Wednesday. We left Onancock this morning, and bid farewell to Grey Goose and Salty Dog. I have a feeling we might see both of them again sometime.
We encountered a few bumps on the way out to Tangier. The first part of this cruise was all on flat water. Today wasn’t bad—maybe two foot waves, but right on the beam.
Tangier is an island that doesn’t have some of today’s conveniences that we take for granted. No cell phone service, therefore no internet service for us.
This is the main street. The side streets aren’t nearly as wide. If 2 golf carts meet on a side street, one has to get off the street to let the other pass. There are very few cars or trucks. Everyone has a golf cart, a scooter, and bicycle. Garages attached to the newer homes have a door to accommodate a golf cart.
As you might expect, we toured the Tangier hysterical museum.
It appears that when you die here, they drag you out in the yard, and put a slab of concrete over you.
I found out that since the houses are built on the highest ground here, that’s where the bodies are least likely to float up in a flood. Also, it allows the relatives to be close to their dearly departed, as well as discourages grave robbers because of its close proximity to the house.
The remainder of the island is low marsh land. The home of billions and billions of the meanest, biting horse flies on the planet. When we came in the pass by the marshes, so many horse flies flew inside the boat that I couldn’t see out the front window.
There’s what you might think is a nice beach on the south end of the island. The horse flies think it’s nice too. We made the mistake of riding our bikes out on a path through the marsh to see the beach. By the time we could get back, both my legs had blood running down them from the horse fly bites. I think I donated about a quart.
The man who owns the marina here is Milton Parks. Everyone who’s ever been here told us we would enjoy meeting him. There was one other boat here when we arrived, and they departed early afternoon. We got here at 11:30am, and by 6 pm, no one had come around to check on us. A fellow walking on the dock told us that Mr Parks was ill, but we might find him or his wife (who he said had “old-timers”) if we knocked on the back door of a nearby brick house. I went up there, and his wife wheeled her wheel chair over to the door. Since there were about 25 cats trying to get in the house, I opened the door about 2”, and handed her my boat card with a $50 bill. ($25 per night) I was a little worried that since she had old-timers, she might not tell Milton that we had paid. (This island is cash only.) After a few minutes, Milton came out. He apologized for not coming out to see us earlier. He had an aneurism in his stomach, and had surgery a few days ago. He sat on the porch and talked to us a little while. He said he was 80 years old, but if he cleaned himself up, he could still pass for 79. Quite a character.
Thursday. It’s 103 degrees. We walked up to Hilda Crockett’s for our one meal today. All you can eat crab cakes, fried clam fritters, ham, delicious corn pudding, green beans, potato salad, cole slaw, pickled beets, applesauce, homemade rolls, and pound cake. Again, our ONE meal for the day. Like most everything, that restaurant has changed in the last few years. It used to be you picked what you wanted from the family style table, and then told Miss Crockett what you had on the way out. She charged you accordingly. Now it’s one price for all you can eat of everything. ($22) Unfortunately, it was only the two of us in the whole place, until another couple and their grandson came in from the tour boat. On the way back to our boat, we stopped in a gift shop for Pam to buy a t-shirt. She spent some time picking one out, and I decided to buy a hat. The entire time we were in there, there was no one about—not even a clerk. I left one of our boat cards with some cash stuck in the register drawer explaining what we bought, and where we were if the amount wasn’t right. Shouldn’t be too hard to find us—we’re the only pleasure boat docked at Parks Marina since the sailboat left yesterday morning.
Check out the sign in the yard.
This island has been isolated for quite a long time and they have an unusual dialect that it’s almost a different language. I enjoy hearing them talk to one another, but an interpreter would be handy. It’s a lot like when I first met Pam and she was speaking Southernese. (She is from Kentucky.) In a couple more years, she hopes to become a naturalized citizen.
I think I might know the owner of this boat.
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