It is on days like today, cold, wet, and dreary, with a weather forecast for more snow, up to 12" more, that I want to be someplace sunny, warm and tropical, preferably on my former sailboat, Tyche. It is on days like today, I dream about sailing in tropical places, sans dogs, places like Bora Bora, St. John's, Exuma Cay, Belize.... I long to feel the motion of a sailboat beneath my feet, to see the deep blue of open water, to feel the gentle lap of water against the hull at anchor...
I lived aboard and sailed the good boat, Tyche, for five years. She & I went to many ports of call, a few in exotic places. One year, Tyche & I went down the Intercoastal Waterway and headed east out of Lauderdale towards the Bahamas. That was an interesting trip!
We (Tyche & I) left the Baltimore Yacht Basin in October and headed south down the Chesapeake Bay. We had a good wind and our first port of call that day was in the hurricane hole on the Rhode River, which is south of Annapolis and north of Shady Side.
This is one of my favorite anchorages. At my last visit, 
there were three islands and I normally dropped anchor behind & south of them, using Big Island as my guide. Most of the shoreline is owned by the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. However, to the north on the peninsula and well hidden in the woods, is Camp Letts. At dusk during the summer months, I'd be sitting in the cockpit with a drink in hand and I'd hear the sweet, mournful sounds of taps gently wafting over the air.
there were three islands and I normally dropped anchor behind & south of them, using Big Island as my guide. Most of the shoreline is owned by the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. However, to the north on the peninsula and well hidden in the woods, is Camp Letts. At dusk during the summer months, I'd be sitting in the cockpit with a drink in hand and I'd hear the sweet, mournful sounds of taps gently wafting over the air.The mornings in the anchorage are special. Again, I'd be sitting in the dew covered cockpit with a steaming cup of coffee and I'd watch the dawn break. In the grey, predawn hours, life would begin to stir all around you. A cabin light would turn on and twinkle on a neighboring boat; a heron would be fishing for his breakfast along the reed lined shore. It was quiet, but you could hear the sounds of life. It was a reaffirmation of life. All too soon, people would be up & about and it would be time to hoist anchor and be on my way.
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