Crowds of scantily clad wenches, Jack Sparrow look-alikes, and scallywags of all types were milling about the Two Harbors area on October 5th.
"What IS it about pirates," I wondered, marveling at the riff-raff, "that infatuates us so?"
I was searching for my sweetheart Sabrina, who was meeting us here. We had been in radio silence while visiting the remote Santa Barbara island; the only communication she had received in several days was a text message to the effect of:
"We're alive, see you Saturday sometime"
Sabrina wasn't entirely amused by this lack of information-- but she was not stymied. She was dressed in the splendor of maritime rags from the moment she jumped on the ferry at 7am, along with a hundred other enthusiasts in costume.
From Villains to Roguish Heroes
Pirates are murderers and thieves, basically sea-going criminals of the worse variety. How did they turn into roguish heroes ? Blaim the writers!
The first portrayal of a pirate as a noble outlaw was possibly Lord Byron's poem "The Corsair" in 1814; but it was Rafael Sabatini's early 20th century Scaramouche and Captain Blood that turned the pirate into a romantic hero. The latter was a story of a good hearted physician who, through ill fortune, is captured into slavery, makes a dramatic escape, and leads pirate crews in wondrous exploits.
The idea of a gentleman-rogue is candy for the popular imagination: one who lives with high ethics outside the laws of society, free to roam the high seas, explore tropical destinations, and discover great treasures.
This was perfect escapism for the majority of people who find their city lives menial and un-inspiring. It captures the inner child who longs for adventure and day-to-day excitement. This is a part of us who we sometimes neglect as we grow older and manage many obligations.
The Island's Hedonistic Spirit
The Buccaneer Festival gave people three days of belligerent madness to entertain their escapist, inner child; and an excuse to drink copious amounts of alcohol.
The people-watching was good entertainment, but we retreated early to the good ship Aldebaran. The mayhem was not entirely our cup of tea. But it was the perfect introduction to Catalina, in my book, and a fine contrast with the first island we visited.
Santa Barbara Island is a lonely rock in the ocean; it has a defiant spirit that comes with its visitors, the pioneer ranchers, the lonely biologists, the sea lions and the sea birds.
Catalina Island is entirely different. It is an island playground for the gigantic population of Los Angeles, with a blessed geography and underwater world.
The ideal "health" of the island, a subjective concept that is evolving, is affected by this spirit of hedonism. Bison, for example, roam the slops of Catalina thanks to a Hollywood movie! More on that later.
The "parking lot" during Buccaneer's was at max capacity.
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