shots from the water

So during my last trip to Aaron's Beach,

I spent most of the time floating around in the water.  

I enjoy having my feet firmly on the ground, 

or at least knowing I can put my feet firmly on the ground.

Big E tends to go out as far as he can, 

even if he can't touch the bottom.

(that's him in the above photo where the arrow is)

So he tries to take me out in the deep

with all those sharks and things in the water.

I broke free from his grip on my floaty screaming and running for shore

resisted at first

then I realized

1. I have a waterproof camera and

2. I could get some shots from the water

Can't say the cormorants were pleased with the invasion,

and I was extremely worried about the waves

bashing me against the pilings.

But I'm glad I ventured out in the deep.

Next time hopefully the waves won't be so big

and I won't have trouble taking shots while bobbing up and down.

Afternoon at the Beach

During my last visit, 

my mom and Big E and I all went to Aaron's Beach for the afternoon.

There was a strong gale brisk wind blowing in off the water,

and it had the waves so high it sounded like the ocean.

Despite that, we ventured in with our various floaties and chilled out.

My mom chillin with her noodles

Here you can see the top of Big E's head.

This demonstrates the height of the waves-

I was in the trough between two waves 

and Big E was on the downside of the next wave.

Having a waterproof digital camera is awesome.

The Great Rowboat Caper

Unknown family members in a rowboat

 My family has had a relationship with rowboats since the beginning of time.

As evidenced by the above photo.

Pepop in back, me standing and my cousin Ty in the front

 As a young kid, Pepop took us out rowing in his old rowboat we all affectionately called

The Rainbow Connection

(yes, we all loved the muppets).

When my cousin and I got older, 

my uncle purchased an old rowboat the neighbor had sitting on her property
for as long as I can remember.

We cleaned it up,

slapped on a dolphin decal on one side

and the name of the boat on the other:

Chessie

(so named for the Chesapeake By Monster)

Chessie to the left, Miss Patsy in the chair and Kelly in the front

 Chessie can be seen tied to the pier in the background

(that's my partner in crime cousin and my aunt in the background).

Anyway, we spent  a lot of time on that boat.

Once we went out on the River and watched a Menhaden boat haul in their catch.

We were gone so long that my grandmother and aunt sent Pepop out looking for us.

Luckily we were headed back in at that point.

We also spent time trying to tip the boat.

I remember standing in it rocking it violently back and forth.

It never tipped.

Never sank.

And even though it had a hole in the seam that we plugged with chewing gum,

it didn't really take on too much water.

Which brings me to the story I wanted to share about the weekend.

This weekend, I had the pleasure of taking the Brat Child to Scout Camp.

One of the Scout Camp activities is boating.

Scouts enjoying a relaxing row around Memory Lake

The Brat Child developed this irrational terror fear of boats.

Last year I all but dragged him on the boat.

This year he went sort of willingly, 

but only after I insisted you can't sink a rowboat.

"I've tried," I said.

"They don't sink," I said.

"Sinking a rowboat is impossible," I said.

He asked me what happens if in fact they do sink

(while we were in the middle of the lake)

I explained how the boat starts to take on water,

rolls over and floats upside down because of trapped air.

"You then just hang on to the boat and stay with it,

but rowboats don't sink," I said

 So the camp staff signaled for us to head back to shore.

Big E started rowing back, and at this point,
we began realizing that there was a lot more water in the boat
than there was when we left shore.

"Row faster," I said.

I kept looking at the back of the boat, now only half an inch above the water level.

Big E and I both knew we weren't going to make it back to shore.

I handed the Brat Child my camera (the water proof one) to hold and prepared to attempt to launch myself towards the front of the boat in hopes that would level things out before it was too late.

It didn't work.

The Brat Child began shrieking.

The unsinkable rowboat began sinking.

As it filled with water and rolled over, I calmly narrated

"See, this is what I said would happen. 
Okay, now it's rolling over, and now we hang onto the hull."

The Brat Child was still shrieking.

Also, he was trying to climb on top of my head. 

And he was yelling things like "This is the stupidest place ever! I'm never coming here again!"

Then we saw the staff start to row out to us.

The Brat Child said, "They are coming to rescue me! I'm getting into that boat and you can swim!"

Through all this, The Brat Child never dropped the camera.

The staff member was a little irritated 

because he thought we swamped the boat on purpose.

I explained The Brat Child's terror and told the guy the last person I needed to have this happen to was BC.

The guy took BC to shore and Big E and I swam the rowboat back to the dock.

swimming the boat to shore

 When I got to shore I explained to the staff that the boat was taking on water

and that it wasn't coming from splashing or coming over the sides.

Turns out the damn thing had a hole in it. 

So, that's my exciting weekend story about the rowboat that sank.

I laughed through the whole thing. 

The Brat Child not so much.

(but none of us got our hair wet and the PFDs did their job)

Stingray Point- The Final Years

These top photos are from later years at Stingray Point.

That's my oldest child in the photos.

Things have changed at Stingray.

Ownership changed hands and the beach is no longer available for public use.

You have to buy a lot in the wooded area behind the beach to gain access to a portion of the beach.

The other portion is now privately owned by someone who at one time complained about the trash.

I find this amusing because nowadays, 

the beach looks a little crappy what with the weeds and the falling down fence

and the million and 1 no trespassing signs everywhere.

These photos don't show most of that because who wants pictures of a million and 1 

no trespassing signs?

(Ok so I might have a few photos of myself and my cousin posing next to no trespassing signs but that's not important).

It's sad really.

So many years and

so many memories.

(I'd like to take a moment to mention a law that states no one can own a beach meaning if you enter a beach from the water via boat, you can be there up to the high tide line and not be trespassing.  The Kennedys tried to fight this law and lost. Just throwing that out there for ya)

Stingray Point- Childhood Years Addendum

It never fails.

When you're looking for specific photos, 

you never find them until the day after you needed them.

Here my cousin and I are being buried in the sand at Stingray Point.

Here we are looking like buried dead captains.

I said we've grown up to be eccentric adults we were odd children.

It wasn't just playing in the sand that we loved.

The water was the best part.

My cousin and I had a favorite raft.

The raft in this photo isn't that raft.

The one we liked was an owl.

This is just a turtle raft we used and worried about being swept out to sea in

every time we used it.

Me and my sister

My sister, brother and dad

I included this photo because I wanted to show the weirdness is obviously a genetic trait.

Why in the world are they lifting their leg??

Stingray Point- The Childhood Years

As kids, my cousin and I grew up hearing the story of how Stingray Point got its name.

The only thing was, we thought Captain John Smith had actually died 

and that his body was buried somewhere on the beach.

My cousin and I digging

We spent a lot of time digging holes 

hoping to find the Captain's skeleton. 

(we are were odd children).

A lot of our time was spent at Stingray Point during the summer.

It was the beach where all the locals swam.

All of my cousins went there.

We played silly games like pretending to be Clydesdales

running through the water

(this was years before Baywatch so we went with Clydesdales instead of Baywatch Babes, except I seriously doubt we would have pretended to be Baywatch Babes).

That's me in the striped bathing suit with my head cut off and my sister front and center

One year, a tank mysteriously appeared on the beach.

The adults determined it was probably something off a ship.

Of course, we decided it was off a ship that sank off the coast in a storm.

Probably a pirate ship.
Because, you know, pirate ships had oil tanks.

We loved using it as a dive platform
which means we jumped off of it into ankle or knee deep water
depending on the tide.
It was slippery and the parents were always worried we'd slip
and crack our head open.
Or maybe that was just our grandmother
(she was always cautioning us about doing things she was certain would crack our heads open).
As the tank rusted,
the worry was about slicing our leg open and getting tetanus.

 Really, it's a wonder we survived.