool girl Suzanne Larner, I liked their sloppy
insouciance. Michael had said he would make me a pair, but Michael has more
projects than Carter has liver pills (whatever that means). So I bought
these for the nonce. Since they didn't come
pre-assembled (as you can see below left) and Michael had
planned to make me some, I asked him how to lace them.
After two or three or maybe fifteen tries, Michael suggested we go to the source: cool girl Suzanne. (Who, for the record, is still very cool.) She brought her pair of gillies over and plopped down on the ground in front of me with them. She admitted she didn't know exactly how to lace them, but we could examine the way hers were laced and work backwards. This is called reverse-engineering. Being an engineer, it appealed to me mightily. She grasped and pulled hers half-way apart and then began to help me lace the one destined to be on my now bare left leg. (You can't wear gillies in stocking feet or you run the risk of being a complete dork.) She quickly finished them and suggested I do the other one so I could learn how to do it. (Ha ha!) But it worked and I was now a little bit more cool - like her.
(Photo: Mission)
It looks like I'm putting a glove on my foot, doesn't it? |
(Photo: Mission)
Getting assistance from the gilly master herself: cool girl Suzanne. |
(Photo: Mission)Pasty white legs are in, you know. |
(Photo: Mission)
I strutted around rather proudly in my new footwear for awhile.
(re-enacting - it's also all about new duds). I heard mumbling about battle
preparation, so I went back to camp to see what was up with the Mercury
crew. I didn't find them, but the girl next door proved to be friendly,
so I shot a photo (right). Her name was Sasha and she was
there with Jack Salt (behind her). She said she never posed for stuff
like that photo (which I must say I doubted a little bit) because she worked in
a Christian store! Well the neighbors sure were interesting!
Some time after that, Suzanne returned with her daughter, Katherine aka. Bloody Kat. She asked if I had bloodied bandages for Kat because she was scheduled to die in the battle. Of course I had bloodied bandages! So I unpacked some for her so she could hide them in Kat's cloth bucket. In what has to be one of the more surreal mother/daughter conversations I've heard to date, she asked Kat if she preferred to die on the land or in the boat. (Kat chose in the boat.) She promised to return the bandages (unlike some other people I could mention) and they left.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
Following that, I hung around the camp for awhile. Eventually I realized
that there was no one else hanging around and those who had been hanging
around were now no longer hanging around. (And here I had thought my gillies would
make me cooler and more likely to be hung around with!) It turns out
that the reason everyone one was absent was because the battle briefing
was going on at the other side of the encampment. So I hurried over to
see what I could learn. Unfortunately, I arrived for the last sentence
of the briefing. No briefing for the ship's surgeon, apparently. Mark Gist later told me I would be the
gunner for the Green Black Sheep and that I would shoot as many loads
as I could at the shore until I ran out. (I am happy that the crew watches out for me and
lets me know when and what I'm supposed to be doing. Otherwise I'd
probably wander off into the woods chasing after stray butterflies.)
One thing I did find out all about was how to check a gun. Michael Bagley was in charge of examining everyone's black powder weapons, which made him the most popular guy around after the meeting. (Below left. While Paynetown is all about boats, it also has a lot to do with firing weapons on state-owned park land where tourists hang out.) I watched Michael (and photographed him, obviously) with great interest. Since I am now so knowledgeable about black powder, I will now explain what is going on in these photos, starting below center. First you have to do a "drop test" which is basically taking a ram rod and letting it drop down the barrel. It should make a loud metal sound when it hits the bottom of the barrel. Next (below right), you check the "action" of the weapon to make sure it moves properly. Or maybe to make sure the flint sparks properly. OK, I didn't pay quite that much attention, but I can still explain everything, honest.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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After the "action test," you do a "dump test" (below left) to make sure that insects or small birds haven't built their nest inside your gun when you weren't looking. They actually did this inside the head of my velociraptor prop, using an eyehole about the size of a half dollar to build this elaborate structure of paper and pine needles where his brain would be. (Making the 'raptor a "bird brain." Ha ha ha! OK, I'll stop now.) Next you check the weapon for straightness (below center) in case you are playing pool with friends and your pool cue breaks causing you to need to use your musket instead. (I'm almost certain this has happened at PiP, or soon will.) Finally, you hold it Gunsmoke style to see how cool you look with it (below right.) And that's how you do a black powder weapon test! Anyone of you reading this should now be able to become a certified black powder weapon inspector. (Or not.)
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
As I have already said, Paynetown is a great small boat event, as
you'll note from its boat launch area (right). Many
folks were to be battling from the water - including me as explained. It takes
time to position boats to attack the very beach they're leaving from, so
we all boarded before the battle began to move into position.
Kate Bagley wanted to be in the Green Black Sheep in order
to take photos, so I decided to give my camera to Jennie Gist (even
though her twisted knee left her mostly immobile on land).
Kate photographed several of the crews, including the Mark Gist's other boat the Firefly containing Mark, Silas Thatcher, Silas' friend Chad and Jay (below left - move your pointer over it to see it go!) Jay Henderson of the pottery shop was out in his boat the Tantrum which housed Chris Anderson, a girl I don't know and Jay at the tiller (below right.)
 (Photo:Jessica Bagley)
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(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
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Then there was our boat (below left), containing Dan Needham (in blue check), Jay (rowing), Michael Bagley (you can just see his brown hat) and me (bright blue bandanna). The Wespe (below center) was transporting Suzanne, boat owner and Van Tire Rolling runner-up Mike Dollinger and the soon-to-be-deceased Bloody Kat. Then there was the Big White Slide (below right) that I saw and begged Kate to photograph for the Journal for posterity. It contained people who wouldn't know a black powder weapon if you sunk the 9 ball in the corner pocket with it, but who seemed to be having a pretty good time anyhow.
(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
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(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
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(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
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(Photo: Jessica Bagley)
We gathered our boats in the same area, resulting in a small boat traffic jam (left).
After untangling ourselves, we prepared for the attack. Someone told me
to fire the hand cannon in the Green Black Sheep, so I
did. The battle began! Meanwhile, on land, Jennie, mostly stuck in one
place, tried snapping some photos which, while nicely pastoral, didn't
really reflect the true nature of the battle (below.)
Normally I wouldn't chose these for the battle sequence, but after three
hand cannon shots, the skies literally opened up. Kate, who I now
learned was a wuss, refused to use her camera in the rain to capture
this. So all you get is the shots below. Yes folks, our battle was called on account of rain.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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Of course, the minute we got the Green Black Sheep back to
shore, the deluge stopped. But the battle had been halted and the
momentum was lost. I did learn that my Patrick Hand Original Hat was
capable of withstanding quite a lot of water. (I had set it in the
bottom of the boat when I was firing so it wouldn't get burned
like
my blue shirt.) Michael told me that this was because Patrick
had treated it with something or another to make it waterproof which is
just one more thing that proves that Patrick is
a
prince of a pirate. I, however, was soaked to the bone and my
undershorts were clearly far from being waterproof. (Is there anything
worse than soaking-wet undershorts?
(Photo: Mission)
Returning to camp, I learned that the bout of photography with my
camera was a bit too much for Jennie's knee; she decided to leave for
home shortly afterwards. Fortunately, Dan (her brother) was willing to take
her first to the hospital and then home. I was very sorry to see them
leave. Coming out all that way only to twist yourself up and have to
spend all that time in pain is just no way to go a-pirating.
On the plus side, according to Ship's Articles she was entitled to several hundred pieces of eight. Jennie later reported that she had "a flipped-over a piece of cartilage" in her knee, which I doubt I'd have found with my surgical gear. (But you never know. Come to think of it, you probably do know if you've read any of the other Surgeon's Journals. Maybe you should be the surgeon.)
Seeing someone had tied their kerchief on the main fly pole in the Mercury camp fly, I copied the action for my cheerful blue silk kerchief in hopes that it would dry faster (below left). Feeling peckish and not finding anyone in our area, I wandered over to the friendly-looking Thatcher tent (below center) where Lady Constance Thatcher insisted upon feeding me (below right). I will be forever grateful for this as it somehow made me forget my wet undershorts.
(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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(Photo: Mission)
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