Tuesday. July 13. Our 36th 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.
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