|Heron on the pier. This is one the the best things about Anchorage Marina|
The key word here is visit. The truth is, the Inner Harbor is a dead end inlet of the Chesapeake, where all the trash comes to die. The water often smells of dead or dying fish, and swimming is out of the question.
|Container ships docked across the harbor|
The marina we are staying at now, called Anchorage Marina, is the second of about five Inner Harbor marinas. The Inner Harbor, being a working harbor, means there are huge container ships docking nearby. These ships make tremendous wakes, not to mention the wakes made by the tug boats that are buzzing around the ships pushing them into their designated spots. The first time we experienced one of these wakes was of course in the middle of the night. Without warning we were thrown sideways, then back again and again in a rolling motion. "When is it going to stop?" was all my sleepy brain could think, not so much in reference to the sickening rolling motion, but to the cursing and complaining that was going on next to me in the dark.
Travis has an especially hard time with the wakes. They make him bump his head, loose his balance and sometimes his temper.
How is it that our familiar surroundings can become so invisible? I noticed during our trip to the Blue Ridge, how quickly we became accustomed to the spectacular scenery. In the beginning we were awed by the mountains and trees, but by the fourth day it was just background, and it took effort to really see them.
That's kinda how it feels with MeVoy right now. Busy with planning our winter, jobs, and hobbies, complaining about little aggravations, I usually glaze over the fact that I live on a yacht!
|Our yachty interior|