Gloucester
From Plymouth we headed north to Gloucester, a fishing town set around a huge natural harbour and also the setting for the film ‘The Perfect Storm’.
We arrived in drizzly mist and rain and were surprised to see crowds of people lining the beach opposite as we dropped anchor. It turned out to be the weekend of St Peters Fiesta and a variety of events were laid on to celebrate.
There was a funfair with typical rides, ‘hook the duck’ and hotdog stalls. On Sunday the whole town turned out to watch a big parade of marching bands and groups carrying religious statuettes from St Peters Church, and a Cardinal came and blessed the fishing fleet.
But the harbour was the main centre of action and for three evenings running, people congregated either on the beach or on a flotilla of moored boats to watch the proceedings. A gig-rowing race started things off and got the crowds cheering before the crazy ‘greasy pole competition’.
Forty men in fancy dress (mostly in drag for some reason) got ferried out to a wooden structure off the beach and climbed a ladder to the 25-foot high platform. Attached to which was a 50-foot long wooden pole with a small flagpole at the end and all thickly laden with gooey white (biodegradable) grease.
Each entrant was introduced by the commentator on the beach and after much cheering by the crowds took their turn to try and walk the pole. Nobody was allowed to get the flag on the first round (so everybody had at least one go) and we watched as each man took a few tottering steps and jumped, dived or fell into the water.
By round two, most of the wigs and costumes had disappeared and the competition started for real. There was much ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing if somebody got close to the flag or had a particularly spectacular fall off the pole.
There were various methods of attack – careful steps, sideways slip-sliding or full-on run with arms flailing. There were also several ways of falling, some more painful than others, and a couple of people got whisked off by the harbour patrol for medical attention.
There was uproar when one guy thought he’d won but the flag didn’t come free as he fell and dangled out of everybody’s reach at the end of the pole. The Coastguard were called upon to re-nail it (getting themselves and their boat covered in grease) and the competition continued.
Finally, in the fourth and final round, the same guy reached the end of the pole again and made sure the flag came down with him this time. The crowd went wild, the rest of the men leapt off the platform and swam ashore and the victor was carried up the beach on his mates’ shoulders.
Complete madness and we enjoyed every minute of it!
The weekend was topped off for us when the crew of the pilot gig ‘Siren Song’ stopped by the trawler and invited us to go for a row round the harbour with them.
We arrived in drizzly mist and rain and were surprised to see crowds of people lining the beach opposite as we dropped anchor. It turned out to be the weekend of St Peters Fiesta and a variety of events were laid on to celebrate.
There was a funfair with typical rides, ‘hook the duck’ and hotdog stalls. On Sunday the whole town turned out to watch a big parade of marching bands and groups carrying religious statuettes from St Peters Church, and a Cardinal came and blessed the fishing fleet.
But the harbour was the main centre of action and for three evenings running, people congregated either on the beach or on a flotilla of moored boats to watch the proceedings. A gig-rowing race started things off and got the crowds cheering before the crazy ‘greasy pole competition’.
Forty men in fancy dress (mostly in drag for some reason) got ferried out to a wooden structure off the beach and climbed a ladder to the 25-foot high platform. Attached to which was a 50-foot long wooden pole with a small flagpole at the end and all thickly laden with gooey white (biodegradable) grease.
Each entrant was introduced by the commentator on the beach and after much cheering by the crowds took their turn to try and walk the pole. Nobody was allowed to get the flag on the first round (so everybody had at least one go) and we watched as each man took a few tottering steps and jumped, dived or fell into the water.
By round two, most of the wigs and costumes had disappeared and the competition started for real. There was much ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing if somebody got close to the flag or had a particularly spectacular fall off the pole.
There were various methods of attack – careful steps, sideways slip-sliding or full-on run with arms flailing. There were also several ways of falling, some more painful than others, and a couple of people got whisked off by the harbour patrol for medical attention.
There was uproar when one guy thought he’d won but the flag didn’t come free as he fell and dangled out of everybody’s reach at the end of the pole. The Coastguard were called upon to re-nail it (getting themselves and their boat covered in grease) and the competition continued.
Finally, in the fourth and final round, the same guy reached the end of the pole again and made sure the flag came down with him this time. The crowd went wild, the rest of the men leapt off the platform and swam ashore and the victor was carried up the beach on his mates’ shoulders.
Complete madness and we enjoyed every minute of it!
The weekend was topped off for us when the crew of the pilot gig ‘Siren Song’ stopped by the trawler and invited us to go for a row round the harbour with them.
posted by Katie at 6:04 PM
1 Comments:
Quite a trip to undertake, where are you off to next ?
Nick
Georgetown, Ma
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