The infinitely small boating-related corner of my inconsequential nautical world in Annapolis survived several hits in 2012. But what little activity remains of my social life was greatly diminished by the death in September of a colorful Eastportian character nicknamed “Budweiser Dave,” who was only 59.
Preparing to face some hot, light-air cruising during the dog days of August required some adjustments to my regular Chesapeake Bay sailing routine of seeking out and following the wind. This meant accepting the cruel fate of motoring more than absolutely necessary and making it boring, rather than interesting and challenging.
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