"Is there a bar in town?" I asked across the water to the owner of a large ketch moored in the bay.

"Yes"

"What?"

"It's a seedy Pub"

"It's a what?"

"You'll like it"

The Pirate Head Bar is the pub above the government dock in False Bay.

I sat down at the bar at order a beer. Looking around the bar, everything told me this was a rough place. For the first few minutes, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to finish my first beer before I became the center of good bar brawl.

But as the guy across the water told me, I liked the place with in a few minutes. The local were very friendly, the bartend in control and the beer was fresh, cold and cheap.

The patrons were all locals and it was clear that I was the only one that didn't know everyone by name. They asked questions like which fish boat I was off and if I was the skipper. The bartender was motorcycle collector and we talked bikes.

Beer and scotch flowed across the bar, but the air felt of drugs and was evident on the faces of a few of the local. I figure some of them had been strung up all long weekend.

Four dark beers later, it was time to go home for dinner before I ended up drinking moonshine and playing poker with the locals until sunrise, again.