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Susan and I are home. Actually, we’re at a place far better than home. We’re at our cottage in Michigan. We left Reliant twelve days ago. She’s “on the hard”, which is fancy boat talk for “storage”, in the little town of Deltaville, VA.

We spent 39 days on the boat this summer. It’s true, I would liked to have been away longer – two weeks longer at least. I would also liked to have spent more time exploring all the nooks, crannies, bays and creeks for which Chesapeake Bay is so well known. In the end, the relentless 100+degree heat and the stupefying humidity of coastal Virginia were just too much for us. Cruising is supposed to be fun. Isn’t it?

We had a good trip. We covered a lot of miles, enjoyed a couple of great sails, visited interesting places, and met a bunch of wonderful people. (Well, there were one or two individuals who maybe weren’t quite so wonderful, but that’s always the case.) Susan and I will have good memories of this trip: The Erie Canal as it meanders across up-state New York is as pretty as we remember it from our first transit 37 years ago. Our Atlantic passage around the eastern shore of New Jersey was a spectacular over-night sail. Such sails are rare and never forgotten. Cape May, with its large beautifully preserved historic district, was a very pleasant surprise. And then there was Tangier Island, which is located just 80 miles as the Osprey flies from downtown Washington, DC. It is so isolated sitting out there in the middle of Chesapeake Bay that its residents speak to each other in an almost unintelligible archaic Elizabethan dialect and stubbornly pursue a way of life – crab fishing - that is virtually extinct almost everywhere else on the Chesapeake. Tangier Island, alone, would have made the time, effort, and expense of this summer’s cruise worthwhile. Finally, in all of these places we met people whose company we enjoyed and who we will remember fondly. Yes, it was a good trip.

So, that’s it for now. Susan and I will return to Reliant and continue our journey south sometime in the Fall, when it’s cooler. We’ll talk to you then.

Best wishes to all. Have a good summer, Leo & Sue

Tangier Island By Leo Krusack

Tuesday. July 13. Our 36^th day.

Six days ago, Susan and I left Annapolis, MD. The suffocating heat that plagued us since Catskill, NY, was unabated. We were hot. We were crabby. And we were on a mission. We were taking Reliant on a direct route to a marina in the south end of Chesapeake Bay. We were going to put her in storage and go home. Enough was enough.

Fortunately, and just in time, the heat finally broke and cooler heads prevailed. We pointed Reliant’s bow east towards a place we had heard about for weeks – Tangier Island, VA. Late in the afternoon, we tied up to an old wood dock on the island. We looked around at our surroundings and were immediately captivated. Seemingly, we had stepped into a different world, or as some would say, a different time.

Tangier Island is the home of an endangered way of life, the Watermen and their families who in small wooden boats harvest crabs and oysters from Chesapeake Bay. The crabs and oysters, for a variety of reasons, are disappearing. Draconian laws imposed by Maryland and Virginia further restrict the harvest. Making a living on Tangier Island is very tough.

It’s always been tough. The island is isolated and always has been. Even now, there are no grocery stores, hardware stores, clothing stores, or any of the other amenities that so many of us take for granted. Absolutely everything is brought in by boat from the mainland.

It’s a pretty island. The perimeter of the island is lined with miles of salt marshes. In the town, streets are narrow. Houses, usually enclosed by a white picket fence, are well maintained. The people are lovely.

There are only 500 residents.

There is a lot of history here. Captain John Smith first explored the island in 1608. The resident population were steadfast Loyalists during the Revolution. During the War of 1812, twelve thousand British soldiers were garrisoned on Tangier Island. It must have been awful. There just isn’t that much room.

We stayed two nights on Tangier, simply because we liked it there. The second night, a parade of thunderstorms passed over us. Susan and I stared out the portholes in absolute awe of the violent weather. We were mighty glad we weren’t “out there”.

Next morning we left Tangier in beautiful weather. We set all sails in a fair wind . . . and went nowhere. I couldn’t get the boat to sail faster than 3 knots. This went on for several hours. I worked myself into a pretty fair fug. Was I now so incompetent that I couldn’t sail my own boat? Finally, Susan took the helm and asked, “What’s wrong with this boat? Are we caught on something?” I looked over the side and saw nothing. Then, with some trepidation I tied a rope around my waist and went in the water. Sure enough, a crab pot pennant was snagged around the heel of our rudder. I can now add to my list of dubious accomplishments the fact that I dragged a crab pot halfway across Chesapeake Bay.

Several hours later I ran us aground on a sand bar at the entrance to Jackson Creek on the western shore. As I’ve explained to Susan so many times, some days it’s not easy being me.

Right now, we’re sitting in Deltaville, VA. It’s a nice town. We’ve been here two nights and will stay one more night, for sure. Twenty mile-per-hour winds are pouring in from the south. They are predicted to last another 36 hours. Headwinds! Reliant with her bluff bow doesn’t “do” headwinds, and neither do Susan and I.

Finally, Susan and I are celebrating another one of those inconsequential little milestones. We have now cruised Reliant a cumulative 3,000 miles. Is that a lot? No, I don’t think so. However, our boat’s previous owners (and her builders) made several notable trips in her. Between us, we’ve coaxed Reliant (ex-Walrus III) through more than 13,000 miles of water. Is that a lot? Well, it might be.

Tangier Island, VA

Deltaville, Virginia

Today, we have made it here to the Deltaville Marina in Deltaville, VA. Annapolis was hot and unpleasant and Leo & I wanted out NOW! The pavement registered 130 degrees. Fried eggs anyone? It was so hot, I would not even let Leo see the Annapolis Maritime museum. Poor guy. (Side note: Johnny Depp had his boat tied up to the dock in the Annapolis marina the week before we arrived. His over 100 foot yacht, with professional crew, stayed for a few days. So much for the simple life there Johnny!)

Off we sailed the next day from Annapolis to Tangier Island, VA, hoping to stay for only one night and with hopes of sailing south then to Portsmouth, or at least close. Well..............a HUGE storm descended upon the island keeping us there for another night. I don't like gales. If you can, look up Tangier Island on the internet. It can only be accessed by ferry (or your own boat). It, also, has a population of 500. The mainstay is crab fishing. Everyone walks, bikes, or uses a golf cart. Stray cats are everywhere. There are two bed & breakfasts and a truly outstanding restaurant. The island occupants trace their ancestry to the one of the first settlers of this country, John Crockett. He sailed from Cornwall, England, with his family in 1636. Then he bought half the island for $4.60. If you have to be stuck this is the place. I loved the fresh crab (right out of the Chesapeake Bay) dinner. Put Tangier Island on your list of places to visit. Charming.

Leo & I left today, Sunday, July 11, to cruise southward where we arrived in Deltaville, VA. Of course you may think it was uneventful but it was not. First, we snagged a crab pot and dragged it halfway across the Bay before Leo swam under the boat to release it. THEN we ran aground in the channel just outside the Deltaville marina. Boat US tow to the rescue! This is the second time we have had to be rescued by them. The locals tell us that going aground in the Chesapeake is a common in the Chesapeake. Shoals are always changing.

Deltaville marina is where we will stay before sailing to our next destination, Yorktown. I suspect Yorktown will mean a few-day stay. Capt Krusack would like to LOOK around such an historical place. There will be one more stop after Yorktown before hopefully arriving in Portsmouth, VA, this week. All the above planning depends on weather which I heard will be, again, changing.

But, we are here, safe and sound. It has been quite an experience so far.

Chesapeake Bay

Sunday, July 5. Our 28^th day.

This morning Susan and I motored Reliant out of the western end of the

Chesapeake & Delaware Canal, which connects Delaware and Chesapeake Bays. We are in Chesapeake Bay – our own mini-Promised Land. Once inside Chesapeake Bay, we steered Reliant another 11 miles south. Then we turned left into the mouth of the Bohemian River and anchored in shallow water. It’s been four weeks since we left Buffalo. It feels as though we’ve come a long way.

We’re in a nice spot. Trees line the banks of the Bohemian River. The water is perfect for swimming. Canvas tarps draped over the boom give us shade. About an hour ago, a beautiful red sun set behind the blue hills of Delaware. Then we watched an excellent fireworks display across the bay. Right now, it’s completely dark. The stars are out.

Now, the previous schmaltzy paragraph is designed to show you how much fun Susan and I are having. It’s all completely true, but there’s a dark side to all this goodness. It’s HOT. It’s more than hot. It’s VERY HOT! 103 degrees. And there’s not a breath of breeze. No amount of shade mitigates the heat. Reliant’s cabin remains stifling until nearly dawn. We’ll be glad when the weather breaks.

Getting here to the Bohemian River was not easy, although it’s only 75 miles from Cape May to Chesapeake City on the western end of the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal. The problem is Delaware Bay. Boats heading north or south in the bay can be stopped for days by strong headwinds. We set out twice into Delaware Bay. Twice we were turned back by strong contrary winds. We succeeded on our third try, but just barely.

Now that we’re in Chesapeake Bay, our intent is to head south. There’s much to see and do here. And somewhere here in the Bay, we need to find a place to put Reliant in storage. Within the next couple of weeks, our summer cruise will be over.

This note may not be the best I’ve sent so far on our trip. But it’s HOT, and my poor cooked brain can’t do any better.

Hudson River & Beyond

Today is July 1st. Susan and I left Buffalo 25 days ago. Right now, we’re storm bound in Cape May, NJ. The wind is howling down the length of Delaware Bay, right in our face. We did poke Reliant’s nose out past the breakwater. No way!

Sometimes, being stuck is a good thing. First of all, during the last several days Sue and I have pushed hard to make miles. We need a break. Second, the marine weather forecast says conditions in Delaware Bay will not moderate for several days. That’s good, because Cape May is a really nice town. It turns out that much of Cape May is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The narrow tree-lined streets are lined with beautifully maintained old wooden homes. Flowers are everywhere, especially hydrangeas in every imaginable color.

Two weeks ago, Reliant was tied up in Waterford, NY, the eastern terminus of the Erie Canal. We spent two days there shopping and attending to minor boat work. We did a lot of socializing with other boaters, most of whom are heading north to escape the summer’s heat. We seem to be the only boat going south. Go figure!

On June 21st, our 15th day out of Buffalo, we left Waterford, transited the Troy (NY) Lock and officially entered the Hudson River. The first thing one notices when entering the Hudson is the fluctuating tide. At Albany, NY, 160 miles inland, the tide rises and falls six feet twice each day. The Indian name for the Hudson, which I won’t even attempt to spell, translates into “river that runs both ways.” The tide is a factor that cannot be ignored. Reliant’s over-the-ground cruising speed under power could be two knots faster or slower depending on whether-or-not we had the tide with us or against us.

We sailed the Hudson for seven days. The first two days carried us downstream 40 miles to Catskill, NY, where we stepped Reliant’s mast and rigged the boat in oppressive 100+ heat. Four more days of travel brought us to the mouth of the river at the base of the Statue of Liberty. We anchored at no charge for two nights right behind “Miss Liberty”. She’s a very impressive lady, especially at night when fully lit.

My impressions of the Hudson River are mixed: I don’t think it is a particularly pretty river. (That will get me into trouble.) It may have been once upon-a-time when Indian dugout canoes paddled its surface. Henry Hudson in 1609 thought it was the most wonderful, fertile country he had ever seen. Washington commented on its beauty. It must have been something to see from the deck of a 19th century paddlewheel steamer. Certainly there are still pretty places along its length. The Palisades opposite the City of Yonkers are very dramatic. The eleven-mile-long Hudson River Highlands are beautiful, but unfortunately not pristine. And farther upstream, the Catskill Mountains make for a lovely sight.

Mostly, however, I think of the Hudson is a “used” river. Europeans have been living and working along its banks since the first Dutch settlement in1629. Buildings of every size, shape, and function line its shores. Factories, quarries, power plants, and commercial shipping utilize the entire length of the river. I’m not trying to tell that the Hudson River is abused. To the contrary, the Hudson is the only major river in the eastern US whose pre-settlement ecosystem is still intact.

Cruising past Lower Manhattan was interesting, to say the least. New York City, with its infinite number of restaurants, theaters, and, museums, must be a wonderful place to visit. However, the Hudson River where it enters New York Harbor is a constant chaos of ships, barges, ferries, patrol boats, choppy waves, conflicting currents, and noise. Overhead, helicopters and planes complete the picture. Susan and I passed through this same stretch of river thirty-seven years ago in our previous boat. We didn’t enjoy the experience then. We didn’t enjoy it now.

We waited two days for a “weather window” favorable for our dash down the Atlantic coast of New Jersey. When it came, we made our break. Reliant, pushed along by favorable but blustery winds, charged down the coast from Sandy Hook to Cape May. We did the 140-mile, overnight passage in 21 hours flat. That’s pretty good time for a fat old boat.

So, now we sit here in Cape May, waiting for the wind and tide to shift in our favor for the 56-mile sail up Delaware Bay. We’re in a good marina. We have nice neighbors. We look forward to exploring the town of Cape May and visiting the Jersey shore. It’s time to restock the boat and find that ice cream shop. Life is good.

Ending The Erie Canal

Greetings from the good ship Reliant:

Susan and I have just completed our trip through the Erie Canal. Right now, Reliant is tied at the municipal dock in Waterford, NY, located on the eastern terminus of the Erie Canal. Waterford claims to be the oldest incorporated village in the United States. Walking through the town, seeing the old buildings, and reading signs about where George Washington rode past on his way to the Battle of Saratoga, Susan and I have every reason to believe that Waterford’s claim is correct.

Our trip through the canal took 13 days. We negotiated 35 locks and cruised 338 miles, plus 7 miles on the Niagara River from Buffalo to North Tonawanda. It might be fun to regale you with tales of our harrowing adventures along the Erie. However, there are no such stories to tell. For the last two weeks, our days have passed with uniform pleasantness. Reliant, our 32’ sail boat, is running smoothly. The scenery we’ve watched slide by at our cruising speed of 5 ½ knots has been varied and interesting. The weather’s been good. The people we’ve encountered are lovely. The captain and first mate - those roles, by the way, are interchangeable - still communicate in a cordial manner. Life is good.

For you history lovers out there, construction of the Erie Canal began in 1817. It opened for service seven years later. Its impact was immediate and overwhelming cutting the cost of moving commercial products substantially. Freight rates dropped from $100 per ton to $5 per ton. The travel time across NY went from 6 weeks to 6 days. The canal offered, for the first time, easy, cheap access to the interior of the continent. This opened the gate for uncounted thousands of settlers and tons of manufactured goods to stream west and agricultural products to flood east. The flow of goods and people to and from the interior transformed New York City into the largest, most prosperous seaport in North America. I might add that the Erie Canal did not benefit the Native Americans. In fact, the canal and its traffic hastened the destruction of the culture of the indigenous people.

On a map, the Erie Canal meanders east/west across New York State. It connects Lake Erie on the west to the Hudson River on the east. Any description of a transit through the canal can be conveniently divided into the western and eastern halves, with Oneida Lake smack-dab in the middle.

The western half, where we departed, starts in Buffalo. We departed Buffalo - yes, we did finally manage to leave – on June 7. It took half a day to leave behind the industrial landscape of metropolitan Buffalo. Then, for the next eight days, we slowly cruised through rolling farmland and orchards. “Pastoral” is an excellent description. It even has cows! For many miles on its western half, the canal runs high above the surrounding countryside, sometimes as much as 70ft. We never tired of the panoramic views of rural New York.

Scattered along the canal are numerous old towns. They were excellent places to stop for the night. It was fun to walk their streets, admire the architecture of their old buildings, and talk to the local residents. It was also a bit sad. Once-upon-a-time, these towns were thriving commercial centers. Now, most of the industry is long-gone. Today, most of these towns rely on the vagaries of tourism to make a living. Real prosperity seems to be a thing of the past.

Eight days after leaving Buffalo, we arrived in Brewerton, NY, situated on the western shore of Oneida Lake. Oneida Lake is 21 miles long and 5 miles across. That makes it a considerable body of water and one to be crossed on a mild day. We crossed on a lightly overcast day with perfect conditions for a blunt-nosed boat that dislikes punching into big waves and for a crew that has already had too much sun.

East of Oneida Lake the character of the land changes dramatically. Farms become less frequent. Woods are thicker and more prevalent. Two hundred fifty years ago, endless miles of old-growth forest carpeted the area. Now, those great forests no longer exist, but up-state New York is still very pretty to look at.

As we continued our eastward journey, the land became rocky and hilly, almost mountainous. Here, the Erie Canal begins its increasingly steep descent into the Hudson River Valley. Within the last mile-and-one-half, five locks called the Waterford Flight dropped us the last 169 feet to the Hudson River. According to our guidebook, The Waterford Flight has the highest “lift” within the shortest distance of any lock system in the word.

For now, Susan and I are happily sitting here in Waterford. We’re cleaning the boat, loading up on supplies, and enjoying the company of other boaters. Within a couple of days we hope to begin the next step in our journey, the 160-mile trip down the Hudson River.

Finally, that short seven-mile stretch down the Niagara River that I mentioned earlier is a milestone of sorts for Susan and me. We can now state that the two of us have travelled, section by section, the entire contiguous water route from Mystic, Connecticut, to Pensacola, Florida – via Long Island Sound, The East and Hudson Rivers, the Erie Canal, three of the five Great Lakes, the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers, and a couple of hundred miles of the Gulf Coast. It took thirty-seven years. Certainly, this was not part of any comprehensive master plan. It just happened. I know. I know. In the grand scheme of things it counts for nothing, but it’s fun to talk about.