It only took us three and a half weeks, but we’ve embraced the fact that we hate getting up early.
Significantly drier and less sandy, we repacked our gear and hiked the two miles back to the marina. Steve did a bad job loading himself down with gear and steadily complained until I made him trade portage packs just to shut him up, so by the end of it we were both an inch or two shorter. (Yes, I recognize that that was probably his goal all along. Mock me all you want- the man’s got a mean whine.)
The weather wasn’t unpleasant and neither was the paddling. We stopped in Chesapeake City to resupply on alcohol, since there were thunderstorms in the forecast and if we were trapped in our tent we didn’t want it to be completely dry. I foolishly stayed with the boat while Steve hitched a ride to the liquor store, and he returned with two VERY nice bottles of scotch and proceeded to shame me for buying Old Crow back in Hancock. (I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.)
We strolled into town looking for lunch and found a tavern called the Tap Room advertising fresh seafood. We were the only ones in the place, all the tables were covered in brown paper, and we decided this was as good a time as any to eat some fresh Maryland crabs. Mad props to the waitress; she was very patient with us and our ignorance of all things crustacean, and she didn’t laugh at us at all when we made her explain everything on the menu. After eating our weight in crab parts, Old Bay fries, and Yuengling we wobbled back to the boat poorer but better for it.
I was solidly buzzed at that point so frankly I have no idea if we were paddling with or against the tide for the rest of the afternoon. Steve claimed total sobriety but spent a lot of time slapping at seaweed and pretending his paddle was a sword, so I have my doubts.
Eventually we landed on a beach at Elk Neck State Park because Steve had to poop, and we discovered both a full bathroom and a cluster of “rustic cabins”. The prospect of hot showers was very appealing after being damp for three days (and after the “heater” disappointment of the previous night), and I still hadn’t been feeling top notch since Philly, so we decided to call it a day. We hunted down a ranger with assistance from a couple staying in one of the cabins and talked our way into a rental for the night despite having completely missed the reservation window. (Thank you, kind ranger, for taking pity on us. We know we’re weird and smelly and showed up unannounced.) Huge props as well to Kevin and Denise, the “neighbors” in the next cabin over who gave us a lift to the reservation station and took the only photos we have from the entire trip that make us look like we know what we’re doing.
We were briefly flummoxed by the concept of a real stove and running water in our “rustic cabin”, but we hung our gear on the walls and made the place look hilariously domestic. We draped our still-damp gear on the covered porch, took wondrously hot showers, made ourselves a plate of hors d’oeuvres (aka cheese and summer sausage slices), and felt downright fancy having dinner at a table. We absolutely did not enjoy an evening scotch, because no alcohol is allowed in Maryland state parks and that would have been breaking the rules.
It may have been overkill to spend two nights in a row in a real bed, but between the hot showers and the scotch that we totally did not drink in a state park it felt downright luxurious to curl up on a plastic-covered, forest-service-issued mattress.