Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy!

That became the phrase of the day aboard Cbay as the Brookbank Twins invaded the confines of our now small boat.

I drove to pick them up in Alexandria around 1400 and they had pared down their luggage admirably so that there would be no space problems. The boys were so excited when I arrived that they came running out the door screaming that Uncle Rusty was here. Soon we were on the road leaving the BMW parked at their home. More on this later. Funny story.

 
 
 
 
Roy doing his excited silly dance. Will showing off his 1970 428 Mustang.

They quickly fell asleep on the ride down and we should have shaken them awake. Instead we gave them an hour’s head start on us so they could stay up later. Now we are reaping what we have sown.

Jan was waiting for us in the parking lot and soon the boys were racing down the rickety dock with adults shouting and Jan whistling to slow them down. Fruitless.

 
 
I almost caught the boys adventure peeing but was not quick enough.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
They enjoyed a tour of the boat and had dozens of questions. One of the favorite activities was to go up on the flybridge and shout Ahoy to any passing boat. We laughed at this because they could not understand why these fishermen a half mile away did not acknowledge their hail. Soon everyone was shouting Ahoy at any occasion.

 
 
We had a wonderful spaghetti supper ashore in the clubhouse so the boys could run off their energy. Did NOT work either.

 
 
After dinner we returned to Cbay and tried in vain to settle the boys down, so ultimately we just locked them in the brig and broke out the gin and tonic. Now in my defense, I did not let it pass my lips because of an incident we shall not speak about that took place in New Orleans in 1967, but the rest of the crew liberally partook.

 
 
Tomorrow if the weather permits or even if it doesn’t we will turn this boat toward DC and give these boys the day of their lives. We will start the day by taking them to pump out the poop! You should have seen their faces when I told them Daisy was in that tiny box. Explaining cremation to five year olds is difficult at best and generates more questions than answers.

Wish us luck. Oh, by the way, yesterday I picked up a souvenir on Governor’s Island. I will not unveil it until after we get to DC and give the experts at the Smithsonian an opportunity to verify it’s authenticity. Stay tuned. (As I edit this in 2013 I realized that I never followed up on this story. It was a rock from the quarry where the facing for the White House was cut. I believe our stone is a piece cut off the cornerstone. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.)

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