The wind came up just after I passed Tolchester Beach in the upper bay this morning. I was soon standing at the helm watching spray explode from the bow and turning into heavy streams of water running down the side deck. I asked myself that universal human question, “Why am I here?”
Not long after, I looked over at the high bluffs of Worton Point and visualized the calm and beautiful lee that would be under them along the beach. I realized that the truly profound question of existence at the moment actually was, “Why am I not there?” Half an hour later, I was.
Just after diverting from the ship channel, I realized that I’ve been suffering Plan B’it is. When you have had your teeth kicked down your throat with Plan A and you have a very good and attractive Plan B, it’s easy throw yourself manically into its implementation.
I’d left Solomons at 0520 after a night with a lot less sleep than I’m used to. I ran up to Annapolis where Jimm had arranged for me to borrow the slip next to his boat. He took me around on a multi store, major re-provisioning and I took him out for crabs.
Jimm has an entry about my stop on his blog:
http://chesapeaketidings.com/2013/05/03/passing-through/
This morning, I was underway at 0545 determined to make it to Chesapeake City.
Those of you who have followed this forum know how prone I am to the I’ll cruise when I get there. rationalizations. Perhaps that’s what I should have put on my gravestone. In fact, my last print article (yes, I also write for the old fashioned media) was titled, “Strider goes…Cruising?”
You can read it here:
http://issuu.com/pointseast/docs/june2012-issuu?mode=window&backgroundColor=#222222 (See Page 42)
(The editor held onto this one for a long time so it predates everything in this forum.)
When the anchor was down in the beautiful calm, I looked over at this little hint of a creek and decided that the time to start cruising is right now.
I did my record run from Beaufort to Washington, DC to see my son. That’s enough rushing around for this year. Maine ASAP is no longer the slogan.
I rowed into the creek and poled and scooched (that’s where you clean the bottom by jerking the dinghy over the shoal spots by jerking yourself back and forth on the seat) up this creek and into a beautiful little marsh pond.
Before rounding the bend , I saw an eagle and a heron having an aerial dogfight about something. The heron appeared to win. Those long beaks may be good for more than spearing fish. When I came around the corner into the marsh, I could see three pairs of eagles, several adolescents, and at least a half dozen herons. I have never seen so many eagles in one place before.
I sat to enjoy the scene and, shortly after I stopped rowing, the water of the marsh erupted. The whole expanse up to the old foot bridge was a maelstrom of large fish, about legal Striper size, zooming around in the shallow water. They would shoot up into the shallows until their back fins and about a third of their body was out of the water and then flop and wriggle back into the deeper water. I noticed that they were generally doing this with other fish and clearly getting lucky, fish style. At times, portions of the marsh looked like the patches of white water where a fast moving stream runs over a gravel bar.
I kicked myself for not bringing my real camera that would take video that would show the fish. I was so enthralled that I forget to try and get some still photos of the fish with my cell phone.
I decided that there was important stuff going on so I had better leave them to it. Good thing I did. By the time I started back, the tide was coming in the creek so fast that it was a near thing rowing and poling out.
I pulled the dinghy up on the beach and cleaned off what the trip in and out hadn’t and then took a walk on the beach. Then back to the boat for a nap after a check of the Internet to determine that the fish were American Shad.
I woke up to see that the wind had eased. The day, or at least the afternoon, was young (well middle aged) so I decided to run around and up to Georgetown at the end of the Sassafras River. This river does indeed live up to everything I’ve heard about it. The photographer was enjoying the scenery so much he completely forgot about the camera.
I felt right at home in Georgetown, it is a harbor full of moorings, a little bit of New England in the Chesapeake. I didn’t feel like paying for one though so I ran back up the river a couple miles to anchor in the beautiful spot where I am writing this.
Tomorrow? Who knows, I’m cruising.
Not long after, I looked over at the high bluffs of Worton Point and visualized the calm and beautiful lee that would be under them along the beach. I realized that the truly profound question of existence at the moment actually was, “Why am I not there?” Half an hour later, I was.
Just after diverting from the ship channel, I realized that I’ve been suffering Plan B’it is. When you have had your teeth kicked down your throat with Plan A and you have a very good and attractive Plan B, it’s easy throw yourself manically into its implementation.
I’d left Solomons at 0520 after a night with a lot less sleep than I’m used to. I ran up to Annapolis where Jimm had arranged for me to borrow the slip next to his boat. He took me around on a multi store, major re-provisioning and I took him out for crabs.
Jimm has an entry about my stop on his blog:
http://chesapeaketidings.com/2013/05/03/passing-through/
This morning, I was underway at 0545 determined to make it to Chesapeake City.
Those of you who have followed this forum know how prone I am to the I’ll cruise when I get there. rationalizations. Perhaps that’s what I should have put on my gravestone. In fact, my last print article (yes, I also write for the old fashioned media) was titled, “Strider goes…Cruising?”
You can read it here:
http://issuu.com/pointseast/docs/june2012-issuu?mode=window&backgroundColor=#222222 (See Page 42)
(The editor held onto this one for a long time so it predates everything in this forum.)
When the anchor was down in the beautiful calm, I looked over at this little hint of a creek and decided that the time to start cruising is right now.
I did my record run from Beaufort to Washington, DC to see my son. That’s enough rushing around for this year. Maine ASAP is no longer the slogan.
I rowed into the creek and poled and scooched (that’s where you clean the bottom by jerking the dinghy over the shoal spots by jerking yourself back and forth on the seat) up this creek and into a beautiful little marsh pond.
Before rounding the bend , I saw an eagle and a heron having an aerial dogfight about something. The heron appeared to win. Those long beaks may be good for more than spearing fish. When I came around the corner into the marsh, I could see three pairs of eagles, several adolescents, and at least a half dozen herons. I have never seen so many eagles in one place before.
I sat to enjoy the scene and, shortly after I stopped rowing, the water of the marsh erupted. The whole expanse up to the old foot bridge was a maelstrom of large fish, about legal Striper size, zooming around in the shallow water. They would shoot up into the shallows until their back fins and about a third of their body was out of the water and then flop and wriggle back into the deeper water. I noticed that they were generally doing this with other fish and clearly getting lucky, fish style. At times, portions of the marsh looked like the patches of white water where a fast moving stream runs over a gravel bar.
I kicked myself for not bringing my real camera that would take video that would show the fish. I was so enthralled that I forget to try and get some still photos of the fish with my cell phone.
I decided that there was important stuff going on so I had better leave them to it. Good thing I did. By the time I started back, the tide was coming in the creek so fast that it was a near thing rowing and poling out.
I pulled the dinghy up on the beach and cleaned off what the trip in and out hadn’t and then took a walk on the beach. Then back to the boat for a nap after a check of the Internet to determine that the fish were American Shad.
I woke up to see that the wind had eased. The day, or at least the afternoon, was young (well middle aged) so I decided to run around and up to Georgetown at the end of the Sassafras River. This river does indeed live up to everything I’ve heard about it. The photographer was enjoying the scenery so much he completely forgot about the camera.
I felt right at home in Georgetown, it is a harbor full of moorings, a little bit of New England in the Chesapeake. I didn’t feel like paying for one though so I ran back up the river a couple miles to anchor in the beautiful spot where I am writing this.
Tomorrow? Who knows, I’m cruising.
