Night of the Greasy Pole

[bob budd]

Arrived at the parking lot to find no spots available, though as luck would have it, someone left as we pondered our fate and we eagerly snatched the spot. Already the festival had claimed the available parking, not to mention several poorly parked cars straddling the lines of the narrow spaces. When Liz arrived, she was able to squeeze between two cars and we set about the business of packing and launching our boats.

Between the time we carried our boats down into the gooey muck at the base of the granite wall and when we eventually launched the gooey muck had received a shallow bath from the incoming tide. Hidden beneath the water’s surface among the muck were various shards of broken glass, evidence of many who view the earth with callous disregard as their trash barrel. Liz said “I mentioned good shoes in the post”. And thus the three of us began to dart among the moored and peopled boats toward the greasy pole.

Many were out to see the parade of boats. Most had some sort of food on the “barby” and were partaking of liquid refreshment. In good humour were they all. We paddled by the odd “tall ship” and encountered a couple kayakers with makeshift lights, wrapping a map around the end of flashlights for a 360 degree view light.

The party boats played the familiar dance music, driving us to other points along the beach. At one point a boat policing the harbour stopped by and told us if we stayed near the beach we wouldn’t be a problem. Eventually we ended up at the greasy pole, clearly none of the boats in the procession would pass close by.

Eventually the first of the boats emerged from the canal. Many appeared to have shopped at the Santa or Frosty the Snowman store while others had apparently opted for a tropical theme with one or more palm trees. Most were brightly lit, often with lights strung from the various appendages of the boat. Among the unique were a Patriots insignia, a ghost ship with skeletons, and a enigma that we eventually determined read “Oil (can)” + “Gas (can)” = “(Shape of)Screw”.

While the harbour at night at first presented a thrill, the long wait for the start of the procession had claimed much of our enthusiasm. We began to consider our yawns and embarked for the put-in. As we reached the ice house it became clear the procession meant to meander for some time about the various inlets of the larger harbour meaning the circuitous route around their path would take some time. The procession was lightly attended and we found little difficulty or risk in crossing the route as need be.

We landed at the end of the parking lot beneath a wall at the street. We managed to pass the boats through the railings and onto the sidewalk, avoiding carrying them over the “rip-rap”. Whilst strapping boats down, the fireworks began around and over the roofs of the houses on Rocky Neck.