Chapter 2 - The Leap of Faith
I can remember so clearly how Nancy told all my doctors at Sun Coast Hospital in Florida in late 1999, when I was trying to recover from such a long and devastating illness, trying to gain enough strength to walk with my portable bottle of oxygen, how they had to make sure that I was strong enough to make the "Leap of Faith" before I could be discharged, and she would explain that, in order to get home, we had to step from the marina dock onto the deck of our boat, and how this was sometimes a long step, even a jump, when the wind was blowing the boat away from the dock. For some reason the doctors, especially Dr. Namey, were captivated by this term, and soon all the nursing staff and all my visitors were aware of Nancy's "Leap of Faith". But as I look back on everything that has transpired I realize that the true "Leap of Faith," the one that was so huge and irreversible, was made by Nancy and me together in that spring of 1996, when Nancy quit her job, we sold almost all we owned at auction, and we moved irrevocably onto our boat Summer School as our only home, to cruise the east coast and follow the seasons for as long as our meager funds and my failing health would last. We did this on Monday, May 13, 1996, almost exactly one year after the day we had left Marathon in the Florida Keys to bring our boat north as part of our move to Easton.
Following my night at Youell's Oyster House, we were not able to find the time to return to our boat for more than two weeks. Nancy was kept busy with her classes and responsibilities at the college and I continued to work on my one course and see to the remaining tasks involved with our relocation. During these days the weather turned to early fall with the leaves showing the first hints of color. I was reveling in being in the east again in the fall, among the old established towns dotting the picturesque countryside surrounding Easton. We did find enough time to take some drives along some of the small country roads in the area, including the beautiful road that winds next to the Delaware River, in our continuing efforts to get to know the region, and these brief outings were lovely in the early fall weather. But our delight in exploring the land in the color and coolness of fall was to pale in comparison to our reactions to our first fall cruise.
It was on Friday night, September 29, when we once again drove the 140 miles through the traffic past Philadelphia to our boat at Summit North. Although the weekend saw wonderful fall weather we did not take the boat out because we were busy getting ready for this cruise we were calling our "Inaugural Fall Cruise." Lafayette had a fall break in classes for one week that was scheduled to begin the following weekend and we were planning to take at least a few days to travel somewhere new in the northern part of the Chesapeake. Never before did we have the opportunity to use our boat in the fall, the favorite season for both of us. We began our boating in Cape May in the summer. Our cruise south on the ICW in 1993 was in the middle of the summer with record-breaking heat in the southeast. And of course once in South Florida, the Bahamas and the Florida Keys, it was always summer as far as the temperatures were concerned. Then there was our trip from Marathon to Summit North, again in the summer and with Heat Wave 95 that followed our arrival. The prospects of cruising with cool air in our faces when we might be wearing jackets and the warmth of the sun would be welcome, of sleeping with the boat open and no generator or air conditioner running to spoil the stillness, of waking in the mornings when a warm sweater and hot coffee would be welcome, all of these we eagerly anticipated.
We occupied the weekend preparing the boat, checking and readying the various systems (batteries, charger, generator, dinghy and outboard, air conditioner, navigation equipment, etc.), shopping for needed provisions and studying our charts. Although we had traveled through the upper Chesapeake numbers of times we had never explored any of the numerous interesting destinations such as Annapolis or St. Michaels, Maryland, which we had recently visited by land and enjoyed so much. At first we decided we would visit Baltimore's inner harbor and stay there a few days, but as we continued to evaluate the various possibilities we opted once again for a less crowded and more remote destination. We decided we would explore the Chester River on the eastern shore. The Chester is the northernmost of the long deep rivers that flow through the rural eastern shore of the bay. We read that it was rich in history and scenic charm and comparatively free of recreational boat traffic. It was supposed to be easily navigable for 28 miles up-river to the small college town of Chestertown. This was farther from Summit North than Baltimore, but it was still within range for a short cruise, and with our love for college towns, how could we resist? Our plans were set and we prayed for good weather.
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Nancy had no classes on Fridays and she was able to re-arrange her office hours to allow us to leave Easton on Friday morning. We were at the boat by noon, had a quick lunch and left our slip with mounting excitement by 2 p.m. Luckily the tide was almost high and we had no trouble navigating through the shallow marina channel into the C&D Canal. Our luck continued as we found the strong current of the canal running with us, enabling us to make good time despite our late start. I pushed the throttle up to 2000 rpm and the GPS indicated our speed "over the ground" to be 9 knots, which was almost flying for a slow trawler such as Summer School. It was October 6, sunny and quite warm for this early fall day, but with great anticipation we were beginning our "Inaugural Fall Cruise."
Given our quick pace we reached the western end of the canal where it empties into the Elk River in little more than an hour. Although the Elk River is comparatively narrow the shore afforded more interesting scenery than the dug trench of the canal. We passed Town Point, where the traffic signals for the canal were posted, and then we were opposite the broad mouth of the shallow Bohemia River, a favorite boating destination for dockmaster Doug. We were looking for a place to anchor for the night but decided to continue in the warm late afternoon. In four more miles we passed Turkey Point and entered the Chesapeake Bay proper. The bay is about four miles wide here. We continued to follow the main shipping channel, over 35 feet deep, straight, well-marked by large red and green buoys, and easy. Four more miles brought us opposite Grove Point, which marks the northern mouth of the Sassafras River, here over three miles wide, and we decided to turn into the river. This had been the scene of our very first boating experiences on Summer School when we had stayed upriver on the Sassafras after we purchased the boat in July 1992. Somehow it seemed fitting that we should pick this river for our anchorage on our first exploratory cruise of the Chesapeake more than three years later. We wanted to have adequate shelter in our anchorage in case the winds got up, so we followed the Sassafras upriver for about four more miles until the river narrowed down and we rounded a bend near a narrow spit of beach that projected into the river on the north side. On the opposite side of the river, near the mouth of Turner Creek, the chart showed the water depth to hold to nine feet almost up to the bank, which we could see was relatively high. We crossed the river and cautiously headed toward this high bank until we were well within its shelter and almost a half mile off the main boating channel. Here we dropped our anchor, made sure it was well-set in the soft bottom, and settled in for a quiet dinner and a peaceful night. We had come about 25 miles. It was 5:30 p.m. and a warm 78 degrees, but it promised to be cool enough overnight to allow us to open the boat and sleep without the generator or air conditioner. We were cruising once again.
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