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Somewhere, on the Chesapeake Bay, is an inlet, a private little paradise, where people go to get away from it all.
Somewhere, on the Eastern side of the Chesapeake Bay is an inlet leading to a series of creeks and winding waterways. Hidden amongst scarily shallow waters and behind corners marked only with private watermarks, is a cove hardly anyone knows about.
In that inlet, as I type this, there are about ten sailboats anchored in their private little paradises. Off our stern is a group of three boats, all tied together, sending snippets of laughter and smells of barbequing through the hatch into our boat.
This is where people come to hide. This is where people come to find their serenity. This is where people come to get away from it all. When some are headed for shopping malls and the middle of everything, others spend most of their time trying to find the spot furthest away from the chaos. Here, in that inlet, on one of those ten sailboats, I think I found it.
I canít think of a more serene way to spend a long weekend than lazily coasting across the water, finding hidden anchorages and venturing off to the shore to explore unknown lands.
Youíre not going to find, in Potomac Mills, a deserted park with paths winding for miles through fields that looked like they havenít changed since the days of the Native Americans. Youíre not going to be fortunate enough to look a blue heron dead in the eye while youíre waltzing through Spotsylvania Mall. I donít understand why, when you can go to places like this, that people choose to flock to places where they are just one of a bazillion people.
Maybe itís the lack of crowds. Maybe itís the absence of chaos. Maybe itís the bird, bug and cricket noises replacing the traffic, car stereos and sirens, I donít know. Thereís just something about being one of very few humans around that gives you the ability to unwind and find a peace you wonít find around thirty bagillion people, or driving nine-thousand miles an hour in interstate traffic.