Up at 4 a.m., we arrived in Cambridge, Md., Saturday at 8 a.m. and had Robin out of the slip by 9:30. We would have been quicker had it not been for the effect of nearly two months of stagnant air inside Robin -- mildew. We had to wash down the entire interior before we could start.
The goal was to get to St. Michaels, where we hoped to meet our friends the Morrisons and, perhaps, the Davises. The wind had been from the north and northeast for several days and it remained that way on Saturday, what wind there was. So the voyage of perhaps 30 miles was traveled entirely under power, with maybe an hour of motorsailing along the way.
We anchored outside the St. Michaels harbor, one of about 100 boats that had arrived during the day. Fran and John dinghied out from the dock to Robin for hors d'oeuveres and then ferried us ashore in their new tender. We had dinner in the Carpenter Street Pub. It was after dark when we headed back to Robin. The masthead achor lights of 80 or 90 sailboats in the harbor looked like a closeup of the Milky Way.
We awoke Sunday to find a cool breeze blowing across the Miles River. It was enough to fill the sails, so we weighed anchor and beat north on the Miles until it was time to turn to port down Eastern Bay. What had been a delightful sail now became a very slow run. We raised the asymmetric spinnaker and, over the next two hours, made about three miles.
Having decided to spend the night in Annapolis, we eventually turned on the engine. The Chesapeake below and above Annapolis was filled with sailboats engaged in several races on as many race courses. As we picked our way around these fleets, the sky darkened.
Turning northwest onto the Severn River, we found ourselves in a fleet of another sort -- cruisers streaming toward the state capital, all seeking docks or moorings.
We knew we had no hope of renting one of the city moorings, but we headed into the mooring field anyway. To our surprise, there was one mooring ball lying vacant. We swung to port, rounded up to the ball and Monic grabbed the pennant with the boat hook.
Just as quickly, the Harbormaster's boat pulled up beside us, informing us we had the last mooring in town and collecting the mooring feet.
We never left the boat but sat under the dodger as showers passed, watching the scene and inspecting the surrounding boats.
The wind blew during the showers and blew all night long and in the morning, we had enough wind to sail all the way to Knapps Narrows on Tilghman Island, a distance of about 15 miles. It was a perfect, silent, stable sail. But the closer we got to Knapps Narrows, the more questionable the sky looked.
It had been our plan to pull in on the Tred Avon River at Oxford, where we would anchor temporarily and have lunch before returning to Cambridge. But the numerous passing showers -- frequent enough to prompt us to engage the radar should we be caught in a squall -- encouraged us to sail straight home.
The chili Monica had prepared in advance was just the thing on a drizzly evening, and we turned in early and slept late today before heading home. All said and done, it was a relaxing, pleasant holiday weekend.