Halloween in Deltaville, VA

Coming into Deltaville, I hadn’t showered since Annapolis on the Sunday that Adriana and Will came to visit. It became too damned cold to take a shower on the boat as it was dropping into the low 50s and cold showers are tough when there’s no heat on board. By Thursday, I was beginning to smell my own funk. Not quite sure what it was, I said to Stephen, “Do you smell something…is it me?” I’m pretty sure it was my hair. I could have at least done the baby wipes thing to get my body clean, but hey those things are wet and cold too, so I just decided to put on a fresh pair of clothes and stink those up too. I’ll save the huggies for the long passages in the Caribbean where the warm breeze can dry my skin.

Leaving Annapolis, we were headed for Tangiers, an island smack in the middle of the bay almost completely isolated from everything. Stephen had always wanted to see this place, as he had heard that they had a very unique culture with their own dialect and variation of the English language. We left Annapolis just after 1:00 – when the bridge to Spa Creek opened up for us on the hour, and didn’t drop anchor off of Tangiers until between 6:30 – 7:00 am the next morning. Pretty sure the marina wasn’t open, we dropped anchor in some choppy waters and caught some Zzzz.

When we woke up the next morning, around 10:45, Stephen radioed repeatedly to the only marina with no reply. The first few calls over the VHF were nice, then he started sounding irritated and finally desperate. No one from the marina ever answered, but a very nice lady from the vessel, “Aria,” responded to us to let us know that Mr. Parks of “Parks Marina,” probably wasn’t in yet and either he or one of his family members would be there eventually. She also informed us that she knew a couple who recently visited Tangiers who gave it “mixed reviews,” as it was late in the season and “everything was closed except for one eatery in the town.” This coupled with the fact that the channel and water around the marina was very shallow, was enough for us to decide to hit the bay and not waste our time in Tangiers. Should we get grounded, it looked like it would be days before we would be getting out…waiting for Mr. Parks or his family to come save us.

So, making an hourglass formation with our course appearing on the Raymarine, chartplotter, we headed out across the bay, Southwest for Deltaville. Dropped anchor in a very nice, calm and well-protected spot just outside the Deltaville Marina between 5:30 – 6:00 PM. Yeah! Showertime. We motored for a couple of hours, long enough to produce some hot water.

Believe me when I say there is nothing going on in this town. The marina is probably the busiest place here. Surprising to me, there were quite a few boaters from all over the U.K. stopping here. I heard more languages spoken in this tiny marina in bumfuck than in the DC metropolitan area.

Deltaville’s motto should be, “Because we can.” With only one grocery store within 40 miles and no laundromats, they’ve got you by the ….. So, I reluctantly forked over $20 bucks just to do laundry on site and use their internet and bathroom facilities. The only grocery store in town charged $4.99 for Stephen’s regular OJ, so I was going for the cheap, not preferred choices. We stocked up with some more milk, OJ, saltines (to go with the ginger ale for seasickness) more canned veggies and Stephen’s favorite Sweet Baby Ray’s BBQ sauce, should we catch a huge tuna while trolling across the ocean.

We got a lot of tedious and grimy boat work done here – hoisting our dinghy onto the boat, scrubbing all the harbor gunk off of it (you will not believe how the Domino’s sugar plant can leave a gummy coat on the surface), deflating it and packing it away in the already jam-packed V-berth. We did a lot of unpacking and repacking of things just to find shit that was supposed to be in an “accessible place we would both remember.”

Stephen rigged our courtesy flags for traveling outside the U.S. and went over emergency procedures, should we become more adventurous and opt for the life raft tour of the Atlantic instead. We stocked up on an extra flares for our own personal fireworks display, topped off with fuel, emptied the garbage, etc. etc.

On Halloween, Mom’s Birthday, the night of Brigitte’s infamous annual party, and the eve of our departure, we sat in the cockpit staring at the full moon above, illuminating the water around us. We checked in with each other to see how we were feeling now that we had gone from months to just hours away from this passage that is so huge and significant to both of us. We reflected on the ways in which we’ve grown and become more prepared, and the ways in which we both would never change but have come to accept. This has been part of the preparation as well. I know it’s going to be tranquil and peaceful at times, but also unpredictable and emotionally and physically exhausting at other times. But then again, when it comes to sailing, you never know what you’re going to get. Whatever lies ahead, I’m f(*&in excited to do this thing! Bermuda here we come!