"When I think of all the fools I've been, it's a wonder that I've sailed this many miles." -Guy Clark

Thursday, November 8, 2018

day seven - at the red house turn right


There is a hole in the ceiling and through it I can see a bit of blue. Otherwise nothing but grey.  Heavy rains that came with howling winds overnight.  A comfortable, warm sleep in the bivy.


Anchor up at 7:15 and under power to get through the tide rushing through the tiny inlet.  Full sail and 4.2 kts.  Crossing the shipping channel that comes in by the beach at Tolchester, no traffic in sight.  


Further south we cross the channel again, wind aft of stbd beam, 5 kts and bouncing in the rough water.


Making over 5 kts the sun reaches through the broken overcast.  Making 5.5 and then 6 in the gusts.


Swan Point at 9:20 and we turn southeast towards Rock Hall, wing and wing.  Quiet in harbor, sunny and warm.  I tie up to the dock at the boat ramp.  In the state of Maryland all boat ramps are required to have porta potties and I need to empty out my holding tank.  Just across the way from the ramp is the Harbor Shack, a nice little spot the waterfront.  I drop in to the unopened restaurant to find a young man setting up for lunch.  "Can I fill a couple water jugs?" I ask him.  He tracks down his uncle working in the kitchen, the uncle says "sure," and waves away the few dollars I have in my hand.  So yesterday I paid $5 for two bucks worth of gas, today I get free water.  It all evens out.


Full sail outside of the harbor at 10;15, 5.5 to 6.3 kts with swells on the beam.  By 11:00 it feels like slow going as we parallel Eastern Neck.  I check the gps, 5+ kts.  Not too bad.


Off Wickes Cabin Beach at 12:20, then sailing inside of the fishing weirs we reach Cedar Point at 12:30 and turn upwind on the Chester River with a good tack towards Piney Point.  At 2:00 cb and rudder hit a submerged tree line, I'm too close to shore.  Two more tacks and I round Holton Point to see a red mansion, once a Russian compound and now vacant with overgrown gardens, and turn right onto the Corsica River.


The wind comes and goes on the winding river, the breeze on the stern.   Soon motor sailing and then under power alone.   Racing shells from a local school train up and down the river.  


I tie up at the town dock at 4:00 and walk a few blocks up a steep hill to Doc's Riverside Grill for a fine dinner and a cold beer.


Cast off and down river, I drop anchor close around a wooded point with a nice home perched on a hill.  Calm and peaceful, I can hear conversation and laughter from the home.  Maybe a dinner party.  I drift off to sleep.


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