Weds-Thurs June 1-2: Onancock & Tangier

     We left Cape Charles just in time to miss the favorable tide and again fought tide as we continued up the Delmarva peninsula.  Our destination was Onancock, a small historical town that David Briggs at Rebel Marine had recommended to us.  We had a fairly quiet day traveling, but at 4.5 knots it was a long day.  Onancock - which is a Native American word for “foggy place” - sits almost five miles up Cedar Creek.  As we meandered our way along, two sailboats overtook us to get to the anchorage before us.  Cruiser etiquette suggests a radio call to request a pass, but only the second boat hailed us;  the first one, once anchored, tried to direct us to a spot well away from him.  We dropped the hook in our own chosen spot.  There was plenty of room for the three of us.   (Later we heard that cruisers are told to get there early because the anchorage tends to fill.)

Onancock Town Dock & Marina.

     It was nearly five pm when we arrived in Onancock.  We immediately took the dinghy ashore to explore.  This is a proudly historic town, with little plaques giving the history of many of the houses and other buildings in town.  The downtown was once a bustling place of commerce, but now it sports a lot of art galleries and a few gift shops.  The only place to buy any groceries was a convenience store over half a mile down the road.  We had thought of buying a steak or something for the grill for supper, but instead we chose to go out to dinner at Mallard’s, a restaurant right on the water next to the town dock.  They had excellent, reasonably priced food, and we had a table overlooking the water.  We don’t eat out a lot, this was a nice treat.  We met some retired cruisers from Connecticut at the next table who now live here in Onancock.  One of them hailed us almost immediately “Are you cruisers?”  We must look the part.  They were very interested to hear about our travels.  We had lively conversation until the food came.

Onancock sunset.

     Thursday we weighed anchor around seven-thirty.  Today’s destination was Tangier Island.  This is a small marshy island in the middle of the lower Chesapeake, just below the Maryland border.  It was a gray, overcast day, and the weather report predicted patchy fog.  Fortunately we didn’t encounter any, nor did it drizzle as looked likely.  We had a quiet three hour run over to the island, some nine miles away.

     There is no place to anchor and there is only one marina.  Their prices are a real deal, especially considering they are the only way to stay here.

     Tangier has a reputation for crabbing, being a close-knit community, and for speaking in a dialect that some relate to Elizabethan English but sounds more like a Southern version of what you might here in Cornwall.   This place was settled by the Crockett family back in the 1600s, was visited and written about by Captain John Smith, and was a British stronghold during the War of 1812.  Three to five hundred people still live here, and the main industry is crab fishing.  Soft shell crabs are a specialty.  

     This is also a shrinking island.  Climate change with more several weather patterns, and rising sea levels are taking their toll on this island.  There is very little “high ground” left, and the houses are clustered on three or four ridges, surrounded by marsh and beaches.  They are intent on building a sea wall around the island to forestall their demise, and to a resident agreed on a 400% property tax hike to help raise the funds.  A small museum in town has a display in the window with map overlays showing the erosion and shrinkage through the years.  Fort Albion, the British stronghold of 1812 is now completely underwater.  Entire houses have been moved from streets that no longer exist to cluster with their neighbors.  The land is so flat, and space is such a premium that many people bury their loved ones in their front yards in raised crypts. 

     Dan and I spent several hours walking through the town, taking in the little museum, and reading the many historical plaques.  The streets are very narrow - reminiscent of Man o’ War Cay in the Bahamas.  Golf carts, small scooters, bicycles and foot traffic are the norm.  

     The watermen have “bungalows” - small sheds on stilts with our without a pier.  They tie their boats to pilings nearby, store their gear there, sort their crabs there.  This is soft shell crab season.  The fishermen bring in their catch and sort them into metal bins through which the sea water flows constantly.  They keep a constant eye on them.  Once a crab begins to shed it is moved to a separate bin.  When it has completely shed, a fisherman has only hours to prepare it for shipping before a new shell forms.  (If the new shell has started to form, the crab is tossed back into the sea to mature.)  There is an excellent display in the museum explaining all about the life and fishing of crabs, and for any interested, there is a great book called Beautiful Swimmer about crabs and crab fishing in the Chesapeake.  

     After our self-guided tour we had a simple supper aboard the Willie and sat in the cockpit watching the black skimmers fish.