And this is how I spend a Sunday afternoon, Augie’s Adventure Style.
Mallow’s Bay by Kayak
I left my muddy flip flops sitting in the middle of Route 224. But I get ahead of myself; let me start from the beginning. Sunday afternoon, I set out to take a few photographs of some old sunken ships at Mallow’s Bay.
Large rain drops hit my windshield. In spite of the rain, I was still wearing my sunglasses from the bright sun. The thunder storm was hanging to the south and hopefully would produce a great sky for the back drop of my ship wreck photos without me or my camera getting wet.
As I pushed the kayak off the boat ramp, sweat burns my eyes, and the sky is a Maryland summer haze without a cloud to be found. The first photograph is to be of an old rusty boat engine I saw when last here. The tide is full and only the air cleaner is not under water and visible. I leave without taking a shot. I paddle the kayak out to a massive hunk of rusty iron and steel that once was a ship. Her name or past I do not know, but plan to look it up when back home.
Mallow’s Bay Ship Wreck
The afternoon tide is high and calm. I pass the ship, placing the kayak in the right position in relation to the bright sun. An Osprey using the bow of the old ship as a nursery is non-too happy with my intrusion. She voices her objection to my presence and for a brief minute takes to the skies carrying the half eaten meal of her newborns.
Osprey with half of dinner
The shutter rattles off. Photos of the whole ship, photos of the flying osprey, artsy macro stuff, I get it all. The photos I had seen in my mind the night before are now real and saved on my camera memory card. But is the exposure correct? Are they sharp and not blurry? I need to check.
Rivits and hole
Ship hull
Watching from the nest
I let the kayak drift in to the rusting hull. I put on my over forty reading glasses and review the photos on the screen. Unaware of the tugboat pushing a loaded barge up the river, the wake surprises me and the second swell hits the kayak fully on the side and washes over. Not enough water to sink the kayak, but enough to get me and my camera wet. Yes, salt water not fresh mountain lake water. I turn off the camera, remove the battery, and set it on top of the camera bag, letting the sunlight dry it.
Using this time, waiting for the tide to recede and for my dunked camera to dry, I fish. Thirty minutes later, I have not caught a fish. The tide still floods the remains of the wooden ghost fleet I wanted to photograph. More late afternoon thunderstorms are predicted. I turn the bow toward the boat ramp and return.
Mallow’s Bay Ship wreck with an osprey on watch
Turning onto the state road, I head home. A mile up the road, I come upon a truck towing a trailer stopped in the middle of the road. A dead tree has fallen across the road. I tell the young lady, I’ll move the tree off the road. Time for me to play hero.
Because I have to unload the kayak and remove the bed rack to roll up my tonneau cover to reach the straps and stuff, I take the lazy way. I unspool the winch cable and wrap it around the tree and hook it to itself. I know, I know, I know. Like I said I took the lazy way. I lock the hubs, put the truck in four low and begin to back up, dragging the tree out of the road. Easy enough.
In an attempt to neatly place the tree along the roadside, I get the truck too close to the road ditch. Ok, so I put the truck into the ditch. But really, I did not think it was that soft and muddy. The driver’s side of the truck sinks into the black goo. The passenger’s side remains on asphalt. I rock her forward and back, but the ditch will not release the truck. Mud flings from the driver’s side tires, smoke bellows from the passenger’s side tires. I release the winch cable from the tree. I make another attempt to free the truck. The steering wheel becomes nearly impossible to turn. Finally the front tire climbs out of the ditch, almost. The fallen tree is blocking my progress. I gun it one more time and pop out of the ditch and push the tree with the front tires of the truck. The front tires roll the tree, pushing it. Finding a bite the tires grab the tree and I drive over, OK, so I bounce, over the dead log.
With the road block removed, I pull over to the shoulder. The other drivers give their thanks as they drive by. I assess the damage. The driver’s side of the truck is muddy and suffered a few more scratches. The winch cable has wrapped around the passenger’s wheel. And the power steering belt is gone. But hey, I was the hero.
The flip flops you ask? I had taken them off because mud covered flip flops and very difficult to walk in when trying to lift a dead tree laying across the road and in haste to make my get- a-way to save the day for some more citizens in need, I forgot them.
