No pictures, as it was dark before I arrived this evening. Little Wing looked so beautiful in her slip, illuminated by the dock lights. I climbed aboard and set the heaters before leaving for dinner someplace nearby...maybe Calypso's. For fun, I put on the masthead light, to make the boat look a bit more festive and so I could see just where she was as I walked through the marina. So yes, definitely Calypso's so I could walk to dinner through the cool and rainy dark.

I could see Little Wing's light all the way to the restaurant. Cars in the parking lot, good sign. But when I walked in, there was no one in the bar or restaurant areas. Everyone was crammed in the billiard room...f*ck this and f*ck that. I took a seat at a small round table in the almost empty bar and had some oysters and a Sam Adams. Okay, but the vibe was flat. I read my book and didn't talk to anyone but the waiter. But when I went to settle my bill at the bar, a couple struck up a conversation. They owned a Tartan 31 - "October" - kept at a nearby marina. Such pleasant folks, sharing their stories and love of sailing the Chesapeake. We talked about how with sailing, it didn't matter if you were a doctor or a dog catcher; everyone was sharing this 'thing', this unique thing that unites. They recognized my boat name as a Hendrix song. Nice surprise.

Walking back through the rain, I spoke briefly with the Harbour Patrol. Nice guy, off duty District cop, getting ready to work the Inauguration. Then over the bridge through the wetlands, looking magical with the raindrops falling in the shallows. All mine. No one else around except the shrink-wrapped boats standing by like heirloom furniture, waiting, under dust covers.

Back aboard, all warmed up. Seems appropriate to listen to Jimi as I write this. Tomorrow, winterizing.