And so my story ends, for now. It was a good trip all around, I reckon.

My Helm is alee. On my way thru Stamford, Connecticut I said ‘hello’ to my old sailing buddy, Jack, and then headed south, towards Charleston, thru the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Much like the Chesapeake Bay itself, the little towns along the shore seem endless. Saint Michael’s, Maryland, is a decent place with the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, shops, and some nice harbor side restaurants. Crisfield, is a backwater; I ate a decent crab cake sandwich at The Crab Place there, but missed ‘Ms. Hattie’ pickin’ crab.

Mystic Seaport, Connecticut. I hadn’t been there in 50 years and it was a great place to spend a Sunday. The museum is a private and public partnership of some sort, with the mission of restoring and preserving old wooden boats and keeping the craft of wooden boat-building alive.

The jewel of the museum’s crown is a wooden whaling vessel, the Charles W. Morgan. It’s currently up on land in the midst of an extensive refit, but one can go aboard to tour. It’s impossible to imagine that the ship & crew sailed for years at a time, chasing whales all over the oceans, before returning home.

The wooden boat group was at the Seaport, showing off their wonderful old cruisers and runabouts. It’s always a joy to look at the beauty of teak & varnish, and think about bygone days.

They had a nice display of the history of the art of tattooing, and the sailors over the years who have sported tattoos from every port of call.

I got to drive a radio-controlled tug & tow; probably the only tug I’ll ever drive, more’s the pity.



One could tell the true stories of high-dollar off-shore sailboat racing, but the names would have to be changed. Newport, RI, wasn’t my first port of call in the sailboat ‘bidness,’ but it was, in the early 1970’s, where I graduated to the real deal. I’m happy to report that it has been built up a bit, but it hasn’t been ruined.

I had a nice girl there, back in the day; I wouldn't mind hearing how she ended up...if only I could remember her name!

Truro Synagogue

Marblehead, MA. This is a very sleepy town that I’d read about forever. The harbor, though, was full of boats on their moorings and the yacht club launches were staying busy.

Down East. I may never have been to Maine before, or, I have no memory of being there. I drove to Boothbay Harbor and found a decent waterfront motel right in town. That worked out pretty well. I was beat from the climb and too much driving, and so I just wandered around, snacked on a few small dishes and slept pretty well. In the morning I wandered some more, took some photos, and drove a few miles to Ocean Point where I’m writing this right now. The weather has changed several times within an hour or so, from sun to clouds to spitting rain and back to sun.

Mount Monadnock, New Hampshire. They say that it’s the 2d most climbed mountain in the world, second only to Mount Fuji. Could be. On the morning of 20 July I ‘ran’ up in and ‘slid’ down in two hours and twenty minutes. It was quite a workout and much more of a challenge than I remember from the last time I climbed it. Maybe it was a different trail, but maybe not. Either way it’s incredible to think that my sister, at about 45 years of age, climbed it in a cotton sun dress and ‘China-boy’ shoes. I reckon that we come from good stock.

View from the top

http://www.mountainsummits.com/mountains/newhampshire/monadnock.htm