What is it about large expanses of water on a crisp, Winter day that is so uplifting and yet so calming at the same time. It’s not my first time on the Cape May-Lewes Ferry. Indeed, the Cape May peninsular was once home. So, perhaps it was appropriate to exit here, the extreme South Jersey for the South West. I bid adieu to the natural beaches and the flatlands. The friends made and the friends I made mad. Even adieu to my old, Green Creek farm house without a glimmer of recognition nor regret.
The wonderfulness of Winter journeys is that few are foolish enough to consider them. Open roads, little traffic and a sprinkling of tourists, yours truly not included. Most of sunny Delaware and Maryland could be New Jersey in disguise. The same open beauty, the familiar sodden earth, the clumped forest growths, rural Victorian, architectural charm. Our pace was measured and easy and we had consumed only half a tank by the time we made Annapolis by sunset.
Cambridge is a forgettable poor cousin to it’s English gentry, but St Michaels had all the charm and authenticity of Victorian Cape May. A winding main street with each store and Inn and residence wearing their authenticity that only the unplanned can. The snug harbor quietly suggesting the vibrants crowds that it will soon host.
No Road Trip would be complete without some abandonment to shameless commerce and the Queenstown Designer Outlet Mall. The perfect L.L. Bean sneakers, (dark grey, a touch of black and an hint of yellow), the outgoing pair unceremoniously handed to the clerk to trash. I’m relegating urban black to past and desert color to future with a few Banana Republic Vee-tees in the same manner that I am ending the last chapter of a well read book and opening the first chapter of a new novelette.