Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

The sunsets on the middle of the Chesapeake suck shit. I've never seen anything so ugly in my entire life.





The wind picked up and the boat was heeling up pretty good. You could reach down and touch the water when it was like this. We were steering the boat with Flight of the Valkyries blasting on the stereo so it was like Apocolypse Now except without the murder of Vietnamese villagers.



Yours truly.





We stopped at Tangier Island, Virginia. It's an island with about 600 year-round residents and their economy is split evenly between crabbing and tourism.



The only way to get to Tangier Island is by boat or airplane. After a few drinks one night, we drove our rented golf cart (the main form of transportation on the island) to the pitch black air strip and rode around in drunken circles. We came across this crashed airplane abandoned in the reeds next to the Bay. Unfortunately, it was locked.



The Cabin Boy, Greg, worshiping the sun god.



Greg loves cats. This little fellow's name is Mr. Nibbles---"Nibs" for short.



No guys' trip would be complete without a good old-fashioned arm wrasslin' contest.



We sailed into a restricted zone in a desolate stretch of the Chesapeake. This ship was dumped here by the Navy and is used for bombing practice. We wanted to see it, but when we sailed closeby we were hailed on the VHF radio by the Coast Guard, saying "YOU HAVE ENTERED A RESTRICTED ZONE. CHANGE COURSE IMMEDIATELY."



Our first stop on Smith Island was "Ruke's", the local hangout. The hardest drink was root beer (the island is dry). That guy in the back was talking in an accent that none of us could understand, so we're all sitting there quietly trying to decifer the marble-mouthed dialect. We did pick up that he liked some "pills". The locals told us that Smith Island has a population of 240, with no government or police force. That night it was graduation for kindergarten and 7th grade.