My favorite Crown Jewel on all the Chesapeake is St. Michaels. This charming village with a fabulous anchorage overlooking the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum is without peer.
It happened again. She stepped off and called him an “Animal.” He tossed her bag on the dock and accused her of being a “Dog.” They were both wrong. The problem was not that he was an animal or that she was a dog, but that they weren’t.
I cannot think of any time that has more built in quality than the time you can spend with a child on a boat cruise.
I am always amazed when I find a new place in the Bahamas, but this one is especially egregious. I have been cruising the Bahamas and the Abacos specifically since the 1980's, and have cruised past this place probably 50 or more times.
Our culture does not take kindly to nonconformity. It is the scorn of our peers probably more than anything else that hinders our living out of our unique center. The fear of others’ opinions—their ridicule—their cross examinations paralyzes us more effectively than flat-out opposition.
Life changes when you head down-island, and I think Robert Frost may have said it best: “In a world of fugitives, the one going in the right direction appears to be running away.”
Every time I set off on a long cruise I am anxious and, if I am honest, I’m somewhat panicked. What if something breaks? It will. What if plans don’t go as I thought? They won’t. So, Why go? Simple.
Etiquette, I believe, is our first line of defense against an uncivil society. To disregard a rule of boating etiquette is a sign that a person does not respect any rule of boating, etiquette or otherwise.
So this is my prescription for our nation’s malaise. Go down to the waterfront and breathe in the sunshine and salt air. If you need a stronger medication, try to get on the water.
The calm before the storm was cruel and we slept in fitful bits, waking to NOAA alerts as if they were from the front lines of an invasion. And we held each other, glad to be together, living the life we love, even in the storm.
Technically, the bitter end is the part of a rope that’s tied off. And from that definition has sprung more dire meanings. But for Amy and I, its meaning is something else altogether.
As Argo passes from Columbia to Panama, Randy takes a moment to look back on a country full of beauty and culture.