Water Taxis, Friends Ashore, and Shake’n It Up

Sassafras to Annapolis

October 12, 2022

Today will be the last leg of the 640 mile trip from Maine to Annapolis and the completion of the first big route segment of three to Antigua. We were excited to get up and going and got off the Sassafras Marina dock at 0730. Water depth at the marina and for most of the immediate channel out of the river was shallow. We had at most only two to three feet of water beneath our keel at the dock but though a little unnerving, the tidal range was only a foot so we had enough not to bounce on the bottom. The marina was dead quiet and there was no evidence of life anywhere. I met a retired Philadelphia policeman the night before who was working on his boat and got the idea from him that the marina served mostly weekend boaters from the Wilmington and Philadelphia areas and it was coming to the end of the season as well. Hence, nothing open and nobody here. He bought a trawler and had planned to go cruising in retirement, but his life circumstance changed and now has it up for sale. Unfortunate, but he clearly delighted in talking about his grandchildren, so it sounded like a good trade.

The morning on the river heading out was like fall mornings I remembered as a kid. Geese were flying overhead, the corn fields we could see as we crept slowly down river were all taken in for winter feed, and curls of gentle fog were wisping over the water. You could just smell the change of seasons in the air. As the sun continued to rise the fog thickened, both Craig and I started to emote slight airs, completely uncharacteristic of either one of us I think….until it comes to Maine weather. “Well, this isn’t fog.” The “You should see the fog we get Downeast brother. You don’t know where the shoreline is or take-up your next heading till you can smell the spruce” kind of airs. (Shades of Crocodile Dundee, “That’s not a knife!”). We had some fun with that as long as the fog lasted which wasn’t that much later and soon we were back in the Chesapeake proper and our focus turned southwest to Annapolis.

We motored on our heading passed Gibson Island far to our starboard where my Dad kept his boat Freyja when it wasn’t otherwise in Maine. It was a pleasant memory of the early 1980’s when he was doing his cruising and my thoughts turned to how interested and pleased I think he’d be if he were around to follow this trip. It wasn’t long later that the Bay Bridge came into view and we knew that Annapolis was right around the corner. The three Navy radio towers on Greenbury Point, vestiges of early communications technology and wartime history, were now in full view and certain landmarks of our position. We rounded the corner and were met by a squadron of Naval Academy patrol boats in close formation and a fleet of Annapolis Yacht Club (ACY) racing boats of all shapes and sizes wizzing by.

We thought we’d take a tour of the anchorage and mooring field on our way to Annapolis City Marina to get a load of fuel while I still had crew aboard. The mooring field was just outside of show central and it was completely full, so we kept our eyes open for some good anchoring spots near the Naval Academy seawall as we went by. The Annapolis City Marina is almost to the bridge leading into Spa Creek and there is not a lot of maneuvering room. We called in and were told we were number three inline for the fuel dock behind a sport fisherman already on the dock and a small cabin cruiser loitering just beyond. We did slow circles in the navigable part of the river, barely compensating for the current and maintaining steerage while waiting our turn. Well, after fifteen minutes of that the number two boat gave up and disappeared under the bridge into Spa Creek and I gave a slightly harrumphed call on VHF to see what the delay was. Turns out the sport fisherman was taking on 1,000 gallons and wasn’t quite through. The thought that he was buying close to $6,000 of diesel to my anticipated $90 calmed me right down and I did a few more circles appreciating all the while that I was a sailor and not a fisherman! Once fully fueled we headed out to the anchorage, found a good spot  by the USNA seawall and dropped the hook in about 11 feet of water. We gave her a good tug with reverse propulsion and about 75 feet of chain out for the expected blow that night and our Spade anchor set hard in the good Maryland mud. We’re here and, knowing my Spade, not going any where. 

The plan was to secure the boat and water taxi in to Annapolis to meet crew member Dan for dinner then water taxi back for Craig’s last night onboard. We had a great dinner at Middleton Tavern with Dan and got to meet his son Sam also which was a treat.  We made plans to meet again then next day when I could introduce crew member Rick who was in for the show with his lovely wife Jeanne and sailboat racing friends from Los Angeles, Wayne and Vera. Dan and Rick would join me in a couple of weeks for the last BIG 1,400 nm leg from Hampton to Antigua, so I was looking forward to them having a chance to meet and check-in a little about the trip before go day. I necessarily had to  start thinking again as a solo sailor and planning best I could the 150 mile trip from Annapolis to Hampton, VA, down the Chesapeake Bay. Before that, I had several days planned with the great company of the Los Angeles contingent, but knew that once they headed back home, it would be me, the boat, and the mission. Lots of new territory to cover, new experiences and unknowns but at the end of the day, that’s why I’m out here. Who could have imagined that I would reference a punk band from 40 years ago to summarize a sentiment, but this trip is a fabulous way to “Shake it up!”

“Shake it up, make a scene

Let them know what you really mean

And dance all night, keep the beat

And don’t worry ‘bout two left feet

Shake it up”

“Shake it Up” The Cars, 1981

OK, now just try to get that song out of your head!!