The Animal Emporium

The outputs of the Grand Re-Bound

In my best voice of Louis Armstrong, he yelled "Good Morning everyone! It's a nice day in the Bay Chesapeake …. Time for a dippy dippy! "Okay, so it was late, and" everyone "was my friend Annie and I, but to shout those words serious was a happy occasion. Firstly because they were ridiculously hot and dying for a bath, and second because I was almost at the exact point I heard 15 years ago for the first time that phrase.

Although it was only the second year in high school, which so vividly recalls being awakened by the cry of battle. It was a three-night adventure outings determined on the Bay, and every cold morning in October had been met with "Dippy Dippy" call from our instructor, Tom Thomas. A wrinkled old salt, with a booming voice and a thick mustache, salt and pepper, wearing a knit cap that made him look like a turn of the century Leatherhead. He thus we were awakened every morning, snarling maddeningly cheerful statements at the top of his lungs, waiting for us teenagers to leave immediately of our sleeping bags, change in bathing suits and hop in the water. And we did. Despite the cold water, which were, after all, young and had choice but to comply.

But in the morning dippy dippy had only been a test of courage my nine classmates and I, along with two instructors and a physics professor incredibly whiny, endure. We had faced four days of sailing and rowing (especially the latter) in Chesapeake cold aboard a 30 foot "pulling the boat" (essentially a giant canoe with two stubby masts) with no head, no real shelter, climate shit, and sometimes only eat Cornnuts soaked. But despite near collisions with cargo ships, night anchor watches, frozen toes and around a riot, this was the trip that made me want to be a sailor. This was when I came to love the bay.

And every time since then – especially since getting my own boat – I've wanted to go on that trip. I wanted to see, with eyes of adults, sights and sounds that started my love affair with cruising the Chesapeake Bay. So this year, 15 years after the original trip, I decided to stop Pussyfooting around and just do it. And in keeping with the spirit of Outward Bound, I wanted to be captain. I wanted to take the boat without my husband John, to prove to myself that I could handle the boat alone. Well, almost alone. Need at least some of the crew – a backup Ann, so to speak. So I called my old friend Annie, who had been on the original trip to come and sail memory lane with me. She is a teacher and was now more than happy to spend a few days of their summer vacation with me as we came to call. . . wait to. . . recreation.

Although outstanding recreation period costume (my old soccer practice shirt with school logo and number), that I knew that could only be loosely based on the original trip. After all, who knew precisely our memories of 15 years of age would be. The chances of our finding the exact spots we visited many years ago were in fact quite rare. But we try. And that, according to the philosophy of Bound trip is what is really important.

I had a pretty good idea of where he had been in Outward Bound – or, as we are calling the second trip of recreation, I refer to the original, just as the Battle. After all, it was a bloody hard trip, and if I go to recreate something that could well be a battle. Had begun somewhere in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore, who had dropped anchor for the night on the south shore of the Patapsco, just downstream of the Key Bridge. The second day after to sail straight across the river and the Bay. I remember being excited at the prospect of going under the bridge of the Chesapeake Bay, but south that day we headed east to the East Coast. Then he hung left into a small stream with nothing but grass lining the coast and dropped the hook. We could not see the bridge, or any of the few houses that lined the shore, which is completely isolated. It was a phenomenal place, and have spent many hours in recent years studying on page 27 of my book trying to figure out exactly where we had been, that as the boat drew only 18 inches, could have been almost any stream in the Bay. On the third day of battle, had gone across the bay and spent the night in a creek on the north coast of the Patapsco. I remember him mostly for being the exact opposite of last night's anchorage – the industrial zone lights were everywhere and we were very close to a kind of huge factory. I do not like. On the fourth day we headed back to the inner harbor on a bitterly cold and foggy weather. And, no wind, we rowed all the way up river. To this day, my hands get sore when I think the rowing handles all afternoon.

Annie agreed with my memories of the trip, but could not remember much more than that. In fact, had a more diffuse remember Navigation Plan I, but had a better memory of events onboard. Apparently, while I had been a lover of life learning about boating, sailing and navigation, Annie had focused primarily on children.

We could start a day recreation in the same place that the battle had begun, since I live in Annapolis, and we had an extra two days to start and finish the trip in Baltimore. So instead, we went to Annapolis and headed to the Patapsco. I had been a nervous wreck all morning, but once he was in the water and I realized the Things were no different than if John had been a long, began to recede. I remembered that I am perfectly capable of handling the boat, especially since John and I had a little practice to anchor and man overboard drills the day before. In addition to wearing lifejackets, and there was no breeze that much anyway, so he doubted that we would be sailing long. . . . I was right. At the moment in Sandy Point, the wind died down and we had the engine running. As the putt of the bay going green channel buoy after another, we look at the charts to see if I could remember exactly where he anchored the first night of the battle. Our plan was to stay there the first night. The next day make a quick turn through the port to find the starting point of Battle, then look for third night anchor the battle in the valley north coast. On the third day of recreation that we find the sweet spot – the anchor in the East Coast that has kept alive the memory of all these years.

We arrived at the Patapsco after a long, hot engine hours and continued up the river until we got halfway the Key Bridge, then south. Annie and I remembered that on the first night of the battle that had anchored very quickly after passing under the key bridge – a very strange place, there was so much thought at the time, and that was right in front of the houses lining the River. It felt like a parking Winnebago someone's front yard by night. But Tom had assured us that not doing anything wrong.

As I approached Annie and Piedras Blancas and the south coast of the Patapsco, we knew we had found the same houses again, in Riviera Beach, lining the peninsula between Stony and Rock creeks. He also reminded the tongue of land that extends from Rock Creek to Rock Point and has provided a backdrop to our anchorage. But I could not stay here tonight. The wind picked up again, down the river channeling. It would have been a night bumpy, if we stayed put. Instead, we followed the winding channel in Stony Creek, in a wide range of beautiful semicircular bay where Cape Cod and beach cottages lined the western shore.

SPLASH! Annie happily jumped in the water and shouted infamous Tom's dippy dippy alarm call. I spent two beers and life jackets to float, then jumped from the stern of the banned dance too. Ahhh, instant relief. It was not until early June, so the water was still fresh, despite the hot air seethingly. Both careful planning of the time, Annie and I had chosen this week on the assumption that it would too hot and terrible weather we enjoyed the cruise and meeting without nettles. Well, we were only half as lucky. There were no nettles, but it was in mid-July hot. In fact, proved to be the hottest week of summer. I guess it was on purpose, being in a recreational way Bound. . . would have to support at least a little hell.

We feel very good that we had come so far. And although they were now enjoying a well deserved swim and ice cold beer, who joked with Annie was going to be keeping other aspects of this trip as authentic as possible and would need to stand guard for several hours at night. And Annie said that since I had slept through every one of their watches battle, which surely would not be keeping tonight! I guess I was the geek that took to see the situation seriously. But Tom had told us to do the walk was a serious matter: We do not drag the boat anchor, and, more importantly, that rats not climb the rope of the anchor.

Unlike the battle, recreation, meals do not have a boat made in a container Sterno. I had brought a good bottle of red wine and a couple of steaks for dinner tonight. Annie was mighty impressed – I think she was expecting a steady diet of turkey sandwiches. In fact, though my ship is actually two feet shorter than the boat pulling it definitely has nicer facilities.

I do not sleep well that night. All dream involving dragging anchor or the sinking ship. I was every half hour or so to make sure that did not move – both for not standing up. But I think it's my job as captain to worry!

The next morning we went for another dippy dippy cool while coffee was brewing. Then we heard weather forecasts, which did not sound good. The forecast was calling for big storms to roll through the area, starting around 2 pm and continuing for the rest of the night. Neither liked the sound of it, so we've changed the navigation plan. Instead of anchoring that night, we head to the river and take a slide inside the port. That meant we would have to go find the starting point of our original trip by foot and jump out on the day of the Battle of three anchors. I briefly considered the anchor out despite the poor prognosis, but decided it was not for a thunderstorm on my second night as captain. Annie totally agree. She was not interested in roughing through bad weather, which I assumed was for the hell that was until the last day of the battle. We had been forced to paddle to the Patapsco in the cold rain and fog. We had only to eat couscous for breakfast, Annie recalled because our physics teacher or companion had refused to eat, saying he did not like couscous. Then refused to help the row because I was so tired from not having eaten breakfast. We almost hit by a giant boat when he accidentally ended up in the navigation channel, and on top, our midday meal was just the only food left on board: Cornnuts soaked. Fortunately we can look back now and laugh, especially in wussiness our teacher, and how even the sight of Cornnuts Now that our stomachs churn, but it really was a terrible day.

As we headed toward the Key Bridge, Annie pointed to the two streams where it could be anchored on the last night of the battle. He must have been either Jones Creek, Old Road Bay front, or Bear Creek. I remember being very disappointed with this anchor, even at that time. Anchor last night was so beautiful and serene, but it was under the threat of the towers of industry. We were very close to a kind of factory or port of embarkation, and I hated it. So I was not upset that we lost in finding the exact spot again. My guess is that we stayed in Jones Creek, because then I remember having gone under the bridge of Interstate 695 that runs on Bear Creek. I apologized to Annie we had time and hot and hazy and not enjoyed a good day navigation. She laughed and said: "At least we are not paddling!" Okay. Motoring up the river much more enjoyable to row a boat 30 feet to the Patapsco.

We got into our slip at Baltimore Marine Center about noon. It was 95 degrees outside with a heat index 110. After a cooling period in the pool, walk to the park War Memorial of Korea and took the water taxi to Fells Point. I had a hunch that Outward Bound boats had been kept at the campus life Classrooms Foundation in South Carolina the street, so we headed there. We knew immediately that he had found the right place. Baltimore Outward Bound has suspended the navigation part of your program (now focuses on land and boat trips), so that our ship was not there. But seeing the campus of the Living Classrooms brought a lot of memories – which come in one day bitterly cold, heading to the docks and see the boat – all rushed back. We were brought to the docks, the instructions to put all our belongings in duffels linked sanctioned outlets (I guess they were tested water) and shows the truly primitive ship would be in the next three days. It was completely open, except across several seats. There was no housing and not your head – unless you count the wooden box in front of the mast forward with a five-gallon bucket on it. But that was only for. . . uh, number two in two. To urinate, the Bay would be our own latrine. Initially, three other girls and I were horrified by this, but at the end of the first day we had the technical to destroy hanging down pat. As for the sleeping conditions, we had to put the oars from port to starboard, then put our mats and sleeping bags top. Our only shelter was a tarp thrown over the boom. Good times.

Now the sky was filled with ominous clouds, so Annie and I headed back to the boat for dinner. As we ate, we looked at the large windows and saw Bo Brooks crabhouse turbulent water and lightning everywhere. A generator Marina drew attention to the side, throwing sparks into the air. I could not have been happier than they were on the hook.

I sang to me same effort to ignore the searing heat: You wa wa-wa-wa-wa wa-wa-wa-waltz with bears / bears San Judas, hairy bears, baggy bears too / There is nothing on Earth Uncle Walter will not do / So you can go waltz, waltz with bears. . . . Annie and I were the Patapsco engine now on our way to the East Coast. I was not sure yet where we were going, although there were several streams into account where it could anchor for the night. Annie was happy to drive the boat (leaving a trail behind big snake, but I forgave her, as it has plenty of experience in shipping) and I was distracted by the study of letters, deluded that I could find a track where he anchored on the second day of battle. I climbed the stairs in the middle of the night / I tiptoed inside and I turned on the light / My surprise there was nobody in sight / I think that Uncle Walter goes dancing at night. . . . The song kept running through my head. This was one of many songs, many of Tom taught us during the battle. It's a totally ridiculous song, but it is definitely embedded in my memory and will appear in the head surprisingly often when I need a good laugh. It did a great job to get my mind off the heat.

We had good wind for some time, from the key bridge to the river mouth but died after we left the bay. We kept the principal to try to maintain some shade, but not going so well either. This day was the opposite of day we crossed the bay during battle. That day we had a wonderful sail. He also learned to read the letters, and I remember that I was cursed proud that I was not one of those who get dizzy.

Now Annie and I were approaching the coast, heading for the Chester. Hail Creek had in mind at the end eastern coast of the Island of the neck, but was not sure we would be able to get there, even if the outlaw drew only four feet. A few months before reconstruction, which had visited the headquarters of Outward Bound in Baltimore to search through old log books, hoping to find the notes Battle. I was unsuccessful, but found that Hail Creek was a somewhat regular stop in later trips. Besides that seemed to fit the criteria I was looking for – It was mostly a pretty creek somewhere in the east coast that could turn left. The only other place that seemed to fit the bill and Tavern Swan creeks near Rock Hall, but I have the feeling that he has seen other boats, or at least the lights of Rock Hall, if we stayed there.

The cards do not offer much hope of getting in Hail Creek, but as a driver is I thought I could at least get close enough to run our memories. Not so much. From safety of deeper waters, however, that looked like it might have been the place. Now that we were relatively far in the Chester, could not decide where go, so we motored all the way in Langford Creek and Cacaway island.

There are surprisingly deep water, even very near the small, crescent-shaped island. I had a little difficulty getting the boat to stay, due to shifty winds, but finally we were hard. We could see a small sign published on the island, and I had to check. It was a heck of a swim to get there, but he was challenged. I was surprised how close I came to the shore before could stand. I would say was 10 feet away before he could stand. I walked close enough to read the sign, which asked him very well people do not come ashore, and told visitors that is maintained by members of the community and state, and includes a number of animal species, including several who are at risk.

I considered my long swim to and from the island a tribute to the Battle for the morning nothing. Although he had to go only to the first morning, Tom never gave up trying to take us back. I guess I liked the spirit of the journey as I somehow found the courage to swim three in the morning. In fact, before breakfast in the morning we were on the east coast, swam 27 laps around the boat. Bad idea. I shivered for hours. And while were preparing breakfast, Tom had to help me toes thaw out the fire. I learned a lot from him this morning, while talking Sailing and prepare breakfast. To this day still make home fries the way he taught me – with sauteed onions and Old Bay.

After my bathroom to the island, Annie and I relaxed in the cockpit for a while, then lit the grill and cooked dinner – pork loin. I was surprised at Annie with couscous lateral. She laughed and admitted that she had always considered a breakfast food by Outward Bound.

We got to the bag early. Was a terrible day long hot again and we still had one more to go. But again, I slept in fits, beset by worries drag anchor. I finally gave up and went to lie down in the cabin. The night sky was breathtaking. I was out of pitch black, except for a blink of countless stars. I stayed there for at least an hour, just staring at the endless sky. There may have found the exact spot we were 15 years ago, but the effect was same. This is what the Chesapeake Bay issue.

When I awoke the next morning, Annie was already up, reading in the cabin and enjoy of solitude and serenity of the anchor. I raised the battle cry aloud – "Time for a dippy Dippy" -. Annie scared half to death We have had a long before us and I thought I'd get your adrenaline.

After a final swim and breakfast, set sail and began the slog home. At the time we got to the point of Love, which had candles for hours, but were not able to do more than three knots or less. Therefore, he gave up and started the engine again. By the time he spent under the Bay Bridge, which had rolled up the arm, but left the main hope for a little shade. We took turns to be against the mast in the smallest patch imaginable.

About an hour from his house was so hot, sunburned and miserable than just I could keep my composure. I sang to myself the Beach Boys "Sloop John B" I'm so broke / I want to go home. We had learned the song also during the battle, and often sang, our voices ringing with sarcasm in the last lines – This is the worst trip! / I've been to! I looked at Annie, sitting at the top of the cab, leaning against the mast to remain on the bit of the shadow left on the boat. She looked back and said, without provocation, " at least we are not paddling! "

Yes, I felt awful, and while I was singing that song, this was not the worst trip I had ever been at. Annie and I had a lot of fun remembering old times, catch up with today and enjoy stay with an old friend. And I'm proud myself (and Annie too) to have a successful trip. As my first stint as a captain, had no problems at all. And though recreation was not one hundred percent of success, I think Tom Thomas would be proud.

About the Author

By Ann Levelle, Managing Editor for Chesapeake Bay Magazine. For more great articles and photos on boating, sailing, fishing, and cruising, visit http://www.ChesapeakeBoating.net