Overnight to Dun Cove

We both had things to do on Monday, so it was 1530 before we cast off.  Forecast predicted winds SSE 5-8 knots – they had the wind direction right, but speed was more like 10-12.  I was tempted to go NE again to Rhode River, but wanted a change in scenery this time, and decided to brave the close reach – so we headed ESE for Knapps Narrows and Dun Cove.

We were consistently headed with wind shifts, moving our course further north.  I was anticipating having to make a fairly long SW tack to fetch the Narrows, but as we moved toward the middle of the bay the wind direction clocked around to more nearly due south.  This allowed me to correct the heading and make our waypoint on one long board.

We started in Deale, on the west side, and sailed east through Tilghman Island.

Here’s a better view of the Narrows.

But as we sailed east, we weren’t alone:  there was a monster storm chasing us that wasn’t on the horizon when we left the western shore.  45 minutes from the Narrows the rain caught up with us.  As usual, Ruth closed herself up down below and bid me “goodbye.”  I don’t have a problem with that – she goes sailing with me.  If staying out of the rain keeps her going out with me on the boat, then I’m happy that’s all it takes.  The strength of the storm passed south of us, but I was still a bit unsettled by the lightning.  It didn’t last too long, and I was glad to be out of the bad weather.  The bridge opened right away as we passed through the Narrows.  On the other side, we turned north and made the 2.5 miles up to Dun Cove.

A relaxing downwind sail under headsail alone put us at the cove in 40 minutes.  We peeked into the cove and saw. . .  a dozen cruising boats at anchor!  On Monday afternoon!?  Well, I guess this is vacation season – we tend to think of Dun Cove as uniquely ours.  Only.  Well, it’s a big anchorage and we easily managed to stay away from any other boat by 100+ yards.  Perhaps more.  We were in no danger of having our privacy invaded.

These are only the boats I could get in my frame at one time.  There were at least 5 more.

These are only the boats I could get in my frame at one time. There were at least 5 more.

Dinner was fast and good, eaten in the cockpit.  As we finished dinner, we observed a dinghy tour of the cove and surrounding Harris Creek environs conducted by the crews of the four motor yachts that were rafted together.  They sort of played follow the leader for 15 minutes or so, returning to their boats as the light failed.

Morning light arrives early in late June.  I was awake just before 0500 when the brightening daylight brought me to the surface of conscious life.  I dozed another 45 minutes, then rose to make coffee.  I was a bit surprised when Ruth was up a half hour later.  Hmmm. . .  now I have to share that thermos of coffee.  Oh well – I’ll just make more.  We witnessed dinghy operations again – the morning routine with dogs aboard who must get to shore for some personal time.  The motor yachts didn’t seem to have any problem with this, as they all featured a swim platform.  But several of the sailing yachts were crewed in part by pretty big dogs.  Labrador-sized dogs.  I wasn’t able to see how the owners got them up and down from deck to dinghy and vice versa.

That's a lot of dog to lift over the toe rail

That’s a lot of dog to lift over the toe rail

I had my own dinghy operation – a morning sail in the dink, exploring the cove again while Ruth worked on an art project.  The other boaters were all getting underway, but we sat in the cove until 1215, the last ones to leave.

This was a remarkably sedate and quiet group.  I expected a fairly loud party into the evening, but it didn't materialize.

This was a remarkably quiet group. I expected a fairly loud party into the evening, but it didn’t materialize.

Some of the mansions of Maryland’s Eastern Shore pictured below – makes me wonder what these people do for a living, and where they work.



Back through the Narrows, back across the bay.  A serene sail at 3.5 knots, until three miles out from Rockhold Creek when the wind died.  We motored home, glad for the artificial breeze in the growing heat of the afternoon.




    • Thanks for the tip, Drew. I was dismayed at the number of boats in Dun Cove last time we were there. I enjoy looking at other boats, but really prefer solitude in an anchorage.

      I’ve been aware of your blog, and your location for a while. I really appreciate your engineering-oriented posts. I also really appreciate your post(s) about shackles, tethers, and jacklines.

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