Marooned

It was October, somewhat cool, gray and overcast. This was not the most desirable weather for boating, but my husband had the day off, two of our children were in school, so why not go exploring on the Chesapeake Bay? There certainly wouldn’t be much traffic! This was a chance for some quality time together.

We putter about and discovered many little creeks and inlets. The homes along the waterfront were spectacular. We could only imagine what the inhabitants must do fro a living. One home was particularly interesting because it was built almost entirely of glass. Another was built of wood and followed the nature flow of the land in a very unusual architectural design. After several hours of ogling other people’s homes we headed back to the beach and Sandy Point State Park where we had docked our boat at the beginning of the day. I’d packed a picnic lunch and we were going to enjoy it on the beach.

Sandy Point is almost directly adjacent to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. As our boat neared the Bridge, we were happily anticipating our little picnic on the beach. However, the boat’s motor began to sputter and spurt. It soon stopped completely. Every effort made to restart it was useless. We were out of gas. We had no radio. We had no oars. How embarrassing, to be so close to our goal, but unable to reach it!

There was nothing to do but anchor and hope that another boat could tow us into the dock, or give us some gasoline. However, since it was the middle of the afternoon, and basically, overcast and dreary, there were no boats to be seen in any direction.

We opened our cooler, and spread out our picnic lunch onboard. Cars whizzed by on the bridge above us. It’s not unusual for crabbers and fishermen to cast anchor under the bridge. None of the people in the cars would suspect that we were in need of assistance. I jumped up and down and waved anyway, to no avail, of course.

After a time, a fisherman puttered up in his boat. He didn’t have a spare gas tank, either and neither of us had anything suitable for siphoning directly from his tank. The front of his boat was cracked, so although he offered to try to tow us in, we didn’t want to take the chance of ruining his boat completely. The best he could do would be to go on into the docking area and search for some help.

Because my two older children were in school, I began to get a little nervous. They would be arriving home to a locked house – with no idea where we were. We had no means to even phone a neighbor to ask her to leave a note on our door.

Before too much longer a crabbing boat appeared. Although we waved and shouted, they seemed to ignore us as they methodically rode along their crab lines pulling up the traps. Eventually, they meandered over to us, although they did not seem exactly overanxious to help! The two crew men exchanged knowing glances, when they heard we’d run out of gas. No experienced boated would let this happen. How amateur! They agreed to give us some gas from a reserve tank they had onboard. We thanks them profusely and paid them $5 for less than a gallon of gas.

Our engine re-started and we joyfully headed for the docks. I was anxious to get home, so I volunteered to go get our car and trailer from the parking lot. I jumped into the car and turn the key in the ignition. It wouldn’t start. Was this a nightmare? There was plenty of gas in this tank!

Because it was a gray day, we’d turned on our parking lights in the morning on the way to the dock. In our haste to get out on the Bay, we’d left them burning all day. No, we had a dead battery and there was not another living soul in sight. My husband hiked over to the park ranger’s office and they promised to send help soon. A ranger came and used his truck to jump start our car.

We got the boat onto the trailer and headed, gratefully, for home. We even made it before the kids got home from school. They were amused when told of our day’s adventures.

Will I go out on the Bay next October? Only if I’m sure we have a full gas tank and a CB radio.