Moorish Tavern
This past weekend da hubby and I were at Moorish Tavern, hosted by Midewinde and held at Lake Metigoshe, just south of the International Peace Gardens (which straddle the Canada/US border).
We headed down early, leaving on Thursday so that we could set our zone in the bunkhouse and then do some relaxing and visiting with the locals. THL C. caught a ride with us, so with all the conversation it was a fast trip down.
Thursday night we just visited and with folks and much to our surprise we stayed up to 2 am. Got up Friday morning and after breakfast Robin went up to the archery range where he spent an enjoyable day. I just stayed in the dining hall most of the day, visiting, doing some embroidery, making two rope belts (one gold, one gold/pewter/black), helping with some garb alterations. THL E. had sent down a large number of Salwar Kameez for sale, so I helped the ladies looking at them with measurements and sizing of the garments. Dinner was a lovely stew provided by Midewinde then more visiting, watching a torrential rainfall and later on a wonderful Chocolate Hazelnut liqueur made locally though I didn't get the name of the person who made it.
Saturday started off well. Castel Rouge does a Saturday morning pancake and bacon breakfast every year, and again Dave and his crew outdid themselves. I stayed up in the hall, drinking coffee while himself went down to the rapier field to do an authorization and then play in the various scenarios. Eventually I came down to the field to watch. I had been there, watching about a half dozne bouts when it suddenly got more interesting than any of us would like.
I'm sitting under the shire pavilion when suddenly there is a cry for the chuirgeon for the rapier field. Since there is only 7 of them playing, I ask what's happened and I'm told that Robin is down. I get up and go to the field and he is down. Literally. And one of the other guys is holding a cloth to the back of his head. It's bloody. Very bloody. Oh oh.
To tell the tale in brief, Robin had a mis-step and fell backwards. He landed on his rump, the force partially popped his helm and when his head hit the ground it connected with the edge of the helm itself, opening up a very impressive cut on the back of his head, about 2.5 inches long. And of course, being a head wound, he bled like a stuck pig.
It only took about 3 seconds to determine that he was going to need stitches, so while the rest of the guys tend to him, I go and grab his wallet, our passports, a towel (to rest his head on) and get the van. Since we're so close to the border and the nearest border town, we decide to head back into Canada for treatment.
The border crossing was a snap (say head wound, emergency room, and point to large man lying on the floor of the van with a bloody dressing and towel on his head and you get waved through once you show your passport) and we head off to Boissevain hospital. Unfortunately the doctor was over in Deloraine this weekend, so they triagaed in Boissevan, made sure he didn't need the ambulance and then we were off to Deloraine (the two towns are really close together). The entire time in the van, Robin and Dave (who came with us in case I needed help) were cracking jokes.
On the way to Deloraine we drove through the most amazing storm (rain and hail isn't supposed to go sideways), but we got to the hospital safe and sound. The doctor was called in and eventually Robin was the recepient of 7 staples in the back of his head. He never blacked out when he fell and didn't even see stars and so far he hasn't even had an headache. My sweetie obviously has a hard head.
The trip back to the site was very uneventful and crossing back into the states was very easy when we explained where we had been (and Robin showed off the staples). Of course, everyone wanted to see when we got back, and Robin was the center of attention for awhile. All the ladies went 'ewwww' and all the men went 'cool' or 'awsome dude'.
So, we missed most of Saturday at the event, though we were back in time for dinner. Spent the night sitting around visiting, went to bed then home on Sunday. Of course, the conversation on Saturday night evolved around new nicknames for Robin and descriptions of the back of his head. Car grills, smiling coming and going, zipper head, fangs, and my personal favorite, Robin-stein.
The trip home was very uneventful, though we had the same Canadian border guard that we'd had on Saturday when we went to the hospital. First he wanted to details of the head wound, then he asked about the rapiers and then he and Robin got into a conversation about archery. Trust us to get the bowhunter border guard who was bored and wanted to talk shop. So I turned off the engine and we visited with the border guard till the next car came along. Then we were on our way home. Dinner with friends (they both thought the staples were 'cool and awseome', then partially unpacked, did two loads of laundry (hey, I even got all the blood out of his rapier shirt!) and off to bed.
And that his how we spent our Moorish Tavern.
We headed down early, leaving on Thursday so that we could set our zone in the bunkhouse and then do some relaxing and visiting with the locals. THL C. caught a ride with us, so with all the conversation it was a fast trip down.
Thursday night we just visited and with folks and much to our surprise we stayed up to 2 am. Got up Friday morning and after breakfast Robin went up to the archery range where he spent an enjoyable day. I just stayed in the dining hall most of the day, visiting, doing some embroidery, making two rope belts (one gold, one gold/pewter/black), helping with some garb alterations. THL E. had sent down a large number of Salwar Kameez for sale, so I helped the ladies looking at them with measurements and sizing of the garments. Dinner was a lovely stew provided by Midewinde then more visiting, watching a torrential rainfall and later on a wonderful Chocolate Hazelnut liqueur made locally though I didn't get the name of the person who made it.
Saturday started off well. Castel Rouge does a Saturday morning pancake and bacon breakfast every year, and again Dave and his crew outdid themselves. I stayed up in the hall, drinking coffee while himself went down to the rapier field to do an authorization and then play in the various scenarios. Eventually I came down to the field to watch. I had been there, watching about a half dozne bouts when it suddenly got more interesting than any of us would like.
I'm sitting under the shire pavilion when suddenly there is a cry for the chuirgeon for the rapier field. Since there is only 7 of them playing, I ask what's happened and I'm told that Robin is down. I get up and go to the field and he is down. Literally. And one of the other guys is holding a cloth to the back of his head. It's bloody. Very bloody. Oh oh.
To tell the tale in brief, Robin had a mis-step and fell backwards. He landed on his rump, the force partially popped his helm and when his head hit the ground it connected with the edge of the helm itself, opening up a very impressive cut on the back of his head, about 2.5 inches long. And of course, being a head wound, he bled like a stuck pig.
It only took about 3 seconds to determine that he was going to need stitches, so while the rest of the guys tend to him, I go and grab his wallet, our passports, a towel (to rest his head on) and get the van. Since we're so close to the border and the nearest border town, we decide to head back into Canada for treatment.
The border crossing was a snap (say head wound, emergency room, and point to large man lying on the floor of the van with a bloody dressing and towel on his head and you get waved through once you show your passport) and we head off to Boissevain hospital. Unfortunately the doctor was over in Deloraine this weekend, so they triagaed in Boissevan, made sure he didn't need the ambulance and then we were off to Deloraine (the two towns are really close together). The entire time in the van, Robin and Dave (who came with us in case I needed help) were cracking jokes.
On the way to Deloraine we drove through the most amazing storm (rain and hail isn't supposed to go sideways), but we got to the hospital safe and sound. The doctor was called in and eventually Robin was the recepient of 7 staples in the back of his head. He never blacked out when he fell and didn't even see stars and so far he hasn't even had an headache. My sweetie obviously has a hard head.
The trip back to the site was very uneventful and crossing back into the states was very easy when we explained where we had been (and Robin showed off the staples). Of course, everyone wanted to see when we got back, and Robin was the center of attention for awhile. All the ladies went 'ewwww' and all the men went 'cool' or 'awsome dude'.
So, we missed most of Saturday at the event, though we were back in time for dinner. Spent the night sitting around visiting, went to bed then home on Sunday. Of course, the conversation on Saturday night evolved around new nicknames for Robin and descriptions of the back of his head. Car grills, smiling coming and going, zipper head, fangs, and my personal favorite, Robin-stein.
The trip home was very uneventful, though we had the same Canadian border guard that we'd had on Saturday when we went to the hospital. First he wanted to details of the head wound, then he asked about the rapiers and then he and Robin got into a conversation about archery. Trust us to get the bowhunter border guard who was bored and wanted to talk shop. So I turned off the engine and we visited with the border guard till the next car came along. Then we were on our way home. Dinner with friends (they both thought the staples were 'cool and awseome', then partially unpacked, did two loads of laundry (hey, I even got all the blood out of his rapier shirt!) and off to bed.
And that his how we spent our Moorish Tavern.