Down the Delaware

Well, despite the disastrous encounter between the boom vang and the cabin hatch last night, the boat is very comfortable to live on and we enjoy a relaxing morning anchored in the Sassafras
River. Rick does Loyola philosophy department work at the nav-station/desk while I pull out my sewing machine and test it out on the main cabin table. I found this little half-sized hand crank number on Ebay and bought it to use on the boat – no electricity! I plan to make a quilt top this summer and maybe some skirts.

Rick has rigged up a wonderful sunshade, rescued from the Alberg and revamped to fit this new boat. It makes a lovely back porch out of the cockpit, and on a hot day like this one it provides some shade while allowing for a nice breeze.

Later in the afternoon we take a short trip over to the Bohemia River where we will spend the night. Now that the heat of the day has passed, and fortified by the effects of our cocktail hour, Rick is ready to tackle the job of fixing the hatch. He had thought he would have to replace it, and in the end he will probably replace all of the hatches, but it looks like for now he can salvage this one. Apparently this hatch has been pulled out before, maybe even by our old friend Walter, but it wasn’t imbedded into the fiberglass the way it should have been, instead simply caulked in with silicone. This of course made it easy to be pulled out by the boom vang and is not a very “shippy” fix for an off-shore boat. It does make it water tight though, and that’s what we really need for this summer. Rick has all the supplies he needs onboard so after re-bending the frame to make it straight, he scrapes off the old silicone and resets the hatch.

We’re pretty much alone in this anchorage and we take advantage of our privacy by revving up the stereo and dancing naked on the deck (Glen Miller and then The Commitments). Sorry, no pictures.

In the morning we head out early to ride the current through the Delaware Canal, passing Chesapeake City on the way. Like last year, we see lots of bridges and wildlife here, along with men fishing off of the side of the canal. Once in the Delaware Bay though, I remember the long slog that we have ahead of us and I am not looking forward to it. The Delaware Bay is a long shallow body of water, without places to pull in with a keeled boat, so you pretty much have to cover the whole thing in one ten to twelve hour day. The shore on both sides seems to be free of houses or cottages and is pretty empty save for the nuclear power plant that dominates the scenery for a good twenty-five miles of the trip.

If you are unlucky enough to have little or no wind you are forced to run your engine the whole way and the noise and engine fumes grate on the nerves after a couple of hours. I had a difficult time finding shade during this part of the trip last year, so this time I’ve come prepared! My violist friend Karen Brown and I share a love of music along with extremely pale skin, and she turned me on to Solumbra clothing with 100% sun blocking fabric. I look like I should be working at that nuclear power plant in this get-up, but at least I won’t get burned.

Amazingly, dolphins don’t seem to be bothered by the power plant. A pod of them show up right by our boat and follow along for quite a ways.

Rick starts whistling “Oh Sol o Mio” to try and bring them closer and they actually seem to respond. Encouraged by their apparent enthusiasm for music he runs below and gets out his viola, but is completely crestfallen when they all disappear practically as soon as he starts to play. Have viola jokes made it to the dolphin world as well? (To be fair, Rick is a little rusty.)

At about seven in the evening we finally pass the Cape May ferry terminal. We have covered seventy miles in twelve hours and Rick feels triumphant as we enter the canal. The light is just turning to that golden color that signals the end of the day and we are looking forward to augmenting the local July Fourth fireworks display with a champagne celebration of our own.