Like many inland bays and coves, only a mere 400 years ago the most pristine areas of Bermuda, Mangrove Bay in Sandys Parish largely contains murky waters, which prevented the fish there from seeing the floating sea of mayhem above their heads last Sunday. The discoloured water may also have prevented them from observing the rain of glass and plastic that descended in torrents on August 5, during what was billed as the 40th anniversary of the Non-Mariners Race. Many a headache must have ensued as one was bonked on the head by a Heineken, Becks or Black Rum bottle and many a tooth dislodged in attempts to eat one of the dozens of pairs of sunglasses that sallied reflectively to the bottom of the bay.And dark the floor of Mangrove Bay must have been during that non-Race, for only alleyways of clear water were available between the hundreds of boats moored up by ones, twos and by the dozen, most being non-traditional craft of the gas-guzzling motor boat type. The shadows from those cumulative multi-million dollars of hulls must have seemed to the denizens of the bay floor like an eclipse of the sun, to say nothing of the acreage of turtle grass that would have been gouged out by the multitude of anchors of the overweighted vessels filled with party-crazed persons of all varieties.Perhaps a non-happy day was had by all, for continuing in the non-sense lexicon of this non-heritage non-event, the recession, the decline in tourism, the departure of thousands of rent-paying workers, were all relegated, at least for 12 hours or so into the ‘non’ category, as in non-such could non-happen here. Coming at the end of the national four-day holiday that has become Cup Match, it is clear that the thousands present at Mangrove Bay were determined to go out with a non-bang, with the biggest non-excess extravaganza of the summer season, the biggest non-heritage event of the non-year 2012.According to one writer who disputed the 40th anniversary claim in a non-Letter to the non-Editor, the Non-Mariners Race began about 1960; therefore it is a matter that is 50-odd years old. Apparently, the concept was to thumb one’s non-nose to traditional mariners’ clubs, especially the ancient ones of the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club and the Royal Hamilton Amateur Dinghy Club. As a non-event, organised by self-appointed non-persons, the non-Race was supposed to die a death soon after it was invented.Non-such proved to be the case and the non-event is still going drunkenly strong, but does it fit into the definition of “heritage”, being “valued objects and qualities such as cultural traditions, unspoiled countryside, and historic buildings that have been passed down from previous generations”? As a non-writer and non-politician, I could not possible comment or I might be removed as a non-Person by the non-Committee of the Non-Race, which has its tentacles in every corner of non-Bermuda, from the look of the non-attendees on August 5.For a number of years, the non-watercraft of the non-Race were conceived, floated and sunk largely by members of the expatriate community on these shores, a group that over the last half-century has contributed much by way of good works with charities and other groups hereabouts, much without due credit. Perhaps we did not non-work them hard enough, so they still had a lot of non-time on their hands to craft nonsense sinkables for the non-Race, many like the Kentucky Fried non-entry of the Race this year. The numbers of non-vessels shrank this year, perhaps reflective of the decline in non-shipbuilding expat workers, so that it seems a mere half dozen non-boats sank between the sands of the Mangrove Bay.We appear, in some quarters, to have become a non-happy people, for such is perhaps reflected the drive on the Non-Mariners non-Day, with the utter determination, to have a good non-time. That non-self determination, that “I do not care” attitude, is reflected in an underwater survey conducted the day after the non-event. Recovered from the floor of Mangrove Bay, the dinner table of turtles, were a full case of beer, dozens of unopened bottles of a variety of boozes, dozens of sunglasses, cell phones and so on.It reminds one of the community service meted out to a beer bottle thrower by the Courts in the 1960s: that bad boy had to pick up all the bottles “deposited” into the roadside bushes of Warwick Parish. He took his revenge by corking and harnessing them all together and floating down Hamilton Harbour on his non-bed of glass during one of the early Non-Mariners Races. History does not relate if the bottle-bed awaits archaeologists of the future on the floor of that principal anchorage, the waters of which, by land and sea, are the murkiest in Bermuda.Edward Cecil Harris, MBE, JP, PHD, FSA is Executive Director of the National Museum at Dockyard. Comments may be made to director@bmm.bm or 704-5480.