Since we left St Michaels, we spent a couple of pleasant nights up the creeks, and the last couple of days in Cambridge, (maybe it's not quite a city.)

The first anchorage was Leeds Creek, in the Miles River. That 30 minute trip took about 45 minutes because we had to back off a little hummock that appeared below our keel. The chart warned of shoaling, and even though we were in what appeared to be 9-foot depths, it wasn't so. We were creeping along just in case, and were able to back off the shallow bit without any trouble so we headed over a bit farther and tried again, successfully.

This pretty spot was worth persevering to get into. One or two plantation houses could be seen along the banks; there was one other boat anchored; it was tranquil. Well - except for the geese! Our familiar Canada Geese are here in great numbers - swimming in the creeks, grazing in the cornfields, flapping along overhead - and always honking.

After getting settled and going for a swim, we took a dinghy ride further up the creek in search of photo ops at sunset. Great flocks of geese rose up out of the water as we passed by, and we discovered one cove with nary a bird in sight but enough feathers floating on the surface to fill a comforter two or three times over. It was on our way back that we experienced the most profound moment. As the sky was painted with streaks of pink and blue and orange and violet, great masses of geese started flying our way. We turned the dinghy motor off and just sat there in the middle of the creek, listening to the honking as hundreds of geese flew in what looked like a totally disorganized fashion overhead. It was one of those powerful moments when we felt simply one small part of the huge natural world - the two of us there in our little boat, water teeming with life all around us, and birds that have always been inhabitants here, still present.

The next morning we headed out again, bound for the Choptank River. We've been looking forward to this part of the trip for days now. This is where James Michener set his story of the Chesapeake and we were anxious to see it. Our route took us through Knapps Narrows where we were lucky enough to move steadily along as the bridge opened. Once through the narrow channel, we picked up some wind and managed to motor sail to Broad Creek and on to San Domingo Creek. Oddly enough, this creek comes right up to the "back door" of St. Michaels. We traveled for 6 hours to get 5 miles away! We anchored in a bend of the creek in front of some lovely big homes. Our book said that Dick Cheney lives along this creek and we wondered which estate was his. Michener also lived here for several years while he wrote his book.

Some folks in a small motor boat came cruising by and welcomed us to the neighbourhood, saying that we were in a good spot and they hoped we enjoyed our stay. The next morning, as we left, one of the women appeared in front of her beautiful house to wave us a farewell. Very nice touch, we thought. Unfortunately we couldn't swim there. A few little sea nettles don't bother us, but there were more than a few in that spot so we had to take a pass on the dip to which we have become accustomed.

I realize that back a message or two ago, I mentioned that the weather had turned colder: that was temporary because it has warmed up again considerably. We are always in shorts and T-shirts and are sometimes very warm even then. The comforter has been pushed to the bottom of our berth, the ports and hatches are flung wide every time we stop, and meals are always in the cockpit.

We made this a short stop, regretfully passing up a dinghy exploration further up the creek - we wanted to get to Cambridge so we'd be able to buy produce at the Farmers Market on Friday morning. As we wound our way through the serpentine channel back to Broad Creek and into the Choptank itself, we met a sailboat with a woman waving wildly. To our great delight it was Patty and Colin on Island Song. They are from Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia, and the last time we'd seen them was in Christmas Cove in Maine. Without losing a minute, both boats made a u-turn and we drew close enough for a catch up conversation as we drifted along. We've been in some of the same anchorages but not at the same time. No doubt we'll meet up with them again as we make our way south and we look forward to swapping stories with them. What fun it was to see them. It reminded us that even though we love the travel, and meeting new people all the time, it is really nice to find a familiar face.

We motor sailed along up the Choptank to the city of Cambridge, again doing the "into the wind/off the wind/into it again" dance. I was whining about having the motor on but it would have taken us a lot longer to get there if we tacked back and forth, and we didn't want to spend hours at what would have been a slow sail so I had to give up. Once into the harbour at Cambridge we engaged in what is for us an unusual event. Generally we either anchor on the first try or make one pass around an anchorage and stop. We almost never pull up the anchor and try again, but in this tight space we tried twice and then gave up and went elsewhere. Cambridge has a small anchorage area - Cambridge Creek -and a long wall in front of the Dorchester County offices with signs that invite cruisers to tie up for 48 hours. Unfortunately for us, there were two motorboats nicely spaced in the anchorage, and additional signs on the wall saying it was reserved for schooners arriving for the schooner rendezvous.

We have been enjoying a long run of anchoring and hated to break our pattern, but since it was late in the day and we didn't want to leave Cambridge without exploring it at all, we went in to the Municipal Yacht Basin next door and tied up. With the exception of Sandwich just before the Cape Cod Canal, this is the first time we have tied up since La Have, NS, so I guess we can't complain too much. The irritating thing is that for the two nights we were here, that wall remained empty! The schooners - the Mystic Whaler and the Pride of Baltimore - are tied up at Long Wharf, just next door to where we are now and people - including us - are wandering about for a looksee.

It has been a pleasant stay here in the Basin with a chance for showers and laundry, and being able to top up every battery on the boat by hooking into shore power. The weather report kept calling for high winds with thunderstorms likely but although we got a little shower on the way in and another sprinkle or two on Friday, it didn't amount to much. The wind blew up in a wild 20-minute gust at about midnight, and that was it for wind too, until it picked up in the early afternoon Saturday.

We picked up more fresh, organic produce at the small farmers market, and stopped by the local crab packing plant - the J.M.Clayton Company - for more of that delectable crustacean. This time it is going into my soup pot. It was surprising to learn that most of their crab pickers are Mexican women. We eavesdropped on a tour group long enough to learn that the company hires and give accommodation to these seasonal workers (all with legal work permits, the guide stressed). This is part of the federal "Guest Workers Program" in which employers who have a need for seasonal labour but who can't find workers in their local market may bring in temporary workers from Mexico. Farmers who need people to harvest seasonal crops use the same program. I wish I could have taken a picture of the rows and rows of women at long tables with heaps of crabs in front of them but it just seemed too intrusive. The guide said they could each pick 40 pounds of crab a day - that's a whole lot of crabs to pick through.

I took a walking tour of historic High Street and learned a bit about the early inhabitants of the area. Harriet Tubman lived in Dorchester County and began many of her trips with escaping slaves here. Annie Oakley lived just down the road and shot wildfowl from her second floor porch.

We've given Madcap a clean up and hired a diver to check the zinc anode on our propeller shaft. This anode is a little chunk of metal attached to the shaft. It is called a sacrificial metal - an appropriate moniker - because the idea is that it corrodes faster than the more noble metals making up the propeller and propeller shaft. All these metals deteriorate in salt water (the greater the salinity, the greater the rate of galvanic corrosion), and even more in marinas where there are stray electrical currents in the water. By replacing these periodically, we protect the other metals. We are extremely happy we did this now because the anode was completely gone. This surprised us because we weren't expecting it this soon. The boat has been in salt water for four months now, and we won't wait four months before we check it again!

Our guardian angels must be watching over us because there was no damage to the prop or the shaft. Whew!

We are off this afternoon - Saturday - to the creeks again - LaTrappe Creek, back down the Choptank. It is time to get back to the birds and the fishes.