Tom Mason

Day 759… Outskirts of the village of Eagle River in County Vilas, territory of Wisconsin. We departed from the Island of Madeline after two raids, one very successful (in the village park), and the second a little less so due…

Day 755... Village of Ironwood, Territory of Michigan the Upper. On the arrrrduous journey from Eagle River to the Apostle Islands we came upon a large individual who, thanks to his stature and joyous disposition, has convinced us to alter…

Day 672, May 1, Bay of Beltane, Territory of Tennessee. Hooray hooray, the First of May! The ship is festooned in Dionysian glory. The crew has turned the mainmast into a maypole and have fashioned ribbons from the sails and…

Day 626 The banks of the River Cumberland, County Davidson, Territory of Tennessee. I awoke this morning from a deep winter’s sleep and stepped out on deck to see a world transformed. The once barren trees have begun to sprout…

Day 614. The slightly frozen almost flooded swampland of the territory of Tennessee, where the sun is shining on the encroaching banks of the Cumberland, suggesting an inland sea. We scrambled to hilltops fearing another 100 year flood counted out…

Day 595, Somewhere betwixt the rising waters of the Cumberland River and the murky waters of the Love Canal. As I set about this morn to careen the ship, ready my bloodthirsty crew, and recruit others to join us on…

Day 577 The village of Big French Lick on the Cumberland River, territory of Tennessee. A miraculous event changing the course of my life occurred on Saturday morning. We had performed the night before at the Old City Pirate Fest…

Day 90, The Port of Nashville Tennessee, careening vessel in preparation for journey to Panama City, Florida on Oct 6. ... My crew narrowly saved me from steering our brigantine in entirely the wrong direction. I’d been studying my palindromes…

Day 88, the banks of the Harrrrpeth River. With our ship resting on the bottom of the Harrrpeth and the Pilgrimage Festival disappearing for now into the mists that give our past a beautiful glow, we have been forced to…

Day 87, Harrrlinsdale Farm, Franklin, Tennessee. Upon being marooned on the island of song that is the Pilgrimage Festival, I chose to channel my inner Twyla Tharrrrrp and teach some of the younger pilgrims the Pegleg Jig, a dance I…

Day 85: Franklin, Tennessee. We sailed up the Harrrpeth River when our barquentine started to take on water near a farm called Harrrrlinsdale. Upon swimming from the deepest depths of the Harrrrpeth, we heard the dulcet tones of tunes coming…

Day 81: the Port of Nashville. I awoke from a dream, a strange sensation that for an entire day the world was speaking my language. Having always worn the garments of an outcast and misfit it was quite peculiar and…