Beer Geek Breakfast
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 I, 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 sophomores in high school only, the two I remember being awakened by the cry battle. 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 icy water, we were, after all, young and had more choice but to comply.
But the morning Dippy Dippy had only been a test of courage my new classmates and I, along with two instructors and a physics professor 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 CornNuts soaked food. 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. Would go 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 the 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 the boat 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 have been for many years in fact, very few. But we try. And that, in accordance with the philosophy of Bound trip, is what is really important.
I had a pretty good idea from where we had gone out of Consolidated – or, as we are calling the second voyage of Recreation, I will refer to simply as the Battle original. After all, it was a bloody hard trip, and if I go to recreate something, it could be a battle. Had started somewhere in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore, and we had started 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. Memory I was excited to go under the bridge, Chesapeake Bay, but south of that day, we headed straight east to the east coast. Then he hung left into a small cove with nothing but grass lining the coast and dropped the hook. We could not see the bridge, or any of the few houses 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 had been, that as the boat drew only 18 inches, could have been almost any stream in the Bay. On the third day the battle had gone the other side of 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 anchor last night – the lights of the industrial area were everywhere and we are very close to a kind of huge factory. I do not like. On the fourth day we headed back 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 agreed with my memory of the trip, but did not remember much more than that. In fact, had a more diffuse recall plan I float, but it sure had a better memory of events onboard. Apparently, while I had been a lover of life 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 have an extra two days to start and end the trip in Baltimore. So instead, we went to Annapolis and headed to the Patapsco. I had been a bunch nervous all morning, but once we went in the water and I realized things were no different than if John had been throughout, which began to subside. It reminded me I am perfectly capable of handling the boat, especially since John and I had done some practice bolts and man overboard drills the day before. Also We wore life jackets, and there was no breeze much anyway, so I doubt we would be sailing for a long time. . . . I was right. At the time in Sandy Point, the wind died down and we had to motor. As putts of the bay, passing through a green channel buoy after another, we look at the graphics see if we could remember exactly where he anchored the first night of the battle. Our plan was to stay there the first night. The next day he would tour quickly through the port to find the Battle starting point, then locate 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 anchor on the East Coast that has remained a vivid memory of all these years.
We arrived at the Patapsco after a long hot engine hours and continued up the river until we got halfway to the Key Bridge and then turned south. Annie and I recalled that in the first night the battle that had anchored very quickly after passing under the key bridge – a very strange place, we both had thought at the time, and that was right in front of the houses lining the River. It felt like a Winnebago parking in the garden of one night. But Tom had assured us that we were not doing nothing wrong.
As Annie and I got near Piedras Blancas and the coast south of the Patapsco, we knew we had found the same houses again: in Riviera Beach, lining Stony the peninsula between Rock and streams. He also recalled the tongue of land that extends from Rock Creek to Rock Point and had provided a backdrop for our anchor. But we could not stay here tonight. The wind was picking up again, down the river channeling. It would have been a rough night if we had stayed post. Instead, we followed the winding channel in 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 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 the careful planning of time, Annie and I had chosen this week's event would not be too terribly hot and we enjoyed the beautiful weather cruise and encounter 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 week. I guess it was on purpose, being in a passive recreation Bound. . . would have to support at least a little hell.
We well that we had come so far. And although they were now enjoying a well deserved ice bath and the cold beer, joked with Annie was going to be keeping other aspects of this trip as authentic as possible and that would be required to stand guard for several hours at night. And Annie said that since I had slept for each and every one of his watches battle, probably would not be keeping tonight! I guess I was the geek who had the position to see everything seriously. But Tom had us to do this standing was a serious matter: We had to make the boat does not drag the anchor, and, most importantly, the rats did not crawl up the anchor line.
Unlike the battle, recreation, meals do not 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 mighty impressed – I think she was expecting a steady diet of turkey sandwiches. In fact, while my ship is actually two feet shorter pulling the boat, it definitely has nicer amenities.
I did not sleep very well that night. All my dreams involved dragging the anchor of the boat or sinking. I got up every half hour or so sure that was not moved – both for not standing watch. But I guess it's my job as captain to worry!
The next morning we went to another Dippy Dippy cool while coffee was brewing. Then listen to the weather, which was not sounding good. Prognosis was calling for big storms to roll through the area, starting around 2 pm and continuing for the rest of the night. Neither liked the sound of that, so I changed by the float plan. Instead of anchoring out that night, we'd head to the river and take a slip in the Inner Harbour. That meant I would have to go for of our original trip walk starting point and jump out on the day of the Battle of three anchors. Briefly considered anchor out despite the poor prognosis, but decided I was not up for a thunderstorm on my second night as captain. Annie is in complete agreement. She was not interested in roughing through bad weather, I assumed it was for the hell that we have spent the last day of the battle. We had been forced to paddle to the Patapsco in cold rain and fog. We had only couscous eat for breakfast, Annie recalled because our physics teacher or companion had refused to eat, saying he did not like couscous. Then row refused to help because she 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 off, our only midday snack was the only food left on board: CornNuts soaked. Fortunately we can look back now and laugh wussiness especially 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, Annie pointed to the two streams where it could be anchored in the past night's battle. It should have been Jones Creek near Old Road Bay, or Bear Creek. I remember I was very disappointed with this anchor, even then. The night before the anchor was so beautiful and serene, but it was under towers looming in the industry. We were very close to a kind of factory or port of embarkation, and I hated it. So I was not upset that we lost in the search of the exact spot again. My guess is that we stayed at Jones Creek, because they certainly do not remember going on the Interstate 695 bridge which runs over Bear Creek. I apologized to Annie 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 up the river was much nicer than rowing a boat of 30 feet to the Patapsco.
We arrived at our sliding around Baltimore Marine Center noon. It was about 95 degrees outside with a heat index of 110. After a cooling period in the pool, walk to the War Memorial Park of Korea 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 we had found the right place. Baltimore Outward Bound has suspended part of its program navigation (Now focuses on land and boat trips), so that our ship was not there. But seeing the campus of the Living Classrooms brought a lot of memories – arriving in a day cold evil, towards the docks and see the boat – it all came rushing. We were brought to the docks, instructed to put all our belongings Outward Bound in sanctioned duffels (I guess they were waterproof) and shows the ship would be really primitive in the next three days. It is completely open, transversely except several places. There was no shelter and no head – unless you count the wooden box in front of the mast forward with a bucket of five gallons in 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 for this, but at the end of the first day we had the technique of hanging tear down pat. Regarding the conditions for sleep, we had to put the oars from port to starboard then mats and sleeping bags on top. Our only shelter was a tarp thrown over the arm. Good times.
Now the sky was filled ominous clouds, so Annie and I headed back to port for dinner. While we ate, we looked through the windows range of Bo Brooks crabhouse and watched the turbulent water and lightning everywhere. A generator at the marina next struck, throwing sparks into the air. I could not have been happier that we were not outside in 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's nothing on 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 quite sure yet 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 trail behind a large snake, but forgave her, as it has a lot of boating experience) and I was distracted by studying the letters, illusory that I could 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 nobody in sight / I think 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 laugh. 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 river mouth 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 cross the bay during the battle. That day we had a wonderful sail. He had also learned to read the letters, and I remember feeling damn proud I was not one of those I have dizzy.
Annie and I were approaching the shore, heading for Chester. I Hail Creek into account, in the extreme south eastern 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 the recreation, which had visited the headquarters of Outward Bound in Baltimore to search through old log books, hoping to find the notes of the Battle. I was not successful, but Hail Creek was found that 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 the feeling that we have 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 refresh our memory. Not so much. From the safety deeper water, however, seemed confident he could have been the act. Now that we were relatively far in Chester, I could not decide where go, so we motored all the way in Langford Creek and Cacaway Island.
There are surprisingly deep water, even very close to the small, island shaped like a half moon. I had a little more difficult to get the boat to stay, due to shifty winds, but finally we hit hard. We could see a small sign placed on the island, and I had to see for yourself. It was a heck of a swim to get there, but I challenged him. I was surprised how close I came to the shore before I could stand. I would say that was 10 feet away before he could stand. I walked close enough to read the sign, asking 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 at risk.
I looked at my long swim to and from the island a tribute to the Battle for the morning nothing. Although he had been forced to jump in just in the first morning, Tom never gave up trying to get back again. I guess I liked the spirit of the journey as I somehow found the courage to swim the three morning. 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 learned a lot from him that morning while talking on the sail and breakfast cooking. For today still make fries taught me how – with sauteed onions and Old Bay.
After my swim to the island, Annie and I relaxed in the cabin of a while, then we fired up the grill and cooked dinner – pork loin. Annie surprised me with couscous on the side. She laughed and admitted that she I 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 opening and closing of countless stars. I stayed there for at least one hours, staring at the endless sky. It could not have found the exact spot we were 15 years ago, but the effect was the same. This is what the Chesapeake Bay's all.
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 his voice mourn Battle high – "Time for a Dippy Dippy" – Annie half scared to death. We had a long day ahead of us and I thought I had to get your adrenaline running.
After a last swim and breakfast, 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. In the time it passed under the bridge Bay, had grabbed his 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 "of 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 sarcastically echoing voices in the last lines – This is the worst trip! / What I've been to! I looked at Annie, seated in the cabin top, supported on the mast to remain 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 felt awful, and while I was singing that song, this was not the worst journey I've been on. Annie and I had a lot of fun remembering old times catch up with current and enjoy spending a few days with an old friend. And I'm proud of myself (and Annie too) to have a successful journey. As my first a stint as captain, I had no problems at all. And although recreation is not 100 percent successful, I think Tom Thomas would be proud.
About the Author
By Ann Levelle, Managing Editor of Chesapeake Bay Magazine. For more great articles and photos on boating, sailing, fishing, and cruising, visit http://www.ChesapeakeBoating.net
Beer Review: Mikkeller Beer Geek Breakfast