I feel that if I leave the ship for too long or go too far, it may sail without me (and that then I would be lost in the real world).      Redmond O'Hanlon


From the Captain

4/28/14. Hudson Creek to Rock Hall Landing Marina, Rock Hall, MD 46nm

The morning has started off cloudy and misty, but a promise of sunshine later in the morning. There is an easterly wind, and, out in the channel, we hoist sail and turn the engine off as we head north up the bay. At the mouth of the Little Choptank, two dolphins surface off Luna's starboard quarter. They swim with us for a bit, as if to send us off, back toward the north country.

They take the breeze with them as they go. Shortly, the wind stops, the sails come down, and we're under motor, toward the northern part of the bay. The surface of the water is dead calm. The Chesapeake Bay bridge appears faintly, dead ahead. We're nearly 20miles away, but the bridge is high enough and large enough to be plainly visible, even at that distance.

A tanker shows its starboard side as it overtakes Luna

We reach Rock Hall near the marina's closing time, but Chris, the owner, is there and helps us into a vacant slip. It's early in the season there after a cold winter and rainy spring. There are a lot of empty slips. "We'll do a starboard tie," he says. "There is heavy rain and a strong east wind coming, and it will push you away from the dock if you tie on that side." We sign in, and he gives us a map of the town and a list of local restaurants and shops, the combination to the bathrooms, and the password for the marina wifi.

Downtown Rock Hall is a quarter mile from the marina, and we carry the umbrella as we walk in. It's already starting to drizzle. Dinner is at The Kitchen, a small restaurant on the main street. "They have the best crab cakes," Chris tells us.

Rock Hall is a charming bay town, a fishing and crabbing village at the mouth of the Chester River. As the fisheries have declined, the town, like so many others, is cashing in on the yachting boom. Marinas and restaurants line the protected harbor. Small shops downtown. Some waterfront condominiums. Small houses on the streets. Cherry blossoms and dogwood in bloom.

And very few people. We are one of only three occupied tables in the restaurant. The town is deathly quiet. The boating season is delayed. Bad weather is coming. No one is here.

4/29/14. I'm sure we are the only ones at the marina. It's a seriously rainy day. We have the cabin top covered with a tarp to keep out the rain. That helps. There is still some water seeping around the bolts that fix the deck to the hull. Together with condensation, the water in the enclosed lockers will require drying and bleaching to keep the mildew down. But not today. We're due for two solid days of rain. The radar application on the smart phone shows a major storm from the Florida panhandle all up the east coast, exiting the country right at the top of the DelMarVa peninsula.

Fortunately, Rock Hall Landing has a strong wifi signal that reaches our slip. The internet service is fast. We buy the last season of Downton Abbey from VUDU and watch each episode on the laptop over the two days. During a lull in the rain, we walk over to the Waterman's Crab House for dinner. There are very few others there. The owner bemoans the cold, wet weather and the delayed spring.

We can imagine what a vibrant waterfront town Rock Hall must be. Waterman's has a large deck facing the harbor. You can tie your boat there while you eat. Chris, the marina owner, lends us his car to drive out to the fish market and the supermarket. There are interesting shops along the way, but hardly anyone on the streets.

4/30/14 Rock Hall to Bohemia Bay Yacht Harbor, Chesapeake City, MD 34nm

We've been gone for seven-and-a-half months now. Part of that time, we've been in remote parts of the Bahamas and out of touch. We've worried about what would happen in the case of a family emergency. How would they reach us? How could we get back for them?

The family has been fortunate. We have been fortunate. Up until now. Last night, the commander got a call from her sister. Their mom, at age 96, is suddenly ill and is on her way to the hospital by ambulance. Overnight, her condition deteriorates.

The commander calls Enterprise. There are no cars to rent in Rock Hall or Baltimore. There are some in Chesapeake City. The weather has improved overnight. We reserve a car for tomorrow in Chesapeake City and leave the marina, heading north on the bay.

After the storm, the bay is flat calm. There is a lot of floating debris--branches, logs, boards--in the water. The debris is easy to avoid. Easier than the crab traps. Fortunately, it's early in the season, and they haven't been put out yet.

The marina on Bohemia Bay will take Luna for the week, but as we motor toward it, the situation in the hospital deteriorates. The commander, with help from our daughter-in-law, has a car waiting at the marina to drive her to the Baltimore airport. From there she will fly up to Albany with our oldest son, in from Milwaukee.

I spend the night on the Bohemia River and will get the rental car in the morning to make the drive up to western Massachusetts. As it turns out, neither the commander nor I will arrive in time. Her mom passes quietly before Carol arrives in Baltimore. We will stay the week among family and friends in the Berkshires.

There is a funeral to arrange. Grief in the beginning. The week ends with a sense of optimism, of mutual support and appreciation, of joy in tribute to the commander's mother--a long life well lived.

The commander has stayed in touch with her mom while we have been stateside. Invariably, when asked how she was feeling her mom answered: "I feel really good. I can't believe how good I feel. You're having fun on the boat, aren't you?"

5/7/14  Western Massachusetts to Boston to Stamford, CT, to Bohemia Bay

Time to return to the ship. In the rental car, we leave the Berkshires with the commander's Aunt Kay aboard. We drop her at her place in Boston. From her apartment, we can see and smell the ocean. It feels good to be back. We celebrate with a lobster roll and cup of clam chowder from Hooks Lobster Co. right on the waterfront, on the way to Kay's apartment. Her treat.

Lunch on the Boston waterfront

Then we're back on the road toward Maryland. We stay overnight in a hotel in Stamford, Connecticut, price lined en route by the commander. As we travel on I-95 through New Haven and south, we can see snatches of the sea to the east. We're glad to be going back to Luna.

We return the rental car to the Enterprise office in Middletown, Delaware, and their driver takes us back to Bohemia Bay. Luna is there. She hasn't left without us. She's just as we left her. A little musty in the closed cabin, but we open the hatches and clear the air. The sun is out. It shines brightly into the cockpit, and it's hot. There is little wind. The trees look a little greener than when we left.

We take a break, sit in the cockpit, have a plate of chèvre and crackers along with a gin and tonic. It's happy hour. For the first time in more than a week. we can sit back, enjoy the quiet, take in the scenery around us--the water, an occasional fish breaking the surface, trees, a few seagulls. A heron glides by. Other boats in the marina. Here and there an owner working on his boat. We feel a part of it all. This is a nice life.

On the stereo, the commander plays some of the music from the funeral: our son, Noah, recorded a version of the 23rd Psalm, accompanying the soloist with his saxophone. Then he recorded one of his grandmother's signature tunes, "My Little Grass Shack," which sent the mourners off from the funeral service. For perhaps the first time in a week, we have some time to spend in quiet reflection.

In Memoriam: Barbara Augusta Hanley Ludwig, 1917-2014