Farmers Too Big to Fail

Farmers Too Big to Fail

I was listening to National Public Radio yesterday and an interview with a big mid-western farmer. This guy grows the same rotation of crops as many of our local, much smaller farmers do. Soybeans in the spring, wheat in the fall, corn the next spring. Over and over and over again. No deviation. Sure, they might have some fields in permanent pasture or hay, but that is basically it. Not much diversity there.

The farmer they were talking with plants 5000 acres using the soy, wheat, corn rotation and as usual, ordered next seasons seed last year, to the tune of a million and a half dollars. He is locked in to planting those soybeans this spring. The problem is that China, the largest buyer of United States soybeans, will not be buying our soybeans next year. This is in retaliation of the tariffs Trump has put on steel and many other imported Chinese goods. We are in the midst of a trade war which will probably be getting much worse.  China has been smart and working on just this scenario for many, many years. They plan long term, unlike our country. Where have all the steel mills gone that we used to have in this country? China. What are all our cars and trucks and SUV’s made of? Chinese steel. Poor quality Chinese steel. Toyota recently had, yet another recall of SUV’s and Pickup trucks, assembled in America, but made of Chinese steel, because the frames had rusted clear through and were seriously dangerous.

If we get into an actual military war with the Chinese, what will we make our war machines with? Chinese steel? Think again. They have us right where they want us, dependent on them for goods we used to make ourselves. Cheap labor in China lured most of our manufacturing over to them and now we depend on China, and other countries, for many indispensable things. We cannot easily rebuild our steel mills and return to supplying our own high quality steel. How will we repair our bridges without U.S. steel? This has nothing to do with the unions, it has to do with the greed of the companies who moved out of our country, who do not want to pay taxes to help our country, who do not care if our own countrymen even have jobs. Our corporate tax laws and loopholes have enabled this to happen. Our banking industry has enabled this to happen. We are at the mercy of greedy corporations and now we are at the mercy of China and other foreign powers.

Back to the farmers who are locked in to growing soybeans for a non-existent market. The price of soybeans is bound to fall drastically with a glut of unsold beans waiting in silos. Russia has already announced that they will gladly supply China with their soybeans next year, so we can forget about getting that buyer back, even if the trade war were to end.

American farmers have become the latest business that is too big to fail. Just like the banks back in 2008. Are we now going to bail them out with our tax dollars? The farmer being interviewed did not seem to have any creative ways of dealing with his problem. He is so big, and so used to relying on the government telling him what to plant, insuring him against crop failures, subsidizing lime and fertilizers and farm improvements, that he no longer plans for himself. Every decision he makes is tied to cost sharing and the futures market and whatever the big agro seed and chemical companies are pushing. This is no way to farm.

Farmers need to be flexible, basing their decisions on weather, markets, soil health and the peoples needs, not blindly planting the same old crops every year because that is what they have always done. A good farmer looks at all the variables and weighs the cost of seed and planting and harvesting against what the market will buy. These big farmers seem to have lost their natural insight. Smaller farmers live somewhat closer to local market changes and have to scramble year to year to make their crops pay for them to stay in business. They have to be creative and come up with specialty crops that might bring in more money, even though there is more risk. Organic farmers practice this way of life and change their plantings based on what people want to buy each year, a market that is constantly changing. They work on improving the soil and therefore the health of their crops without having to rely so much on government subsidies. They also supply us with healthier food, not chemically laden food that endangers our health. We need to learn the true cost of raising healthy food and be willing to pay accordingly.

Our government agricultural programs have gotten so large and powerful that many farmers do not even try to plan for themselves anymore. They rely on the government to insure they do not go under, even if they make bad business decisions. They plant the latest genetically modified Round Up Ready seeds, then spray Glyphosate on our food crops, and pretend it is all healthy and good for us. It is dangerous to give up your individual power and allow the government and agro corporations to decide what you should plant and what the best management practices are. We will all be paying the price with our health down the road. Multi-thousand acre farming operations, heavily in debt, and dependent on bureaucratic subsidy programs, are not run with an understanding of the connections between soil health, plant health and human health. They are run as a big business. People need to return to thoughtful planning and being responsible for their own destiny.

Wendy lee, writing at Edgewise Woods, Gardens and Critters

Edgewise Wendy
Edgewise Wendy

My 500 Words Challenge, Day 6

In Bed With the Dog

In Bed with the Dog
Sofie is a misfit designer dog, a cross between a Bassett Hound and some kind of wire haired terrier. She has the short legs and big feet, the knock kneed Plie (ballet) stance and can howl and bay if she really feels the need, which is thankfully, not very often. She got shortchanged in the ear department though. Her ears are the only smooth haired part of her and they droop but they are not very long. We chose her at the local shelter to keep Raster, our now deceased, border collie mix company while I was away at work all day. The pair of them were supposed to guard the chickens and keep the deer out of the yard but they tended to wait patiently on the porch when we were here waiting for us to yell,
“Get ‘em! Get the deer. “ or
“Chickens! Get the fox!”
It is possible they chased critters away while we were gone but I kind of doubt it. Still, they were good dogs. They spent good weather days wandering around outside on about 4 fenced acres and were always glad to see us. That is the best thing about dogs. They love you no matter what you might say to them. Our dogs always come inside with us and they’ve claimed their space on the floor near the woodstove or right up on the couch. Never on the human bed though. Well, only when the grandkids sleep over. We banned them from our room long ago because they snored worse than we did.
Sofie is lonely now that Raster is gone and gets way too excited when we have company. She loves kids and never gives up hope that everyone she sees will love her back. Being so short makes her have to jump up to get attention though and no one likes that.
This weekend we are hosting a couple of musicians from Canada with their year old son and a friend to help with babysitting. They are teaching at the 14th annual Fiddlers Retreat, put on by Shepherdstown Music and Dance, and last night they helped kick it off with a great concert. The baby slept through their act bundled on his mama’s back while she stood tall and fiddled numerous tunes for us. It was pretty impressive. They all stayed late jamming and did not arrive at our house until about midnight.
I stayed up reading so I could greet them and as soon as Sofie heard their car doors, she was wide awake. So was the baby. Sofie has a terrible habit of jumping on people for attention and it was difficult to calm her down. She loves kids, or anyone who will pet her. No one really wanted to deal with her though so I locked her upstairs in our bedroom in an attempt to restore calm. We really needed to get some sleep but it took about an hour and a half for everyone to settle in for the night.
Meanwhile, Sofie had persuaded Jeff to allow her on the bed- just to keep her from whining. She spent the whole night with us and will be doing the same tonight. She obviously does not mind at all and the only snoring I heard was from Jeff, who is fighting a cold and keeping himself away from our guests.
Once winter finally decides to arrive, and the woodstove is cranking again, the living room will be a much warmer place to sleep and she will have the whole couch to herself and probably won’t even want to sleep with us. Having a dog in my bed is not a long term thing for me. It is only for 2 nights. I would have to give her way more baths, for one thing, and it is crowded enough with two of us in there.

Hurricane Michael

Pre-Hurricane Michael- October 2018

My mother has lived in the little neighborhood of Xanadu, near Calloway, just east of Panama City, Florida for about 40 years and she loves it. Many of the residents are retired military, since it is near Tyndall Air Force Base, and they are friendly and look out for each other. Her husband passed away almost a year ago so she has been transitioning to being even more independent and trying to enjoy the process these past few months.

At 88, my mother leads a full and creative life. This summer she got back into her oil painting by giving twice weekly lessons to the neighbor girl, Zoe, who is just 9 years old. The two of them had so much fun that once school started back they continued their painting time on Sundays. On Wednesdays she meets with other seniors at the local community center and takes part in Tai Chi, dance exercises, lunch and visiting. Friday brings the Encore continuing education classes at the Community College, a program she was instrumental in planning for many years, which now supplies her with intellectual stimulation and camaraderie. At home, the covered and heated lap pool and her garden complete her peaceful and calm life.

She still drives with confidence so is able to go wherever she needs and shops at the commissary at Tyndall Air Force base regularly, getting a Philly Cheese Steak once a week. She eats out at Appleby’s and Olive Garden and local seafood places, making a second meal of the leftovers she brings home. She carries a cane sometimes, but doesn’t always need it. She loves to go on cruises and went to Alaska this summer, with two trips planned this winter, one in the Caribbean and one that will travel through the Panama Canal and then up to California.

Mom and Stan, her late husband, have weathered many storms and hurricanes while living in the Florida panhandle. Their small brick rancher has roll down hurricane shutters, which they had installed many years ago, after deciding that evacuation was too stressful for them. The Base sits on a barrier island that protects their area from storm surges, so although you can see East Bay at the end of their street, flooding has never been a problem.

Then Came Michael

When hurricane Michael first formed in October, glancing by Cuba on its way North into the Gulf, it was not expected to strengthen into a category 4 storm. The weather service was calling for maybe a Cat 3, which people have weathered before. Mom and some of her hardier neighbors planned on staying, hunkering down with the usual emergency supplies of food, water, flashlights and emergency radios. When the storm suddenly grew stronger and aimed right at them there was only a small window of time to rethink that decision. The possibility of being trapped in a traffic jam during a hurricane was much scarier to her than sheltering in her house. She had done it many times, although never totally alone.

Meanwhile, up here in West Virginia, I had not been following the weather down in the Gulf. I was not even aware a hurricane was headed mom’s way until she called on Tuesday, October 10 to tell me she was staying home for it. I looked at the weather predictions on my phone but Mom told me not to listen to the Weather channel, saying,

“The Weather channel always blows things out of proportion in an attempt to scare people into evacuating. Then it turns out to be just a normal storm we can all handle just fine. I listen to the local stations instead.”

Later that day, I looked up the NOAA reports and radar maps and what I saw was alarming. Hurricane Michael had started gaining strength and was aiming for a direct hit on my mother. Back on the phone, she kept telling me not to worry. She had weathered storms before. I tried not to worry. She said her neighbor, Jeff, was staying too, so she would not be alone. I did not realize at the time that he only stayed because she refused to leave.

Wednesday morning came and the storm was steadily gaining strength. It was now a category 4 and about to make landfall. Mom and I were texting back and forth every few minutes as she sheltered alone in her hallway with her emergency supplies and a mattress for cover. The wind was howling and she could hear trees hitting the house. She lost electricity, then the land line went dead. We could no longer use voice on our cell phones, but texting still worked, we were still connected.

Her emergency radio warned of tornadoes and flying debris and told everyone to take cover, NOW. The shutters were shaking, the roof was creaking and the emergency radio had gone off the air. She heard the aluminum pool roof tear apart and blow away and the wind sounded like a jet engine at full throttle. She texted,

“I’m terrified! I have never heard anything like this noise before. I am so scared.

We are in the eye wall.

Lp….”

I did not hear from her for 58 minutes and I was frantic. I was getting no answers to my texts and I was afraid she was gone. I was in a panic. Lp? Does that mean help?! I could not even pretend to be useful from this far away.

I paced, I worried, and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got another text. From her neighbor. She was OK. He was OK. They were in the eye of the storm, that small circle of calm just before the wind shifts and the other side of the storm gets you. He was able to get outside and across the street to my moms and talk to her through the downed trees blocking her door. She was Ok. He had to get back inside before the second eye wall hit. Then we lost all cell connection. I was worried sick and unable to function. I kept trying to text both her and her neighbor, but got nothing back.

All this time my husband kept sending me graphics of the extremely low pressure readings and radar pictures of the eye sitting directly over my mother’s house. This was not helping my state of mind. The radio here was saying that the weather stations blew apart at 100 MPH and that the winds were likely over 155 MPH, maybe a category 5. The second eye wall hit, even worse than the first, and I kept texting, Are you Ok?

After a couple more hours, Mom managed to get a brief cell signal and texted that she was Ok. Her neighbor Jeff, had chain sawed enough limbs off the house to get her out and the other neighbors were checking in with each other as they wandered around in shock. All the trees were down, shingles and metal roofing panels had peeled off and blown away, some roofs were just rafters, others had whole sections of house missing. Windows had blown in and broken, power poles were leaning or had snapped clear off and electric lines hung twisted up everywhere. Fences lay strewn about, the roads were blocked, but everyone seemed to be OK. They had survived, even if some of their homes had not.

Grateful to be alive, they starting pulling the debris away from their homes, sweeping nails and broken glass out of the way, assessing the damage. It was obvious there would be no power for a long time. No well water, no air conditioning, no power tools, no refrigeration. Everything in the freezers would be lost after a few days. Those who had them, dug out their gasoline powered generators and were able to plug in a few things. They had all prepared as usual for a few days without power, with water jugs, flashlights, batteries, radios, and camp stoves. They were not prepared for weeks without power.

My mother was camping out during the day with her neighbor, Jeff, who’s Airstream camper had survived. He had a generator and a fan, she brought her coffee pot. They ate steaks and the best goods from her freezer as they melted. The daytime temperature was up in the 90’s, and it was not raining. At night she took her flashlight and slept in her dark hot, house.

Mom assured me I did not need to come down, but I talked to the neighbor, who sent me horrific pictures of the devastation in the neighborhood. Her house was all electric and had no power, no water, no air conditioning. It was 95 degrees during the day and not cooling off much at night. There were holes in the roof. She could not stay there. She said she could drive the 6 hours to my sister’s house, taking all her important papers and things, on Sunday, after the insurance adjuster came out. My sister was away and would not be back until the following week.

Then her neighbor called and told me he had taken her for a drive after a path was cleared on the road. He and Mom were so upset by the ruined homes that they had to pull off and just sat in the truck together, crying. It was unbelievable, the devastation.

There was no way she could pack up and make that drive alone. I booked the last seat on a flight for Sunday morning into Orlando, since the Beaches Airport was only open for emergency equipment and first responders.  I would drive from Orlando with my niece and bring Mom back to my sister’s house in her car.

The Drive from Orlando to Panama City

The 2:20 minute flight on Southwest was packed with boisterous people wearing Mickey Mouse ears. My niece, who luckily had a week break from college, met me at the airport in Orlando for our 6 hour road trip over to Panama City. First we had to stop at Lowes and fill the car with bottled water, gas cans, roof tarps and nails, and a tabletop icemaker. When we finally reached I-75N it was crowded with emergency vehicles, police convoys with blue flashing lights, along with power line and tree service trucks. Trailers full of transformers and Rack’em Stack’em type housing quarters for construction workers all vied for position. We got off the busy 4 lane twice to go around the backed up traffic and eventually exited onto I-10 West. We stopped shy of Tallahassee to fill up on gas and ice for the cooler. There would be none available after that.

We turned south onto Route 20 and then Rt 71 and drove down through the little town of Wewahitchka, onto Route 22 West, where we were suddenly surrounded flattened pine trees, stripped of needles and all pointing north. Dodging freshly cut tree tops and all the downed electric poles made it a slow go. Transformers hanging from toppled poles leaned over the road and the sun was quickly going down. We were not going to reach Mom’s before the newly implemented 7:00 p.m. curfew. We started worrying about what we would do if we were turned away at a checkpoint. There was nowhere else for us to go.

Chasing the Sun-Used to be a Forest

The downed trees abruptly changed direction as we drove the long straight road. Convoys of police with flashing blue lights heading the other way paid us no attention. It was creepy driving under power poles held up only by sagging wires, then driving over even more wires snaked across the road. It was full dark now and we could only assume all these lines were dead. The closer we got, the worse it looked. Calloway looked like a war zone. It was horrifying even in the dark, with silhouettes of broken buildings and trees tossed about like trash. It was hard to believe anyone had survived this.

We inched our way up to mom’s house and a small beacon of  light emerged from the garage, Mom instantly crying with relief at our late arrival.  Jeff came from across the street and after hugs and many thanks for his help, we all toted the ice and gas cans over to his place, where he was cooking us dinner.

Jeff’s Airstream travel trailer, wedged up against his pickup truck, had survived with only a few dents and he was well set up for camping, with a charcoal grill, mini fridge, and a few lights. We ate the last steaks from Moms melted freezer and they enjoyed having ice cubes in their drinks. It was still hot, even with the sun down, and we were glad he had requested we bring the little plug in icemaker because it was obvious the bagged ice in the cooler would not last long.

That night we slept in Moms dark, airless house with sweat rolling down our sides. We remembered the old days when we had no air conditioning and we would sleep in the cool basement or out on the porch in the summer.

Daylight

I woke at first light, grabbed my camera and stepped outside. The backyard was a mess. Trees down everywhere, the pool building torn to shreds and thrown about, all kinds of debris in the pool, the new porch screen ripped off, and the door gone, fences down, roof shingles everywhere.

Mom’s pool building

I went back through the garage to the front and looked up and down the street. Power poles snapped and leaning, roofs totally gone, broken windows, piles of trees and debris, wires laying across the road. I walked down to the end of the street and saw people making coffee on their camp stoves, waiting for the sun to come up and illuminate the wreckage. People were just starting to come back home from where they had evacuated to and survey their damage. The roads had not been opened long. Some people had nothing left to come back to. My Mom was really lucky. Her house and her four closest neighbors had faired better than most. Three of them had gotten new roofs put on in the past few years and they held up better than Mom’s, which was almost due for replacement anyway. She had some holes where trees went through, one corner of the garage roof was missing, and many of the shingles were ripped off, but not much water had come in. The living room ceiling and rug had gotten wet but were dried out already. Down the block though, there were many roofs, both metal and shingle, that were demolished, with major water damage throughout. Entire walls and sections of homes were torn off, leaving everything inside exposed to the weather. Many houses were not livable at all.

I hated to ask anything else of our friend and camping host, but I needed to get up on the roof and get the tarps nailed down before any more rainy weather came. He is the most thoughtful and amazing neighbor, regularly checking on mom, sharing a cup of morning coffee, staying home for her during this hurricane. He is the youngest man in the neighborhood, a Veteran and a retired firefighter, fighting his own battle with cancer these past two years. He offered himself and his chainsaw and I accepted his help. I lopped off the smaller branches and hauled the tree debris out to the road while he cut the big parts. We managed to clear the roof of the magnolia tree before the heat became too much for us and then we sat in the garage drinking ice water. Clouds were starting to form to the south but we were hoping they were not coming this way yet. Tarps would have to wait until the next day.

The 5 plastic woven tarps I had brought were of assorted sizes, blue on one side and dark green on the other. The biggest was 40 x 60 and I was disappointed by how thin they were. Still, it took two of us to spread them out evenly and tack them down with the roofing nails. We did the two ends first, then the porch ell, and finally the center, pulling the tarps tight and having to remove a couple of vents that stuck up too much. The roof was getting hot fast and Jeff’s son was recruited as well. Frequent water breaks were required, which we promptly sweated right back out, but we got it done. For a small house, it sure has a big roof.

Two Month s Later

Now, in online aerial photos, you can still see miles of Blue tarped roofs and huge piles of debris lined up along the roads. Amazingly, electric service has been restored to the houses that survived with an intact service entrance connection. Considering all the giant erector-set-type of high-power lines that I saw toppled, this is amazing. Many, many power crews have worked long days to make this happen. Running water, refrigeration and air conditioning are appreciated more than ever now. The tarps have held up so far and the roofers say it will be a couple more weeks. They keep saying that.

A buyer has been found for the house. Mom does not want to go back. Everything she was used to is gone. A Korean War veteran and his Iraq veteran son, who lost their home to Michael, will move in soon.  The Realtor has been really helpful in finding repair people to clean up the mess and fix the house up.

I went back down with my sister and we sorted through everything in the house, giving away everything we could to people in need. Her paintings have been divvied out to friends and neighbors and we each took our share as well. Mom left with two carloads of belongings from my first trip and she wants nothing else. She is staying with my sister outside Orlando, while looking for a CCRC (continuing care retirement community) near her. My resilient mother calls this next step, her 8th life, and is optimistic that there will be new adventures and people to meet. She is a survivor.

The house got the new roof, garage door, sheet rock repairs, the pool cleaned up and fenced, and was turned over to the new owner last week. It all went very fast. It has been only two months.

Her neighbor, Jeff, has also sold his house and is moving closer to family up in Tennessee. We wish him the best and hope to stay in touch.

 

_The next post will be about our trip to Iceland in September, I promise. Things have gotten sort of in the way.

-Wendy lee, writing at Edgewise Woods, Gardens and Critters

Wendy

 

 

 

Kayaking Chesapeake Bay

Leaky Kayaks

Our boats all started leaking recently. We tend to hit rocks kayaking Antietam Creek when the water is a bit low, which happens a lot in the summer. When the river gauge  downstream of Burnside Bridge reads less than 2.6 feet on  american whitewater.org then it is too low to run that section. So after 24 years, my Wilderness Rascal kayak started springing leaks. Jeff’s Pungo preceded mine with a big hole in it 4 years ago,  which he replaced with a smaller one, and then recently, it got a hole too. I finally patched the first boat with layers of fiberglass cloth and epoxy and it has started to shred after one year. The latest holes, I sealed with FiberFix Rigid Patch, and so far so good. Be careful to follow the directions exactly on that stuff. I peeled off the last bit of clear plastic before I was meant to and it took a long time to cure because of that.

Using leaky boats on small local creeks and the lazy Potomac is not that big of a deal, but when we decided to rent a house on the Chesapeake for a week, we got nervous. There are too many ways for a long paddle to go wrong with poor equipment.

We began searching  online for the Wilderness Systems boats that we like and finally found them at the Appomattox River Company down near Farmville, Virginia. We wanted ten foot long, fairly stable Class I and II (occasionally III) rated boats with good storage and comfortable seats. It was important that they track well in flat water, so they needed a keel, but we also did not want the keel to get all beat up dragging over rocks. We ordered a midnight blue Aspire 100 for me and a slightly larger Aurora colored  Aspire 105 for Jeff. They have a drop down skeg for deep, flat water and two inverted keel channels to glide over rocks and handle in shallow water. The two kayaks arrived via truck, in fine shape, 4 work days later,  all wrapped up in big sheets of cardboard, 6 mil plastic and packing  tape. I pulled off all the tape and used the cardboard as mulch in the blueberry patch. The electric meter reader laughed when he found me sitting in my boat on the grass as I adjusted the comfy seat and foot pegs. This boat is so much more comfortable than my old one. The foot pegs move easily along their track, the cushioned seat and backrest tilt and move up and down, and the seat drains.  I was down to baling twine on the old one and often had to sit in a puddle after a lap splash.

On to the Eastern Shore of Virginia!

My Honda Ridgeline truck has a four and a half foot bed when the tailgate is up, so we loaded the two kayaks on the roof racks. The cockpits are a little bigger on these boats and we had to face them out to sit on the kayak racks properly. We had our bikes on the hitch in the back. We loaded all our stuff for the week in the back seat and the under-bed trunk and headed out the road.

The noise! Something was humming like a pack of hunting dogs in hot pursuit. We pulled over and tried to find the source of the un- harmonic baying but all I could figure to do was tighten the straps and tie the ends in a different place. The pitch changed to a slightly higher tune. It was pretty bad. I turned on the radio to drown it out and finally got sort of used to it with the help of an Alleve. We had a 5 hour drive ahead of us with this.

House in Crystal Cove

After stopping at a farm market for some fresh sweet corn, cantaloupe, and ice cream cones, we arrived at our beach house.

Home for a Week

It was a stroke of luck that Jeff found this house at the last minute out on Crystal Bay. The house was perched up on stilts and sat just a few feet from the high tide mark, facing Northwest over the water. The beach was sandy and the water shallow and warm, with gentle waves lapping.

View From Deck

We could see marshes way out there and some sort of structures just barely poking up. With my camera zoomed in they turned out to be duck blinds and a hunters shack. The neighborhood consisted of about seven houses, with one tiny house past ours and then just marsh, with egrets stalking the water. No people. It was perfect.

We walked through the house and decided to take the bedroom at the top with great water views on 3 sides.  As soon as our gear was inside, we carried the boats out to the beach and started paddling to the little marsh visible from the back of the house.

Egret In Marsh
Egret In Marsh

It was about 7:30 PM and the tide was still high enough but starting to ebb. It is never a good idea to enter shallow water without taking the tide into account, something we learned on the Wicomico River in Maryland a few years ago, when we had to fight a strong river current coupled with an outgoing tide, trying to get home before dark. Some mistakes do not ever let you forget.

We paddled around the marsh for about a half hour, watching egrets and crabs scuttle around, before returning to watch the mostly cloudy sunset from the deck.

Tobacco Island Marsh

The next morning, we waited for the low tide to start flowing back in, packed our boats with lunch and water and set off across the open water towards the far marshes of Tobbacco Island. It looked impossibly far but according to the GPS it was one mile and took us twenty minutes. It is just so flat. The water was shallow most of the way, rarely deeper than 2 feet, and we paddled past numerous crab pot buoys, which enabled us to feel as if we were actually getting somewhere. It is hard to tell in open water just how far anything is-at least for these landlubbers.

Hidden Fishing Shack

We paddled past duck blinds and could see a shack out in the grasses which we finally managed to find a shortcut to, a passage that would not exist at low tide. The water trail meandered around, bending back on itself constantly until I was totally turned around.

Jeff kept egging me on but there was still a time when I just wanted to head back and see familiar… anything.

Duck Blind in Tobacco Marsh

Sometimes he underestimates how long trips can take and we have endured some tense moments wondering if we would make it back by dark. We paddled to various white sandy beaches, getting out to look around and stretch a little. He wanted to go out into the main bay but the waves were too high out there to consider it without spray skirts on our boats. Whew. Glad I talked him out of that.

We cruised through marsh for almost 8 and a half miles and saw lots of Cormorants, Eagles, Herons, Egrets, Ducks and Geese, along with what looked like a beaver lodge made of grasses, lots of crabs, and a few small fishing boats way off in the distance.

Beaver Lodge?

No people. We were tired and ready to get out of the boats and float ourselves in the 82 degree water of our perfect little beach when we got back. Then a hot outdoor shower and a cold drink. Ahh…

Village of Onancock

After an exhausting day on the water we drove into the little village of Onancock, about 5 miles away, for dinner. Mallards is a restaurant on the wharf where we were able to sit outside and watch the boats come in. I had a delicious crab cake and fresh green beans, while Jeff had blackened tuna. It was delicious. I had to bring most of my Blueberry Bread Pudding home though, as I was stuffed. Afterwards we walked around town, admiring the well kept old houses and the friendly folks strolling under the large trees. The sunset as we walked across a little bridge.

Onancock Creek Sunset

Onancock sits way up a protected creek and seems like a wonderful place to live, with a playhouse, a movie theatre and an artistic community.

Chessconessex Creek

The next day we paddled along the shore up to Chessconessex Creek and followed it all the way until the end, where a downed tree blocked the way.

End of the Creek

There were some nice homes and farms, long docks and an oyster nursery (I think) along the creek. There were also some large birds, osprey maybe, with their young, up on nesting poles in the water, and Cormorants perched on old dock pilings.

Cormorants

We could not feel any current but the water was rough on the windy side so we tried to hug the leeward shore.

Our friends arrived with their boats just after sunset, driving just behind a storm that was moving North and East. It missed us.

Sunset on Crystal Beach
Pompco Creek and Long Beach Island

For the next few days, the weather was supposed to be in the 90’s, sunny and dry.  Jeff had scary big plans for this next trip. With the good zoom on my camera, we could see a house way out there, and a long white beach, but they seemed too far to reach. I was feeling intimidated by how far away it looked.

Marsh Hunters Paradise

Satellite photos showed the areas we were headed for and Jeff had it  mapped with the GPS. You would think that would make it easier to navigate through all the twists and turns but it does not. Sitting in a kayak low on the water, you cannot see over the grasses and it is easy to make wrong turns in the maze.

Can’t See the Path Through the Marsh

 

 

 

 

 

We kept getting into big open lake-like areas with no other way out. Then we’d be in skinny streams you could barely poke through that would open up to big water.

Another Hut Way Out in the Middle of the Marsh

It does not help that the marsh changes with every storm, so you can’t rely on a map or photo. Every now and then I would see one of the hunting shacks off in the distance, but we did not find our way there easily.  We were startled by sting rays a few times, suddenly leaping up beside us, and at one point, a boat capsized in deep water and it was tricky to bail out with no place to stand. Sometimes it was so shallow and muddy you could get stuck, and the pluff mud can really suck, but we saw lots of herons and ducks and egrets and the marsh was beautiful .

A Very Narrow Marsh Trail

After many wandering turns we found the right route, which eventually brought us out north of  Chessonessex Creek and on the far side of open water. Two of us booked it across, riding the tide on the far side, and we beat the guys back by about 20 minutes. They came home and joined us, relaxing in the water, glad to be back.

Relaxation Mode

We were all pretty exhausted after about 16 miles of paddling. The trip seemed better, now that it was over.

Parkers Marsh and Onancock Creek

The next day we headed South West into open water, skirting around Parkers Marsh, watching Bald Eagles perched atop snags onshore.  We were hoping to find a way through Parkers Marsh, but went all around it without finding an entrance.

Our Kayaks at Parkers Marsh

We pulled into a beach for a break and hen started up the wide creek towards town, four miles away. Jeff and Carla wandered off exploring the marsh and left Tom and I waiting for them for over an hour, trying to keep our boats from being blown too far upstream. We could see no sign of them, no matter how hard we tried, and finally gave up and let the tide and wind push us up the creek to town. I was glad I had my phone so we could look up Google Maps and not make a turn up the wrong fork. The other two materialized not long after we had loaded our boats on the truck we had left at the dock and we all headed to the Wharf for cold drinks. It was another day I was glad we had gotten through.

Our Little Beach

When we got back to the house, we all dropped ourselves into the water and just floated around, relaxing. We thought we’d take the next day off and ride the  ferry to Tangier Island, since none of us had ever been. Unfortunately, the small boat was booked solid the rest of the week, so it turned into a day of games and reading instead. We watched a horseshoe crab vacuuming up down in the swim area and the guy tending his crab pots.

Crab pot tender
Wachapreague

A woman we spoke with in town told us we should go out to Wachapreague  for some good fresh seafood while we were here, so we made plans for that. We thought it might be close to the ocean, but there are barrier marshes and islands to navigate and no roads east of the village. A motor boat would have been the way to get out there but we were content enjoying a delicious dinner at the Island House Inn on the wharf.  The guys had fresh flounder and the gals has crab cakes. They served us warm sweet potato rolls as we waited and we shared Smith Island Cake and a Triple Chocolate concoction.

Back in Onancock

The next day, we walked around Onancock some more, admiring the flowers, and the giant Crepe Myrtle  and Magnolia trees. It is alarming to see how many huge Ash trees make up the shady canopy and I hope the Emerald Ash Borer never makes it this far. All of the Ash trees are dying at home and it is a huge loss.  We ate lunch at Mallards on the wharf again  with some excellent Mahi-Mahi tacos and Coleslaw made with Cilantro which was really yummy.

We also stopped in to the kayak guide shack next door and met Mary Burnham, an author of “Hiking Virginia”, and bought the brand new edition. She and her husband Bill, lead kayak trips all over the Chesapeake Bay, in the Florida Keys and Everglades, as well as Costa Rica. I would love to go to Costa Rica kayaking sometime.

Crab On a Boat

Our friends have to leave later today and the weather is supposed to turn rainy for the whole next week. It has been gorgeous here so far so we do not mind some down time.

We thought we might go to the Onancock playhouse to see “Kiss me Kate”, but they were sold out. I did not even think a reservation would be needed in this small town. So, Saturday we stayed home all day and watched the rain, and more rain, and then wind. The house swayed a little in the strong gusts and when high tide came in it was higher than any we had seen, covering the entire beach and surrounding the breakwater. I pulled the boats up near the front steps and tied them in case they got to floating during the night.

It is so scary to think what a major storm might do to this nice house. They have already lost all of the yard and the water came very close to the house pylons in this little storm.  A hurricane will likely do some major damage. I loved spending a week here but I could not handle the stress of owning a house this close to the water. The bay is getting higher every year and you can see in satellite photos where roads and lots are now submerged. Shorelines will always changing and it is a risk you have to take if you want to have a house on the water.

Now for the long drive back home, this time with the boats and the bikes wedged into the bed of the truck to stay out of the wind. It was a much quieter ride home.

-Wendy Maddox, writing at Edgewisewoods, Gardens and Critters

Footprints in the Sand

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting a word in edgewise through storytelling and pictures

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