Friday, January 30, 2009

A-Hoya From Georgetown!

Sorry. Bad pun there for you college basketball fans, and besides, we're not at THAT Georgetown.

We're in Georgetown, Maryland.

John here.

After a series of long (and rather arduous) passages, it was nice to have a leisurely, three-hour cruise from Summit North Marina through the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal into the Chesapeake Bay and then up into the Sassafras River here in Georgetown.

Of course, the leisurely cruise did include encounters with two mammoth tankers in the canal, but with Tammy and Colleen at the helm, all went well.

At the end of it all, in spite of a pretty stiff breeze, Doug glided us in to the end of a T-Dock at Sailing Associates, one of several marinas in Georgetown -- one that charged a reasonable $2 per foot, by the way -- and once we were safely tied down, it was time for exploring.

We were exploring for places to buy beer.

Our stock had run perilously low, so with backpacks all around, we took a two-mile hike to the neighboring town of Galena. On the way, we traversed a drawbridge that decided to open when we were mere feet from the rising span -- we beat a hasty retreat -- and later on, we walked past an organic turkey farm, where the tenants were happy to come out and cackle their greetings.

The liquor store was small but well-stocked, and after careful deliberation, we decided upon our old stand-by -- that being a 30-pack of Coors Light -- and a bargain-priced case of Yeungling Light.

(My daughter Jen, who developed a taste for Yeungling while at Lehigh University, is probably cheering as she reads this.)

After our purchase, there was bit more math involved -- 54 beers divided by four bodies meant 13 beers per backpack -- and that, in turn, meant the walk home was a bit less swift than the outward journey.

Not that we needed the rest, but we paused briefly to study an historic marker outside the Georgetown Yacht Basin to soak up a little culture.

When the beer was safely iced, we settled down to on-board chores. For me, one of those chores included a daring act of personal grooming. See, before we departed New Hampshire, my lovely wife Colleen accompanied me for my last session with my hair stylist, Shari Pothier. Shari gave Colleen a crash course in cutting my hair, but this was the first time I had ever let Colleen come this close to my throat with scissors.

She had clippers, too, and initially, I was afraid I would come out of the session looking like a radiation victim (or perhaps, a rather elderly Marine), but given what she had to work with -- that being me -- she did a great job.

Then I let her have a drink.

And no matter how it appears in the picture, I do have clothes on under the barbering shroud.

Our meal-time routines have become remarkably well-choreographed, so later on, we dined on grilled pork riblets in a spicy Hawaiian marinade, with fresh green beans and garlic roasted potatoes and we did so while watching the Red Sox on my laptop, thanks to that amazing Sling Box contraption Jen and Nic got for us.

Makes me think this whole internet thing might be a worthwhile invention.

With an unnamed wind storm bearing down on us -- I'm calling this gale Gail -- we decided to spend Thursday sitting tight at the Sailing Associates dock for another day.

And we will write more, on another day...

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