tangier

[Dutchman]

ahoy all,

i have just returned from tangier island located in the middle of the chesapeake. the original plan was to row the explorer from the museum in Deltaville Va. to the island to commemorate john smith's arrival 400 years later. (17 miles) here is the venture.

arrived at the docks very early thursday morn with my beloved grace to head off on what was described in the billing as a manly-man weekend where only meat would be eaten and showers frowned upon. why grace wanted in i have no idea, but this played out favorably later. The idea was to row/sail to the island, upon seeing the water flat, hazy and narry a ripple of wind, we opted to tow- we have learned something in 400 years!!! so our tow boat is a recently donated 42ft deadrise workboat about 40 years old. it was donated for a reason- nuf said. the compliment of 15 has reduced to 7. myself, grace, wes, wes' son wesley, ed the history dude who did not like heat or silence, dennis who came along to portray john smith, later christopher columbus- who according to tangier legend actually discovered tangier, new one by me but ok, and kaptain krunch- really thats his name around town, he's the museum coordinator for this trip.

trip went smoothly to the island, ed and john cristopher columbus smith were left to gesticulate and revel in glory for the four hour trip. as they were well behind us being towed we have no idea what they talked about but arms flailed the entire time.

arrived at the island, population 600, just as the ferries were leaving for the day. to our amazement we were now to be the entertainment/ beer supply for the weekend. did i mention its a dry island. we had planned on a ration of few cases a day with 15 of us. we were now down to four who could medically and legally consume. the lines are not even made fast when grace decides that the boat is no place for her after two weekends of events already and heads off to find a b&b. yup she finds one- that serves two meals a day has a/c AND showers. upon her return she informs me of her executive decision and says we will indeed enjoy ourselves. as i watch the haze shimmer and wafte from the decaying marsh grass and get a nose full of this pugnant aroma mixed with dead fish and crabs i say okie dokie and off we plod to the golf cart taxi (no cars). upon arriving we find dinner under way (3:00 pm) and not wanting to be rude promply plop down to enjoy unlimmitted crab cakes and clam fritters mixed with lots of comfort food. we roll outside to find the street closed (no litterally- the one street!) for a block party. all the islanders have turned out for the museum opening. we run into our wayward and hungry crew, who made fun of us for wimping out, at the museum -we do a brief dog and pony show and head back to the boat where the locals are eyeing the new vessels in the harbor. its not every day you see a new 400 year old oversized rowboat and a derelect deadrise which should not have been able to make the crossing. Wes has fired up the grill and is working on a set of ribs, which became flesh toned around two am. so the sleeping arangements were two in the b&b, john smith in the shallope because he wanted to. ed the history dude on the tow boats engine box, wes' in a pup tent on the boats bridge, giving a bit of an r2d2 appearance and krunch in the v birth.

thus concludes day 1.

[Matusalem]

That's a 48 mile row for John Smith

I can recall taking 6 hours in a cabin cruiser from Point Lookout in Md. to Tangier, (which I think was like 60 miles or so). The island itself is a bit close to sea level, and in some case, below sea level, which I recall houses on stilts. I can recall getting nearly strafed by A-10 bombers on the way home because we veered into a restricted target area. What's really remarkable about Tangier island is the residents distinctive unadulterated Cornwallish accent. These are Americans, mind you!

[Dutchman]

aye matusalem, thanks for the overhead- but we gotta check that scale of reference. we tracked only 23 miles on the gps to get there. 19 as the crow flies, but had to account for the bombing range and a bit of current set=23.

cruising at 7 knots we took just under 4 hours- the math won't add as we fished a bit.

we'll save the range story for the last days tale- its always fun!!

day two found us feeding our faces by seven with the rest of the crew, who were already tired of eating manly-man food, at the only eatery open- the b&b. it seems the night before the school principal had cornered john smith and asked if the school could come visit- well thats why were here- sure. so around ten thirty here comes the combined school of fifty. so loads of ten off we go in 100 degree heat with humidity. (note of interest- by our count only half the kids said they could swim and fewer had ever rowed a boat- odd for a fishing island community) we wrap that up in time for lunch at the crab house on the dock that opened at 11 when the ferries came and closed at 4 when they left- five hour work days. durring lunch, the locals warmed up a bit and we were truly exposed to the cornish dialect matusalem referenced. wow what a grand time talking with these folks. hard workers who enjoy themselves. up and fishing by three or four. in by noon and still till four or so then back to work for a few more hours when the heat breaks- then community gathering till bed time.

so we wandered the docks and crab shacks till dinner time. more crab cakes and clam fritters, then off to the airstrip to party. the party tonight consisted of hotdogs, burgers, bbq, soda, cotton candy, an inflatable bouncy ride, and last nights dj- with the same record track. dag those kids can dance. of course as we had beer on the boat we were popular. no original containers allowed so we made use of the many empty bottles of gatorade left about the boat. the local police (just one on the island) officer politely pointed out he had busted up an underage party on monday and said to be sure not to give any to the kids. Grace danced like a fool all night then off to the B&B.

[Matusalem]

aye matusalem, thanks for the overhead- but we gotta check that scale of reference. we tracked only 23 miles on the gps to get there. 19 as the crow flies, but had to account for the bombing range and a bit of current set=23.

cruising at 7 knots we took just under 4 hours- the math won't add as we fished a bit.

Yes, my reference was off, on account, that if you look at the scale of miles in the lower left of the sat photo, the 10.92 mi sits right in that center mark. I would think that if you are going to create a scale measurement, it would make sense to put the number right on the mark, not on the whole distance as google did. It's kind of decieving.

As for me, I am living in NJ, but it appears that there is a good chance that I am re-locating, by summer's end, to the Old Line State of Md, for which I am born and native to. Treasure the Chesapeake, as they say.

[Matusalem]

For those who are not familiar with the Chesapeake area, the Tangier island tongue is unique, you really have to hear it to believe it. They have spoken this way for over 300 years.

and

& a

[Dutchman]

matusalem, thanks for providing those links. the shallop was from project sultana- much better suited for sailing than the explorer.

day three found us sweltering by sun up and aground on the first row of the day. my latchetts and socks now reek of tangier goo- and no i was not at the helm- i was crew. i realized my fatal flaw of going over to push us off (we only draw two feet- it can't be that bad) as i made the two feet to bottom then kept going another two in the muck. a sad note- one of the islanders passed away this morning- we met him last night at the party. the rest of the day was spent under the shade of the crab shack as there were no takers for a mid day sun bake. clam fritters for lunch again. nap around noon and then off to the airstrip for another party- same dj, same song set, same games- seems to be a theme here. however the highlight was getting flagged over to the police officers golf cart by our friend larry who had WAY too much *ahem* sprite for his own good and was unable to get out of the drivers seat without help. its not every night you see a drunk on a dry island stuck in the drivers seat of a police golf cart. off to the B&B.

day four found a knock on the door at sun up. wes proclaimed krunch was ready to head out. we arrive in time to stow our bags and throw lines from the explorer. wesley, having found the ultimate 10 year olds playground for the weekend was still asleep in the r2d2 tend on the fly bridge- so being flat water and no wind we head out. opting for an early morning short cut we head out the west cut and straight for the before mentioned bombing range- clearly marked on the charts as Danger bombing range unexploded ordinance stay clear. apparently that does not apply to us venturers. as we bid farewell to tangier and find our first derelect hull, wes proclaims "s#^t". hmmm... this can't be good now can it pubsters?

seems the electronics decided to sleep in whilst mid range. no loran, no gps on the boat to start, and radios are down. so the compass works and we have a decent chart. dead reconing for an hour and finally the kilmarnock water tower emerges. take a heading of 215 and home we go. we arrive in deltaville in fine fasion as the steering gave out at the channel and we had to use the explorer hauled tight astern for directional guidance with the tent still on the fly bridge.

as a side note- i now know what gatorade smells like sweating out of your system- yuk.

not the most exciting venture but a venture all the same