The day has finally arrived – we’re going to shoot through the Chesapeake/Delaware Canal and make it to Cape May before dark. Rick wants to get an early start ahead of the tides, so at the red-eye hour of 6:30am, we slip out of our anchorage and into the canal. We have the canal to ourselves, and the water is glassy and wake free.
We manage to spot quite a few birds on this leg of the trip – many a great blue heron, egrets, a green heron, a bittern, laughing gulls and osprey. Groups of turkey vultures are hanging out on the side of the canal, and cormorants are perched on wires. Eagles are plentiful, but elusive subjects for the camera. We finally get one flying away.
There is quite an assortment of bridges over the canal:
Long about 8:30 we emerge into the Delaware Bay. Rick is right to refer to this part as “a slog.” It’s a large body of water, at first glance similar to the Chesapeake, but it’s much more shallow, and you can’t really pull in to a lot of places in a boat with a deep keel. There are parts of it that are downright ugly, like the power plant. We are passed several times by gigantic ships, which leave us bobbing around in their equally gigantic wakes.
Rick is very gifted at spotting wild life and now that we're in the bay we see a different set of animals – a couple of porpoises, a big sea turtle, a ray, and a Wilson’s Storm Petrol ( it’s a bird - I'd never heard of it either). It’s very difficult to get pictures of these wonders because by the time you’ve gotten your camera the animal has disappeared under the water or flown away.
I spend a lot of time trying to find some shade, somewhere on our tiny boat. I keep very busy rigging up sun shelter with the only bit of possible equipment available – a towel and two clothes pins. In the end, I’m not too successful, but it certainly killed some time. And there’s a LOT of time to kill.
Here’s the newly bearded Rick at the helm:
It is God-awful hot on the boat. One great way to cool off is to jump in the water and drag behind the boat. Unfortunately, we spy a number of jellyfish - melon sized, glowing a ghostly orange hue. I've never been stung by one of these beauties, but apparently it can be pretty bad. It is a testament to the heat (or what utter fools we are) that we both take the risk and jump in anyway. Wisdom eventually prevails - as an alternative, Rick pulls in buckets of bay water and dumps them over himself.
All of this time on our hands made room for some reflection. Rick has made this trip to Maine 5 times in the last 6 years and I have long had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he leaves me alone with my job and our house, and on top of missing him terribly, I worry about him getting caught in a storm or getting knocked off the boat by the boom. On the other hand, I adjust quite well to being alone and keeping my own schedule – after the first week or so I start to really enjoy my freedom. I know that Rick has similar mixed feelings about taking the trip – he both loves and hates the solitude. He has been very genuinely excited about my joining him on this trip, but I have been apprehensive about robbing him of his treasured alone time, even while providing him with companionship. As long as I’ve known him, he has had a boat, and it provides an escape hatch for him.
The first few days of the trip I noticed a small bit of tension between us, and now I'm pretty sure why; I’ve invaded his man-cave! When left to his own devices, the boat becomes a haven for the grown up little boy they used to call “Ricky”. He’s free to grow a beard, wear the same grubby clothes day after day, eat Dinty Moore stew out of a can, and basically do all the disgusting things that men love to do, yet women frown upon. I’m sure I don’t have to spell it all out… Then I come along and insist on washing the dishes, deodorizing the head, and bringing “girly” things like hair conditioner and 10 days worth of underwear on board. It's almost as if he had a sign on the door of his tree house - "No Grils Allowed."
Rick admits to a slight feeling of, "wait a minute - what are YOU doing on MY boat?" In the past I've only been a visitor, but now I'm an interloper. He assures me that the advantages to having me accompany him on this voyage far outweigh that tiny feeling of breeched territory, and that he is sincerely happy that I am here.
We make it to Cape May by 5:30pm - a Rick record. We find a spot to anchor, not too far from this Coast Guard Ship:
It is still terribly hot, and we both want showers. Rick rigs up the sun shower and this time I decide I need to go sans suit. Of course, just as I’m in a completely compromised position, a big tourist "Whale Watch" boat goes by, packed with gawking tourists. I hope they got their money's worth!
We make dinner and watch the 4th of July fireworks from our boat. From our vantage point, we can see fireworks displays all the way up the coast - Cape May, Wildwood and Atlantic City. I really feel like I'm playing hooky now - I have been playing Stars and Stripes and the 1812 Overture with the BSO at Oregon Ridge for the last 20 years. This time I get to actually see the fireworks and they are spectacular! It really does feel like Independence Day.
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