A Day at Spring Cove

Today we are still at Spring Cove Marina on Solomons Island in Maryland. We did some cleaning, laundry, topped off the water tanks, and visited with our former dock neighbors. We came in yesterday, late Sunday afternoon, after many sailors had gone home for the weekend. So we were surprised to run into Charlie and Marty who sail to the Bahamas most winters and who gave us some good advice about getting there.

We also saw some of our Scottish friends such as, well, Scotty, whose advice when having our transmission rebuilt was invaluable. Scotty and his wife used to make regular trans-Atlantic trips, under sail, back to Scotland. Perhaps they still do.

We saw John, who used to live alone aboard his boat, now happily married with a new son. John gleams more now than he used to.

Brian, the go-to guy around here, is as pleasant as ever as is the rest of the staff.

We were sad to have missed our great friends, Bruce and Wynne aboard Seahawk. They were great company for Mandy a couple years back when I did some time away to visit family.

We have a few tasks and shopping to do tomorrow before we depart. Tomorrow, the meteorologists say, will bring mostly sun with temps into the 70s but the rest of the week will be rainy. Yesterday I saw sirus clouds, the wispy ice clouds high in the sky, that predict an approaching cold front. Also, the winds had shifted around from the east. Anytime you see clouds in the sky and the wind comes from any easterly direction, rain will likely come soon. We plan to anchor in nearby St. Leonard Creek, a tributary to the Patuxent, and use the rainy days to continue fixing things.

We had an unusual occurrence today. Not long after we arose for the morning, while I checked e-mail and Mandy read her Kindle, I heard noises on the deck. I popped my head through the main companionway to find a rotund Ralph Cramdon and his narrow companion, Norton, casting off all of our lines.

"Oh, somebody is aboard," Cramdon smiled. "Are you Mr. Pearson?"
"No," I replied. "And what are you doing?"
"We're towing your boat to Zanheiser's Marina for repairs."
"This boat is our home. It's not going anywhere."
Ralph studied his notes carefully. "Your boat is in slip C9 and that's the boat that we're supposed to tow out."
"I don't think so," I shot back. "Call your boss.
After a few words were exchanged over the phone a light seemed to illuminate in Ralph's head.
"Oh, it's C9 at Solomons Island Marina not Spring Cove Marina," he repeated to the voice on the phone.
"This is the wrong boat," Ralph shouted to Norton who had already removed both of our bow lines. "The owner is not named Pearson, the boat is made by Pearson."
Cramdon turned to me. "Sorry for any inconvenience. Wrong marina."

We were lucky. If we had decided to go for an early shower we would have returned to find our boat, our clothes, our stash of cash, our passports, our food, and everything we need to sustain life utterly and completely gone. We would have been instant street urchins with little cash and no change of clothes; our only option would have been to call the Coast Guard and report a stolen boat. Our boat, meanwhile would have been towed into Zanheiser's marine travel-lift and hauled ashore to be dropped and blocked in a corner of their massive yard where we might have spent weeks wandering the Solomons Island marinas in hope of finding our missing boat despite the likelihood that it had been stolen and sailed out to sea enroute to a drug runner's lair.

But I find it difficult to hold Ralph and Norton at fault. They are Chesapeake people. Chesapeake people are interesting folk. They are more trustworthy than they should be. It seems to be in their nature. On many of the small islands here, no property deeds exist. A handshake and a smile seals many deals here.

Mandy and I meet many of the descendants of the old Chesapeake Bay culture. We not only see it in their friendly faces but often in their names. A fellow named Meade Breeze is my sailmaker. In Rock Hall, Reverend Nancy Mariner was recently the pastor. Captain Schooner, years ago, pulled my little 21 foot sailboat off of a beach after my motor quit when approaching a harbor. Capt. Schooner was assisted by Captain Johnny Shore. Also, we recently read about the winner of a fishing contest here on the bay. His name is Jimmy Oyster. We meet these people day after day. They are the color that brings life to this area of our country. They are the Chesapeake people.

We're off tomorrow but I hope blog again soon.

Also, I realize that this blog has no contact link. If you wish to contact us, our e-mail is captmaxmiller@gmail.com.