And so it is. Even something as mundane as mooring a crab boat. We keep our little sailboat in a marina at Solomon’s Island, MD. Today, the normal sleepy routine of the place has been overrun by the 21st Annual Calvert County Watermen's Festival and Boat Docking Competition. Maybe 100 feet or so from our slip there are hundreds of people sitting on temporary aluminum stadium seats cheering for their favorites.
What happens at this sort of event? Fairly large diesel-powered crab fishing boats back into a dock. At the sound of a loud horn, they come roaring out, water flying and black smoke spewing. They leave one slip bow first, move about two slips over, then back into the dock slot. When they toss the requisite lines over specific pylons to make the boat fast to them, another horn blows and the timer stops. When they do well, cheers go up. When a crew member misses the tie-up point while tossing the mooring line with a hula-hoop-sized ring on the end, the crowd expresses pity with the requisite “oh”.
Aside from the bleachers, hundreds more spectators climb over docked and anchored boats of every size and shape. Bikini-clad beauties and beer-bellied men slowly bake in the sun as they indulge in whatever beverage they prefer. At times it seems they pay more attention to their own on-boat parties than to the docking competition.
The competing boats have fun names such as Outlaw, Island Fever, Crab Place, and Miss Julie. It looked like nearly a dozen were competing. I was cheering for Some Beach, given my last name. My baby sister will find this interesting. Some Beach was piloted by a lady with the first name of Crystal. Outlaw and Crab Place seemed crowd favorites as they made the biggest noise, and the biggest waves. They both also tended to get the best times. I noticed there was a paramedic boat strategically placed at the conjuncture between the competing area and the party boats anchored just outside the marina. Smart.
Under Pressure got some positive crowd energy as it was at times piloted by a youngster. I don’t know if Hard to Handle referred to the boat, or perhaps someone associated with her in some way. Crusher was another that tended to make big waves and smoke. Throughout, Big Worm stayed tied up and acted as the judging platform. As time waned, she pulled out and did her own demonstration of quickly exiting one slip, then backing into another. She has the right name. Big Worm is easily twice the size of the others and painted a very bright neon green.
The atmosphere was definitely festive. The competition seemed real, but friendly. The same dock where the events were happening is well-known to the boat captains. Most mornings I see a predawn ritual happen when the crowd is nowhere to be seen. Boats pull up to meet a seafood truck. They offload their crabby cargo, then head out. I don’t know if they go right back out for daytime harvesting, or are just heading home at that hour. The same ritual happens at other times of the day as well so I suspect there is some sort of rotation for offload times.
On this comfortable September Sunday afternoon in a small touristy fishing and sailing town, an American microcosm is on display. We can make just about anything into a fun competition… and an excuse for a party.
What happens at this sort of event? Fairly large diesel-powered crab fishing boats back into a dock. At the sound of a loud horn, they come roaring out, water flying and black smoke spewing. They leave one slip bow first, move about two slips over, then back into the dock slot. When they toss the requisite lines over specific pylons to make the boat fast to them, another horn blows and the timer stops. When they do well, cheers go up. When a crew member misses the tie-up point while tossing the mooring line with a hula-hoop-sized ring on the end, the crowd expresses pity with the requisite “oh”.
Aside from the bleachers, hundreds more spectators climb over docked and anchored boats of every size and shape. Bikini-clad beauties and beer-bellied men slowly bake in the sun as they indulge in whatever beverage they prefer. At times it seems they pay more attention to their own on-boat parties than to the docking competition.
The competing boats have fun names such as Outlaw, Island Fever, Crab Place, and Miss Julie. It looked like nearly a dozen were competing. I was cheering for Some Beach, given my last name. My baby sister will find this interesting. Some Beach was piloted by a lady with the first name of Crystal. Outlaw and Crab Place seemed crowd favorites as they made the biggest noise, and the biggest waves. They both also tended to get the best times. I noticed there was a paramedic boat strategically placed at the conjuncture between the competing area and the party boats anchored just outside the marina. Smart.
Under Pressure got some positive crowd energy as it was at times piloted by a youngster. I don’t know if Hard to Handle referred to the boat, or perhaps someone associated with her in some way. Crusher was another that tended to make big waves and smoke. Throughout, Big Worm stayed tied up and acted as the judging platform. As time waned, she pulled out and did her own demonstration of quickly exiting one slip, then backing into another. She has the right name. Big Worm is easily twice the size of the others and painted a very bright neon green.
The atmosphere was definitely festive. The competition seemed real, but friendly. The same dock where the events were happening is well-known to the boat captains. Most mornings I see a predawn ritual happen when the crowd is nowhere to be seen. Boats pull up to meet a seafood truck. They offload their crabby cargo, then head out. I don’t know if they go right back out for daytime harvesting, or are just heading home at that hour. The same ritual happens at other times of the day as well so I suspect there is some sort of rotation for offload times.
On this comfortable September Sunday afternoon in a small touristy fishing and sailing town, an American microcosm is on display. We can make just about anything into a fun competition… and an excuse for a party.
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