Beer Die Shirts
The great liability Re-Bound
In my best voice of Louis Armstrong, I yelled "everybody Good Good morning, here is a pleasant day in the Bay Chesapeake …. Time for a Dippy Dippy! "Okay, so it was late, and" everybody "formed by my friend Anita and me, but to shout those words serious was a happy occasion. Firstly, because we were ridiculously hot and dying for a bath, and second because it was almost this exact point that we heard 15 years ago for the first time that phrase.
Despite that they were only sophomores in high school, we both remember vividly being awakened by the battle cry. It was a night of adventure given three exits on the Bay, and every cold morning of October had been met with "Dippy Dippy" call Our instructor, Tom Thomas. A salt wrinkled old with a booming voice and a thick mustache, salt and pepper, wearing a knitted hat that made him look like an early Leatherhead century. We wake up every morning in this way, grunting phrases such maddeningly cheerful at the top of his lungs, waiting for us teenagers to move immediately of our sleeping bags, change into swimwear and waterfall. And we did. Despite the cold water, which, after all, young and had little choice to fulfill.
But the morning Dippy Dippy had only been a test of courage my nine classmates and I, along with two instructors and a teacher physics incredibly whiny, endure. We had faced four days of sailing and rowing (especially the latter) in the cold Chesapeake aboard a 30-foot "pulling boat" (essentially a giant canoe with two masts thick) and no head, no real refuge, an evil time, and sometimes only soaked CornNuts eating. But in spite of collisions with cargo ships, docking night watches, frozen toes and near mutiny, this was the trip that I wanted to be a sailor. This was when I came to love the Bay.
And ever since – especially since getting my own boat – I've wanted to go on that trip. I wanted to go to back and see, with adult eyes, the sights and sounds that began my relationship with the Chesapeake Bay cruise. So this year, 15 years after original trip, I decided to stop pussyfooting around and just do it. And in keeping with the spirit of Outward Bound, I wanted to be captain. I wanted to take ship without my husband John, to prove to myself I could handle the boat alone. Well, almost alone. Would need at least some of the crew – a backup Ann, so to speak. So I called my old friend Annie, who had been in the original trip, come and sail trunk of memories with me. She is a teacher and now was more than happy to spend a few days of their summer vacation to join me in what we have come to call. . . wait. . . recreation.
Although the period dress appears Recreation (playing football old shirt with school logo and number), we know that can only be loosely based on the trip original. After all, who knew precisely our memories of 15 years, would be. The odds that we find the exact spots we visited were so many years ago actually quite rare. But we try. And that, in accordance with the philosophy of Bound trip, is what is really important.
I had a pretty good idea good from where we had been on the Outward Bound – or, as we are calling the second voyage of Recreation, I will refer to simply as the Battle original. After all, was a bloody hard trip, and if I'm going to revert to something, it could be a battle. Had started somewhere in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore, and we had to cast the anchor for the night on the southern coast of the Patapsco, just downstream of the Key Bridge. The second day, which had sailed in a straight line of the river and the Bay. Remember I was excited to go under the bridge, Chesapeake Bay, but south that day, we headed east to the east coast. Then he hung up on the left in a small cove with nothing but grass lining the coast and dropped the hook. We could not see the bridge, or none of the few houses that lined the shore, we were completely isolated. It was a phenomenal place, and have spent many hours poring over the years on page 27 of my book of tables trying to figure out exactly where we state, which, as the boat drew only 18 inches, could have been almost any stream in the Bay. On the third day of battle, had gone to the other Across the bay and spent the night in a creek on the north coast of the Patapsco. I remember him mostly for being the exact opposite of last night's anchorage – the lights of the industrial zone were everywhere and we are very close to a kind of huge factory. I do not like. On the fourth day we headed back to the Inner Harbor in freezing cold and fog. And no wind, we rowed all the way up river. Today, my hands hurt when I think of grabbing the oar handles all afternoon.
Annie was according to my memory of the trip, but did not remember much more than that. Actually, I had a memory more diffuse float plan than me, but sure had a better memory On-board events. Apparently, while I had been a lover of life in learning about boating, sailing and navigation, Annie had focused primarily on boys.
We could start a day of recreation in the same place that the battle had begun, since I live in Annapolis, and we had an extra two-day to start and end the trip in Baltimore. So instead, we went to Annapolis and headed to the Patapsco. I had been a nervous wreck all morning, but once he left in the water and I realized things were no different than if John had been throughout, which began to subside. I remembered that I am perfectly capable of steer the boat, especially since John and I had some practice bolts and man overboard drills the day before. Furthermore, we wore life jackets, and there was no breeze much anyway, so I doubt we would be sailing long. . . . I was right. At the time that Sandy Point, the wind died down and we had to motor. As putted from the bay, passing through a green channel buoy after another, we look at the charts to see if I could remember exactly where had anchored the first night of the battle. Our plan was to stay there the first night. The next day would make a quick tour through the port to find the point Battle game, then look for the Battle of anchoring third night on the north bank of the creek. On the third day of the Recreation we find the sweet spot – the At anchor on the East Coast that has remained a vivid memory of all these years.
We arrived at the Patapsco after a long, hot hours of the engine and continued down the river until we got halfway to the Key Bridge, then south. Annie and I remembered that on the first night of the battle that had anchor very quickly after passing under the key bridge – a very strange place, we both thought at the time, and that was right in front of the houses that line the river. It felt like a Winnebago parking in the garden of one night. But Tom had assured us that not doing anything wrong.
As Annie and I Piedras Blancas and approached the southern coast of the Patapsco, we knew we had found the same houses again: in Riviera Beach, lining of the peninsula between Rock and Stony creeks. He also recalled the tongue of land that extends from Rock Creek to Rock Point and had provided a backdrop for our anchorage. But we could not stay here tonight. The wind was picking up again, down the river channeling. It would have been a rough night as if we had stayed. Instead, we followed the winding channel at Stony Creek, in a variety of semicircular cove where beautiful Cape cod deaf and cottages lining the west coast.
SPLASH! Annie happily jumped in the water and shouted infamous Tom Dippy Dippy alarm call. I spent a couple of beers and life jackets to float, then jumped from the stern of the Outlaw Dance too. Ahhh, instant relief. It was not until early June, so the water was still fresh, despite the boiling hot air. So much for planning Careful time, Annie and I had chosen this week's event would not be too terribly hot and we enjoyed the fine weather cruising and meeting No nettles. Well, we were only half as lucky. There were no nettles, but it was hot in mid-July. In fact, was the hottest summer days. I guess it was By the way, being in a passive recreation Bound. . . would have to support at least a little hell.
We feel very good that we had reached so far. And although they were now enjoying a well deserved cold beer bath and I joked with Annie was going to be keeping other aspects of this trip as authentic possible and that would be required to stand guard for several hours at night. And Annie said that since I'd slept through every one of his watches battle likely maintenance would not be tonight! I guess I was the geek who had the position to see everything seriously. But Tom had told us that the grandfather clock was a serious matter: we had do not drag the boat anchor, and, most importantly, the rats did not crawl up the anchor line.
Unlike the battle, recreation not meals have a boat made more than a can of Sterno. I had brought a good bottle of red wine and a couple of steaks for dinner tonight. Annie was impressed powerful – I think she was expecting a steady diet of turkey sandwiches. In fact, while my ship is actually two feet shorter than the boat pulling, it definitely has more nice bathroom.
I do not sleep well that night. All my dreams involved dragging the anchor of the boat or sinking. I got up every half hour or so it sure did not move – both for not standing watch. But I think it's my job as captain to worry!
The next morning we Dippy Dippy went to another cool while coffee was brewing. Then listen to the weather, which did not sound good. The forecast was calling for major storms rolling through the area, starting around 2 pm and continuing for the rest of the night. Neither liked the sound of it, so we modified the plan to float. Instead of anchor out tonight, would direct us to the river and take a slip in the Inner Harbour. That meant I would have to go find the starting point to our original trip per foot and jump out on the day of the Battle of three anchors. Briefly considered anchor out despite the poor prognosis, but decided that was not up for a storm power on my second night as captain. Annie is in complete agreement. She was not interested in roughing through bad weather, which I assumed was for the hell that we beyond the last day of the battle. We had been forced to paddle to the Patapsco in the cold rain and fog. We had just eaten for breakfast couscous, Annie recalled because our physics teacher or companion had refused to eat, saying he did not like couscous. Then row refused to help because he was too tired from not eating breakfast. We were almost hit by a giant ship when he accidentally ended up in the navigation channel, and to top it, our lunch noon only was the only food left on board: CornNuts soaked. Fortunately we can look back now and laugh, especially wussiness our teacher, and how even the sight now that our stomachs CornNuts rotation, but it really was a terrible day.
As we headed toward the Key Bridge, I noted Annie the two streams where it could be anchored on the last night of the battle. It should have been Jones Creek near Old Road Bay, and Bear Creek. I remember being very disappointed with this anchor, even then. The previous night had been anchor so beautiful and serene, but it was under the towers looming in the industry. We very close to a kind of factory or port of embarkation, and I hated it. So do not bother me that we'd miss out on finding the exact spot again. My guess is that we stayed at Jones Creek, because then not remember going on the Interstate 695 bridge which runs over Bear Creek. I apologized to Annie that we would have such a warm and hazy and could not enjoy a good sailing day. She laughed and said: "At least we are not rowing!" Agreed. Motor to the river was much nice rowing a boat of 30 feet to the Patapsco.
We arrived at our slip at Baltimore Marine Center about noon. It was about 95 degrees outside with a heat index of 110. After a cooling period in the pool, walk to the park to commemorate the Korean War and took the water taxi to Fells Point. I had a hunch that Outward Bound boats had been kept at the campus life Classrooms Foundation of South Carolina Street, so we went there. We knew immediately that we had found the right place. Baltimore Outward Bound has suspended the navigation part of your program (now focuses on land travel and canoeing), so that our ship was not there. But seeing the campus of the Living Classrooms brought lots of memories – arriving on a cold day evil, in the direction of docks and see the boat – it all came rushing. We were brought to the docks, instructed to put all our belongings into duffels sanctioned Outward Bound (I guess that was waterproof) and displays the boat we would be really primitive in the next three day. It is completely open, except in the transverse several places. There was no shelter and no head – unless you count the wooden box in front of the mast forward with a five-gallon bucket on it. But that was only for. . . uh, number two. To pee, the Bay would be our own dependence. Initially, the three other girls and I was horrified by this, but at the end of the first day had the technique down pat destroy hanging. Regarding the conditions for sleep, we had to put the oars from port to starboard, then mats and our sleeping bags on top. Our only shelter was a tarp thrown over the arm. Good times.
Now the sky was filled with ominous clouds, so Annie and I headed back to port for dinner. While we ate, we looked through the large windows of crabhouse Bo Brooks and watched the turbulent water and lightning everywhere. A generator at the marina next struck, throwing sparks into the air. I could not be happier that we were not out on the hook.
I sang to myself to try to ignore the searing heat: Va wa wa-wa-wa-wa wa-wa-wa-waltz with bears / bears San Judas, shaggy bears, baggy bears too / There is nothing in the Earth Uncle Walter did not do / so he can go waltzing waltzing with bears. . . . Annie and I went through the engine Patapsco now on our way to the East Coast. I was not yet sure where we were going, although there were several streams into account where it could anchor for the night. Annie was happy to drive the boat (leaving a wake behind a large snake, but forgave her, as it has a lot of boating experience) and I was distracted by studying the letters, I could illusory find a track where he had anchored on the second day of battle. I climbed the stairs in the middle of the night / I tiptoed in and turned on the light / To my surprise there was no no one in sight / I think that Uncle Walter goes dancing at night. . . . The song kept running through my head. This was one of many, many songs Tom taught us during the battle. Is a sound completely ridiculous, but it is definitely embedded in my memory and will appear in the head surprisingly often when I need a good laughter. It did a great job to take my mind off the heat.
We had good wind for some time, from the key bridge to the mouth of the river, but died once we left the bay. We kept the principal to try to keep a little shade, but not going so well either. This day was just the opposite of the day we crossed the bay for the battle. That day we had a wonderful sail. He had also learned to read the letters, and I remember that I was damn proud that I was not one of I've dizzy.
Annie and I were approaching the shore, heading for Chester. I Hail Creek into account in the far eastern coast of the Island of the neck, but was not sure we would be able to get there, even though the Outlaw draws only four feet. A few months before recreation, who had visited the headquarters Baltimore Outward Bound to search through old log books, hoping to find the notes of the Battle. I was not successful, but did find that Hail Creek was a regular stop on trips a bit later. Besides that seemed to fit the criteria I was looking for – it was mostly a pretty stream somewhere on the east coast that could turn left. The only places that others do not seem consistent with the law Tavern and Swan creeks near Rock Hall, but I have a feeling which has seen other boats, or at least, the lights of Rock Hall, if we stayed there.
The cards do not offer much hope of getting in Hail Creek but as we motored that I thought I could at least get close enough to run our memories. Not so much. From the safety of the waters deep, however, seemed confident he could have been the act. Now that we were relatively far in Chester, could not decide where to go, so motored to the end in Langford Creek and Cacaway Island.
There are surprisingly deep water, even very close to the small, shape crescent island. I had a little more difficult to get the boat to stay, due to shifty winds, but finally we hit hard. You could see a small sign placed on the island, and I had to check it out. It was a heck of a swim to get there, but I challenged him. I was surprised how close they got to the shore before could stand. I would say that was 10 feet away before he could stand. I walked close enough to read the sign, which asked very nicely that people do not come ashore, and told visitors that is maintained by local community members and state, and includes very few species of animals, including several that are in danger of extinction.
I looked at my long swim to and from the island a tribute to the Battle for the morning nothing. Although he had to go only on the first morning, Tom never gave up trying to take us back. I guess I liked the spirit of the journey as I somehow found the courage to swim the three mornings. In fact, before breakfast in the morning we were on the eastern shore, I swam 27 laps around the boat. Bad idea. I shivered for hours. And while we were preparing breakfast, Tom had to help her toes thaw out the fire. I've learned a lot from him that morning while talking on the sail and breakfast cooking. To this day they still fries the way they taught me – with sauteed onions and Old Bay.
After my bath on the island, Annie and relaxed in the cockpit of a time, then we fired up the grill and cooked dinner – pork loin. Annie surprised me with couscous on the side. She laughed and admitted she had always considered a breakfast food by Outward Bound.
We hit the sack early. It had been another terribly long, hot days again and we still had one more to go. But again, I slept in fits and starts, plagued by worries drag anchor. Finally I gave up and left to rest in the cabin. The night sky was breathtaking. It was pitch black outside, except for a blink of innumerable stars. I stood there for at least one hours, staring at the endless sky. He could have found the exact spot we were 15 years ago, but the effect was the same. This is what Chesapeake Bay issue.
When I awoke the next morning, Annie was already up, reading in the tub and enjoying the solitude and serenity of the anchor. I raised the cry battle out loud – "Time for a Dippy Dippy" – Annie half scaring to death. We had a long day ahead of us and I figured that would put his adrenaline running.
After a last swim and breakfast, we weighed anchor and began the slog home. In the time it got to love point, we had candles for hours, but were not able to do more than three knots or less. Therefore, he gave up and started the engine again. By the time he spent under the Bay Bridge, we were clutching the arm, but left the main hope for a little shade. We took turns to be against the mast in the smallest patch imaginable.
About an hour from his house was so hot, sunburned and miserable that I could hardly keep my composure. I sang to myself "By the Beach Boys' Sloop John B" I'm so broke / I want to go home. We also learned that song during the battle, and often sung, our voices ringing with sarcasm in the last lines – This is the worst trip! / What I've been to! I looked at Annie, sitting on the roof of the cave, leaning against the mast to stay in the only bit of shade to the left on the boat. She looked back and said, without provocation, at least we are not rowing! "
Yes, I was miserable, and though I was singing that song, this was not the worst journey I've been on. Annie and I had a lot of fun reminiscing about old times, catch up with current and enjoy a few days with an old friend. And I'm proud of myself (and Annie too) to have a successful journey. As my first true stint as captain, I had no problems whatsoever. Recreation And although it was not 100 percent successful, I think Tom Thomas would be proud.
About the Author
By Ann Levelle, Managing Editor for Chesapeake Bay Magazine. For more great articles and photos on boating, sailing, fishing, and cruising, visit http://www.ChesapeakeBoating.net
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