Dismal Swamp, part 2 — Cupcake Afloat

Well we have certainly slowed right down. That was the plan: get to Norfolk in a month or so, without any excessive dawdling, then dawdle as much as we like on the way down to South Carolina.

Yesterday we checked out the Dismal Swamp State Park by touring the Visitor Center (air conditioned!) and then renting bicycles for a ride down a path through the swamp (NOT air conditioned). If I haven’t sufficiently conveyed how oppressively hot it has been down here, let me try again. It was so hot we could only make it about four miles before we were all completely done in. I love the heat, generally, but this is just too much. And there is no end in sight according to the weather forecasts.

Anyway, Moss completed the junior ranger program, took an oath (don’t litter, care for the critters, enjoy the woods, try to do good), and got a patch. She is getting quite a collection of state park and national park badges. As for Ellen and me, we don’t need no…ah, nevermind.

The rental bikes Ellen and I rode were so awful we figure that if all bicycles were that miserable, nobody would ride bikes. My first indoors job (a term we picked up from the fellow-Schenectadian back in Chincoteague) was at my uncle Hy’s bike shop. He sold, among other brands, Raleigh and Huffy. I was not at all pleased to learn that Huffy still makes a really terrible excuse for a bicycle. Just. Abysmal.

Moss, on the other hand, had a bike that was pretty much identical to the Raleigh she has at home. Her bike was so fast she almost beat me in the home-stretch race we had, too.

On the ride we smelled what reminded us of the sweet-fermenty smell that hangs around a prolific apple tree later in the season. On the ground we saw what looked like a fruity potato or lonely pickle. Turns out we had crossed paths with the Paw Paw, largest fruit native to the Americas, according to the park ranger who administered the oath to Moss.

After finishing up at the park, we crossed back over the foot bridge spanning the Canal so we could return to Cupcake and head down to the South Mills Lock and Bridge. The foot bridge opened at our request so Cupcake could slide through, and we said our goodbyes to the state park and canal visitor center.

Because the South Mills Lock and Bridge only open at 8:30am, 1:30pm, and 3:30pm, we did not want to be late for the last opportunity to make it through. We arrived early, tied up to the pilings, and Moss and I walked to the nearby gas station and convenience store to see about ice cream bars. Success. No vegetables to be had, but you can always count on getting sweets, salts, and fats wherever anything is sold in this country.

Shortly after the lock master started lowering us the 8 feet back to sea level, we got hit with a thunderstorm. The rain (and thunder and lightning) got fairly intense, but the rain did an excellent job cooling things down. We motored the eight miles or so down to our anchorage behind Goat Island. There is nothing else here. No lights. No houses. No other boats. No people. Definitely no wifi. It is peaceful, calm, quiet. It looks like a Hudson River School painting, just beautiful. It would be a perfect spot to stay for a week if the water was swimmable. (Locals do swim, claiming there are no alligators or man-eating whatever and that the brown color of the water is just staining from the cedar and cypress roots. Sure.)

In any event we decided to spend two nights here. Today was passed reading, sweating, snacking, fussing with the wind scoop, and attending a poetry reading Moss organized. She created a writing studio in her cabin and regaled us with a selection of her work. In addition to the humans, the reading was enjoyed by a menagerie of soft friends: fox, elephant, bear, lamb, slothicorn, monkey. The platypus slept through the entire event.

Then, this afternoon when the heat was just about half a degree shy of becoming utterly unbearable, we had another thunderstorm and the temperature outside dropped about 15 degrees. The rain was so strong, I went outside and took a rain bath. There was enough force to the rain that I could do the full job, soap, shampoo, rinse, shave. Also, we closed portholes and hatches in plenty of time. The hatch umbrella worked great. We are learning.

Cruising tip of the day: there is no prize for the closest shave…the hair is just going to grow again. But there is a penalty for too close a shave: blood and pain.

Playing with beauty berries in the swamp.

Cupcake in repose at the Dismal Swamp Visitor Center dock.

Completing the junior ranger program workbook.

Ice cream team at the South Mills Bridge.

Moss wants you yo know she took this picture.

This is a recreation of a backwoods moonshine still. The picture is specifically for Zoë.

For some reason, the poetry reading required Moss to wear pajamas on her head.

Heavy downpour. (Another other Moss photo.)

Ellen always takes selfies. I thought I would try one too.