Chesapeake Bay is  wonderful sailing. More than deep enough for carefree sailing in most places and excellent anchorages on both coasts. I've heard stories about how good it is there and had allocated a full month of sailing with my good freind Rothgeb. I was to pick him up at Annapolis whwere he was staying with friends.

Well I've never been that happy about docking between nothing but posts but the entry at Annapolis was one of my worse attempts. I blew the the first try and backed out spewing black diesel fumes. The second attempt included me bumping off a post, luckily the bounce pushed me in the right direction. Now, it was more than a little embarassing that this took place in front of 2 restaraunts, complete with full decks of diners, but it turns out that Rothgeb and his friend were there waiting for me. Whoops!

Dave (Rothgeb) didn't eat his dinner that night but I didn't think much of it. The next day we hung around Annapolis, and the next we played tourist and did the city tour. Dave was still not eating right when we left the next day. We planned on an easy day, heading right across the bay and back under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to Rock Hall. This place had been reccomended a few times, and just to add a little glamour, it was "Pirates and Wenches" Weekend. Unfortunately Dave was now clearly feeling rough. We spent the next day here at anchor and Dave barely moved, it was obvious he was in a lot of pain. It rained and was overcast so we didn't miss much but Dave was only a little better, it was obvious this wasn't just a case of sea sickness, the boat barely moved at anchor.

The plan the next day was to head back south and pass through The Narrows, however half way there we decided it wasn't the smart thing to do. We called Dave's friend in Annapolis and went back under the bridge and headed to a restaraunt that had its own dock. I tied up and Dave jumped off, met his friend and headed for a night in hospital. There they they drugged him up for the night. He headed home to Portland, OR the next morning. Meanwhile, I discovered the restaraunt was really, really quite good. I filled up on Maryland Crabcakes and good beer, then unhitched the boat, moved it about 100 yards further up river to anchor, and slept the sleep of the dead.

So the question now was "what to do with nearly a full month on the Chesapeake by myself". Obviously you can just sail, but a month of aimless sailing by myself? So I phoned home and plans with with, of all people, my wife. The plan was that in about 10 days I'd meet her in Washington. And not to give too much away before we get there, it worked out wonderfully.

Now everyone had said, you have to go to St. Michaels, so I did. On the way there I spent a couple of days on the Wye River. Again this was pretty and idyllic. I watched Ospreys, listened to Ospreys and watched people running crablines. Anchoarges were quiet and secluded.

I continued the migration south and found St. Michaels everybit as welcoming and charming as everyone had said it would be. There were restaraunts and bars right on the docks. There was a maritime museum and it was bliss. I really liked my stay there and consider this a highlight.

I left St. Michaels heading for the Potomac. It was not a simple a single day sail and the stop at Herrington Harbor was really everything you expect from a well run marina. Good channel on the approach, clean showers, friendly help. Itsmore a long term marina but they made me feel welcome and I cleaned up and chowed down.

The next sail was more than a bit of a slog. Here the bay narrows and it was headwinds the whole way. Luckily theres still plenty of room to tack. Plenty of good sailing here. Spent the night out and continued the slog south.

Looking for sleep I headed towards the Solomons. It had good right-ups in the guides and online, and it was certainly well protected. It has a reputation as a sailing hangout. Heading in there at dusk I watched a storm slide by to north but figured there was plenty of room to the south for me. However as I watched it go by it revealed another bigger storm behind. Sure enough, as I pulled into the bay, it absolutely poured and was as black as night. I threw the anchor down quickly and got below out of the rain. I cooked, and popped my head up every now and then but decided I'd anchored entirely too close to the cruiser nearby. It was still pouring down when pulling up the anchor there was this almighty bang behind me. I ducked, holding onto the shroud, and turned around to see confetti like sparks coming down from the top of the mast. The boat had been struck by lightening. I wasn't sure how I was still alive but the anchor windlass still worked and the engine was still running, so I movedthe boat, relaid the anchor and went and drank a rum to Posidon. I think the fact that the boat has a steel hull had kept me alive. The hull must have been an easier way to the water than through me.

I did a systems check the next day, and I'd lost my VHF radio, the depth sounder (which later started working again), my AIS USB stick for the laptop. The Wind Gauge wasn't working, the wind vane and the VHF antenna had disappered (they'd both melted). For the VHF radio I carried handhelds as a backup, the AIS I would just have to do without, and I tied ribons on the shroud for wind vanes. I was still on for my Rendevous with my wife in Washington.