In 1995, I set off to DC to realize a dream of living in a big city. I had an internship at a government agency that was unremarkable, and a jerk of a boss. That jerk of a boss, however, had a vacation home in Chincoteague, Virginia. And for reasons unknown to me, he allowed the intern I worked with and me to use that beach house for the weekend. Like the college students we were, we crammed way too many people in the house, partied all weekend, and had a great time. A small subset of that original group has been going for the past 14 years. I think I missed a year during grad school, the year I was about to give birth to Helen, and last year when I couldn't fathom sticking two unreliable car riders into a backseat for at least 3.5 hours.
Early on, we happened upon Captain Barry's Backbay Cruises and that has become a quintessential element to our annual outing. Captain Barry might not know it, but he is definitely Connor's BFF. Not only did he allow Connor to carry a trap with some little sea creatures in it
he let Connor be the big man showing off the fish to Helen.
Later in the cruise, he tapped into Connor's very favorite pastime ever - collecting stuff. It wasn't long before Connor was requesting a second baggie and I am oh so thankful that the request was lost amidst other excitement.
Helen even got into this portion of the trip, though she was less excited in general about leaving land.
Captain Barry also took us to go clamming for those big chowder clams and Connor may just have found more than anyone. In order to get them, you walk around in the muddy shallow water until you feel something hard with your feet. Then you reach into the murky water, and hopefully pull up a clam. Ed turned our booty into a most fabulous chowder the following night.
This cruise played some part in Connor's request to live at the beach.