WE DID IT! We left the comfy shore, and are mushing about in the Chesapeake.
We enjoyed the National Power Squadron meeting in Greensboro. On a bonus side trip, I was happy to tour the Replacements Store, a huge conglomeration of warehouses stocking, well, replacements, for your china or your cutlery. Yes, I was able to find the missing knives and spoons for our High Point Circle dining use!
On the way back to the boat, we lunched with Ted and Rita (can you tell from the picture that he’s Fred’s brother?). A day later, we were underway by car for NY. No, we didn’t race home to try out the new spoons---there was a Condo meeting to attend as well as the September birthdays with daughters Kris and Linda to celebrate. Had a good visit and returned to YA for some very serious exterminating.
Sometime after the hurricane, we began to see the occasional Palmetto Bug (a euphemism for the I-can’t yet-say-the-word-roach), god help us, inside the boat. Immediately set traps and used spray, but there are way too many hidey-holes and entrance ports, so immediately upon our return to Solomons, we attacked with vengeance. Removed the bed, the floors of all galley cupboards, got behind the refrigerator and compactor, and into every other low-lying space we could think of. All flat (and gently rounded) surfaces are now liberally coated with Borax—death to the little buggers. We also liberally applied a (supposedly) 12 week spray on vertical surfaces. Uffda.
Wouldn’t you know that after all that, one of the creepy scurriers had the audacity to wave his feelers at Jerry and Teresa (SHA LA LA) when they stepped aboard? Double uffda. Finally, today, after finding only the occasional very dead body for several days, I can speak of the (?) infestation—never did we feel exactly overrun with critters, but one indoors is one too many. With spray always at hand, we are ever vigilant, no more and no less clean than we have ever been, and guardedly optimistic that we’ve won the battle AND the war. Many folks say (I’ve read a lot of ads, editorials and blogs on the subject) that with the joys of the southern climate comes the ‘ugh of the bug’. We’ll never know if they blew in with Irene, hitch hiked home from the grocery store, or rode aboard in a book swapped at a marina office. We are grateful that they are, by our best indicators, gone.
Cruising the Chesapeake has been our summer goal, and so in early October we headed right out! Crossed the Bay and spent a night at St. Michael’s, always a treat. As we left on Friday morning about a bazillion boats were heading in. Ah, it is Columbus Day weekend, and a gorgeous one at that. We spent some time making loop-d-loops in the Bay to calibrate our magnetic compass. Fred plotted the data, drew the curve and was mostly pleased with the accuracy. There is always some room for improvement.
Next, the Wye River called us, and at Shaw Cove, we chose the Eastern leg. Moseyed along the beautiful, pristine shores, noting the beautiful homes as well as anchored and rafted boats along the way. We dropped Knute (our Rockna anchor) just past Wye Landing. It took an hour to get both halves of the anchor light to shine (the aft part has always been problematic. It is time for a replacement), and by then it was too late for the dinghy. So we had a leisurely dinner, and spent some time on the bow of the boat just enjoying the stars, the nearly full moon and the silence.
Early in the morning we were joined on the water by crabbers—lots of crabbers. They have such a smooth, practiced handle on the trot-line baited with chicken necks. It is indeed an art to flip the crab into the wire net and deposit him in the bushel basket without missing the next crab on the line.
We did get the dinghy down, and had a fine ride around the little bay. Saw a flock of black sheep contentedly munching on the lawn of a waterside estate, and rafted the dinghy to a crabber whose motor had failed. He was happy that we picked him up so he did not have to paddle to shore.
By noon we’d raised Knute, washed away the sticky mud he’d been grabbing, and were again underway. It seemed to be a ‘tow’ sort of day. In the Eastern Bay, we passed (as other boats had been doing for ½ hour, we were later told) a 22’ cigarette boat with an open engine compartment. They did indeed need help, so we rafted the boat to YA’s starboard side, and had a pleasant ride to Kent Narrows. There we swung around and they tossed starboard lines to friends on a big boat in the marina. We released their port side, and they were safely home.
The bridge tender at Kent Narrows was convinced that we’d fit under the ‘flat steel’ or approach road openings next to his bascule, but it was only 2 minutes to opening time, so we just waited it out. He was an unusually chatty bridge guy, and we had a chuckle with his banter. On the north side of the bridge we tucked into a space on a town dock and spent an hour or so enjoying the Chesapeake Festival at Kent Narrows.
Fred had checked with the operator of a passing SeaTow boat about the water depth at the town’s wall, and we were told “I’m showing about 12 feet”, so we tied up. In the morning, when checking the steering to get underway, Fred found that the right rudder was not moving. No, it wasn’t the stick we’d seen being carried under the boat by the current the evening before, it was, of all things, the tide. We showed exactly 0.0 feet of water under the keel. So we went for a walk and had a second cup of coffee before motoring off to the Chester River. Chestertown, a few miles up the river, has been on our list of ‘places we missed last time we passed thru this area’.
Chestertown is an adorable little old town, and we’d just tossed our lines over at the Chestertown Marina when the phone rang---it was our friend Mary (from Newburgh), who is, for her tenth year, crewing aboard the schooner MYSTIC WHALER. Like us, the WHALER is ‘mushing around in the Chesapeake’ for a few days before she participates in the Schooner Race from Baltimore to Norfolk at the end of the week. She came in just behind us, and we caught her lines as she tied up in the slip usually occupied by SALTANA, Chestertown’s Tall Ship—already en route to Baltimore.
We walked the uneven brick streets enjoying the colonial architecture, and had dinner at the ‘olde’ Imperial Hotel. Later, aboard the WHALER, folk and shanty singer Jeff gave a wonderful concert singing a cappella, as well as with his guitar and other hand-held percussion instruments. For a finale, Jeff’s wee wooden friend, Jack, danced with great precision and enthusiasm to Jeff’s tin whistle. Most entertaining.
On Monday we went back to the Bay, and then north to Worten Creek, where fall has fallen. The nearest town is Chestertown---9 miles as the crow flies—40 miles by boat. There was a skeleton crew at work and zero boats were moving in the water. So we had a sort of quiet evening at home listening to the geese. Apparently this part of the Bay is the winter destination for many northern geese, and there were mobs of them flying in all directions, calling greetings to each other. What a hoot!
Tuesday the wind was from the east, and blew us across the Bay. It is really fall, now. We were the only boat on the Bay! There are many more northern stops to make, but we’ll save them for our run north in the spring of 2012. For now, we’re Baltimore bound!
