There are hints of autumn in the air and this is when I most miss sailing on America’s Chesapeake Bay. In the fall the breezes are back after the stultifying heat and calms of summer, the trees are starting to acquire what will become a magical mantel of golds and reds and yellows and browns and delta flights of honking Canada geese are arriving for the winter.
You step onto a dew covered deck at dawn and watch the mist rising like steam; all is quiet except for the occasional slap and roil of a fish taking its prey. The first hint of the sun shows itself through the trees on the eastern shore, a promise of another fine day for sailing. But that will come later, when the wind arrives; for now you finish your coffee and slip below for another hour in the snugness of a still warm sleeping bag.
Fall sailing on the Bay, magic.