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| 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.
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| 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!
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| Our yachty interior |
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3 comments:
There's no place like home... Your story made me think about a house we lived in when Jolea was 2. It was in a tiny town and the house was located close to the railroad tracks, so close that there was only a road and another house next to us. We'd lived there for about 4 months before we learned that there was a siding next to the tracks, as in extra tracks where in the middle of the night spare train cars would be shoved and connected with the loudest sound we'd ever heard. The first time a transfer happened we thought a train was coming through our house. As bad as that could be, what I remember about that place was the rent was only $125 a month!
That sounds terrible. We also lived next to train tracks, actually they were a few blocks away, but it felt a lot closer. Evidently they have to blow their whistles as they approach an intersection, and yes, you guessed it there was an intersection really close by. I remember being coiled up like a snake in bed, waiting for the next whistle, so as not to be startled. We lived in that warehouse for two years, and after about a month I was able to completely tune out the trains. It really is amazing how adaptable we are.
Oh yeah, gotta adapt, we had an intersection a 1/2 block from us in front of the house and then another one about 2 blocks behind the house. Jolea learned to crawl and then walk in that house. Once she started walking she quickly started running. She'd run from the front door to the back door so that she could shout "woo woo" to the trains when they blew their whistles at each intersection. We were on the line that ran freight AND the Amtrak from Oklahoma City to Dallas/Ft Worth. Seems like they came through every hour. But it was the couplings that we never got used to.
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