Rough Waters - Part I
If you follow along here regularly, you’ll remember that I mentioned last week how I just felt ready for some sort of break.
In a way that doesn’t often happen, life somehow worked out that my husband and I, on the spur of the moment, got the chance to take one.
We had loosely planned to boat at home with our kids on Father’s Day.
However, heavy rain throughout the week made it undeniably apparent that the river had no hope of clearing up enough for us to enjoy by the weekend.
“We could load the boat and head to Maryland…” I wishfully murmured to my husband one evening as we contemplated the angry-looking water.
I say “wishfully”, because I had just suggested something we had penciled in on the list of things we’d like to do this summer, but one I know we both doubted we would find the opportunity to actually do.
We have a special affection for Maryland’s Eastern Shore for multiple reasons. We both grew up vacationing with our families on that region’s popular beaches. Throughout our 20’s and 30’s though, life took us other places on vacations, and I guess we truthfully kind of forgot about that area.
Not until five or six years ago when my husband and son had the opportunity to take up duck hunting (something that quickly became an absolute favorite for both of them) would anything take any of us back there.
When it did, we experienced a blast of nostalgia, remembering the good times we had enjoyed on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Having grown accustomed to traveling much further to similar-feeling destinations on a fairly-regular basis, we also found it a refreshing reminder that this little lost treasure really is still available to us – at a much more manageable distance.
As our love for the area rekindled, the memories we would make with our family there began to grow. I cannot imagine that any will ever top the one that imbedded itself into my heart almost three-years ago: Our daughter and son-in-law’s stunningly beautiful waterfront wedding day on the Eastern Shore.
For each reason we already love it, I think we also have something new we would like to experience there. Especially when it comes to what we love to do most: Getting onto the water!
When just such an opportunity appeared to materialize for Father’s Day - and it worked for us - we saw only one problem: It did not work for our kids.
We spend a lot of time with our kids.
We love that.
I (perhaps too presumptuously) think they at least must not hate it, because they do keep coming back…
So, while it felt slightly “wrong” to suggest Father’s Day plans that… well… didn’t include them… we went ahead and suggested it anyway. They both readily agreed that they see their dad all the time; that it would make them happy to see him get to spend that day doing something he could really enjoy.
Later, I would look back and recognize a sort of serendipity between last Father’s Day and this one. Last year found us in South Carolina with him in Sea School, in the process of becoming a US Coast Guard Certified Captain. This Father’s Day, he would enjoy an opportunity he never could have without that hard work.
And we would get to share the adventure of it all!
Recently, we have often discussed how “easy” it would feel for just the two of us to pick up and go somewhere; how simple compared to so much of what we have done in the past. That held true. With a boat loaded, a few bags packed, and one run for a little food and plenty of wine to take, we hit the road.
Apparently, so did everyone else because we ended up in heavy traffic from almost the start. To exacerbate the slow-going, only once we had gotten underway did my husband decide that he didn’t like the way we had loaded the boat on the trailer. Outrunning high water, we had hastily yanked it out of the river – not knowing at the time we were also loading it to tow 300-miles. That oversight afforded us a bouncier and more nerve-wracking ride than necessary.
Still, getting away felt great, and we knew our adventure would be worth the rough ride.
Only about an hour into the trip, I answered a business phone call. That is just life. When you own a business, even when you go away, you are never really “off”. I grew up that way. We have lived that way for years. We know this. That morning’s call informed us of an equipment malfunction the evening before that would significantly affect weekend business unless we found a way to take care of it. Fortunately, we could arrange to take care of it over the phone. But doing so led to my spending the next couple of hours mostly on the phone. Once I felt satisfied I had done everything I could about it, I shook it off.
We were still on our adventure!
At least it had made a slow trip feel faster, because by now we had reached our traditional “last stop before we arrive” spot: The coolest store, where we not only take care of official things like boat licensing, but also always find the best gear, clothes, shoes… all the fun things to shop for.
I felt as excited as always to see what great things I would find, but after a few straight hours bouncing down the road, I felt even more excited to first check out the restroom. I headed straight in that direction. Imagine my surprise, when, upon arrival, a “Restroom Closed” sign greeted me.
I didn’t even break stride as I circled back past my husband at the licensing counter and announced that, if he needed me, I’d be at the Wendy’s across the parking lot! Let’s just say that each step I took toward Wendy’s grew quicker than the one before it. In no time at all, I stood at the door. And read the sign that said “Sorry. Dining Room Closed Today. Drive Thru Only.”
I never thought I’d feel so thankful to be towing a boat equipped with a head. Surely nobody in the string of traffic creeping toward the Bay Bridge noticed as, wearing my comfy summer dress, purse still hanging from my shoulder, I climbed over the stern of a trailered vessel and disappeared below deck…
Considering the temperature was at least 150 degrees in there, AND the string of traffic just outside the hatch, I wasted no time. I emerged less than a minute later. Climbing back out of the boat (in my dress), I told myself, “Who cares. I’ll never see these people again…” Feeling like a new woman; one on vacation; I headed back to the store, ready to shop!
That’s when I finally looked around and realized: The store is not that great anymore. Sometime since our most recent visit, it had basically flip-flopped. Now, instead of a great store where one can take care of necessary details, it had become more like a place to take care of necessary details with only a fraction of the great stuff they used to have. I found nothing I liked even a little bit.
Disappointing - but not the end of the world.
We were still on an adventure!
And now only about an hour away from the destination we know and love.
Climbing back in for the final leg of the journey, we opened the sunroof and the windows to feel the brackish air: A sure sign that we are almost there. That lovely breeze almost prevented me from hearing my phone ring…
Almost.
Answering the call, I heard my slightly concerned sounding daughter on the other end.
She had stopped by our house to check in on Drake. It just so happened that, as she prepared to leave, the security system apparently announced that a second-story door in the garage had opened. That has never happened before, and even though she described it as quite a windy day, it seemed hard to imagine that should matter. She found the neighbors outside, and they confirmed they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Still, she felt too concerned to just leave. (You do remember what I told you about the way her mind works in “Another Week – Another Chapter…”?) Given my current distance from home, how could I, with any degree of certainty, tell her not to worry?
“Where are your husband and your brother?” I asked. “Both at work. Nowhere nearby!” she said. “Well, darlin’, I’m even LESS nearby…” What else could I say?
This back and forth ensued for the next several miles.
At one point, I know I heard my husband mutter something about, “Every time we try to do anything…”
Just about then, my phone’s message tone sounded. I opened it to discover my mom also at the scene. She said: “Little bit of Charlie’s Angels going on! All’s well, as Brandi will let you know, but she crept up the garage stairs with her gun. ! I wanted to go with her, but she insisted I wait downstairs.”
Well, good. (“Good” as in “Are-you-EVEN-kidding-me????”)
But, whatever. If the wind chose that day as the first time EVER to pop a door open - at least it happened in broad daylight.
Everything was FINE - and we were still on an adventure!
A few minutes later, we turned down the most beautiful tree-lined drive, leading to the most beautiful historical waterside estate. Just like every time, it took my breath away. We were there!
With the wonderful sense of familiarity about the place that means so much to us, we unloaded a few bags and proceeded to the cottage that feels like home. I walked in and went straight to the thermostat, finding the temperature at 84-degrees. I bumped it way down, turned on some Otis Redding, uncorked a bottle of Coppola Rosso, and went out to find my husband. We sat in Adirondack chairs beside the waterfront pool and reveled in the chance to relax in such a beautiful place while we decided what to do for dinner.
We ended up at a wonderful Italian spot in the charming historical town. We indulged in wood-fired gourmet pizza, more wine, and topped it all off with sinfully decadent New York style cheesecake. Then we headed back to our cottage - ready to unwind from the day of travel and to sleep well for the nautical adventure we had planned for the remainder of our weekend.
You have probably noticed how I keep mentioning our familiarity with this trip and this place. It all feels so familiar, in fact, that as I packed this time, I remembered that the cottage always feels comfortably cold for sleeping. Therefore, despite the 90-degree forecast, I knew that long pajamas – tops and bottoms - would serve me best. That’s all I packed.
Imagine our surprise when, upon walking in after dinner, a blast of still 84-degree air met us at the door! I knew I had adjusted the thermostat, but we checked it again. Then, slightly concerned, my husband ventured outside toward the HVAC units. Meanwhile, I located the main electrical panel and reset the breakers. We met back up having reached one conclusion: Something was wrong. We had no air conditioning. We did have 84-degree sleeping conditions.
How in the world….???
But, wait: I was happy just to be there. On our adventure.
“It’s so peaceful here. I feel safe. Maybe we can just open the windows…” I offered that thought, and in no time at all, he was outside the bedroom window popping in one of the screens he had found next to the HVAC units. I adjusted the blind to prop up a box fan we had found stashed in one of the closets and prepared to change. Into my LONG pajamas. When I mentioned this complication, he disappeared for a minute and returned from his truck with an unworn size XXL t-shirt advertising a contractor. I happily accepted it as my new sleepwear.
As we settled into bed that night, too warm to even cover up with a sheet, he said optimistically, “I bet we’re cold by morning.” Keeping with the positive spirit, I added, “Yep. It’ll be comfy. Almost like camping…”
Maybe it really was. Maybe I was just exhausted. But somehow, I did sleep better that night than I have in a long time.
I awoke to bright sunshine and stepped into its warmth savoring a steaming mug of boldly flavored coffee. I soaked in the view of the sparkling water, the fishing boats out since before dawn. I inhaled the uniquely familiar scent combination of tidal water and magnolia blossoms. I took in the peacefully noisy silence; filled only with the sounds of lapping waves, birds, and the rustling breeze.
I skipped everything else that normally makes up my morning routine in order to dress quickly, eager to set out on our adventure.
My husband had already left to load the boat with coolers and our gear. I had myself just about together when I got a message from him saying, “Weather changed. Storm at 1:00 now.” Up to that point, the forecast had shown nothing but clear skies all day. Considering the other curve balls this trip had thrown us so far, I could only reply, “Of course it did…” and keep on moving forward.
A half-hour later found us at the boat launch. I climbed aboard. He backed me into the water. I held the boat. He parked the truck and trailer. He stepped aboard. I began freeing the lines.
Launching from the slip next to us, a couple lifted aboard an adorable Lab puppy – a definite soft spot for me these days. Freeing my bow line, I happily called out, “What a cutie!” I ended up learning his name and his age, and of course lovingly mentioned our 8-month-old, who it seems was just that size…
Sometime during that happy exchange, I realized I had heard our motor crank…
Not once.
Not even twice.
Maybe… three times?
That never happens.
I think my head spun all the way around as I said, “What in the….??”
Only to see my husband staring at the motor saying the same thing.