Dog Days

What was to be an enjoyable week of sailing north simply went bust. The journey was to include St. Michaels, MD’s  Mid Atlantic Small Craft Festival. Last week, this week was a perfect forecast. However, by Sunday this week, the realization that the weathermen may have been mistaken was settling in. The new week’s predictions of 3-4 days of rain and thunderstorms botched our cruise plans. Mildly put, I was bummed. Short term forecasts are often wrong. These opinions of “experts”, if accepted, could have prevented many wonderful days on the water. And so, with characteristic denial, I grabbed my pup Huckleberry, a week’s load of goods and drove to Mobjack. After an hour and a half prep, LUNA was ready to depart. We set off for our adventure. Sunday’s sail was fantastic: a downriver run into Mobjack, a close reach across the Bay, a port beat just north of Cape Charles and finally a starboard tack to Gwynn Island for the night. As the sun was dipping, we chose to motor through the Hole in the Wall. This is a meandering entry through barrier sand spits which can be tricky. We clear it. Once in Milford Haven, we anchor behind Point Breeze. Huck was rowed ashore for dog business. Not one to wait, he jumps ship twice en route. The second time I make him swim the final 100 yards to a small piece of beach. He didn’t seem to mind. The pup takes 20 minutes to run his willies out. We then returned to LUNA for a light cockpit served dinner under lantern and sky. The air was dry and cool. I sleep below. The pooch under stars. A slight notion occurred that he may be AWOL come morning, but he’s still aboard next morning. We take an early dinghy ride. This time I keep him on a short leash. Yet, he still has enough slack to hang himself and does as he leaps over anyway. Our four legged tug begins towing the dinghy to the beach. Accepting his spirit, but questioning his stamina, I land the little tuna. He is an exceptional nut ashore, biting small waves, pulling at reed grass and racing all over the marsh. After 30 minutes he regains his sanity. We row home, eat a breakfast of coffee and biscuits, and listen with hope to the forecast. Predictions are worse. Tuesday through Thursday are now rainy with northerly winds. Not good for heading north quickly, especially when mixed with a wet dog. So, we weigh anchor, motor back through the Hole and beat against the day’s southerlies back home. The sailing is very fine despite our “retreat”. And so, we make the best of both days. They were “perfect”. Here’s 3 minutes to show their flavor:

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