We were without internet for about a week. Wrote this a couple of days ago:
Rain drops on Spa Creek
July 9, 2011
It’s quiet.
Only the distant sound of the unison chants of the trainees at the
Navel Academy, the variety of chirps and squawks from the neighboring birds at
Truxton Park, the occasional whisper of jets approaching BWI, and the remaining drips of last night’s downpour onto the deck disturb this otherwise calm, calm morning.
The water, virtually still.
Two days back, Stan encouraged us to go for a sail up the
Severn River.
I readied the boat while Dave rested.
Earlier, I’d looked up the creek and didn’t see any movement on
Cors Aire so figured the plan had changed as it does sometimes.
Below deck Dave napped on the settee and I was reading about Cape May and the
Delaware Bay when I looked up to see Stan’s head scooting by on
Cors Aire.
Tom and Sherry, friends from
Sandusky, Ohio, whom Stan calls “the kids,” waved from the deck.
I rousted Dave from his dreams and said, “Stan is going NOW.”
After scurrying around, raising the dinghy and anchor, removing the sail cover and waiting for the rush hour to end, we made the 6:00 lifting of the Spa Creek drawbridge.
Cors Aire, looking stately with sails unfurled, met us for the ride up the
Severn River.
Cors Aire under sail up the Severn River
With a light breeze behind us,
Wayward Wind smoothly sailed up the
Severn past beautiful homes, boat houses, and a variety of vessels, old and new, surrounded by woods.
Though it just lasted a couple of hours, it was good to be sailing again.
We anchored behind
St. Helena Island just off the docks of some older homes that edged the rise on the mainland.
Other than the occasional power boater zipping by with gleeful kids in tow on inflatables, the anchorage was peaceful.
Going up the Severn River
That night we enjoyed Stan’s baked brie, pulled pork sandwiches, wine and friendly conversation with Sherry and Tom aboard Cors Aire. We laughed a lot as we heard about Stan’s misadventures with various women. Sherry and Tom tried to tell him that he needs to find a good woman. Stan, more or less, agreed but said, "They’re just hard to find."
Sherry, recently retired, and Tom also talked about their jobs as air traffic controllers. Both love the work. The setting is a central command center where on multiple computer screens they have a broad view of the states. They spoke of what it was like during 9/11 when they had to get all of the jets landed as quickly as possible. This meant that they had to track each jet in the air, find a nearby airport, communicate with the jet, and command it to land. Some of the pilots were aware of the attacks, but those who were not were taken by surprise at being commanded to land their jet immediately. I don’t remember the duration, but both Tom and Sherry proudly spoke of how quickly they were able to clear the skies of airliners.
Just now, I hear the put-put of Stan’s outboard, I go up to the cockpit and whistle. He turns and gives me a thumbs-up then turns back, standing as always, and with net in hand, scoops up another piece of garbage as he scoots along toward the sunrise to start his workday.
