Happy Father's Day! (LBE)

Today, I am feeling especially fortunate to have a lot of shared interests with my dad and having my dad around...

This past weekend, just the two of us went to the town of St. Michaels, located on the Miles River which flows into the Chesapeake Bay about 24 miles south of Annapolis, to visit the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. The museum was hosting the 23rd Annual Antique and Classic Boat Festival which means old wooden boats, old cars and pickup trucks, old "nautical stuff", lots of people and plenty of fresh seafood.


The museum covers 18-acres on one of the most postcard perfect waterfronts known to man. The centerpiece of the museum is the Hooper Strait Lighthouse.

This 1879 lighthouse once stood on Navy Point (north of Norfolk, VA) and lit the way through the tricky waters of Hooper Strait. Because the Chesapeake Bay is shallow, with dangerous shoals, Bay lighthouses were essential to safe navigation.


The Hooper Strait lighthouse is called a "screwpile," built on special iron pilings which were tipped with a screw that could be turned into the muddy bottom for a depth of 10 feet or more.

Lighthouse keepers had risky jobs with an important responsibility to keep the Chesapeake's shoals and channels safely marked for shipping. Two men kept watch; their duties included maintaining the building, standing watch all night to make sure the light remained lit, and ringing the fog bell during inclement weather.

In some locations, families were permitted to live in the lighthouse, but Hooper Strait was not one of them. Consequently, there were no domestic niceties in the lighthouse. Water for drinking, bathing and cooking was collected from the roof's rain gutters, groceries were rationed and arrived once a week from the mainland, and the bathroom facilities were located outside on the deck.


When I saw this wooden boat floating along side the dock I turned to my Dad and said, "Do you remember the time..." just as he turned to me and said, "Remember the time..." and we both laughed.

My Dad had a boat very similar to this one when he was first married. He and my grandfather were often out in it, in any season, and in any weather. One summer, my father, grandfather, my younger brother, and I were out fishing in the inlet off the "fish factory" down the New Jersey shore in this old wooden boat.

The inlet was pretty calm and smooth - the water very clear and sparkling, the flounder were biting and we were catching fish when suddenly I looked up and saw a rogue wave, 9 or 10 feet in height in a cresting roll, bearing down on us. I shouted to everyone to "Hold on!!!" while cranking the wheel to steer the boat into the wave. The wave crashed over the bow and smashed through the windshield and flooded the boat, leaving it with about 2 feet of water over the floor. My dad immediately started bailing with a bucket and had my grandfather show my younger brother how to work the manual pump.

My arm and side of my head was cut pretty bad by the shattered glass, but my Dad told me just steer the boat into the waves and try to edge over to the beach. After a short while, a much larger boat used to take people offshore deep sea fishing came by and towed us over the bar and into the bay, where we beached the boat and finished getting the water out of it.

We arrived home many hours late, soaked in seawater and half bloody, to find my mom and grandmother frantic from fear. To show everyone we were made of the "right stuff" (and after getting stitches in my arm and the side of my head), we were out fishing and water skiing the next day - however it was quite a while before we ventured out into the inlet to the ocean again.

I think this happened in 1967 - and while I remember the wave crashing through the windshield inches from my face, I also remember how calm and no nonsense my dad was - he saw to it that we were all safe, and that we were in no real danger, and set about getting us out of our predicament.

Yes Dad, I remember when... :)


My dad and I envied the owner of the Hours and Ours while coveting his boat. This boat was basically a wreck found in some one's barn, and the owner spent from 1998 to 2008 rebuilding it, piece by piece while living along (with it) in his garage.

I asked him if the boat's trailer had the same story, you know, a "pile of rust" that he grinded, welded, and repainted over 10 years in order to restore it.

He turned to me with a huge smile and said, "Now THAT would be insane!"


The museum offers an apprentice program to those that want to learn the skills involved with building a wooden boat. This exquisite canoe was built by such an apprentice. My only thoughts were when I saw this work of art were admiration and appreciation. The only person I know that has talent like this is Hank Jr.


This little tugboat named, "Coastie" reminded me of a little boy who's grandfather was in the Coast Guard. Maybe someday, he'll be a happy boater too.


When I saw this pickup truck, I could of swore I was just looking at one of these somewhere - when I remembered I had seen one on Far Side of Fifty's Forgotten Old Photos's blog. There was also a Model T, a '57 Chevy, a "Woody" station wagon, and a 1952 Ford V8 Customline.


...finally, when regretfully having to leave the museum, I saw this little exhibit showing how the waterman's family garden would contribute to the seafood that many of them lived on, as well as made a living from. This reminded me of another very talented person, the creator of the Conas Brothers.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.