Editor’s Note
10 Things I Learned on Baycation
R
emember that “my summer vacation” assignment in school? Here’s the mid-life version: after many years of being a weekender, here’s what I learned on my first eight-day cruise on the Chesapeake Bay. 1. Dress for the forecast, not your vision. I blame it on scrambling to get my deadline done (rather than my being dimwitted)—I forgot my foul weather pants on what was predicted to be a wet May week. Luckily for me, Capt. Mike had spare bibs onboard, which I only had to wear once. My duffel full of tropical sarongs, bathing suits, straw hats, and tank tops remained untouched. I wore long sleeves and fleece every day. 2. Canvas is everything. It’s critical for keeping you cool on deck in August and helps protect your skin from the summer sun, and a good Bimini, connector, and dodger also ensure your comfortable travels in the rain or dinner on deck by candlelight on a drizzly evening. I will never own a boat without full canvas coverage. 3. Rafting rules. I can write a whole article on this one, but our experience with friends gave us a new perspective on raftup etiquette. Once your boats are tied up together with fenders secured, give the crew a chance to settle in, take care of business, freshen up, turn on an anchor light, and the like before plying them with cocktails and questions. After a long travel day, they might need a minute to gather themselves. 4. Pay attention. That pod of dolphins, the lone tall ship traveling up the empty Bay, a dive-bombing pelican, the sunset following a storm, a starry sky glimpsed through the hatch, an invitation to dine at a friend’s waterfront house: these may be the highlights of your trip. Be open to the unexpected. 5. Observe other sailors. We saw a couple who’d anchored in too-shallow water and were hard aground. They called a tow service much sooner than we would have. We watched them motor away, fenders flapping, the swim ladder dragging behind
14 July 2017 spinsheet.com
by Molly Winans
##Drizzly day selfie!
them. We try not to be catty—as sailing is nothing if not humbling, and you never know when you’ll be next to play the fool. But it does make you more likely to monitor your own depth gauge more closely and evaluate the tide situation while dropping the hook, and when departing, to remove dangling fenders and tie up the swim ladder. I learn a lot by observing other sailors’ behavior, good and bad. 6. Exercise is tough. I get antsy sitting around on my behind on a cruising boat. We have paddleboards for exploring anchorages, but it’s still not quite enough exercise for me. If we ever embark on a longer adventure (still in dream phase now), I would need to address that. I welcome onboard exercise ideas from readers. 7. Headaches. Marine heads generate problems from flushing struggles to the stench wafting over you as you stargaze out the hatch. Head drama aboard boats is pervasive enough to break up marriages and stop adventures before they even begin. After one particularly
frustrating morning onboard, I said, “I get why people come home from the Bahamas and sell their boats.” If you’re going to cruise, you’re going to have to deal with the head. This is my least favorite part about cruising and one I’d need to overcome. 8. Provisioning. Our weekend and charter trips have armed us well with provisioning skills. We ate healthily and plentifully, consumed most of our food supply, never lacked anything, and ate an excellent “everything but the kitchen sink” salad for our last lunch. 9. Meet friends. We loved spending time just the two of us onboard, but the two raftups and dinner at a friend’s house along the way made our trip much more memorable and interesting. Say “yes” to friends old and new. 10. Get out there. I can never see all of the secret anchorages and creeks on this vast, fascinating Bay, but I’m willing to try.