1800 Days – Seg. 8 Ch. 2 Pg. 9-12

    On Monday morning we had to begin the 80-mile return trip to Summit North and, eventually, to our jobs and lives back in Easton. We awoke at 7 a.m. to a cool 50 degrees with the sun just beginning to climb above the trees on the river bank across from Chestertown. There were many boats anchored in front of the town and these were barely visible through the thick mist rising from the warm water in the cool air. Once again we were underway by 8:30 a.m. The water-lift muffler system on the big diesel was so good that we made barely any noise as we slipped through the mist at idle speed past the anchored boats. As we followed the tide down the river that morning there were line after line of geese in the cloudless sky. By late morning we made the big bend around Eastern Neck Island. There was no wind and the water was calm. The day had become warmer yet there was still a fall coolness in the air. When we reached the main shipping channel of the Chesapeake we folded the Bimini top back so that we could feel the warmth of the sun. Nancy took the helm and I lay down on one of the long bridge seats and slowly drifted off to sleep with the warm sunlight on my face. After my short nap, as we continued up the channel, we passed many private pleasure boats, both power and sail craft, that were obviously traveling to the south. These sights engendered an undeniable longing in us. If we were cruising south again on the ICW this would indeed be the time to go, traveling with the geese. Later in the day we decided to retain the exploratory flavor of our cruise and accordingly bypassed our usual anchorage at Worton Creek in favor of the Still Pond anchorage we had passed on Saturday. We worked our way into the bay almost two miles off the main shipping channel, past the entrance of Still Pond Creek, and then down into the tapering cove at the mouth of Churn Creek. We dropped our anchor in nine feet of water. If the wind came up from out of the north this would be an untenable anchorage, but conditions remained calm and by evening the water was like glass. At dusk, as we sat up on the bridge enjoying another cool evening, we were treated to the sight and sound of an osprey diving into the water. This seemed a fitting capstone to a perfect day.

    On Tuesday morning we covered the 25 miles to our slip at Summit North and began the process of returning to our life on land. We did our laundry, emptied our trash, cleaned up the boat and drove back on the interstates to our house in Easton. Though I cannot remember that either of us spoke the thought out loud at this time, I am sure that each of us knew that our true life, the one we most wanted to live, was the life on the boat. I know now that, after this wonderful cruise through the coolness and beauty of fall, after the haunting cacophony of the geese at Comegys Bight, Easton and Lafayette, for all their attractions, never had a chance.

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    Just because, in retrospect, it seems that the decision was inevitable, it does not mean it was made easily or quickly. What changed after our fall cruise, and we were hardly aware of it at the time, was our vision of the future: we no longer thought of the possibility of living and cruising on our boat full-time as merely an idle fantasy. Instead, after our cruise to Chestertown, it seemed we came to believe that there was some chance, albeit remote, that this could indeed be our future, if we could only find a way. And as the days passed we became ever more determined to find that way.

    After returning to Easton on Tuesday we came back to Summer School on Friday night just three days later. Even stronger than at any time before, when we entered the boat and saw and smelled the rich teak, looked into the forward cabin with its large V-berth, saw our L-shaped settee with its folding table across from the galley area in the main cabin, where we had consumed so many outstanding meals, when we put our weekend things away in the aft cabin with its cozy double bed, we knew that we had come home once again. In my journal I wrote that night, "I can see the strain drop from Nancy's face as soon as we get on the boat." Despite the lateness of the hour and the long drive down from Easton, Nancy settled down onto the settee and wrote in one of her notebooks, developing some ideas for a creative writing project she had tentatively called "Tirades." This was the first time she had done any creative writing since we moved to Easton.

    Over nightcaps we talked about the Annapolis Power Boat Show that was being held this weekend. Every year in October the city of Annapolis held a Sail Boat Show and a Power Boat Show on successive weekends to coincide with the annual migration of cruising boats through the Chesapeake on their way south for the winter. These were annually among the largest boat shows held on the east coast and they provided the boating enthusiast a great opportunity to inspect a wide variety of new products and tour new boats on display at the adjacent docks. Nancy had done considerable work preparing for our attendance using the website developed for the show. She knew what manufacturers would have booths in the exhibition area, what boats would be available for touring, and where they were located on the docks. Using her notes we discussed what we would particularly like to see and planned our visit.

    On Saturday morning we were away early on the drive to Annapolis across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that we had so recently seen from the water. The city was crowded with people attending the show. We had to park on the outskirts and take a shuttle bus down to the waterfront. With our new conception that we might be able to find a way to make full-time boating our life, we were eager to see everything. We looked at all the products on display in the exhibition area thinking of what we could use to improve our boat and make it more suitable to be our only home. And we toured all the new trawlers that were moored at the docks. Aboard a new 36-foot Monk trawler we had a long and especially beneficial conversation with the company president. He explained how each of their trawlers, including the one we were on, was built in Nova Scotia and then brought down the east coast for sale in the States, and how this practice provided a very worthwhile sea trial for their boats. We talked of what features made their boats more seaworthy and more comfortable for living aboard, and we got some ideas for changes we could make in Summer School. We left the show even more excited by our future prospects than we were when we arrived.

1800 Days – Seg. 7 Ch. 2 Pg. 5 - 9

    Saturday morning dawned warm and still, almost like a summer's morning. We were awake by 7 a.m. and followed our usual cruising routine: I start the generator to allow us to begin charging the batteries and use the toaster. We take our morning's pills and have our juice, toast and coffee at the table next to the settee while listening to the day's marine weather forecast broadcast by the local station of NOAA (National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration – a division of the National Weather Service, NWS). I drink my coffee quickly while it is still very hot, then wash, brush my teeth, apply sun screen and leave the cabin to ascend to the bridge to begin preparations there while Nancy sips her coffee, cleans up the galley, makes the bed and does her morning personal grooming. On the bridge I wipe all the surfaces if they are covered by dew (usually), uncover the instrument panel, and then, in the large storage area underneath this panel, I turn off the propane tank, retrieve the cushion for the helm seat, and switch the radio antenna from the lower helm station in the cabin to the upper helm station on the bridge. I unfold the round wooden table we use for chart work and put it in its place behind the helm seat. Next I go below to get the navigational instruments (the VHF radio, the GPS receiver, the radar) and mount them in their brackets on the panel. I descend to the cabin one last time and tell Nancy all is ready up above. Then I shut down the generator and start our main engine, the six-cylinder Perkins diesel that has performed so well for us. Nancy takes the charts, the cruising guides and the binoculars, and climbs the steps to the bridge to take the helm. I go to the bow of the boat, unwrap the anchor rode from the samsonpost, and retrieve the anchor while Nancy moves the boat slowly forward. Finally, using the electric windlass, I break the anchor free of the bottom and bring it aboard while washing off mud with the hose connected to our salt water washdown pump. Nancy turns the boat and steers it back to the main channel of the Sassafras while I hose down the deck and make sure all is properly secured for the day's travels. Then I go to the bridge and usually take the helm while Nancy refers to the charts and directs our course. When we are cruising regularly and doing this every day we can usually get underway in an hour, but we were a little out of practice on this morning and it was not until 8:30 before we were once again in the main channel of the river and heading back to the bay.

    After we left the Sassafras we again followed the main shipping channel of the bay southward. In a few miles we came abreast of a small bay opening to the east that was known as Still Pond. This was another possible anchorage that we had never explored, preferring in the past to anchor in the mouth of Worton Creek just a few more miles to the south, which we soon reached. Below Worton Creek the bay opens into a large body of water over eight miles wide. By late morning the temperature had become quite warm, perhaps over 80, but the wind remained calm and the water flat despite the size of the bay. As we continued down the channel we were finally able to distinguish the Chesapeake Bay Bridge miles away through the haze. This high long bridge, which connects Kent Island to the east with the Maryland mainland near Annapolis in the west, was very memorable to us, and we talked of our first cruise south in 1993 when the weather was very much the same and I cooked breakfast while Nancy steered the boat down the shipping channel toward the center span of the bridge. This morning, however, we turned to the east to enter the three-mile wide mouth of the Chester River.

    The Chester enters the bay by making a large J-shaped bend around a long peninsula called Eastern Neck. We stayed in the center of the river and followed it around the bend, a distance of about eight miles, until we were headed north between Eastern Neck Island and Tilghman Neck on the Maryland mainland to the east. All of this was new water to us. As we cruised northward, and then northeast on this big river, we were excited to see so many places inviting exploration, such as Grays Inn Creek and Langford Creek (really a river) on our left, and Reed Creek and the Corsica River on our right. However our excitement was dampened by an infestation of small flies that swarmed all over us in the hot still October afternoon. Beyond the mouth of the Corsica the Chester River became narrower and the flies seemed to be fewer. On the left side of the river there was a significant bay known as Comegys Bight that extends more than a mile from the main river channel. The chart showed the bay to be adequately deep almost to the end where Comegys Creek enters, and we decided to anchor there for the night rather than go on to Chestertown, which was still at least two hours away, against the strong current of the Chester through unfamiliar waters.

    That night's anchorage in Comegys Bight was unforgettable. It is perhaps not too much of an exaggeration to say that, in retrospect, it was even a turning point in our lives. We cautiously steered the boat as deep into the bight as we dared and set our anchor in about seven feet of water, a quarter-mile from the marsh where Comegys Creek enters. It was 3 p.m. The remainder of the afternoon we crabbed off the stern, finally using the crab traps we had previously bought. On her first try Nancy caught a large beautiful blue crab and we immediately started to plan a big crab boil for dinner. Incomprehensibly, that was the only crab we caught for the remainder of the afternoon. We returned him to his element and resigned ourselves to our previously planned dinner of ham with artichokes au gratin. By 6 p.m. the wind picked up out of the north, the air became almost immediately somewhat cooler and noticeably drier. At dusk we noticed several flocks of Canada geese flying over the boat and we heard their haunting calls. We knew we were on the Chesapeake and it was fall.

    We awoke at 7:30 in the morning to the loud honking of geese, a brisk north wind and a cool 64 degrees in the cabin. What a glorious, golden, beautiful day it was. We donned our sweat suits to keep warm and took our coffee up to the bridge so that we could feel the full crispness of this fall morning. Geese were everywhere in the sky and in the marshes at the head of the bight. Their honking was constant and unbelievably loud. As we listened and watched, immersed in these sounds and sights, something disturbed the geese in the marshes and they rose in great numbers, filling the sky like a cloud, gabbling and complaining loudly. It was a thrilling experience and we sat entranced.

    We decided that we would delay our departure for Chestertown and "take a Sunday" on this, our first truly fall morning on the water. According to our tradition, then, we made weak Bloody Marys. We took these up to the bridge to drink and talk in the warming sunlight. We did not play our usual music, an opera normally, deciding to replace this with the music of the geese. Later I cooked an open-faced omelet and bacon, which we consumed with a glass of cold white wine. Then we rested for a while, surrounded by the shimmering sunlight and the sounds of the geese.

    A little after noon we started the engine, retrieved our anchor and headed up-river for Chestertown. It was a windy ride, getting cooler as we went, but the river was comparatively sheltered and narrow, though the channel was easily followed and deep (at places the chart showed depths as much as 50 feet). We wore jackets on the bridge and I even wore gloves to warm my hands as I handled the wheel. What a new experience this was! We thought of the many times friends in Cape May would tell us, when we had to put our boat in storage in August so that we could return to our jobs in Colorado, that we were missing the best time for boating when we could not enjoy the fall. We knew now they were right.

    By mid-afternoon we had moored the boat in a shallow narrow slip in Kibler's Marina on the Chestertown waterfront. The main part of the town was in easy walking distance from the marina. The cruising guide referred to Chestertown as "a jewel of a small town" and "one of the most charming towns on the Chesapeake." It was easy to see why. We walked on tree-lined brick sidewalks past restored 18^th century brick buildings, some owned by Washington College. The center of town, several blocks away from the waterfront, surrounded a small park and we were lucky enough to find that we had arrived in Chestertown on one of its "market days." There were numbers of food and craft booths set up around the park, and we walked around town eating a "crab cone" we had purchased from one of the booths. Finally, we had our taste of Chesapeake Bay blue crab. Later in the evening we had a full seafood feast at the excellent restaurant next to the marina. Afterward, we relaxed in the boat, full and happy and satisfied, and we ran our electric heater in the cabin because it was such a cool night.