We spend a little over two weeks in Annapolis, for reasons both planned (had to leave the boat on a mooring for a bit while we traveled to Boston for work commitments) and unplanned (unforeseen scheduling issues with mainsail maintenance).

But it is a good two weeks: we make a couple visits to Bacon Sails, who put a block and a sunguard on our mainsail. Spend time with some of Brendan’s extended family (Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Patty — who take us to a place to get $0.25 oysters — and cousin Phil and his family) and take a day trip to Alexandria to visit our good friend Skye. We bite the bullet and splurge on a generator so we can heat the boat. And we enjoy the Annapolis holiday lights parade.

The nearest supermarket is not too convenient from the waterfront, so we end up indulging in Happy Hour quite frequently. Nearly every restaurant seems to have $1 oysters — these are fat oysters, very different from New England ones. I fully embrace the local cuisine and manage to eat crab at almost every meal (in different formulations: crab cakes x10, crab Benedict, crab-stuffed avocado, she-crab soup, Maryland crab soup, crab fries, soft shell crab sandwich, crab dip — you name it!)

We leave Annapolis on Dec 12 at 5:30am, for a chilly motor 18NM to Herring Bay and anchor for the night. We end up staying in Herring Bay for a couple of days to wait out some strong winds (30kts) and cold weather (20 degrees) plus snow.

On Dec 14, we prepare to leave Herring Bay before sunrise.

In case we haven’t mentioned it yet, we don’t have a windlass. We have a human windlassie (me/Carrie). Our anchor is 45lbs. plus 60 feet of chain attached to a rope rode. Here’s how this has usually gone:

1. I pull in all the rope I can, and then all the chain I can. If it is windy, I usually yell unsuccessfully to Brendan to drive the boat forward or backwards so that I’m not pulling against the wind. Sometimes it’s impossible for Brendan to hear me from the cockpit and vice versa. This can make the process very frustrating, especially when chain slips through my hands and I lose my progress.
2. If it’s not too windy, I can usually get through half of the chain before I need to cleat it off and have Brendan tug on it with the engine to get us totally free.
3. I yell “We’re free!!!” a dozen times before Brendan hears me and starts motoring away.
4. I pull the anchor up and attempt to set it onto the roller. I am rarely able to do this easily and in one go. Usually the chain will have twisted in a way that prevents me from pulling it up on the anchor roller. In that case, I cleat the anchor off with it dangling just below the bow plate. Then I straddle the bow plate and pull up the anchor to rest it on the roller.
5. Since our anchor roller doesn’t secure the anchor very well (as we learned a couple months ago), I lash the anchor down to the bow cleat with an additional line so that it won’t go anywhere.
6. Then I put all the miscellaneous items we keep in the anchor locker back in the anchor locker.
7. Then I crawl back to the cockpit.

As usual my gloves get wet as I haul up the anchor rode, and by the time I reach the chain I am starting to lose feeling in my fingers. I have Raynaud’s syndrome which makes this kind of scenario particularly dreadful, causing considerable tingling pain in my hands when they are cold, which has made it really difficult to complete the task of hauling up the anchor in cold weather. I also inevitably wind up covered in mud from head to toe…

The sky is partly cloudy, and in the clear patches we catch sight of several shooting stars as we leave the anchorage. This almost makes up for how cold it is. We motor 20NM to a marina near Calvert Beach (Flag Harbor Yacht Haven), at the suggestion of Uncle Jimmy.

Early the next morning we cast off the lines and attempt to back out of the slip, only to find we are stuck in the mud. Uh-oh. With no choice but to wait, we spend the sunrise hours strolling Calvert Beach, where we discover an inexplicable bamboo forest. Apparently there are LOTS of fossils on Calvert Beach. We also do some bird-watching from the cockpit, cardinals and blue jays — neither of whom eat oranges — abound. We head out at 2:30pm when the tide is higher, just as it starts snowing. The seas are squirrelly and I try to collect hailstones for a cocktail, doesn’t work. -_-

After spending the night anchored at Solomon’s Island, we have a slow-moving morning. First, the anchor is super stuck and the chain is covered in slimy, sulphur-smelling mud. Every time I manage to haul up a foot of chain, it just slips right out of my hands. We then spend a stupidly long amount of time trying to find an open fuel dock.

Anchor at Fleet’s Bay (47.2NM) for the night. According to the chart we are anchored just next to an island, but do not see it. So we are a little concerned that we will wake up on land once the tide changes.

Entering Norfolk, we motor past fleets of hulking aircraft carriers, plus the U.S.S. Comfort, and onto Waterside Marina where we grab a slip for the night.

Mr. Suave and his vessel