The Last Boat in Town

While we wait in Annapolis as the engine repair work slowly proceeds, we have found interesting ways to entertain ourselves. Amelia has become an even more serious boater and is exploring alternative nautical sleeping arrangements. This week she hung a hammock in the main cabin and is sleeping in it nightly.

There are a lot of fun things to do in Annapolis and we’ve tried to take advantage of them all: visit the two-room Children’s Museum, take a historic house tour and take advantage of the many excellent dining options. I got a temporary membership to a local gym, figured out the local bus system (not easy), restocked the pantry and did a little early Christmas shopping.

Technically, our boat is not moored in Annapolis proper but rather is in Eastport, a community with a distinct identity despite the fact that it is a five minute walk away and was annexed by the City of Annapolis in 1951. It retains its identity through fierce local pride, a flag, an unofficial name (the Maritime Republic of Eastport) and a town motto: “We like it this way!” (also printed on the flag). It is an interesting community with a blend of maritime service industries, fine dining (thanks to spectacular harbor views) and the pretty little homes of local residents who maintain a strong sense of Eastport identity. Indeed, it has the feel of a mid-Atlantic Key West. Last weekend, we attended a venerable local event – the tenth annual tug-of-war, street festival, chili cook-off and benefit for the local elementary school. They were short of participants for the Annapolis side of the women’s tug-of-war, so I jumped in. Despite excellent coaching from the lady in the green baseball cap (“Ladies, just put your butts into it, and when they count down 3 – 2 – 1, start with a little tug on the two-count just to get us started”) our team lost to Eastport’s local team as it apparently does every year.

We’ve been counting down our time in Annapolis by the number of masts left in the City mooring field every time we walk across the drawbridge to go downtown. When we arrived, it seemed that there were fifty boats there and every mooring was taken. As of last week, there were only two masts and, after a run of nice weather this week, none are left. We have the lonely feeling of being the last boat here as all of the other transient boats have continued south to warmer weather. At our marina, and most others, about half of the boats have been pulled out for winter storage. We took a dingy ride yesterday across Back Creek for breakfast at the Wet Dog Café where they apologized for a limited menu – they are closing this week and only had a few things left. Café Guru, the café down the street that I visit every morning post-run for a latte and newspaper, closes (permanently, in fact) at the end of this week leaving a huge hole in the community, since it serves as the local gossip and tip-trading location for residents, boaters and racers.

Our mechanical problems are on their way to resolution and we hope to leave in a few days, but as with all things "boats" even that is uncertain. We may well be the last boat leaving town.