From the Captain

Heading south on the Chesapeake

September 29, 2013

Luna has been tied up at the Tidewater Marina in Havre de Grace, Maryland, for the past two days while we visited my sister and her family in Virginia. Tidewater has the best showers I think we'll ever find. Clean, roomy, plenty of hot water, and pressure that feels like it could knock you over. I imagine of all the things we will learn to appreciate on this trip, the well-appointed shower will top the list.

Havre de Grace is at the mouth of the Susquehanna River. The guidebook notes that the Chesapeake Bay is actually a "drowned river," the entire body of water representing the mighty Susquehanna's exit pathway to the Atlantic. At one time, Havre de Grace was a center of commerce for goods coming down river from central Pennsylvania on the way to Baltimore, a major port at the time. There are remnants of an old post road that connected Philadelphia and New york with Washington and the southern colonies. George Washington actually did sleep here. Havre de Grace also figured prominently in the War of 1812, when the British fleet attacked and burned the town on their way further south. Things seem much quieter here now.

Enjoying a crab cake lunch on the banks of the Susquehanna

After returning from Virginia this noon time, we have our first Maryland crabcake sandwich at the Tidewater restaurant, right on the water. Four stars here. I'm sure the crabmeat is very fresh. On the way over from the Bohemia, we were dodging buoys marking crab traps whenever we strayed from the marked channel.

Since we have the rental car, we do some shopping and walk around the town. People are friendly here. Carol stops by a community garden and talks with a woman, a Canadian ex-pat, and walks away with a bag of home-grown tomatoes. Down at the maritime museum and lighthouse on the southern end of town, a woman who volunteers at the museum says she came to town from the Boston area 10 years ago intending to retire further south. "I crossed the bridge, and I never left," she says. "People are really friendly here, and everyone knows your name. Sort of like Mayberry." Sort of like Vermont, we think.

Tomorrow, before returning the car, we will visit a local sea food shop suggested to us by the community gardener. We'll buy something to grill in the evening, then depart for the Sassafras River.

September 30 Havre de Grace, MD, to Sassafras River, Woodland Creek 15.5 nm.

We left Havre de Grace on a windless day. The bay was as smooth as glass. Good for motoring, but it would be nice to be able to sail again. Our goal was Georgetown, Maryland, a boating center noted for its marinas and services for boaters. We didn't need any particular services, but thought it would be fun to see. We anchored in a small creek about a mile downstream of the small town.

The commander enjoys a swim in Woodland Creek

The day was warm and sunny. For the first time since the Hudson River, we had a swim. The water was cool, but not cold by Vermont standards, and brackish. It was delightful. The water here has a brownish hue, and treading water, I couldn't see below my waist. In our bay on Lake Champlain, except for certain times of the year, you can usually see your feet when upright in the water.

Perhaps the water is turbulent from the tides and currents, and that affects clarity. We saw many houses on the way up the river, large places with big lawns that went right down to the water. Others had beneficial buffer zones of trees and vegetation that would keep sediments, phosphates, and other chemicals from reaching the waterway. I'm not sure of the level of awareness of water quality down here on the Chesapeake. It is high in Vermont. Lake Champlain still suffers.

Several bass boats passed us. These are the low flat ones with big motors, and they go fast. They have a raised seat in the front where the fisherman can sit and control the electric trolling motor with a foot pedal while he casts. Like the ones on TV, these boats are all tricked out. Considering their cost and the fuel burned, the price per fish caught must be enormous, but, of course, the catch is only part of the story. I asked one guy who was fishing around the docks of the marina what he was fishing for. He said, "Large-mouth bass."

I recall earlier days when my father used to wake me at 5 am with the annoyingly effective trick of tickling my ear with a piece of string. This feels like a fly is landing on your face. We'd be out before dawn and once at the fishing place would rent a SMALL boat, a rowboat or perhaps one with a small outboard. We'd go out, not too far, and spend the hours casting our lures and retrieving them, much like the wannabe bass masters. And with the same hopeful and sorry result.

Lunch aboard Luna

We grill the shrimp we bought in Havre de Grace with some tomatoes, onions, and peppers, and make shrimp fajitas for dinner. (Shrimp is not local to the Chesapeake Bay, but the pound of fresh back fin crabmeat we bought was. That served us for two meals: a crab salad with avocado and tomato lunch and a crabcake dinner.) The commander and I discuss our course over the past few days. We have been taking our time doodling around the upper bay, but have not made much progress to the south We decide we should be more directed toward our goal, especially as the weather is bound to turn colder up here before long. Tomorrow, we'll take another short journey to a quiet cove not too far away. But then, we'll head under the Bay Bridge to Annapolis and points south. Luckily, there is still time to visit interesting places along the way. We'll just start to make sure they're a little further apart.

a hopeful gull stands guard at dinner time

October 1, Woodland Creek to Worton Creek 14.9nm
October 2, Worton Creek to Annapolis 23.6nm.

Worton Creek is a quiet little place with a wide mouth that offers a sandy bottom good for anchoring and protection from north and east winds. There is no wind tonight, so we anchored out in the mouth. We swam and watched the sunset. It was warm enough to sit out on the deck at night and watch night fall. This is a first for this trip.

Worton Creek boasts three marinas. The place is literally full of boats. The furthest one up is the Worton Creek Marina that can fill our propane tank. It's not empty, but we have never filled it and don't know its level. We'd hate to run out in some remote spot. Drawing on past experience, we had them pump the holding tank, too. Actually, not only past experience. The water tank I built on the port side has been leaking and a plumbing joint has failed. Last night, I pumped its contents into a bucket. I'm hassled by this, and instead of emptying the bucket into the starboard side tank, I open the deck fitting for the holding tank without thinking and dump it in there, followed by two other bucketsful like it.

Marina people seem invariably nice and helpful. Marinas are like an oasis while traveling on a watery desert. They have stores, bathrooms, water, fuel, pump outs (usually), advice, friendly conversation. The Worton Creek Marina is no exception.

As we leave Worton Creek, a west wind picks up, and we hoist the sails and have a nice ride. Eventually, the wind dies back, and we turn toward the west, into the wind, and we start the motor and motor sail for a bit. We furl the jib when we do. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge comes into view, and a couple hours later, we sail under it.

Sailing under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge

This is an emotional experience for me. This is where I learned to sail at the age of 15 or so. My father and I took a navigation and boat-handling course from the US Power Squadron followed by a course on sailing. My folks bought an Alberg 30 sloop and hired an instructor from the Naval Academy to come on the boat with us to teach the practical side of sailing. He taught us to heel over far enough to wet the lee rail and revel in the excitement of it, to anticipate changes in wind force and direction, to tack and to gybe, to set the sails correctly for each point of sailing. I ate it up.

The boat, Carnival Lady, (from a name shouted after my mother at some Caribbean Island my parents visited) lived in Annapolis, and we sailed under the  Bay Bridge and to places  across the bay and to the south. It's been nearly  50 years since I've made this trip.

We motored past the Naval Academy into Annapolis. We found a public mooring ball right off the public dock downtown on Spa Creek. It was as I remembered it, except all the boats are much bigger. And there are lots more of them. Actually, there are a whole lot more of them. The annual powerboat show starts tomorrow and the sailboat show the week after. Lots of people are in town to check out what's new in boats and equipment for boats.The town is buzzing.

The captain with oysters, crab soup and a beer. Don't get much better

We  took the dinghy into the public dock and walked across the Spa Creek drawbridge into Eastport, where the Alberg 30 had her slip. We found an informal looking restaurant, The Boatyard. We were in luck: happy-hour prices. We had a dozen oysters, a cup of crab soup and a pint (two) of the local beer. On the way back, we had ice cream cones in a home-made ice cream place on Main St. I am in heaven.