2009 Alafia River Rendezvous Recap

The whole trip started two weeks ago-after a record cold night. The National Weather Service registered an official temperature of -29. The trip was delayed by me about an hour. I came out of the house to the truck to find a low tire. Crap. So I had to make a trip up town to get the tire checked. The guys at the garage pulled the tire off and checked it out, finding a screw in the treads passing air. Unfortunately, they had to actually pull the tire off the rim. Crap. After an hour delay, I was re-hooked to the trailer and heading out. I met the 5 geriatrics in Douglas, IL where w loaded up the trailer and van. When we pulled out of The Man From Ohio's driveway it was -17. But we were headed South. It had to get warmer, right? Right?

Let me explain my travel arrangements. We had two vehicles. My truck with topper. Gear loaded in the topper, and canoe on top of the truck. Behind the truck a clown cargo trailer, full of gear. A minivan loaded with gear. The passengers: Me, and 5 geriatrics. I'm 26. The next youngest guy in the group was 58, and the oldest right about 70. Several of the other passenger are part of an group of geriatrics called the "Grey dogs." The Grey Dogs have 3 travelling rules.
1. Never pass up an opportunity to piss
2. Never trust a fart. Even if you know it's a fart.
3. Never wast a hard-on; even if your alone.

After 200 miles on the road, I hit a little SNAFU. With the canoe on top of the truck and the trailer, my truck was only getting between 8 and 9 miles/gallon. Max fuel range of 220-240 miles. But, when traveling with geriatrics, they have bladders the size of nickles and making it 200 miles between stops is pushing it.

23 hours later, we arrived in Plant City, Florida at the house of one of the Jerks so we could change into rendezvous clothes. The Jerks were up to their usual task of making Bloody Mary Mix-about 100 quarts. But the bastards didn't share. Not even a single drink. Once changed and groceries bought, we headed into camp. As we registered, it was 90 degrees warmer that the low the night prior to our departure. We headed into camp where a couple other Illinois River Scum already had a place claimed.

I unlocked the trailer and it exploded like a clown car. We had a pile of gear that stretched for over 50 feet: two tents, an awnings, a store, 3 tables, a set of shelves, 5 cots, 8 bedrolls, 15 guns, 4 bows, a couple dozen arrows, countless knives, axes and tomahawks, 10 chairs, a double braizier on legs, a set of fire irons, 4 skillets, 5 pots of various sizes, 4 coolers, 6 bow staves, a wood stove, stove pipe, a shower, 20 boxes, 6 beaver pelts, a 16' canoe, 4 canoe paddles, 20 pairs of shoes/moccasins, 10 cases of beer, 36 blankets, and 5 walking sticks.

We set up camp and got down to the important business of catching up with friends and consuming large and varied quantities of alcoholic beverages.

Sunday was more quality time with friends.

Monday started the archery competition. Which is shot in a swamp. In Florida. Where a few bad steps into an area you shouldn't be can cause you to no longer be the top of the food chain. The course of fire is 20 shots, all 3-d targets. There are shots from a standing horse swinging log, under a log, a squirrel on a rope, swinging turkey, standing on top of a 10" diameter stump, and a running bear. A very cool course. And the competition is a 3-day aggregate. And then Thursday is a Fred Bear match, where wounding shots count negative. I shot for 4 days.

Monday night, the North American Fraternal Order of the Beaver had a meeting, where 3 new brothers took the degree.

Tuesday was the Highland Games. I didn't make it up to watch any of the games, but was sitting at breakfast and watched the Parade of Tartans. Quite frankly, it was very disappointing, with only about 20 people marching and in their kilts. Hell, even one of the Piper's was just in tartan knee britches. I did not kilt up this year. And for reference Cameron: it is not crossdressing. It is not a skirt-it's a KILT. If I'd have worn something under it, THEN it would be a skirt.

Wednesday night was the ceili. I went up and did a few shanties and such. There was quite a bit of good music. I happened to end up sitting next to a good man I met last year. He is the only person at an event I have ever met who actually has a wooden peg leg. They call him Lucky Dave. After about my third piece, he leaned over and mentioned how much he enjoyed what I was doing and that we need more of it at events (in reference to me doing period correct music) and that he could tell that everything I did was with heart. It made my night.

Wednesday night was also the record cold. We had a pan of water, about 8" in diameter and 2.5" deep that was frozen SOLID on Thursday morning. Real temperature was 19. I've never seen so many Southernercicles. All the Florida and Georgia boys were miserable.

Thursday night, Joey Hall of Father, Son, and Friends was playing across the way from our camp so I went over there and listened for a couple of hours, until all the players ended up with frozen fingers.

Friday night was the Red Breast Society meeting. The Red Breast Society was born at the 2007 Alafia when a bottle of Red Breast Irish Whiskey and a jar of pickled peaches were brought out and drunken debauchery followd. I have pictures of men feeding fruit to women who is not their wife, of women feeding other women fruit, the bottle of whiskey down several different shirts, women down to the knuckles of fingers of men not their husbands, divers looking for dropped fruit, etc. While I am not a member of the Red Breast Society, I have attended all of their meetings and tend to just sit back and watch the proceedings. Although, this year I did get in on the pickled apples and the Apple Pie Tittie Shots. After the Society Meeting concluded, some Florida friends asked me to escort a couple of young ladies back to their camp. As the good gentleman, I did. Just for some perspective, this is a 1,200 camp rendezvous. We were in the Southwest corner of camp. The ladies tent was in the Northeast corner. On the way, we got sidetracked at Pawney's Pleasure Palace. Lots of people, music, remnants of the 200 lbs of shrimp boiled earlier, and liquor. The ladies and I ended up standing around there for over two hours. It didn't register at the time, but I think one of them asked if I wanted to go sit down in some open chairs and neck. I finally ended up crawling into my blankets about 1:30 and I had to be up at 5:00 to go get the truck so we could pack and leave.

Saturday morning arrived way too early. I actually had to turn on my cell phone and set an alarm. About 6:00am myself and a couple other guys went out to get trucks. Luckily, one of our ONW Brothers had joined us for the week, and he has a handicapped tag and was parked at the main gate, saving us the mile walk to the back of the parking lot. Which left us with only the task of fitting everything back into the trailer. At least the canoe sold.

The drive back seemed to drag on forever. Saturday night, we were 20 miles West of Chattanooga, TN and got hotel rooms for a sleep in a bed and shower.

Sunday, we rolled into home about 5:30pm and were welcomed to The Man From Ohio's daughter's house, where she had a good meal of mashed potates and chicken and noodles prepared for us. We got everything unloaded and I was back to the house and done bringing in my stuff from the truck by 9:30.


Some things I learned:
1. I am not cut out to be a grey dog. Yet.
2. When I get on the road, I really want to rack up miles, and it is just not possible when you have to stop every 200 miles.
3. I have to fight very hard to hold back my urge to kill when a stop is made that doesn't take care of at least 2 of the 3 F's (Food, Fuel, and taking care of Farts). i.e. If somebody needs to piss, don't stop at a rest area, go to a gas station or restaraunt. When stopping for fuel, make sure everyone makes a pass through the pisser.
4. When trying to make milage, sit down meals are the bain of my existance.