Across the Chesapeake Bay to Tangier

June 15 -- The Chesapeake Bay.  Those of us in the mid-Atlantic involved in watershed protection hear and talk about this place all the time.  It is the crown jewel that we ultimately seek to protect, or at least the end by which we often justify our work to reduce pollution in discrete parts of its watershed.  Yet, although I have crossed narrower portions of the Bay on bridges, the physical extent and significance of this ecosystem have still felt somewhat nebulous to this western Virginian.  Today I got a better grasp of what it's all about.

Entrance to marina near Reedville, where we caught the ferry.

Ryan and I got up at sunrise, packed up our tent, and said goodbye to Trish Geeson who was already up.  We had to make it the seven miles to Reedville before the 10:00 a.m. ferry to Tangier Island.  We treated ourselves to a hot sausage biscuit at an old roadside convenience store and after sitting for just a couple minutes decided we better keep moving.  A group of older gentlemen were sitting around chatting and asked if we were walking or hitching.  I explained that we'd been hiking across Virginia and headed for the ferry to get over to the Eastern Shore.  A couple miles down the road, one of the gentlemen saw us walking along the highway and called over to say something.  He just wanted to make sure we knew that the ferry goes to Tangier Island and not all the way to the Eastern Shore.  Some people, he said, even pull up to the marina expecting to be able to drive right up onto the ferry and be delivered all the way onto the Delmarva Peninsula, car and all. We thanked him for checking on us and explained that we had done our homework and made arrangements to take the other ferry from Tangier Island to Onancock later that afternoon.

Vertical boat storage building at the marina

Our greeter at the marina, hoping for a tip.

It turns out we got to Buzzard Point Marina in plenty of time.  Our fifty or so co-passengers gradually boarded the Chesapeake Breeze, most of us making ourselves comfortable on the open top deck.  As we cruised out of the harbor toward the Bay, the captain gave us tidbits of information about the area.  In the late 1800s, for example, Reedville was claimed to be the richest town in the country as a result of the burgeoning menhaden fishing industry there.  That wealth apparently shows its mark on the town where extravagant Victorian-era homes line some streets.  It was evident from the strong fertilizer-like smell as we passed the Omega Protein plant that the fishing industry is still very much alive there.  According to the Omega Protein website, the company reduces Atlantic menhaden from the Bay and the ocean into fish oil, protein additives for poultry feed, and fertilizer.  It's big business in Reedville.

Heading to Tangier Island!

Girl looking out on bow.

Tall ship from Nova Scotia.

The eighteen miles to Tangier Island took about an hour and a half.  As we crossed, we never lost sight of land in one direction or the other.  With that realization, my impression of the Chesapeake Bay changed slightly.  Now, the Bay seemed to me less like a vast swashing sea way out there on its own, impossible to grasp, and more like a giant farm pond cupped in the hands of the land.  No doubt the Chesapeake is huge, but I hadn't fully recognized how land is so much part of the water here.

Chatting it up with the Captain.

Coming into Tangier.

Space is precious on Tangier Island, even for the departed.

Water has been winning out on Tangier, though.  As we pulled into the Island's harbor, the Captain explained over the PA system that the height of the island is four feet, and its western and eastern edges have experienced massive erosion.  We learned later that residents of the island want the federal government to build a seawall to help protect the side of the island that is eroding the fastest, though one was already installed in the 1980s on the other side.  The water in the Bay is rising, the land is sinking, and the island is shrinking.  I'm not sure exactly where I stand on the issue.  On one hand it seems like a losing battle to spend millions of tax dollars on a seawall that delays the inevitable; on the other hand it seems the community and culture of Tangier wouldn't be the same if it had to relocate to the mainland. 

Walking down Main Ridge Rd.
I don't know, it looked flat as a pancake to me.

Either way, at this point in history, Tangier, VA is still very much alive and fascinating.  The harbor is still lined with crab boats and soft shell crab "farms" - shallow open tanks with lights overhead for seeing when the blue crabs in the tanks molt and become "soft."  In the three hours we had on the island, we just had time to walk down a couple of its narrow streets, reading historical signs and trying to keep out of the way of golf carts zipping by.  It seems that every other building on Main Ridge Road has a historical marker.  Oh, and of course we also made time for a crab cake and to briefly visit the museum.  For a town of only about 500, the museum is extensive and really well done.  It is understandable though, because so much is unique to Tangier - such as the old Cockney-like accent unlike any I've heard, and sayings unlike any I could decipher.  High schoolers don their duds and ride over to the mainland for their prom party. Certainly not what I remember growing up in my part of Virginia!

Our second, much smaller, ferry arrived at the dock to take twelve of us to Onancock on the Eastern Shore.  This time the waves were much more apparent and the drone of the engine drowned out much conversation.  Ryan and I just sat mesmerized by the salt water dumping onto the stern of the boat as Tangier Island became smaller and smaller in the distance.

Bridges tie the island together.

Not much use for a car on Tangier.

Kids hitching a ride.

Man, what a fun place to grow up.

Crab pots in front yard.

Tangier Talk

The Rappahannock and Northern Neck

Oyster shells as mulch?

June 14 -- All of a sudden I felt like I was finally getting close to the Chesapeake Bay when I walked out of the wheat and corn fields and into downtown Urbanna.  Marinas, crab cakes, plant beds mulched with oyster shells...I had made it to the Rivah - the great broad expanse of the Rappahannock River!  After a couple weeks back home, Ryan drove out to meet me there in Urbanna so we could finish the trip together.  These mountain kids both needed some lessons on Tidewater ways.

Leaving Urbanna (before full throttle).

To get from the Middle Peninsula to the Northern Neck across the wide salty Rappahannock River would have been a challenge on foot.  Lucky for us, our friends Rob and Linda live across the river on a side inlet of the Corrotoman River and were willing to come pick us up in a boat.  It would have been 40 miles of walking instead of a twenty-minute boat ride to get to their house.

Rob picked us up in a motor boat (though he called a skiff).  He said that it was a little rough coming over, because of the breeze. Sure enough once we got out of the harbor a ways, there were some small waves.  Well, apparently the best way to not get tossed around too much is to go on top of the waves as much as possible.  "I'm going to pick it up here now," Rob informed us calmly.  Within a minute, Ryan and I were soaked and gripping our seats and Rob was surprisingly still standing up behind the wheel.  It was exhilarating!

Tidewater Lesson #1:  Toss the car and get a boat.

That evening, Rob and Linda treated us to a washing machine, a shower, steamed crabs for dinner, AND a boat ride to their neighbors' house to swim in the pool at sunset. First class accommodations!  We had a great time spying on the osprey family nested in a pine tree in their front yard.  Rob and Linda are adventurers themselves.  This summer they will deliver a sail boat up to Maine - one of many sailing trips they have taken. over the years.  And Rob biked across the country when he was seventeen, during the "Bikecentennial" of 1976, the inaugural year of the Route 76 TransAmerica Bike Trail.  Before my trip, it was comforting hearing Rob's stories about the kindness of people he encountered along the way during that trek. And here he was with Linda, helping us in turn.

Fast boats make pirate hats.

Rob delivering us to Merry Point on the Corrotoman

Our next mission was to get across the Chesapeake Bay to the Eastern Shore of Virginia.  The original plan of sailing with Rob and Linda across the Bay fell through, because the boat they planned to use was undergoing repairs.  But we had a good Plan B:  we would walk up to Reedville where we could hop on a ferry to Tangier Island and then another ferry to Onancock on the Eastern Shore.  As has been a theme throughout this trip, there was someone down the road who could help us out.  Rob and Linda called up their friends who live only seven miles from the ferry, and got permission for us to camp in their back yard the next evening.  Rob also offered to give us a short boat ride up the Corrotoman to Merry Point so that we could reach their friends' house in a day (15 miles instead of 21).

Linda (right) walking with us on the Northern Neck

In the morning, the four of us got into the motor boat and headed out to Merry Point, with fewer waves this time, but still plenty of speed to make it exciting.  Rob pulled right up to the beach and dropped us off.  Linda gave us some company and walked a good five miles with us. We can't wait to visit  them again when we can sit and stay a little while longer.

Crossing the Great Wicomico River

I'm here to report that not even the Northern Neck is flat as a pancake, contrary to what I had imagined...but it's pretty darn flat.  On our way to Dave and Trish Geeson's house, we crossed over the Great Wicomico River on a bridge with delightfully wide shoulders.  It certainly was a beautiful scene from up there.  On our way down the other side of the bridge, Ian Geeson (their son who'd just returned from several years in New Zealand) drove by and figured that we were probably the backpackers who were coming to his folks house that evening.  He pulled over in his car and asked if we were Ryan and Laurel.  Yeah, we're hard to miss.  He offered a ride, but we decided to walk it all the way.
   Trish got home from work and immediately cooked up a feast in which she insisted we partake, and Dave offered us some cold beers.  We asked Ian lots of questions about New Zealand and shared stories about our Virginia trek.  Later, Dave went down to his dock to check on the crab pots to see what he'd caught.  What looked like a lot of crabs to me apparently wasn't a great catch, but I guess I'm easy to impress. 

Dave Geeson, lifting out one of his crab pots

We spent the evening at the dinner table, among other things, hearing about Dave's work with the Virginia Department of Health.  His job is to go out in a boat throughout the year to test waterways for bacteria to determine if shellfish from the area are safe to eat.  It's an important job that must have profound affects on shellfish harvesting in the Tidewater area.

What a nice surprise to meet the Geesons.

Dragon Run with Teta Kain

June 12 --Over the last few days, when I would mention that I was meeting up with Teta Kain to see Dragon Run, folks would say, "Oh yes, I know Teta - she's a legend!"  Sure enough, she is something special...as is the Dragon.

Teta Kain telling me some of the history of Dragon Run.

I had spoken with Teta over the phone once before when I was working on a small research project about Dragon Run and the Piankatank River, which the water body is named once it becomes tidal open water.  Dragon Run is one of Virginia's most pristine waterways, in large part because of centuries of isolation from development.  Teta is an especially vibrant and active member of Friends of Dragon Run, a group of citizens in the area who have worked for several decades to buy up parcels of land to preserve and promote good stewardship of the Dragon. She joined Dave and I at Mascot, a dot on a map where a road passes over Dragon Run and which serves as one of only a couple places where people can access the river.  A parcel of land there is owned by Friends of Dragon Run and hosts a nature trail and canoe landing open to the public.  

Kayakers quietly fishing on Dragon Run, at Mascot.

I noticed that almost all the photos of flora and fauna on the kiosk at the Mascot property were taken by Teta Kain.  She is out there on the river multiple times every season and sometimes goes out to explore by kayak at night. 

Dragon Run after a rain

But Teta certainly isn't the only one who is curious and cares deeply about Dragon Run.  Teta drove us to the Friends' "Big Island" preserve further up river, to give us a walking tour through the forest there. As we finished up our walk,  another FODR member drove in, with wet legs and muddy shoes.  He was making his rounds to several locations up and down Dragon Run, wading into the swamp to check nesting boxes built for prothonotary warblers to see if they are inhabited.  And he does this every week.


Although Dragon Run is difficult to access, Teta is not. She volunteers her time to lead paddle trips and walks through the woods, for anyone who asks.  This spring, for about thirty days between April and May (the only time that the Dragon is fully navigable), she and other Friends members led daily kayak tours for over 280 people.  This is the group's primary way of raising funds and a wonderful chance for the public to get up close to some plants, birds, insects, and fish that you can rarely see anywhere else.

Mud turtle

Bald cypress "knees"

Through Dragon Run State Forest

Dave, stashing his bike behind some trees in the state forest.

June 11 -- Dave Hirschman, who I work with in Charlottesville, was able to join me on my trek to see Dragon Run on the Middle Peninsula.  Lucky for him, it was the hottest day so far.  As I made my way from King and Queen Courthouse, Dave figured out how to shuttle his car to our destination point, then bike back towards me, then stash his bike in the woods, and then walk along with me. It’s a good thing Dave is smart – it would have taken me a while to figure that one out!

Dave walking down dirt road through Dragon Run State Forest.

"Asbestos Waste Disposal Area - Do not create dust."  Yikes.

It was nice to catch up with Dave and have some company, especially for the dirt road section through Dragon Run State Forest which could have been a little spooky alone. According to a Virginia Department of Forestry website, the separate chunks of land west of Dragon Run that make up the state forest add up to over 9500 acres. We walked Route 602 which goes through the heart of the forest and didn’t come across anyone except a couple fox hunters rounding up their hound dogs from an adjacent hunt club property. They told us to watch out for big tractor trailers bringing in trash from far off places like New Jersey and New York to the local landfill. Though we must have been on a different route from the trucks, we did eventually see the growing dirt mound peaking over the trees in the distance.  We learned later that the relatively new King and Queen County landfill is allowed to build up to over 430 feet high, which it may be already in places. Unfortunately, it is also sits within the watershed of Dragon Run, currently one of the cleanest waterways in the state, and will undoubtedly leak some day.

The scene after a prescribed burn in Dragon Run State Forest.

 

Dave and I arrived at the “Clay Tract,” an inconspicuous parcel of land owned by the Middle Peninsula Public Access Authority.  I had asked for permission to camp here since nearly all the land in the Dragon Run area is either private or State Forest, where camping is prohibited. We walked into the gated parcel in search for the swamp that I had heard so much about. There it was, way back in the woods and down in a gully - lush and swampy and full of bald cypress...with birds and dragon flies there to greet us. The next day I would have a chance to ask all my questions about the stream to Teta Kain, Queen of the Dragon.

I finally set my eyes on Dragon Run Swamp at the Clay Tract.

To the Mattaponi River

Winter wheat ready to harvest

June 8 -- It is a vast scene of quiet fields walking between the Pamunkey Indian Reservation and the Mattaponi Indian Reservation. The quiet was only broken by the occasional car and combine harvesting the winter wheat. It took me half a day to walk the ten miles through King William County between the two rivers that join downstream of here to form the York.

Cohoke Mill Creek - not King William Reservoir any more.

For a lunch break, I snuck down into the dense wooded floodplain of Cohoke Mill Creek to get out of the hot sun.  If you have been reading newspapers in Virginia in the past few years, you likely have heard about the fight over the King William Reservoir.  For over twenty years, the City of Newport News tried to get permits to build a dam on this creek and pump water from the Mattaponi River over to it.  Had their effort succeeded, I'm guessing my lunch spot would have been under many feet of water. Environmentalists, the Indian tribes, and others concerned about the ecological and historical/archeological impacts of the dam fought against the creation of the reservoir until after 22 years, Newport News finally threw in the towel in 2009.

Jim Hall's store in Rose Garden, VA.

Cashier seasoning fresh steamed crabs at Jim Hall's store.

I've been thankful for small stores on back roads that have managed to hold on.  Before reaching the Mattaponi River, I came across Jim Hall's store where I took another break out of the sun.   In the half hour I was there, three customers came in to buy fresh steamed blue crabs turned orange, which the cashier seasoned on the spot with her home-made version of Old Bay.  I asked her where the crabs came from.  Fresh from the York River this morning, she said, since it's still too early in the summer (not enough salt water) for crabs to come up into the Mattaponi. 


I reached the cluster of homes of the Mattaponi Reservation, looking for a phone to use. After knocking on some doors without any luck, I finally found a nice woman coming home from work who lent me her phone and offered me a soda.  I called up Dawn and Randy Shank who were waiting for my call to get across the river.  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the pier in their john boat and I jumped in, thanking the nice lady for the help.  Off we went down the broad and beautiful Mattaponi.

View of the Mattaponi River from the Indian Reservation.

Randy Shank toting me across the Mattaponi to their house.

Dawn and Randy are very active members of the Mattaponi and Pamunkey Rivers Association (MPRA), a group that works to protect the rivers and inform folks in the area about their ecology and history.  Among other roles, Dawn and Randy work on many of the volunteer group's educational activities, such as their River Camp for kids in August and paddle trips down the rivers.  On this particular weekend, Dawn was headed to the town of Walkerton to set up the MPRA "kids tent" at the Wine and Arts Festival on the banks of the Mattaponi River. Since I was a day ahead of schedule on my walk, I decided to come along and help out. We spent Saturday morning with kiddos, making fish prints with paint on paper and trying to convince them to wear the paper mache fish costume.  Some kids didn't need too much convincing. 

Giving kids something fishy to do at the Wine and Arts Festival.

Dawn was an art teacher in a former life - can you tell

Dawn and her "River Girls" exploring Garnett's Creek.

And I didn't need too much convincing when Dawn and Randy offered for me to stay at their house an extra night.  Their grown up daughter and niece and their families came over for a cookout and playing down in the river.  It was a great time with some wonderful folks!  I also had a chance to hear about some of the work that Dawn and Randy did before their busy retirement.  Dawn Shank worked with Soil and Water Conservation Districts across the state, helped start the Virginia Envirothon competition a couple decades ago which high schoolers still participate in, and helped teachers wrap lessons about watersheds and water quality into their curriculum.  Randy Shank had a long career with the Virginia Tech Extension Service, helping to find solutions to pollution problems such as how to reduce nutrient runoff from golf courses, institutional properties, and other heavy users of fertilizer. He now helps lead the Chesapeake Bay Foundation's Bay Academy, what sounds like an incredible immersion program for school teachers in the summers to learn watershed-related lessons to share with their students.

On Sunday morning (June  I said goodbye to the Shanks and walked toward King and Queen Courthouse, a little further downstream. An unexpected encounter broke up my pace during this stretch of walking. An old man in a pickup truck drove by me very slowly, several times while I talked on the phone. I guess he decided that this person walking down a country road instead of driving was something way too weird, because about half an hour later a sheriff's car pulls up.  The officer said they'd gotten a call about a suspicious individual and he needed to check my ID.  We stopped on the side of the road, he asked me questions and I told him I was probably more worried about that old guy than he should have been of me. Must have been the way I was looking at those rows and rows of corn that made me look dangerous, huh? In some ways, I was surprised that I had managed to go over 300 miles without a cop stopping to ask me questions.  But, I didn't expect it to happen on a quiet back road in King and Queen County.  Must have been a slow crime day.

I spent the evening at a campground on the river and got an early start the next morning to walk toward the mysterious Dragon Run.

Sunrise on the Mattaponi River.

Dock at Rainbow Acres Campground.

Fishing pole someone set up overnight, waiting to be checked.

The Pamunkey River and Indian Reservation



Farmer cutting cover crop, maybe alfafa.





June 7 -- The eastern Tidewater part of state where I have traveled this week is very new to me, and so different from the Blue Ridge mountains and Piedmont pastures that I am used to back home. And that's what has been so fun about this trip - seeing places not so far from home that feel like a world away. 

I walked east out of Hanover County on long back roads through young woods, corn and wheat toward the Pamunkey River. Contrary to what I was expecting, the landscape here is not flat as a pancake.   

Train trestle I used to cross the Pamunkey River.

 I made it to the Pamunkey Indian Reservation where I had gotten permission to visit and pitch a tent at the home of Warren Cook's family. He and his wife, Susan, live right on the river in a special section of backwater and wetland called "the Pocket". Warren and his youngest daughter, Allyn, who lives next door were there when I arrived and treated me so kindly. Allyn had even been cooking dinner for me before I arrived. 

Warren Cook and his daughter Allyn, with the Pamunkey River as their front yard and marker of their cultural homeland.

I was sorry to drop my bag and rush off so quickly after my late arrival, but Garrie Rouse and his daughter Kat with Mattaponi Canoe and Kayak had offered to show me around that section of the river at high tide, around 6:00 when I arrived. Let me just tell you that I can't believe I had never been on the Pamunkey River before. Being out there on that quiet and wide still water among the yellow pond lillies as the sun moved low on the horizon was...breathtaking. The scene was so novel to me. Is this still Virginia in the year 2012?
 

Garrie Rouse shows me flower of yellow pond lilly



We did talk about the past, as Warren, Allyn, and I ate fresh omelets the next morning out in Allyn's great tiki hut beside here house. Warren explained that this is the oldest reservation in the country, established by a treaty with the King of England in the 1600s.  As I understood it, Pamunkey tribal land at that time radiated six miles out from its current center at the Pocket in the river, but was gradually whittled away by white men who started paying taxes on outter portions of the territory until they were eventually granted a deed to that chunk of land.  Approximately 1200 acres makes up the reservation as it is known today.  Before I left after breakfast, Warren took me on a quick drive around the reservation.  It doesn't look too terribly different from the scene on the outside, except that the homes are a little closer together and there are places to gather - a museum and meeting room, a pottery studio, a fish hatchery on the river, and soon to be a picnic pavilion by the river.  And of course there are woods, corn, and wheat. 



Warren Cook, the omelet chef.



Warren makes jewelry. This bracelet shows the symbol of the Pamunkey Tribe.



The school that Warren attended on the reservation as a child, shown in the background.  Because of Segregation, the only school he could attend after 7th grade was the Cherokee school in North Carolina.

 

Photos in the Pamunkey Indian Tribe Museum on the reservation, showing Warren (right) with his father, Chief Tecumseh Cook (center) who lived to be over 100 years old, and his great grandfather George Major Cook also a longtime chief (left).