Thursday, Oct. 11 - A rain shower and wind heralded in a cold front during the night, bringing relief from a week of stifling hot, humid weather. We turned off the fan and dug out the down comforter once again.
Wayne had the sails up before we left the harbor, not wanting to waste a minute of the strong winds beckoning to carry us to Tangier Island, Virginia. With winds at 18-24 knots and gusting higher, we averaged 8 knots.
Of course, the downside of such winds is docking this monster (have I mentioned the boat weighs about 20 tons with full tanks of fuel and water?). There were three guys on the dock at the Parks Marina to help us, though, thank goodness!
This little town is in a class by itself and I do not know quite how to describe it and am too tired to try. So here is a quote from the Wall Street Journal Online, dated Sept. 22, 2007:
"Life on Chesapeake Bay's Tangier Island hasn't changed much over the centuries. There's no bridge to the mainland. Locals speak with a distinct dialect, which can be traced back to the island's earliest settlers from 17th-century Cornwall in England. Life revolves around fishing, church and chatting with neighbors over white picket fences...."
"It's the local culture that makes this place so fascinating. Most people here can trace their ancestry back to the 17th century, when John Crockett is said to have settled the island with his children. Today, most are at least distantly related and have one of a few last names -- Crockett, Pruitt and Parks are the most common. Many families live in homes passed down for generations, complete with ancestors buried in the back yards."
Yes, you read that right: Many homes have their own graveyards, and some look like the set of a horror movie. This would be one creepy town on Halloween.
Click on photo to enlarge and read sign
"Now, this quaint way of life is under threat. Crabbing isn't paying the bills anymore, and many watermen are leaving to find jobs elsewhere. Some parents worry that, for the first time, their kids won't have any reason to stay when they grow up."
Ok, so the kids decide to leave and put the house on the market. This inquiring mind has questions: What happens with the ancestors? How do you market a home with its own graveyard? Who would buy a house with someone else's dead relatives buried in the front yard (and you thought that mauve carpet was a deal-breaker)? Also, how would said ancestors feel if they knew they had been abandoned to continue decomposing in some stranger's front yard? That would be grounds for some serious haunting, if you ask me.
It boggles the mind.
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