More History and Boat News from Baltimore

After the laundry was finished and Peter was wrapping up for the day, around 9 p.m., Peter and I walked to the nearby Canton Waterfront Park where there were two stages with live, loud bands along with food trucks and vendors.  The music was not appealing to us, but we found dinner at a Haitian food truck.  Peter had chicken and I had the Caribbean stable of macaroni and cheese, which was really delicious.  We walked back along the waterfront, enjoying a respite from the day's heat, chatted with Matthew when we returned to the boat, and then, of course, Peter had to work on one last thing.  I read until I fell asleep, not waiting up for him.

Canton Waterfront Park concert

We awoke early (for me, at least), at 7:30 a.m., with cool air streaming in through the open hatch.  What a relief!  It seemed like a good morning for Peter to go up the mast and for me to work on mending the mainsail.  By the time Peter got the boatswain's chair and his parts and tools ready, found the sewing supplies, lowered the sail, and explained the sewing project to me, it had already begun to get warm again, but not sweltering hot.  By mid-morning, we were finally ready to go, and I used the electric wench to haul him up to the second set of spreaders.  I then got to work on the sail but found it nearly impossible to pierce the layers of material even with a needle designed for the job.      It didn't matter though, because Peter had to be repositioned on the mast about every 10 minutes, so I ended up staying in the cockpit and reading while waiting for him to call down to me.  (I started reading a collection of short stories by William Gibson entitled Burning Chrome, which Matthew had recommended.  I do not usually read science fiction, but I have enjoyed some of the stories.)  When Peter had finished detaching the piece of damaged mast track and lowered it to the deck, I brought him down.

Peter high up on the mast

He looked at the sewing project and agreed we needed an awl.  Fortunately, he was going to the nearby and frequently visited West Marine for screws anyway, so he could purchase one.  But the welder called to say she had finished the piece she had been asked to make for mounting the screen for the computer on the nav table, so he had to wait for her.  In the end, it was a couple of hours before he completed his shopping trip.  By then, thunderstorms had moved in so it was too dangerous for him to go up the mast and too wet for me to sew the sail.  For Peter, the myriad improvements and repairs he can make to the boat are an endless supply of amusement and fascination (and occasionally frustration) for him, so he was able to stay busy below decks.  There is not nearly enough to distract me, and his projects have resulted in nearly every horizontal surface being covered with parts and tools, so the saloon is not even an appealing place for me right now.  I took a nap and, during a break in the rain, went to the Safeway across the street to get food and dry ice. Then I came to the lounge and watched the U.S. Open men's semi-final match between Djokovic and Nishikori.  Peter joined me to the last set, which we watched while eating a picnic dinner.

Peter's endless entertainment and the critical mess he creates

It was cool again this morning, but the wind was gusty, so Peter thought it was ill-advised to ascend the mast.  I decided to go to the B&O Railroad Museum, and I departed after we enjoyed the continental breakfast the marina provides every Saturday morning.  It is a good opportunity to meet other people in the marina.

Outside of Museum

The B&O (Baltimore and Ohio) Railroad Museum contains one of the oldest and most comprehensive (according to its own publicity) American railroad collections.  (Actually, it is fairly comprehensive regarding the development of railroads east of the Mississippi but has little to offer about western railroads.  Of course, the California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento does not focus on railroads in the east--but, then, it doesn't claim a pan-American scope of coverage.  No need to quibble, though--they are both excellent railroad museums.)  The museum is located at the site of the historic Mt. Clare shops of the B&O Railroad.  From this place, in 1829, Baltimore businessmen, surveyors and engineers set about creating the railroad company, laying the first commercial long-distance track (about 30 miles initially) in the U.S. and building the first passenger station.  In the 1820s, Baltimore was concerned about losing out economically to New York and other port cities.  The Erie Canal, completed in 1825, and the proposed Chesapeake and Potomac Canal would take away trade vital to the development of the city.  The B&O Railroad was the response to this threat.

The museum contains locomotives, rolling stock and artifacts (such as tools, time-pieces, dining car china, uniforms and personal memorabilia) relating to early American railroading, particularly the B&O, the Chesapeake and Ohio, the Western Maryland and other mid-Atlantic railroads.  (In a series of mergers and acquisitions in the 20th century, most of these would become the Chessie system and then CSX Transportation, which now operates about 21,000 miles of track.)

The Museum's main building, the roundhouse, is striking when entered.  Originally constructed in the mid-19th century as a passenger car shop, it was the largest circular industrial building in the world at the time, covering more than an acre and rising 125 feet.  Outside and in adjacent shops are more locomotives and rolling stock.  I took a tour of one of them.  Most of the information shared by the knowledgeable guide was focused on the engineering of the locomotives, and a lot of it was not that fascinating for me.  However, he did point out the automatic, continuous lubrication system for a moving part of a steam engine which was invented in 1872 by an African American engineer Elijah McCoy and his son.  Because this system meant fewer stops for lubrication and reduced maintenance, this invention was in high demand by the railroads.  It is postulated that the term "the real McCoy" is based on engineers asking if the locomotives they commissioned or purchased were equipped with "the real McCoy" in order to avoid an inferior product.

B&O Museum Roundhouse

One of the first B&O passenger cars for a short 30-mile run to Ellicott City, Maryland

Part of the museum is dedicated to the importance of the railroads, particularly the B&O, during the American Civil War.  They moved ordinance, food, uniforms, shelter, medicine and other supplies needed by Union troops.  The extensive rail system allowed for the speedy movement of troops, contributing to Union victories in the South.  Because of their vital role, the railroads also became targets; cutting off supply lines was an important strategy for both sides.  Confederate Colonel Stonewall Jackson's operations in Martinsburg, West Virginia (then Virginia) involved not only destroying tracks and bridges but, in 1861, stealing, one by one, 14 locomotives in all from the yard for use on Confederate railroads.  There were no tracks connecting Martinsburg to any Confederate lines, so the locomotives were disassembled and moved along a dirt road by teams of horses to Strasburg, Virginia.  As a result of the need to keep the Northern tracks operational, hundreds of men became trained in railroad maintenance and repair during the war and would later be able to use these skills to find employment.

Another exhibit focused on the role of African Americans in railroads.  Although some of them were highly skilled, they were not offered employment in management nor were they allowed to become engineers, conductors or firemen.  They were relegated to service jobs.  The Black men who were hired by George Pullman for his sleeper cars were chosen from former slaves, particularly house slaves who had been groomed to serve.  Although they were better paid than other Black railroad workers and indeed, better than workers in many industries, they worked long hours and had to pay for their own accomodations, food and uniforms when working.  In addition, Black passengers could not ride in the same cars as white passengers and were provided with inferior conditions.  In fact, in some cases, they were put in the smoking room of cars and had to sit, not even being allowed to smoke themselves, while white passengers used their area to enjoy their cigarettes and cigars. This discriminatory practice was unfortunately upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson in 1896, establishing the doctine of separate but equal.

I have a hard time dealing with racial prejudice and exclusionary practices.  It seems morally wrong and just does not jibe with my personal experience.  My experiences with people of other ethnic backgrounds do not differ from those with people who look like me.  Here in Baltimore, I can see that there are still divisions.  I can see that people of similar racial or ethnic backgrounds choose to be part of homogeneous groups, but not necessarily exclusively.  I have found myself welcomed and accepted by groups of Black people when I am the only white person around.  When I left the railroad museum today, the rain was pouring and there was no designated shelter at the bus stop.  I was standing under a tree, which was doing very little to keep me dry, when a woman from a house across the street came out with two umbrellas and gave one to me to use while I waited.  She told me just to leave it on the sidewalk when the bus came and she would see it from her front window and come to retrieve it.  About ten minutes later, she sent her seventh-grade son out to stand with me, with the message that the bus would be arriving in about one minute.  She waved from her window as I boarded the bus.  I would have been drenched without her kindness.

Fortunately, the rain had become light by the time I got off the bus in Canton.  I realized that it was 20 minutes before 5:00, the time for mass at the nearby St. Casimir Church on Boston Street, which was constructed in 1925 and dedicated in 1926.  Peter and I had admired this large neo-Renaissance stone edifice, covering an entire city block, with its two 110-foot gilded bell towers, and realized that the only way to see the inside was to go before or after mass on Saturday or Sunday.  I seized the opportunity and was stunned by the magnificent interior.  A rectangular structure measuring 225 by 75 feet, the nave can seat 1400 people.  The large murals above the sanctuary were begun in 1939 and shows scenes of the Holy Trinity and various saints as well as scenes depicting Polish Catholic history and American Catholic history.

Sanctuary of St. Casimir Church

St. Casimir Oarish was an offshoot of St. Stanislaus Kastka Parish in Fell's Point at the turn of the 20th century. It served the growing Polish immigrant population of Canton (whose presence and influence in Canton and Fell's Point can also be noted through inscriptions on buildings marking them as such things as the "Polish Building Society").  In the 1930s, the parish had approximately 5300 members but is now down to 800.

The B&O Railroad played a significant roll in the Baltimore becoming a city populated by immigrants.  The B&O contracted with a German steamship line, Norddeutscher Lloyd, in 1868, to bring immigrants to Baltimore and carry wheat and other agricultural products as well as manufactured goods to Europe.  This mutually beneficial agreement resulted in Baltimore becoming the second largest eastern gateway for American immigration (after New York).  Germans were the largest group of immigrants in Baltimore already, and soon they made up one-fourth of all white people in the city.  Other Slavic people also immigrated on the Lloyd steamships, including Poles, both Roman Catholics and Jews, and they continued to move here through the first half of the 20th century.  Not only did these immigrants help to build the city, they supplied cheap labor to the plantations of the South, who suffered from a lack of laborers after the Civil War.

When I got back to the boat, Peter texted me to come up to the lounge for a party he had joined there. It really a family party for a woman who has just retired from the NSA (and lives with her husband on a boat here), but everyone was welcome.  I arrived just in time for the end of the party, when they were releasing butterflies by the water.

Butterfly release

Butterfly being released

Still Hot! Hot! Hot! in Baltimore

I know there was an original version of the song "Hot! Hot! Hot!" but it is blocked out in my mind by the version parents of children who are now around 20 will likely remember better, the Sesame Street cover with Elmo as the lead singer.  We watched the video on VCR tape long before DVDs and listened to the song on the tape player in the car along with hits by Raffi, Tom Chafin and Red Grammer.

The view out the deck door windows of the marina lounge over the boats in the marina looks deceptively inviting, with clear blue skies dotted with a few small puffy white clouds.  But it is 94 degrees out there (which would be pleasant in Sacramento) and humid, with a heat index over 100, with little to no wind.  So, listening to music through my earbuds, I sit at the large table on one side of the room along with a young man who is obviously working, with two screens, as he bops to his music, as two women work on quilts and sewing projects at two large tables they have set up in another area of the room.  This is the communal office, meeting room, living room and party room for the marina community.  (The African American Neptune Yacht Club held a fish fry here on Monday.  It was a large and convivial gathering, and the friendly people invited us to partake of the food.  Peter loved the fresh fish!)  It is where everyone escapes from the heat.

I escaped from the heat at an art museum yesterday, but let me backtrack to Tuesday, since my last post was on Monday.  Tuesday was a work day for me.  I had only cleaned three out of ten of the durades on the deck side the previous day, so I had seven more to do.  This part of the job involved using the hose attached to the water on the dock.  The advantage was that I could just hose myself down when I was hot.  Actually, I didn't need to do this.  As Peter knows, when I am using a hose to clean, I never stay dry myself.  I just become part of the cleaning project!

Sherri cleaning the durades on deck of Mantra

The previous owners were pretty meticulous about keeping everything clean, so the build-up of grime was not bad.  (Peter says I have to clean things that are already clean as a way of marking my territory.)  One advantage of my deep cleaning is that I find things that we didn't know about, like a durade that had obviously failed and been resealed; this gives Peter a chance to scrutinize items and fix them if necessary.  (He can fix anything!)

I couldn't spray water indiscriminately inside the boat, so I had to be a little bit more neat as I cleaned the sections of the durades on that side.  Peter told me to careful not to damage the head liners around the durade openings, and I didn't.  However, the one in the head (bathroom) fell off without my help, slivers of water-damaged wood flying all around.  Another issue for Peter to deal with!  And I had to re-clean the whole bathroom even though I had just cleaned it thoroughly last week!

I finished up my cleaning project with just enough time to shower before Peter and I had to leave to meet our new friends who run a non-profit which serves kids in Baltimore by teaching them sailing.  Steve and Susanna's boat is docked at another marina just a short walk away along the promenade.  They have a lovely 36 foot Sabre which sailed well in a light breeze (until the wind disappeared and we had to motor back to the slip).  They treated us to a light dinner, pointed out sights in the busy port  area of the outer harbor and regaled us with stories of the many boats they have refurbished.  The sun set behind a cloud, outlining it in a glow of orange and tinting the sky tangerine, salmon and lavender as we made our way back to the dock.

Steve, Susanne and Peter on Condor on the Outer Harbor of Baltimore

Peter decided that he had not accomplished enough that day, so he set to work replacing hinges on doors.  Had I known that he was going to work for two hours, I would have come to the lounge to write or read instead of sitting in my nightgown waiting to go to bed.  I could have gone to bed, but we only have one movable fan (there are five small mounted ones) and it didn't seem right to take it away from him, and it was unbearable in our cabin.  (I didn't make that mistake last night; I told him to text me in the lounge when he was ready for bed.)

Yesterday, awakened by the smell of the holding tank being pumped out, I hopped out of bed, got dressed and got ready to leave.  But, first, Peter, who had had a basal cell carcinoma removed from his right forearm shortly before we left home, needed to have his stitches removed.  In the pilot house, with the sun beating down on my back, I followed his instructions and pulled and cut the sutures.  At first, I thought it was the heat that was affecting me, but after the third or fourth stitch, I realized that the light-headedness and nausea I was feeling was a direct result of my acting a nurse.  I had to stop, go below, get a drink and stand in front of the fan until I felt better.  The patient, Peter, had to become the caretaker, grabbing a bucket in case I needed it.  Luckily, I did not.  Needless to say, he had to finish the job himself.

As a fellow member of this marina community (which is a mixture of transients like us and people who keep their boats here year round) arrived to assist him with figuring out why the relatively new batteries are failing, I left to find some culture.  My destination was the Walters Art Museum in the Mount Vernon district of Baltimore.  I expected to spend a couple of hours there, but the collection was larger and more varied than I anticipated, and I left when the place closed at 5 p.m.

The museum houses the collection of William and Henry Walters, Baltimore businessmen and philanthropists who purchased art from around the world from the third millennium BC through the early 20th century.  William Walters initially made his money through the family's rye whiskey distillery and wholesale distribution and then amassed a fortune through investments in banking and railroads.  His interest in art fully developed when he and his family lived in Paris during the American Civil War.  His son Henry joined him in business and shared his passion for art.  Together, over a few decades, the assembled an amazing collection of over 22,000 works of art.  In 1931, Henry donated the core collection of the museum to the city of Baltimore.

The first exhibit I explored was called The Walters Story, which through signs beside works of art,  traced the history of the development of their collection.  It was interesting to learn about the artists they favored, the dealers whom they worked with, and the acquisition of art works they made while visiting various world exhibitions and fairs around the turn of the 20th century.  From there, I wandered through the rooms filled with wonders: Egyptian mummies, funeral masks, sarcophagi, jewelry and other artifacts from ancient temples; Greek, Roman, Etruscan and ancient Near East art; armor and weaponry including suits of armor, swords, daggers, crossbows, spears, halberds, flintlocks and muskets (The Middle Eastern daggers were the most ornate and the Japanese samurai armor the most intricately constructed); early Byzantine art; religious icons from the Byzantine Empire, Russia and Ethiopia; Romanesque and Gothic art and architectural pieces; Islamic art; Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque art, including paintings and sculpture from northern Europe, Italy, France and Spain, with a special emphasis on 18th century European art (Artists include Signorelli, Raphael, Tiepelo, El Greco, Monet, Pissaro, Sisley and Turner); illuminated manuscripts and rare books; Art Nouveau jewelry and precious objects, including pieces by Tiffany, Lalique and Fabrege; Buddhist art from eastern and southeastern Asia; artwork from India, Nepal and Tibet; and contemporary Japanese ceramics.

Two areas were particularly fascinating.  One was a reproduction of an exhibition room that William Walters created in the late 19th century in his home to show part of his collection to the public.  Paintings were hung in three horizontal rows on the walls and display cases featured small bronzes and Asian enamel work.

Replica of exhibit room of William Walters

The other was a series of three rooms replicating the type that European aristocrats would have created to entertain and impress guests with their acquistions from nature and art from around the world.  Juxtaposed were such things as paintings by European masters, stuffed animals such as exotic alligators, pottery from Asia, fossilized animals, jewelry, masks from Africa and coral and shells from tropical seas.

"Chamber of Wonders"

The Walters Art Museum includes not just the modern museum buildings but One West Mount Vernon Place, a 19th century Greek Revival mansion recently renovated and opened by the museum. Originally built around 1850 for Dr. John Hanson (a man who, despite his education, never practiced medicine because he could not pass the exam to become certified--according to the delightful docent.  She also told me that Dr. Hanson, a Maryland legislator with Confederate sympathies, declared himself in favor of secession, which led to his arrest by Union forces and imprisonment at Fort Warren in Boston Harbor, along with other Baltimore officials, when Lincoln, in 1861, authorized his military commanders to suspend the writ of habeas corpus between Washington to Philadelphia.

Other esoteric history:  The house was purchased by Mr. and Mrs. Francis Jencks in 1892, and they expanded the graceful spiral staircase leading from the large foyer to the second floor, installed the oval Tiffany skylight in the coffered dome and redecorated in the Italian Renaissance style.  Following their deaths, the house fell into disrepair but was purchased and restored by Harry Gladding in 1963.  It was purchased from his estate in the 1980s and given to the city of Baltimore by Willard Hackerman in 1984.  Thus, it became part of the Walters Art Museum.

Staircase and Tiffany window in One Mount Vernon Place

About mid-day, I had reached an art saturation point, so, despite the heat, I wondered outside for a while. I walked around the Washington Monument in the middle of Mount Vernon Plaza.  This was the first major monument to George Washington, completed in 1829.  (Interesting fact:  The same architect, Robert Mills, also designed the Washington Monument in Washington, D.C.)  Atop a colossal white marble Doric column is a statue of Washington as he made his resignation as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army at the State House in Annapolis in 1783.  Downhill from this statue in the south garden is a bronze equestrian statue of the Marquis de Lafayette erected in 1924.  On one corner of the plaza is the Peabody Institute, which includes the stunning Peabody Library, sometimes referred to as a cathedral of books.  Opposite this instituion is the striking Norman-Gothic style United Methodist Church, completed in 1872 with an exterior of five types of stone, including green Maryland fieldstone.  Four block-long gardens radiate from the central plaza and monument, and these are lined with mansions that were built after the monument was erected, when the wooded, unpopulated area became the premier residential district overlooking Baltimore Town.

United Methodist Church on Mount Vernon Place

Mount Vernon Place mansions

Washington Monument in Baltimore

When the museum closed at 5 p.m., I started walking back down Charles Street, hungry and thirsty.  I had had absolutely nothing to eat all day.  I skipped breakfast after recovering from the medical incident in the morning and had been too enthralled by art and architecture to stop for lunch.  (My husband and children have to remind me to stop and eat when we are touring together.)  Google maps revealed a McDonald's a couple blocks off Charles Street, so I detoured there for a salad and Diet Coke.  I found myself the only white person among the couple dozen people ordering, waiting for food or eating in the facility.  Most of the customers were young and seemed to know each other and were conversing in slang.  I looked out the large windows and didn't see any other people of my race out there either.  Having been raised in an all-white town (practically an all-white state, West Virginia), I had been brought up to avoid areas where blacks lived or congregated.  Dangerous!  However, everything seemed safe to me, as I have long ago rejected this prejudice.  What a surprise then when the people around me became excited and all headed outside.  The next thing I knew, a slightly grungy looking white woman was running backward down the street away from the crowd as a white man who seemed to be with her weaved toward and away from the small crowd of young black people.  They seemed to be taunting or threatening the white woman, who was yelling back at them as she departed the scene.  Then she was back!  And one of the yound black women was chasing her with a baseball bat!  Yikes!  Luckily, she ran away for good and the black youth fell to joking among themselves.  They greeted me in a friendly manner as I exited and headed for a nearby bus stop, seeming unconcerned with my white presence in their milieu.

Before heading back to Mantra and the marina, I walked along the waterfront of the Inner Harbor.  Several historic ships are permanently moored here as museum pieces, and the National Aquarium is a fixture.  It is a picturesque area with many shops and restaurants.

USS Constellation in the Inner Harbor

Nacho Mama's in Canton

Peter took a break in his work at 9 p.m., and he and I walked the few blocks to Nacho Mama's on O'Donnell's Square in Canton for dinner.  The neighborhood has an interesting history.  In 1785, John O'Donnell, an Irish merchant, settled in Baltimore and began trading with merchants in the Chines port of Guangzhou, then called Canton by English speakers.  When he purchased land, he named his plantation Canton and that stayed the name when his son sold the land for development.  All of southeast Baltimore including Canton became the home of a vibrant packing industry.  To supply the containers, tin can factories such as American Can and Continental Can built large factories here.  In the second half of the 20th century, these industries disappeared and the area became derelict.  Now it is revitalized and the old canneries, can factories and wharehouses have been transformed into residences, restaurants and businesses.  Across the street from the marina, American Can's factory now houses Safeway, Chipoltle, Coldstone Ice Cream, Outback and other popular retail establishments on the ground level and businesses such as DAP have their headquarters on the upper levels.  Parts of the original machinery has been placed as sculpture in front of the buildings.

American Can Company factory machinery

After we had a great meal and Peter enjoyed two well-deserved and delicious margaritas, we headed back to the marina after 10 p.m.  Peter wanted to finish "just one more thing" on the boat, so, remembering Tuesday night, I headed for the lounge, where I watched Djokavic beat Millman in the US Open and then some political reporting on MSNBC.  The only other person in the lounge chose the stations.  As we watched, he ventured to ask me about my political leanings.  Relived to find that we both lean the same way, we talked about Trump and the election that put him office.  He mentioned that he would have voted for Hillary if he was allowed to vote.  When I raised my eyebrows in a questioning way, wondering if he were a felon, he alluded to possible reasons for not being able to vote, such as the witness protection program.  Who knows?  Interesting people here.

Well, I have managed to spend many hours here at my computer.  Outside, the sparse, bright little clouds have grown and accumulated into banks of cumulus ones.  The weather is changing, and it is supposed to be 10 degrees cooler tomorrow, with rain over the weekend and temperatures in the low 70's!  Relief from the heat!  Now I just have to plan what to do with myself tomorrow as Peter continues to work, work, work.  The laundry is waiting, but that can be done this evening.  Maybe the sunset will look like this again:

sunset at Anchorage Marina

I can be of no help with this:

Washington and More Time in Baltimore

I simply hate it when I get behind on my writing.  The entire Labor Day weekend will be covered in this post because of my procrastination (and busy-ness).

After writing the last post on Thursday afternoon, I needed to stretch my legs and explore, so I took a walk along the waterfront promenade to Fell's Point.  Along the way, I passed hundreds of pleasure boats, ranging from beautifully maintained (the majority) and unseaworthy.  Notable was an older Chris Craft cruiser, which was probably a beauty at one time but which now has a mannequin of a pirate propped by the wheel in the pilot house and a large inflatable dragon on the foredeck.

May not be seaworthy, but might be a nice place for a party

Fell's Point, originally its own settlement east of Baltimore Town, was founded as a maritime community by a Quaker from Pennsylvania, William Fell, in 1730. By the mid-1700s, it was the main port on the Patapsco River.  Fell's son Edward sold land to tradesmen and entrpreneurs who established thriving shipbuilding and trading businesses.  A third of its population was directly involved in building and sailing ships.  As a point of entry, it became the first and for some permanent home of successive waves of immigrants in the late 18th and 19th centuries.  Fell's Point became a ethnically diverse, working-class neighborhood of artisans, sailors and craftsmen.

As a port, Fell's Points thrived as sailing ships from around the world unloaded cargo and immigrants and loaded items for export.  When steam replaced sails for propulsion, the larger steam powered ships could not be accomodated at the wharves.  By the late 19th century, the canning industry replaced shipping as the economic base.  By the 1960s, the economy had collapsed, and a freeway was planned to take over the neighborhood.  Fortunately, local citizens rallied and gained National Register Historic District status in 1969.  Houses and shops were saved from the wrecking ball, and Fell's Point is now a lovely enclave of Federal style architecture and streets paved with durable Belgian blocks.  Most of the structures are narrow, made of dark red brick and only wide enough to allow for a doorway and one window on the front on the ground level and two windows on each of the upper levels.  The buildings are two or four stories high.

Fell's Point

Many important people in American history called Fell's Point home.  Frederick Douglass, the famous abolitionist, lived here as a slave for a short time.  In 1837, he was hired out by his master as a caulker in the shipyards.  In September 1838, using identification and protection papers he had obtained from a free black seaman, he escaped from Baltimore by train and went to New York City.

Jazz singer Billie Holiday was born in East Baltimore in 1915 and lived in and around Fell's Point for the first fourteen years of her life.  (Her final residence in Baltimore, an 1810 two-story Federalist style brick house.)  She began singing at the age of ten in theaters, whiskey houses and storefront churches in Fell's Point.

As I was standing at the entrance to Broadway Pier reading the signs about the history of the area, I was surrounded by a couple hundred people all dressed in various styles of clothing but all in white.  I thought perhaps they were performers, but, upon inquiry, I discovered that they had all signed up for an event involving a walk to an unspecified location for a picnic feast by the water.   Further research revealed that this pop-up picnic is called Le Diner en Blanc.  According to the Baltimore Sun, participants had to dress in all white and bring their own white picnic basket and chairs as well as a square folding table.  They also had to bring their own gourment dinner or buy a catered basket.  Wherever the event was held music and entertainment was provided.   The event is based on a secretive picnic event that began in Paris 30 years ago; this was its second iteration in Baltimore.  Everyone seemed excited and ready for a fun evening.

Meanwhile, five musicians dressed in casual white strolled by a couple times, playing jazz with brass instruments and drums.  This is one of the things I love about cities:  the totally unexpected and delightful surprises I find.

After I returned to the boat, where Peter was working away at his various projects, he and I strolled over to a historic area of Canton (the neighborhood we are staying in just east of Fell's Point) a few blocks away and had dinner at a Mexican restaurant called Mama's, famous for hubcap margaritas to share.  These are recommended for four people; because of this and the fact that I don't drink margaritas, we didn't order one, but they seemed to be quite popular.  Peter did have a margarita and said it was worth a return trip.  I think the portabello and spinach quesadilla is worth a repeat.

The next day, I picked up an Enterprise rental car and we drove to Washington, D.C. in order to join our friends Lori, Michael and Elizabeth in the evening for a production of Hamilton at the Kennedy Center.  First, we went to the Mall.  We enjoyed an outdoor display of tropical plants in bloom at the Enid Haupt Garden by the Smithsonian Castle.  

Tropical flower in bloom

Another type of bloom

Then we went to the Museum of African Art to see an exhibition of Swahili Coast art.  The paintings, pottery, jewelry, books and architectural pieces such as doors and lintels spanned several centuries and highlighted the influences of the Middle East, inland cultures and local customs and beliefs.  Peter was able to translate most of the Swahili.

Then we met Lori, Michael and Elizabeth at &pizza on F Street and Virginia.  Each of us had an individual pizza.  (Lori had the one called the Maverick in honor of John McCain.)  They were delicious!  We walked from there to the Kennedy Center.  Our seats were in the second tier of the Opera House; we had brought binoculars.  However, I couldn't complain about the seats because we could use our binoculars to see individual performers (King George III's facial expressions were precious!) and we could appreciate the choreography more than we could have in the orchestra seats.
What can more can be said about Hamilton?  Everything about it--the story, the dialogue and the amazingly talented actors, the musical composition and the singing, the choreography, the costumes, the set--was brilliant.  Noted for its songs with rapid-fire lyrics and upbeat rhythms, the production also awes with its slow, heart-rending numbers.

Peter, Elizabeth, Sherri, Michael and Lori at the Kennedy Center

After the play, we emerged from the Kennedy Center into a thunderstorm.  When the rain let up some, we quickly walked to our car a few blocks away.  Our poor companions had ridden bikes downtown and had to cycle home to Glover Park.  Unfortunately for them, the rain can back in force before they made it, but at least they weren't hit by lightning!

The next morning, we had time to have breakfast and chat a bit with Lori before we had to return to Baltimore and return our one-day rental car.  Detouring a bit, we stopped at the municipal recycling center to drop off the non-functioning dehumidifier from our boat, trying to be ecologically responsible.  They took it and then we saw it being thrown in a dumpster!  We could have done that.

After a quick shopping trip to Target, we arrived back at the marina, where I dropped Peter off.  I took the car back to Fell's Point (not the hip, upscale waterfront section but the area further away from the harbor, an area more gritty and less appealing).  I walked toward the waterfront before turning east.  Peter texted me about lunch, and I replied that I had become distracted by history and architecture in Fell's Point.  The Broadway Market, the oldest continuously operating public market in the U.S., first opened in 1784.  The current building dates from 1864.  Formerly a market for livestock, produce and grain, the building now has gourmet and prepared food for sale.  The structure itself is interesting and there is a lovely stained glass window at one end.

Broadway Market in Fell's Point

Stained glass window of Baltimore

I found that the museum of the Preservation Society of Fell's Point was open, and I couldn't resist exploring.  There, I was told that one of the historic houses around the corner was open for view, so I popped over to the Robert Long House.  Built in 1765, it is believed to be the oldest surviving residence in Baltimore.  Slated for demolition in 1969, the exterior and the interior has been restored to its colonial-era appearance.  Just one of the interesting things on display was a skirt bolster, a padded cylinder to be tied around the waist to make the hips seem bigger and the waist smaller.

Bedroom of Long House

There was a party at the marina on Saturday evening, with great live music and lots of food and drink.  Peter, from his stay here at the marina for a week and a half in early August, had already made friends with some people, to whom he introduced me, and we met and chatted with others.  As we discussed boats with one couple, Peter mentioned a minor rigging job we need to have done.  What luck!  Their daughter is a rigger, and she was at the party.  So we all trekked over to the next dock and our boat, where she took measurements and discussed the job with Peter.  So that is being taken care of.

This couple we met are running a non-profit organization they founded which introduces socio-economically disadvantaged youth in Baltimore to sailing and teaches them real life applications for science and math.  We were really impressed by them.

The party was still going strong and the musicians had moved from Jimmy Buffett to Jethro Tull (and were excellent at both) when we decided to call it a night at 9:00.  (We are so old!)  Peter did some more tinkering and I read more of Crazy Rich Asians before going to bed.

Musicians at the party at Anchorage Marina

I did some more cleaning and tidying and Peter re-installed some of the floor boards and put away tools so that we could take the boat out on the water.  Lori, Michael and Elizabeth joined us for an afternoon on the Patapsco River.  Unfortunately, there was not enough wind for sailing, but it was cooler away from the docks.  (Not cool, mind you.  Cool is not a word I would use to describe the temperature at any time during our stay here in Baltimore.)  We chugged very slowly away from the dock, the engine struggling against build-up of barnacles on the propeller.  Some of them bailed off as we traveled, but their presence was still evident.  After we passed under the Francis Scott Key Bridge, we dropped anchor and Peter went overboard with his mask, fin and snorkle and a paint scraper.  He put some of the barncles on the swim step for the kids to dissect; they were fascinated.  Our three friends learned how to use the dock lines and took turns steering, and we all enjoyed a picnic lunch bought at the nearby Safeway across the street prior to setting off.

Michael and Elizabeth

Elizabeth, Peter and Michael with barnacles

Lori at the wheel

Elizabeth and Michael ready to toss bowlines

Sherri, Lori, Elizabeth, Michael and Peter in front of Mantra

I was exhausted from the heat and was useless for the evening.  This morning I got up and got right to work.  I polished metal for a while, and then I started cleaning durade boxes.  (For non-sailors, these are the ventilation system for below deck.)  I worked on deck until after 1 p.m.  I was actually doing fine until I stopped.   Then I realized how hot I was.  I packed up my toiletries, my towel, a change of clothes, and my computer and headed to the marina facilities.  After a refreshing shower, I settled into the lounge, where, hours later, I still sit.  Peter, meanwhile, has been diagramming his upgraded electrical system for the boat's instruments and walking the short distance to West Marine to order cables and parts.  Progress is being made.

Baltimore in August--What Were We Thinking!

Actually, Baltimore is lovely and the bright sunshine is cheerful; it is just the heat and humidity that are much less so.  We cooled off the boat with the air conditioning after we arrived yesterday afternoon but have been relying on fans since then.  At least today there is a slight breeze.  And, luckily, the marina has a pool, so I jumped in there mid-afternoon.

Peter is working on installing new electronic equipment for navigation and moving the Garmin radar monitor to the pilot house.  He needs to do a repair on the track for the mainsail, so I get to hoist him up in the boatswain's chair in a couple of days.  Also, I need to do a bit of sewing on the mainsail and clean accumulated mold and dirt out of all the durades.  Because Mantra has been docked at a marina on the Patapsco River, we really should hire a diver to clean the hull and the propeller before we leave.  The weeds and barnacles will reduce our speed by at least one knot per hour if we don't.  In addition to these minor issues, the refrigeration system died so Peter sent it off for repair in early August.  It is not done yet, so we are relying on dry ice to keep food and drinks cold.  Otherwise, the boat is perfectly ready to sail and live aboard!  We plan to leave from Baltimore the middle of next week.

Tomorrow, we are renting a car and driving to Washington to visit our friends Lori, Michael and Elizabeth.  We are all going to see Hamilton at the Kennedy Center on Friday evening, and then Peter and I will spend the night with them before heading back to Baltimore.

The tasks on the boat can keep Peter constantly busy, but I can only do cleaning and minor jobs for so long, so I plan to spend some time visiting museums and the waterfront.  I am looking forward to the Walters Art Museum, the Peabody Library, the Baltimore Museum of Art and maybe even the Historic Ships of Baltimore.  (Yes, I know that the Aquarium is the major attraction here, but I have been there several times in the last 25 years.)  There is a seven-mile long promenade that extends from Canton Waterfront Park to and around the Inner Harbor.  The marina is situated right along the promenade, so it couldn't be more accessible.  I will brave the heat and humidity in the early morning hours or in the early evening to explore along this beautiful walkway.

It's 4 p.m. now, and I am sitting in the lounge of the marina, taking advantage of the Internet and the air conditioning.

We plan to be living on Mantra for the next three months, heading north to New England for the fall and then working our way down the eastern seaboard in order to make it to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving with our friends Paula and Andrew.  We will be home for Christmas and, yes (because we have already been asked in August!), we will be hosting our annual Christmas party.  Apparently, it is one of the social events of the season, so how could we not?

Baltimore

On Thursday, we did not cast off the docks at Zahniser's in Solomon's until nearly noon.  With winds hovering around five knots, we weren't able to sail, even though they were from the east, so we set our course for Baltimore and motored along.  Finally, at 5 p.m., Peter could stand it no longer, and with eight knot of winds from the southeast, we set the main and the jib wing and wing (one sail on each side of the boat) and shut off the engine.  Amazingly, we were able to sail at five knots with only eight knots of wind (after we remembered to take out the reef!).

At 7 p.m., by the time we were approaching the Chesapeake Bay Bridge (which always evokes anticipation for the annual Rodgers beach vacation in mid-summer, since crossing the bridge means we are almost there), the winds had increased a bit, and we were making six knots as we passed under the two spans.  

Mantra approached the Chesapeake Bay Bridge

Peter at the helm under the bridge

There are many shoals in the Chesapeake, marked by quaint, weathered, blocky structures.  Contrasted with modern bridges and passed by sleek yachts and metal cargo ships which dwarf them, they are anachronisms which date back to the days of wooden ships.   

Shoal marker

We knew we weren't going to make it up the Patuxent River to  Baltimore before sunset, so Peter chose the night's anchorage in the Magothy River.  The rivers flowing into the Chesapeake offer bucolic settings for peaceful anchorages.  The river banks are lined with large, lovely homes nestled in the trees.  (Only the wealthy can afford waterfront property.)

The idea is always to anchor before sunset, but this wasn't the first time we have anchored after the sun sank beyond the horizon.  Luckily, we have good charts.  The chart system on the computer packed up a few days ago, but we have a large chartbook of the Chesapeake, and Peter was able to download charts on his phone for reference also.  I love the paper charts, but I have gotten used to zooming in and out on the computer to see details or the large picture, so having to turn to a new page for every couple of degrees of latitude and longitude was a different, forgotten experience.

Sunset over the Magothy River

It took us three hours yesterday to make it to the mouth of the Patuxent and upriver to the port of Baltimore.  We passed enormous cargo ships in the channel and factories and industries on the shore.  Dotted among these are historic sites, including Fort McHenry, where the words to the national anthem were written by Francis Scott Key during the War of 1812.

Fort McHenry

We have tied off in a slip at the Anchorage Marina, where Mantra will stay until late August.  I spent the day doing laundry and cleaning down below decks while Peter focused on securing everything on deck and making last minute fixes.  Most important is the sump pump, which should operate automatically, switching on when there is water to be pumped, but does not.  Operating it manually while we are onboard solves the issue, but we need to leave a dehumidifier running in our absence, and the extracted water from the air needs to get out of the boat via a fully functional sump pump.  Peter made three trips to the nearby hardware store yesterday, but he still needs parts, but he had to wait until 8 a.m. for the shops to open.

Baltimore at night from the Anchorage Marina

We are flying back to Sacramento this afternoon--back to the land of low humidity!  We are looking forward to spending time with our kids, who we left to fend for themselves for the last few weeks.  The blog will be continued in late August, when we will set sail again, this time for New England.

The Chesapeake: Moving With (or Against) the Wind, Tide and Currents

We are making our way north up the Chesapeake Bay, sometimes swiftly and sometimes painfully slow.  Setting off from the Bluewater Yacht Center's marina in Hampton at 9:30 a.m. two mornings ago (Tuesday), we encountered light winds from the northeast, which was unfortunate since we are heading north.  We had to use the engine for a few hours until the wind picked up to 10-15 knots and shifted to the west.  Driving through the water with a boat is not nearly as pleasing as sailing.  Using the engine, we plow through the water with brute force, not in sync with the winds and waves, man against nature.  When we are able to sail, as we were in the afternoon that day, we are one with the elements.  Using the wind for propulsion, we slice through the water.  We settle into the environment of the water rather than push our way through it.  It is very peaceful (with winds under 25 knots, that is).

As sunset approached, we saw rain coming in and we headed past Smith Point on the western shore of the Chesapeake and up the Little Wicomico River.  I remember reading the signs along the road on the way to the beach every summer and delighting in this as well as other names derived from the local Indian languages.  We always assumed in was pronounced Wee-co-mee-co, a fun sounding word.  It wasn't until we started sailing on the Chesapeake in the previous decade and began listening to the marine weather forecasts that we learned it is Wi-com-ee-co.  It's a mellifluous pronunciation but the child in me still prefers Wee-co-mee-co.

We are a large vessel for a small river, towering over the little pleasure and fishing boats on docks along the verdant shoreline.  The river is dotted with bobbing re-used gallon plastic bottles marking crab pots, as is much of the bay itself outside the main shipping channels.  Unlike the open ocean, when long hours pass without seeing anything other the surface of the water and keeping watch can become tedious, the Chesapeake Bay requires vigilance because of the crabbing.  Sometimes maneuvering around them is like skiing down a slalom course.

The posts with red triangles and green squares marking the edges of the channel in the river serve a dual purpose.  They are also perfect sites for ospreys to build their nests, which they use year after year, adding more material each season.  Eggs are laid from mid-April through May, and incubation lasts about 40 days, so the nests we observed contained eggs which were being guarded from predators by one the monogamous parents.

Osprey guarding its nest

We dropped the anchor is a quiet place among the crab pots and settled in for the evening.  The rain began pattering on the deck as we ate dinner down below.  The air temperature is perfect right now for sleeping, not too hot, and everything was dry inside!

We woke up to a peaceful morning.  Two small skiffs, each with two local men, were moving from crab pot to crab pot in the calm water, collecting the crabs that had been trapped in the night.  We had had trouble lowering the mainsail the previous evening, so before breakfast, Peter had to lubricate all the cars on the track on the mast before we could depart.

Peter lubricating the mainsail track

After breakfast, we pulled up anchor and slipped away down the river.  Hauling up the anchor takes a bit more time here on the Chesapeake than it does in the Caribbean or the Bahamas because Peter has to hose off the sticky muck practically link by link as the chain clears the surface.

Crabbing on the Little Wicomico

Once again, the light wind was directly from the north, so we had to motor for a while.  The previous day, we moved 62 nautical miles.  Yesterday, the current as well as the wind was against us, and we only gained about five miles of northward progress in four hours.  The wind finally shifted a bit to the east and went to 14 knots around 5 p.m., and we were able to sail at a rate of seven knots for about an hour and half before heading in to the mouth of the Patuxent River to dock at Zahniser's Yacht Center at Solomon's Island, Maryland.  Solomon's is a popular yachting destination on the Chesapeake.  Other than the fact that it is well protected from winds from all directions, the only reason I can see for its popularity is that there are a lot of other yachts (as well as yachting services)!  The streets of town are pleasant and we walked a few blocks through a residential area with houses each surrounded by large lawns and gardens to a small restaurant, CD Cafe, where we enjoyed great food and a quiet atmosphere.

We see a lot more sunsets living on the boat than we do in our house because we spend so much more time outside.  We only stay below to plan navigation, sleep or make meals for the most part.  It's a great refuge from the rain, but otherwise most of our time is passed on deck, making us wonder why it is so important to have a well-appointed and comfortable interior.

Sunset at Solomon's Island

This morning's job for Peter (There is something every day!) is getting new battens of the right length for the main sail.  We are not pleased with the way the sail sets with the current arrangement of battens.  He is stowing them right now, and then we will cast off the dock and head toward Baltimore. Today the wind is from the southeast, which is great, but it is less than five knots, so it's not going to be very helpful.  Unlike the Caribbean, where the trade winds are fairly constant, the wind is fickle here, and there are currents and tides to add to the mix.

We fly back to Sacramento in two days, so, one way or the other, we will make it to Baltimore soon.

Greetings from Hampton, Virginia!

After we left the dock in Marsh Harbour, we crossed the Sea of Abaco to Man-O-War Cay to anchor for lunch and get the spinnaker ready for sailing downwind in light winds.  It was our last view of the shallow pristine waters of the Bahamas before embarking on the vast deep water of the North Atlantic, where the water ranges in shades of dark blue in the sunshine (and turns sinister gray under dark clouds).  I will miss the gorgeous hues of the subtropical sea and the pure white sand of the beaches.

Man-O-War Cay

Rainbow as a storm moved past us, with calm seas

Sunrise between the boom and the bimini on the third day out

Our trip from Marsh Harbour to the Chesapeake Bay took five days on the open ocean, once again a few too many days for me.  Actually, it did not seem quite as tedious as the trip from Puerto Rico.  I broke out my coloring pencils and coloring book and amused myself while we sailed for hours and hours, or I practiced my knots, in addition to reading.  (I finished three books and started another.)

I could probably get used to the tedium, and Peter is very generous about staying up most of the night so I do not have to do more than a few hours of watch after dark.  But I get bored even on short night watches because I can't read or color or play anagrams by myself in the dark.  (Our daughter Katya has suggested downloading books from the library, which is a great idea because I could listen in the dark.)  But, still, I am diurnal, and I would rather sleep through the night.

The other major and perhaps more annoying problem with sailing through the night is that everything on deck, particularly the cushions and the pillows and sheets get damp.  (We like to sleep in the pilot house when we are underway.)  After sunset, the temperature drops ever so slightly and water invisibly leaks from the air as water droplets condense and deposit themselves on every piece of fabric topsides, even our clothing.  It is just not comfortable to sit or lie down above deck.  (Do they make foul weather shorts?)  At least this is true for me; Peter does not seem to be bothered.

Mantra is registered in the UK, so we fly a British flag.  But after we left the Bahamas, we hoisted the flag which reveals our true nature:  the large pirate flag Katya and Matthew gave Peter for his birthday in March.  It looks stunning against the blues and reds of the spinnaker!

Peter on the foredeck after hoisting our pirate flag

En route in the Gulf Stream along the east coast, we hove to (stopped the boat in the ocean by facing the wind and holding our position with a backed foresail) to swim in the sparkling blue water, as we had done ten years ago when we made a four day passage from Cape Canaveral to the Chesapeake on our former boat, Epicurus.  We thought we should make this a tradition.  In the Gulf Stream, the water is a more luminous blue and deeper in value than the surrounding waters.  (I don't know why the color is different, and I don't feel like researching it right now.)  While holding a line attached to the boat, we jumped in--one at a time, of course.  Two to three knots of current is very strong, so we kept a tight grip with both hands on the line.  Peter went first, stayed in the warm briefly and hauled himself up the swim ladder.  I followed suit, but when I got back to the swim ladder, I was able to grab it but the current kept sweeping my feet away from the bottom rung.  I was dangling there totally unable to climb the ladder!  Thinking quickly, Peter started the engine and eased her into reverse to counter the current, and I was able to make it up (without getting my limbs caught in the prop!).  That was a little bit more exciting than we had thought it would be.  Refreshed, we fell off from the wind and sailed again toward the northern horizon, surrounded by the sea.

Until Sunday afternoon, the weather was pleasant and we had following winds.  Sometimes the wind was light, but we had fairly good luck using the spinnaker.  We probably should have stopped when the weather turned stormy (as we knew it would--we had listened to the forecast), but we kept on (I must admit, against Peter's better instincts).  Once we passed Cape Lookout along the middle of the North Carolina coast, we were committed because the inlets of the barrier islands north of there are not navigable for a boat with our keel depth, nor are the protected sounds because they are too shallow.

As the entire sports fishing fleet that was out to sea from Cape Hattaras appeared on the eastern horizon and came roaring past us towards safe harbor as lightning sizzled and thunder reverberated in the charged atmosphere, we blithely sailed on with our spinnaker flying.  We actually skirted around the first thunderstorms and sailed through a drenching rain without any problems. (The boat and sails needed to be cleaned anyway.)

The thunderstorms were not the issue.  The problem did not start until the wind clocked to the northwest and then the north, so we were battling through oncoming waves with winds beating against our bow.  Ka-boom!  Ka-boom!  The bow rose high over waves and then smacked down again on the other side of the crests.  We tried tacking (zigzagging across the intended course) as the night settled in to avoid going head on into the wind, but even this was ineffective.  Peter wisely chose to power up as close to the shore as possible to get in the limited lee of the low-lying land.  Actual sailing was impossible, so we used the iron genoa (otherwise known as the engine), which we are loath to do.  In addition, the north wind was biting cold, and we were forced to don long pants, jackets and even shoes after the luxury of being barefoot and clad only in swimwear for days!  I pulled out the comforters.  Neither of us slept much, but it was Peter who actually took most of the punishment on the deck.  It seemed to take forever to reach the mouth of the Chesapeake.  In hindsight, we should have hove to at sea yesterday evening and slept through the night.  After 12 hours, the low pressure front passed, and the sun broke free of the overcast clouds a couple of hours after dawn.  The wind didn't abate much, but the sunshine made it all seem more bearable.

The whole Hampton Roads area is rife with military bases.  Norfolk, Virginia, has the largest U.S. naval fleet in the nation.  As we entered the Chesapeake, we heard on the radio that Warship 77 was departing from the dock en route to sea.  All vessels, as usual, were advised to give it a wide berth.  We stayed just south of the main shipping channel, and, after we had passed over the tunnel section of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, we saw it approaching.   I took photos as it got closer, which made Peter nervous, but, hey, I'm a tax-paying citizen, so it's my navy too.  As it was off our starboard forward quarter, one of the Coast Guard cutters (with guns mounted on the bows) escorting the aircraft carrier swerved away from its side and steered straight for us.  Over the radio, we were advised that we had to keep a distance of 500 yards (which we had done).  When Peter did not immediately and decisively alter course, they hailed us again, so Peter turned slightly to port.  He was sure that they had seen me taking photos and we were in trouble.  But I guess they decided we were not a threat to national security, and they left us alone. Luckily, our pirate flag was shielded by the mainsail, so they never learned our true identity!

US Navy Warship 77 leaving Norfolk

The day here in Hampton was gorgeous.  We walked about half a mile to get groceries (We had plenty of Diet Coke this time, but we ran out of tea bags for Peter.  I'm sure a British wife would have never let this happen!)  On the way, we passed some historic sites.  We learned that from this place, two British Royal navy ships under the command of Lt. Robert Maynard sailed out on November 17, 1718, with the intention of ridding the area of the notorious pirate Blackbeard, who was blockading the Virginia capes and plundering dozens of ships.  Four days later, Blackbeard and his cohorts were found at Ocracoke Inlet on the North Carolina coast, and the navy engaged them in battle.  The pirates boarded Maynard's sloop, and Maynard and Blackbeard fought hand-to-hand with pistols and sabers.  After a reported 20 sword lacerations and five musketball wounds, Blackbeard perished.  On returning to Hampton, Maynard had the pirate's severed head mounted on a tall pole at the entrance to the river as a warning to others not to interfere with British shipping at what was then the busiest, most important port in the colonies.

We also saw a charming red-brick house not far from the waterfront that is the oldest brick dwelling in what is America's oldest continuously occupied English-speaking city--Hampton, that is.  The Georgian style, two-story structure, called Ivy House, was built by sea captain John Herbert in 1757 as his plantation home.  It survived two fires and retains four of its original windows.

Ivy House by the Hampton River

Tomorrow morning we start sailing up the Chesapeake Bay for Baltimore, where Mantra will spend the summer.