When we left at 6:55 this morning, the Chesapeake was smooth. Almost too smooth. Doug thought it looked like the surface of the mountain lake where the girls are swimming and then their classmate who they drowned in a bullying-incident-gone-bad a year earlier but never told anyone about reached up with bloody hands and dragged them down one by one to a watery grave, their screams of terror turning quiet as they paid the ultimate price for being part of a mean-girl clique. Dana thinks Doug’s an idiot.
A big boat loomed in the haze. Doug thought it looked like a ghost ship, left adrift when the crew mysteriously vanished shortly after a final desperate radio call reporting bright lights silently hovering just above the superstructure. Dana thinks Doug’s an idiot.
Ok maybe it was just so smooth that Doug’s imagination ran a tad wild. But at least Dana was able to use the dog-retrieving net to snag some garbage.
Even though the message on the balloon certainly was appropriate for Doug, balloons are deadly for wildlife. Come on people, stop with the balloons. Or at least don’t put helium in them.
Back under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.
Past Annapolis, and St. Michael’s, and Baltimore. Several hours later, another balloon. What the hell is wrong with people? Where do they think balloons go after the two seconds of watching them flutter in the air before going back to the picnic table for more of that delicious barbecue?
It was nice enough that we contemplated going on to Delaware City, but Oscar has a long run up the Atlantic coast in his future so we figured seven hours was enough for today. Speaking of Oscar, he spent the afternoon sunning himself on the flybridge, no doubt day-dreaming about strangers with endless treats and a willingness to share them with a small black-but-graying senior dog.
All day, smooth water. As smooth as whipped butter. As smooth as Doug’s head. Smooth, baby.
Doug took a long shower, because underway we have nearly unlimited hot water. Dana took a nap, because underway or not she really likes naps.
The only troublesome patch was the shallow entry up the Bohemia River. At a few spots we had only an inch or two under the keel. It felt kind of like Canal Lake. But we spotted the lighthouse and eased on in.
They stuck us out at the end of the long dock, because that’s where the “deep water” lives. By “deep water” we mean four feet of water. Which means we’re on the bottom at low tide.
Being stuck on the bottom isn’t a big deal, of course, because we know how to handle being stuck on the bottom. We’ve been to Alton, Illinois. On the positive side of things, the lighthouse can guide us back to the boat if we get lost. Getting lost seems unlikely though, because we ain’t leaving the boat. Inside we have AC. And good WiFi. Outside it’s hot. And muggy. And it just started raining.
Tomorrow we leave the Chesapeake Bay, after what seems like an eternity.