Here are maps of Misty Pearl’s stops along our way Down East. Pressing one of the little red balloon-looking thingys will load up our blog posts related to that spot on The Down East Circle.
Category: Down East Circle 2019
Of Beginnings and Endings, and Beginnings
Yesterday, as promised, we chickened out of traveling. Hardly a cloud to be found, but too dang windy for our taste. The next week or so looks like good traveling so why be miserable? So instead we Mini-Pearled around. We checked out what’d be the backside of our B & B if we weren’t also too chicken to open that B & B.
We even took the depth finder out. Ten feet of water where we’d put the marina. Perfect for eight slips and a T-head. Is that a sign or what?
Inside the Fishermen Museum we found a model of the home, because it’s historic or something. Another sign?
Whilst we pondered the possibilities—and pondered the foolishness of even considering the possibilities—we had a delicious dinner on the waterfront deck of the only restaurant in town where we hadn’t already eaten. The deck was full of boaters, and as generally is the case we all started talking. At an adjacent table sat two sailing couples. Turns out they cruised down the rivers last fall. Hey, we cruised down the rivers last fall too! They had a sad story about how their sailboat—Fair Wind—sank on the Tennessee River and was salvaged at Cuba Landing. Hey, we cruised down the Tennessee River and stopped at Cuba Landing too! Small world. Wait a second. Come to think of it, when we pulled in to Cuba Landing, a sailboat named Fair Wind had just been hauled out and wrapped in tarps and was sitting on the bottom right next to us. Yup, same boat. We even had a picture to prove it.
By now they have a new boat, so were in much better humor than we’d have been if strangers had been cackling about witnessing our misery. What are the odds? More signs that we should buy that Victorian maybe? The point is that Reedville is a cool little village. Anyone who takes fish oil supplements or eats cat food should appreciate Reedville as the Menhaden Capitol of the World. Plus Jennings Boat Yard was an awesome find.
Okay, we’re probably not going to open a bed & breakfast or a marina in the Menhaden Capitol of the World. Might as well put Mini Pearl back in her cradle and plan our trip up to Spring Cove. Looks like we might just string together a few good travel days. Finally. So this morning at 7:40 we slipped the lines and headed for glory. Past the menhaden pound net traps and on up to the mouth of the Potomac.
Anyone who’s been reading our drivel, er, blog posts, from the start, will recall that we left Washington D.C on May 23 last year.
Although the Potomac is a Loop side trip, the original plan was to go back up and claim victory at The Yards. Meh. The Potomac was really cool once up and once down—and before we saw the rest of the much cooler stuff along the way—but we hate D.C., Mallory is gone, and there’s no point in going back.
After our first Loop stop at Colonial Beach, we rounded Point Lookout, cruised out to green 69A, joined up with The Loop proper, and headed north.
From there we’ve spent over a year underway. That’s a ton of miles and locks and drawbridges and boats and dolphins and LCBOs and boat cards and tows with barges and rivers and crab pots and canals and long days and great restaurants and gorgeous sunsets and crappy days and fog and new friends who became old friends. What a trip.
At 10:15 this morning, we paused at green 69A.
We were last here 387 days ago. We didn’t necessarily love every minute of those 387 days, but the minutes we didn’t love at least were rare and interesting.
Woooo! The Gods of Sea and Air honored the occasion by giving us an easy day crossing the Potomac, which allowed for a champagne (and cranberry) toast in front of the channel marker that’s now maybe the most important of the thousands of channel markers we’ve passed.
We’re happy Brent and Karen were along to celebrate with us. Plus we needed someone to take the picture.
A couple of hours later we pulled back into Spring Cove.
The end of The Loop, for us, also is the start of the Down East Circle. We’ll head back up the Hudson, but instead of a left at the Erie Canal we’ll go straight up to the St. Lawrence. Then hook a right. Until we get past Albany we’ll be replowing ground we’ve already covered. Plus we’re in a bit of a hurry so the days might be long. Which means blog posts might be iffy. But we’ll round back into shape at some point.
How’s it possible to go north to go Down East?
So we’re claiming to have started the Down East Circle at Spring Cove Marina.* “Spring Cove Marina” sounds a lot sexier than, say, “a green channel marker covered in bird poop.” That makes today—instead of the second half of yesterday—our first day on the Circle.
Up and at it this morning, because good travel days have been as hard to find as Tennessee Volunteer touchdowns. And a gorgeous day it was.
Somehow we’re supposed to feel wiser and more competent today, because after all, we’re GOLD LOOPERS. When we started this thing, we thought of Gold Loopers as gurus on the mountain, sages in the wilderness, folks to be revered.
In reality, it doesn’t seem work that way. At least for us. Doug still was absurdly confident that everyone in our general vicinity intentionally was trying to screw with us. Dana still believed with all her heart that we were about to run into every single crab pot on the Bay. Crab pots, or maybe pool toys.
Somewhere in Maryland there’s either a crying child or a crabber with a sense of humor. We tend to think it’s the former because a few hundred yards further along we passed a beach ball that appeared to belong with the watermelon. We promise we would’ve retrieved them both but the water was a bit churny at that spot, even if the photo doesn’t show it.
Anyway, we managed to muddle up to Herrington Harbour South.
This is where we picked up Brent and Karen—and where they left their car—so it kind of made sense for them to get off here as well. Good times. We’re sad to see them go but glad they traveled with us for a few days. They were a huge part of our Loop experience. We’re trusting that someplace down the waterways we’ll boat with them again. Hopefully soon.
Tomorrow a long day up to Bohemia Bay at the top of the Chesapeake.
____________
* That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll end back there, of course. The trip up to Manhattan is kind of like a balloon tail. Once we get past the Statue of Liberty we’ll take the Hudson north but then in about September we’ll come back through Long Island Sound and down the East River to the same statue, assuming we can find it.
Why can’t every day be like today (but cooler)?
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 in a movie 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 pay 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 with no trace 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?
Despite the litter, the water and weather were 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.
The stuck us out at the end of the long dock, because, they said, 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 since we danced with Warship 61.
Out of the gloom, a ray of sunshine
Monday night we stayed inside and caught up on the last season of Survivor. Count us in the group who thinks the whole “Edge of Extinction” thing was ridiculous. Chris coming back at the end and stealing the title from Devens was completely bogus.
Yesterday’s theme was Fifty Shades of Gray. Not the kinky kind of gray, of course, but the gray shades that permeate your soul. It started when we awoke for the short hop across the C & D Canal to Delaware City.
Hey, at least we caught the current down the canal. We had packages waiting for us at the marina and figured to be there well before lunch.
Here’s the C & D Canal Railroad Bridge. Again.
Mostly this bridge is significant for its insignificance. When we came through here the first time, this was the coolest thing we’d seen. A bridge that goes up and down? For trains? It was so awe-inspiring that we took roughly a gazillion photos of it. How could we possibly know these things would become more of a nuisance than a marvel. In fact, we almost got stopped for a train this time.
Shortly before reaching the Delaware River, we started thinking about Cape May and the weather. The waves were minimal. We maybe could catch the current and be there before dark. Oscar was sleeping too soundly to voice concern about the additional time aboard. Crap, what about the packages? The Delaware City Marina is really cool, but somewhat difficult to navigate. We called to see if the current would allow us to come in, dock, pick up the packages, flip around, and get out. Tim the Dockmaster volunteered that doing all that would add two hours to the trip down the Bay. So he jumped in his work boat, met us in the river, tossed the packages to Dana, and even refused our offer of money. In his honor, we named the ray of sunshine “Tim.”*
Heading south the gray continued in various degrees.
Gross. And it drizzled from time to time.
Even the herons looked grayer than usual.
But we made Cape May, tied up nicely, and Oscar was able to do everything he needed to do, all before the massive thunderstorm hit.
Sunday now appears to be the next decent day for the long run from Atlantic City to Great Kills. We have no interest in Manasquan, where death nearly is certain. We’d rather stay a few extra days in Atlantic City than go into Manasquan, because certain death is about the only thing worse than staying in Atlantic City.
Last time through here we docked at Canyon Club, which wasn’t close to much of anything other than the drunk shark fishermen and the even drunker old dudes on the sailboat. This time we’re almost in town. Cape May is pretty cool after all.
What isn’t cool? Continuing Legal Education. CLE is the annual pain-in-the-butt that requires completion by the end of June. Fortunately it’s now all online. Unfortunately it still sucks. But we both finished up today.
Docktails with Shingebiss, Carolina Dream, and Time to Breathe. Good times. Tomorrow, Atlantic City.
__________
* We also nominated him for AGLCA’s Dockmaster of the Year.