So, here we sit in Dismal Swamp – what’s in a name?... – nightly mosquito raiders, brown flushing water, a hard to describe (but not fragrant) pervasive odor, predictably unpredictable internet and cell phone connections, no walkable grocery/laundry, no taxi services within an 18 mile radius, and a great view of the highway. Okay, sold! We’ll stay here a week. Although that may have made for amusing narrative, there are actually good reasons for staying, especially with the impending hurricane of the week. We’re right behind a tourist information center – complete with candy machine (-I hope it takes travelers checks), unlimited brochures of hypothetical attractions for the automobilist, a sailors’ book exchange for nonliterary enthusiasts, and toilets that you don’t have to pump. Plus we’re on the hurricane evacuation route (how consoling), and when the rains begin, we’ve been invited to view tourist center swamp videos, as we try on gift shop “I spent a week at the Dismal Swamp one day” hats.  There is a free dock –the immediacy to land is a novelty for us salty dogs – and once on land, there are special Jonas and Elias (affectionately referred to as the Welcome Center Rest Stop kids) amenities: grass for wrestling and sidewalks for scootering. And I have to admit, the picnic tables are just right for laptop composing. Actually, if you face away from the highway, there is almost a park-like aura – amidst the pine groves (do 4 trees constitute a grove?), overlooking the creek, strolling the 1⁄4 mile snake and frog inhabited trail. However, the drop-in tourists assume that we are one of the attractions – they saunter over to the boat, as I’m tying the garbage bag, pointing and exclaiming. From “don’t acknowledge your neighbor” Queens to Evergreen Avenue Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood to Virginia strangers offering lifts to the laundromat and unsolicited accurate directions to becoming a tourist spectacle – it takes a bit of adjusting… Besides entertainment (if you call it that), these detailed descriptions may serve to help locate us when Jean strikes. Also concerning storm provisioning, the tourist information staffwoman volunteered to drive us to the grocery and even arranged for the grocery to come pick us up! Voyaging through the lochs and navigating around overhanging limbs were pretty neat.

As you may have deduced, this is a far cry from sharing our anchorage with City of New London sized tankers and battleships. From Baltimore’s “Dive! Surface!” submarine announcements to Annapolis’ morning renditions of “Taps” to Norfork’s “Star Spangled Banner” accompaniment blasts – I’m looking forward to hearing “He’s Got the Whole World” and “This Land is Your Land,” when the Clearwater and Greenpeace vessels arrive at our next port. Actually (I guess this is where Jonas and Elias get this word usage from), I did enjoy the Maryland crabcakes in Norfork (only 1 state too late), the excuse to hibernate in a great bookstore coffee shop when others were touring destroyers, and it was fun exchanging New London gossip (as well as packages) with Chris. Elias sleeps with his goat, Jonas builds battleships – surprise!- with the legos, and Tom is enjoying those eyeglasses donated from a fellow patron at the Baltimore Aquarium. It was pretty cool exploring the schooner and Chris even feigned an appetite when presented with Skipper’s Hodge Podge Surprise (lucky for him he missed the previous night’s baked beans/hotdog/tuna casserole).

Happy Yom Kippur (is that a juxtaposition?) – I hope it didn’t pass too “fast.”

Sending our best,
The Swamp Dwellers (Tom’s joke)

P.S. Some tourist (as opposed to us) just informed us that the less favorable crossing we made to Hampton (see Mariner’s Log) was one of the worst areas in the country (and he was in the Naval Academy)

P.P.S. Here it is, 7:40 p.m. and I still have visitors at my cockpit office – where is my receptionist when I need him (it’s hard to get good cockpit office help these days)?