Setting Sail 13/08/06

My final full day in DC began at a pleasantly leisurely pace. I sat around the house and chatted with 'Mrs G' while Gareth and his dad went off to church. Towards two in the afternoon G and I left to drive over to Annapolis, a prestigious town north of Washington DC, on the Severn River. Annapolis is also home to the oldest university in the States, built in around 1628. On the way we stopped off at the next best place to a steak-house; Quazno's is a compromise between a sandwich deli and a steak-house, offering sandwiches with various tasty fillings of meat, chicken and cheese. I spent probably at least three minutes in serious thought as to which delicacy to choose, eventually opting for a medium sized honey-roast brisket steak filling with cheese on top. I was, I admit, a little sceptical that American fast food could be as good as the man on the street would have you believe, but this was really very tasty. Of course if I ate that kind of stuff every day of the week I would be in dire need of a severe detox diet, followed by a rigorous work-out routine. It is, I am sure, not very healthy, but that was not my aim at this point. Purely hedonistic debautery was the purpose of this adventure. Would you pass the mayonnaise please?Moving swiftly on before cholesterol could settle and blood clots could develop, we drove off down the freeway towards Annapolis, and the office where we would collect our tickets for this trip. This trip was a cruise on the Woodwind, a twin-mast schooner that sails around Chesapeake Bay, and a truly wonderful gesture by G's parents.We embarked from a quay that was almost swaying under the weight of tourists, diners and crew from various boats, and around us were moored the most extravagant motor-cruisers you could imagine, with heli-pads and plush bars, tinted windows and expansive deck areas. Little motor boats forged their way through the water in the wakes of powerful ships, and one little open topped speed boat rumbled past with three 250 hp outboard engines hooked on the stern.The schooner was a much more refined vessel. We cruised under engine to the edge of the marina and then several volunteers lent their weight to the sails which soon filled out in the breeze. The pleasure of sailing is that with apparently minimum disturbance you can travel quite fast, and so calmly it is amazing. The only noise is the lapping of the ocean around the bow as the hull cuts through the water. The occasional flap of a sail warns that some minor adjustment is needed, and with a few pulls on a rope or spins of the wheel the ship is gaining knots and speeding gracefully along its course. It is hard to imagine if you have not tried it, but it really is a pleasure to experience.We sped between smaller yachts, motorboats and cruisers, and the occasional jet-ski, and every so often changed tack to keep the wind in the sails while maintaining course. A heavier breath of wind would set the boat on list, catching the unwary tourist off-guard, and sending unsecured bags sliding over the planks to the lower side of the deck. Anticipating the movements of the boat and standing without hand-holds is a satisfying challenge, although standing too near the rails can be risky. Our crew were experienced guides and between them kept up an interesting talk on the geographical nature of the surroundings- a natural basin which had filled with water after the last glaciers had melted, with an average depth of only 17 feet in the middle- and a little about the shipping- including the white granite used to build the Washington Monument, and how generally ships travelling east had a shallower draught because they had unloaded upstream- and when we arrived back towards the marina after sailing around a large loop in the bay they described the US Naval Academy and the torpedo, wooden mast and crow's nest displayed on the quayside of the Academy, and the tall radio masts standing on the opposite bank of the Severn River in the US Naval Warfare Centre.
After we disembarked we wandered at a brisk pace back to the car before the threat of wheel clamping was carried out. I paused to photograph a cobalt blue Corvette Stingray purring its way up the street, much to my pleasure. I also tried to photograph a taxi driver who was dozing against the window of his car. He looked just the way I imagine an average Cuban taxi driver to look, with a garish flowery shirt favoured by loud tourists, and a straw hat over his dark-skinned face and arms. He was leaning against the side of his car with the hat tipped down onto his nose, but as I was about to take the shot he peered out from under his hat as if I had called his name. Sadly the photo remains purely hypothetical.
After eventually navigating our way out of the town of Annapolis onto route 42 south, and continuing for a couple of dozen miles on a variety of roads, we arrived at a modest bar-like building in a rural area somewhere outside DC. Built apparently from wood, there were few external clues as to its role. Inside more dark wood, some heavy bar stools, and a few foreign beers on the drinks list. Further scrutiny of the menu will yield the true nature of this restaurant, with bratfurst, nockfurst, wiener schnitsell and other such German food, and just the sight of the menu is mouth-watering. One should never rush decisions about food, and I rarely contradict this policy, so at least one large tankard of good beer was drunk in contemplation of which dish would provide most satisfaction. I eventually decided to go for a combination of nockfurst and bratfurst, with garlic-mashed potato and German quantities of mustard. This was a thoroughly satisfying dish and provided a great opportunity for some very relaxed conversation and an evaluation of all I had experienced in the last few days. I seem to remember several more tankards of beer being consumed, and a waiter recounting a story about how he was lent an apartment in Monaco by one of the Carnegie family, and then talking of a plan to establish a jazz club in New Zealand with a particular German friend, Jens, who may be surprised to hear this, I’m really not sure how much he knows….. It was a really great evening, curiously multi-cultural, as so often is the case- and provided a fantastic back-drop to my departure for the Caribbean. The following morning at about seven o’clock I was in the check-in queue at Dulles airport waiting for my flight to Puerta Rico, and subsequently on to St. Kitts and Nevis, so it is time to conclude the chapter on DC.
My brief but highly rewarding stay in DC was really amazing, compounding or dispelling expectations and stereotypes, and served as a brilliant introduction to American life and culture. I will never be able to thank my hosts enough for their kindness and generosity, which made my sejour possible. For the record, to Blake, Dian and Gareth, a huge ‘thank you’. I hope some-day I will have the opportunity to return the gesture.