Eddie and Kevin adrift on the Yeoconimico River
The last 60 miles are really rural, all winter wheat and young corn. The last 10 miles especially so – nothing else, just clouds and trees and blue skies. Going out is also going back, way back in time. Kinsale was another steamboat landing on the Chesapeake. The Yeoconimico River is a deep and sheltered harbor, several miles long, with many side tributaries. A village grew up around the comings and goings of the steamboats back in the late 1800’s, and it hasn’t been much else since. The little town must have prospered back then, though. Old storefronts still line what must have been Main Street, just a block long, and a little village square. Well kept houses, stately and demur.
Now a grain depot occupies the old landing, all silos and conveyors, and is doing a brisk business. A barge (there’s only room for one at a time), is pushed up alongside the wharf by a small tug, gets loaded with wheat seven days a week during the harvest, which is in full swing. Trucks lined up on the narrow lane down to the water. The wharf is so small that only one end of the barge can be loaded at a time, tipping lopsided under the weight. When one end is full, they turn the barge around and load the other end.
Floyd and Francie invited the Old Bay Club up for the weekend. I have the two Melonseeds in tow. Doug’s Marsh Cat is not quite ready, so he’ll sail one of my boats. The other guys are either here already or on the way.
There’s enough daylight to get some time on the water before dark. There’s a small but pretty public landing by depot, and a nearby marina where others have launched; but the Melonseeds are so light I back down across Floyd’s lawn to the beach, and with a few hands we just lift them off.
There’s not much wind, just enough for a few of the boats to wander around the creek. When Doug arrives we leave the rigs on shore and take the Melonseeds out for a row.
It’s a peaceful evening. Ducks and herons. The moon rises, the smallest of the year, apparently ( 2017’s Smallest Moon on June9 ). Then a whippoorwill. We drift until well after dark.
We join the crew gather for dinner and drinks and catchup conversations. It’s late when everyone finally crawls off to tents, on land and water, with planets wheeling overhead, and fireflies streaking the nimbus of night like shooting stars..
Rather than say more, I’ll just let the photos tell it.