Moving on

We spent two nights alongside in a marina in Fairlee Creek on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake. It was convenient to be alongside, but being off season it was so deserted it was sort of spooky. Boats sat in their slips waiting to be hauled for the winter and we were the only souls around. I shouldn’t have listened to that reading of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven” on the local Baltimore station while we were here… too close to Halloween.

Miles and Lex live in a beautiful home a short walk from the marina and they opened their home and themselves to us. Aside from the luxury of showers and laundry at their place, we shared meals, stories about family, had conversations about business (all four of us are self [semi]employed), thoughts about the past/present/future and on top of all that we got to play with their super sweetie-pie puppy Dora Mae. I’m wishing we’d taken in the marmalade cat…

It was the 10^th anniversary of Downrigging Weekend in Chestertown Maryland and several talls ships were here for the event. We went into town to check out the boats and eat/drink/talk/laugh more. (For you Delaweenies… the Kalmar Nyckel was there.) 

We went to a gallery to see an exhibit of watercolors by local artist Marc Castelli; his paintings are all about the lives of the watermen of the Chesapeake. They’re alive with detail and nuance… just beautiful. As if this visual sense of the watermen wasn’t enough, some oystermen set up a table out in front of the gallery and were cracking open and serving free oysters as fast as they could. Y.U.M. They were enormous and sweet. I tried not to park myself in front of the table and slurp up oysters. It wasn’t easy. Miles and Skip didn’t try quite as hard.

This morning we waved goodbye to Miles/Lex and Dora Mae and headed to Annapolis. Directly into the wind… again. What IS it with this wind?! Another bit of wisdom from Jan – the definition of “destination” is “whatever direction the wind is coming from”. (Yes… I know, I shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition.) 

For the landlubbers out there – you can’t sail directly into the wind – it needs to be about 35 degrees to either side in order to get anything out of a sail. Of course, at this point, we don’t have a sail, so it doesn’t matter much, but the waves also tend to come right at you when the wind is in your face. Not so comfortable. So I did what any good sailor would do – I went below and sulked and left Skip on deck to watch out for crab pots and deal with the cold spray that occasionally made it past the dodger. Hey… don’t judge me. It was crummy out there.

Skip worked on sorting out our stubborn autopilot problem and made some headway. It’s still acting up a bit up so more problem solving is needed. (Read: bang on some stuff and mutter curses.) We passed the Naval Academy, waited for the Spa Creek draw bridge to open and made our way into a quiet little anchorage just inside.

We pumped up the dinghy, dropped on the engine and voila... we have wheels. We’re not going anywhere tonight but it’s nice to know we can. Our ever changing list of chores awaits – as does Vinnie’s Pinot Grigio. 

Oh yes… and another pretty sunset.