Flies in the cockpit!

There are good sailing days and then there are the days that make you question your sanity.  Today was one of the those days.  We sit below decks on the hood in Plaindealing Creek across the Tred Avon river and the town of Oxford waiting for the sun to go down and cool the cockpit.

We left the dock this morning with gray clouds overhead and little wind in the air.  We motored Forte Vento across the Bay instead of attempting to sail in the very light wind. Bored and tired,  John retired to the V-berth for a nap while I listened to the humming engine and watched for crab pots.  Rained sprinkled and what little wind there was came across the back of the boat.  I was joined by a host of flies -- plain ol' flies you normally get at a picnic or hovering around a freshly baked pie set to cool in the window (does anyone do that anymore?)  With the wind pushing on your back instead of slapping you on the face as you cross the water, the cockpit becomes a free ride for these buggers.  Along with the ride, they decided to have lunch -- my legs and feet.  In self defense,  I armed myself with our purple fly swatter and went to war.  I killed 12 before John came back up on deck to take over the battle.

We did get to sail.  As we rounded the Green #7 bell upon to enter the Choptank River, the wind picked up to almost 10 knots and our heading allowed us a pleasant reach (wind across the beam). But, to our surprise, the flies liked the idea and stayed instead of taking off for clamer cockpits.  After sailing all the way  (3 hours of success!) into our anchorage, we discovered some of the buggers had inflitrated our living quarters below decks.  Up went our screens and out came the swatter again.  There were no pleasant deaths, just dead flies.  Let's hope tomorrow brings more wind, less flies and sunshine.