HOME!

4/7 Sunday, Bay Boat Works Slip #23, (didn’t check the engine hours), 78/59, light morning fog then sunny - Even though we had a later-than-usual evening, I was eager to greet the morning and get started on the last 46 miles to home. I made breakfast and rowed Murphy to shore, and we caught the 7am opening of the Spa Creek Bridge. A light fog hung over the Bay; the air was still. We motored out of Spa Creek and then drifted in the Severn while loading Coquille on the foredeck.

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By 4pm, Grace was tied up in her slip at Bay Boat Works - HOME. This trip on the ICW, one of several that we’ve made, was especially challenging and often uncomfortable, and we are relieved to be back to the place where we feel good and whole again.

Since it was still early, we unpacked the tandem components from the quarterberths and Dobbs went to work on reassembly. In the time it took me to rearrange the other items that were stored in the quarterberths in preparation for unloading tomorrow, Dobbs had the bicycle reassembled.

As I walked Murphy and fed the pets, he put the finishing touches on shifting and braking.

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Friends Cliff and Patty of North East River Yacht Club were down working on their Beneteau sailboat “C’est Si Bon” and I enjoyed catching up with them while I was out walking. When the bike was ready, Dobbs and I rode to Plum Creek Market and bought a bottle of champagne. I thought of what a special gift Walter and Danae gave us with the bicycle - a way to get around and continue working together - and how kindness travels and spreads. Being kind is probably the best thing we can do for each other as a society.

We toasted the end of our journey and our fine home on the Chesapeake, sitting in Grace’s cockpit and listening to birds and waterfowl. All that we love here seems more precious for having been away.

Later, for dinner, I sautéed broccoli, onions, garlic, and chicken and served it with macaroni and cheese. I tucked into bed at 9pm and Dobbs washed the dishes. Tomorrow we’ll ride the 4.5 miles home to our cottage, trade the bicycle for our truck, and begin to return to life ashore…that is, until Still Pond calls.