Into the Potomac 38:15.90N, 76:50.77W

AJAYA'S CRUISE
Phil & Nikki Hoskins
Wed 12 Aug 2009 19:26
We are now some 30 miles up the Potomac
River at Cobb Island which is on the Maryland side and just at the
junction with the Wicomico, one of the larger rivers that flow into the
Potomac and then onwards into the Chesapeake.
We have spent much of the last two days fly
swatting. In fact yesterday was so bad in the cockpit that once anchored we
strategically withdrew below to avoid any further painful bites and discuss a
plan of action.
They seemed to all be in a mating frenzy and to
qualify for their moment of courtship they needed to have taken a large bite out
of a human limb. We set about making a flyscreen for the main entrance from
the screen material purchased some weeks back. In the meantime we had to close
the main doors to keep the dam things out, which meant we almost expired through
heat exhaustion whilst making the screen using a popper machine which our cover
makers had kindly included with our repair kit. It took an hour and a half to
attach 8 poppers and quite naturally in the considerable heat of the
cabin frustrations were expended, although it's still a minor miracle that I
didn't clobber Nikki's fingers with the hammer to attach the two parts of the
female popper assembly together. The screen
worked instantly and only the odd fly sneaked past when we were entering or
leaving the saloon - a quick spray and they were soon taken care of. We
then set about clearing up the carnage in the cockpit as both swats were almost
red hot from our efforts.
Last night we anchored in a tiny
picturesque backwater called Smith Creek where seeing there were virtually
no jellyfish around the boat Skip jumped in to try and clear the log which tells
us our speed through the water. It had become fouled some days earlier.
Nikki suspected it was a convenient way of escaping fly swat
duties which I of course I would have denied. The water visibility was
barely a foot, so groping my way around and under the hull I did the best I
could with the log and then cleared as much of the general fouling away from the
port hull. The water in the creek was 'fresh' as we were now in a river. To be
honest I could have been surrounded by jellyfish and I wouldn't have seem them -
maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Most of the flies had vanished when I emerged but
we now had a rapidly approaching thunderstorm to contend with. The forecast
warned of a line of storms ahead of a cold front hitting many parts of the
Chesapeake, so our intended barbecue now looked optimistic as the sky above
us became blacker by the minute. Then, almost as quickly as it had arrived
it dissipated, and the VHF forecast issued a bulletin confirming the storms had
weakened, so we had our barbecue after all. Fresh corn on the cob with
meat-free turkey flavoured sausages to follow. We then retired early as the
mosquitoes arrived in numbers at sundown, no doubt passing the last surviving
flies as they in turn departed the boat.
Another early start this morning stole a march on
the flies but they caught us up by 1000 am and once more we were inflicting
heavy casualties. But like the Zulus at Rorke's Drift they just kept on coming
in numbers too many to deal with. Then Nikki remembered that we had some
flypapers onboard. (Why do they always remind me of cheap Chinese takeaways). It
was duly hung in the cockpit away from the helm seat in the hope that it would
cause mayhem with the fly population, therefore putting the flyswats out of a
job. However, after an hour we had just 2 flies firmly attached by their legs.
We were in danger of joining them as we continued our frantic swatting. After 4
hours we now have 10 'sticky' visitors so its beginning to work.
Back to our travels - Cobbs Island is so named
because a certain Captain James Neale who owned the land brought
back pillaged Spanish bullion from the Caribbean where it was melted down
into gold cobs for colonial use. Folklore has it that there is still buried
treasure in the locality. Also Cobbs is notable in relatively more
recent times, Dec 1900 to be more precise when a team of scientists led by
Reginald Fessenden accomplished the first voice transmission between two masts -
the famous message being "Is it snowing where you are?" the reply being "Yes" an
obvious answer as the two points were only a short distance apart. At
least by the time Neil Armstrong got to the moon they were coming up with
something a little more original in their voice transmissions!
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