Oysters, Fish Tacos and Fire in Rehoboth and Cape Henlopen Delaware

Happy hour at Fin's is a bit of a competitive sport, or at least that has been the case in my own life. I learned that it's no joke. Folks stake out spots outside a good 15 minutes in advance of the doors opening in order to ensure a spot at the bar. If you're not prompt (or early) the likelihood of your being able to get a seat is low. So the Wednesday for which there is no proof, I made a concerted effort to get there early and still had to deal with a pack of territorial 50-somethings who did not want to be my friend, which was fine because I overheard their conversation and they were boring. In any case, what I didn't realize about Fin's Friday happy hour is that it starts at some other time than 4 PM. So when I rolled up at 3:30 thinking I was totally on target, I found myself to be gravely mistaken; the bar was totally packed and there was no chance I was going to get a prime spot. This meant I was relinquished to the rather awkward second tier, standing bar shelf. Daunted but not doomed, I ordered a beer and a dozen of the happy hour oysters. Happy making they were, though I have to say that none of the two dozen oysters I consumed on this trip left me feeling as satiated or pleased as oysters usually do. I don't think that's the fault of Fin's, just perhaps a reflection of some thing or another in my own universe.

I also decided to try the happy hour fish tacos, as I had noted a few 50-somethings ordering them the last time and they seemed to be very generous in their portions for what was quite a reasonable price. This was a smooth move on my part. The fried white fish (no idea what variety to be honest) was crispy on the outside but moist and flaky on the inside. And the drizzle of sauce and mango-ish (maybe pineapple?) salsa that came with the plate were both right up my alley as well. Good times. I probably would have stayed longer and tried some other dish if it hadn't been for the awkward seating. Next year.

Then I returned back to my campsite. I have a whole rant about a lady who was rude to me/extremely incorrect in her campsite neighborly conduct, but the truth is that if I recounted the story, you probably wouldn't really care and I'd probably somehow turn out to be the asshole. But honestly, I was not the asshole, she was and we should all be thankful I did not write a mean note and leave it on her car's windshield. Instead I enjoyed an evening reading and stoking an unnecessary fire. God I love fire. I bought two bundles and started it before it was even close to being dark, which necessitated a run to the campground firewood shed to buy another bundle. Because I am addicted to flame y'all. Addicted to flame.

I really do love this campground. It's not really remote and some sites are far less awesome than others. This year was not an awesome year. Pretty much any year when I don't get a site around the edges of the grounds ends with too much proximity and not any privacy. It's interesting to me how we all willfully ignore one another, though we can clearly hear most all conversations. For example, I was entirely fascinated by all the activity going on at a site across the way from me where there seemed to be at least three or four young Mennonite couples and a whole slew of kids. Listening to them speak in Low German and laugh and chat while wearing basketball shorts and knock off Raybans was confusing. I had all these questions. Do they use bug spray? Do they use band aids? Are they actually permitted to wear basketball shorts and knock off Raybans? Why do they try to run me off the sidewalk that leads to the beach when I am walking and they are riding bikes? And why don't they apologize when they do so? Are they having sex in those tents? Do they hate their hair cuts? What did they think of the Tom Petty songs I was playing from my car? You know, just questions. Questions to which I will never have the answers because after the bike/running off the road episode, I no longer thought they were friendly Godly types and began to think they were wrathful Godly types. I could, of course, be mistaken on that score. The point is that it's always such an interesting cross-section of folks. Big family groups all speaking a language other than English. Older couples in their souped up RVs. Younger couples and their intense border collies. Extremely weird solo men trying to blow up their air mattresses using said motorcycles way after 'quiet hours' who then turn down the offer of air mattress pumps from granola-esque fathers or wayward kids acting on behalf of their parents. You know, just a funny mix of folks. All enjoying the semi-real experience of outdoor living, only with nearby bathrooms and neighbors probably even closer to them than in their everyday life. It's a mini-city and I like it. I keep hoping I'll somehow stumble across a dude who digs it too and comes on his own or with friends...but usually it's just foreign families, old people and creeps trying to fill their air mattress using a motorcycle. But I love it. These days I go back and forth about whether having kids is as much of a priority for me as it was when I was younger. This may be due to any number of factors, but I do still sometimes envision a life where I do get the opportunity to teach a youngster of my own the glories of setting up and sleeping in a tent, of building a fire, of diving under waves to get to the calmer part of the ocean, of the sheer loveliness of a perfect oyster with just a spritz of lemon. Meh, if I don't have my own I'll just steal the children of my friends for a weekend. At least one of the legion of children that will burst forth from the loins of my collective network would be down. One would assume.

Delaware Beach and Camp Times

This summer flew by. Between my two biggest excursions to North Carolina and Lake Champlain, I certainly can't say that I didn't get my fair share of swimming done, but somehow I struggled to find a weekend to dedicate to my annual Delaware beach camping adventure. In previous years I've gone in the early summer and then again in the latter part of the season. This year I wasn't sure I was going to go at all. I've gained some new responsibilities at work and they were making me feel slightly less capable of taking vacation days...but I made it happen. I arrived on the Wednesday before Labor Day and quickly set up my tent. Rain was also in the forecast, so I set up a tarp so I could still enjoy at least a little time sitting outside. After setting the site up I did as I often do and went to Fin's for happy hour and oysters. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera so you'll just have to trust me when I say that I had a dozen oysters and steamed shrimp and enjoyed a Troeg's beer while making friends with an older woman who has a hair cutting license in three states.

The next day it was beach times. I brought a beer with me. I also brought Let's Pretend This Never Happened, which is a pretty good read if you're interested in a funny woman with a wacky childhood recounting her various anxieties and triumphs.

The water was really perfect that first day. The waves weren't crashing as much as lolling and I was able to comfortably float without fear of being smashed to the ocean's floor. So the campground is about a mile away from an access point for the beach. This access point is about 2 miles away from the primary beach area for the park, which features a giant parking lot,  large bath house, concession stand and life guards. Generally speaking the section of beach that you can walk to from the campground is far less crowded. The area by the beach house is always pretty chock full of bodies and umbrellas, while this more remote spot certainly isn't going to give you a sense of being totally alone but does give you a little more space between people. This was very much the case on that Wednesday, when it was pretty much me with my set up and then a young couple a couple hundred yards away from me on one side and a lady with her two sons on the other. It wasn't quite as solitary or remote as the beaches of Eleuthera, but it was still nice. Oh and there was an Amish couple playing baseball because of course. I have many thoughts about the Amish/Mennonite folks also camping but I'll perhaps share that in my next post.

After a day at the beach it was time to seek out a meal. I decided to return to the Surfing Crab and debated whether I was going to go the soft shell or hard shell crab route. In the end I decided that I was up to a solitary round of crab cracking and ordered half a dozen medium crabs. In the past I've been seated, or have seated myself, in the dining room to the left when you first walk into the space, which has long picnic tables that are perfect for large parties. This time, however, I went to the room that actually had seats with backs. I was, as is often the case, the only person by myself and the majority of the other tables were older couples on what seemed like double or triple dates. In one instance three couples came in together and quickly the men sat at one table while the women sat at another. I guess that makes sense? As a woman who sometimes finds the conversation of men more interesting than those of women (not always of course), I always hate that breakdown, but maybe after you're married for 30 years you just don't feel like hanging out in a coed group anymore?

I also ordered fries. This was a generous basket of very hot and crispy fries. I enjoyed them but didn't make that much of a dent, as my real focus was on the crabs.

This crab was a dictator in life, and a high five enthusiast in death. I made it through four crabs but couldn't quite bring myself to eat the last two. Service was good and fast. I could have perhaps done without my waiter touching my shoulder in a way that I felt was a little pitying or presumptuous. Or maybe I was just being overly sensitive. I didn't see him touching anyone else's shoulders. So it is a funny thing, my simultaneous desire to want to talk about how it actually is a little bit of a bummer to do things I like by myself and my annoyance if anyone other than me assumes that I am bummed. I had a fine time on this evening. The crabs were good. I had a book. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. Yes, I would have liked to have a little company, but not having a companion didn't immediately make the meal (or any other aspect of the trip) suddenly sad. And yet I felt like those shoulder touches were somehow supposed to buck me up. Or it was all in my head. Hard to tell really.

And then it was a new day. The water was a little rougher and I was reading a new book, also good: Beautiful Ruins. This day was definitely more packed as far as folks, which made sense given the fact it was now a Friday on Labor Day weekend.

I worried after hearing stories all summer about these massive dolphin deaths in the Atlantic that I wouldn't see any on this trip. Luckily that wasn't the case. One of the positive things of being on a beach with other people, some of whom are children, is that I could focus on reading my book with the knowledge that if there were dolphins to be sighted, the parents would call out to their kids loudly enough for me to to into zoom photo action. As always, it was neater really to actually just watch their fins skim the water's surface than to try and photograph it. Really neat. Though I still haven't seen another one jump out of the water like I did quite a few years back.

Looking toward the main beach/bath house area.

Egg Sandwich Made Over an Open Fire

At some point in the days leading up to this trip, I became mildly fixated with the idea of cooking myself breakfast over an open fire. Nothing too taxing. No hash browns or sausages. Just eggs and an English muffin. Due to the slightly damp evening I found the task of gathering kindling to be a bit of a challenge, but I eventually got my fire started and stoked. After that I sprayed a little olive oil type stuff onto my cast iron skillet and placed the muffins on the fire as well. The eggs took a little longer to firm up at first, but after prodding the fire a little it was all fine and dandy.

 As a final step I placed two slices of smoked ham on top and called it a success.

I was inordinately pleased about this. Next time I go camping I'm going to try actually cooking a few more things. Cast iron skillets man, they're the tops.

Tent and Ducks at Cranberry Lake Campground

I bought a sleeping bag in preparation for this trip, as I remembered just how ill prepared and cold that one night's sleep was back in 2009. So now my tent is totally tricked out with air mattress, sleeping bag and foyer. This is what it looked like on Monday morning.

That morning one of the lakeside sites was unoccupied, so I walked down and perched on a rock and interacted with some ducks. Interacted isn't quite the word. I sat on a rock with my feet in the water and the ducks paid me no mind, neither in terms of fear or curiosity.

I liked the secret bit of blue they had going on in their tail feathers. I wonder what purpose it serves.

Salmon and Salads on the First Evening at Silver Lake

The morning after LW's birthday festivities found me a bit worse for wear, but still capable of generally pulling myself together and getting on the road so that I would make it to Cranberry Lake to meet up with M. and A. and A.'s extended family. This will be the third year I have been lucky enough to meet up with this family for their annual reunion. The first year I stayed in the main activity house, owned by A.'s uncle and aunt, B. and W.  Last year M. and A. rented a cabin also on Silver Lake, and that is where I stayed as well. This time around I thought I would revisit the campground at which M. and I spent one night after our epic Crystal Lake adventure. So, when I first got to the booming town of Cranberry Lake, I drove on by the main G. family hub and drove another three or five miles to the Cranberry Lake State Campground. I had looked at the campground website a few times in the weeks leading up to the trip, thinking about reserving a spot. But I never actually got around to it, so I first drove a good number of the loops with a list of campsites that were free. All the sites directly facing the lake were taken, but there were a few very close by that I found appealing. Once I found and paid for my specific site, I set up my tent while there was still light to do it by. Then, and only then, did I get back into the car and go on over to G. family central. Preparations for that night's dinner were already under way. Soon enough there were all sorts of salads on a table while salmon was getting cooked. Below, behold.

I hadn't seen M. since our weekend in March with the Modo Mio and Sampan meals. And I probably hadn't seen A. or his parents or brother since ringing in the new year together. It was nice to see them all. 

Bagels and Beach Scenes

Friday morning I awoke with the warmth. While the days were entirely lovely - not too hot, not too cool - the nights got a wee bit cooler than I had anticipated and the one sheet I brought coupled with jeans and a sweatshirt left to slight shiverings in the night hours, which caused me to close up the tent's inner and outer 'doors' to prevent additional breezes. This, in turn, led to quite a warm wake up once the sun got in the air and began to make its presence known on my nylon fortress. So. In any case. I awoke and was soon off to forage a little breakfast on Route 1. On the way down I had noticed Surf Bagel's large sign and thought that it seemed like a promising place to seek out my first meal of the day. I wasn't wrong. I enjoyed the everything bagel, toasted with scallion cream cheese. It was not revolutionary. It was not the best bagel of my life. But it was beyond serviceable. Or should I say surfbagelable? Ugh.

After breakfast and a little reading in the tent, which I had reopened for better cross ventilation, I began the .75 mile walk to the beach. On the way I noted this cactus flower in full bloom and this wasp-ish thing enjoying its pollen center.

By about the same time the next day this flower had shriveled to nothing. I'm glad I took the time to photograph it while it was in its prime. A sentiment I have about myself from time to time when looking at photos from my college days.

The beach. It was nicely uncrowded and a fair breeze kept me not too terribly hot even with the sun beating down. I must admit that I didn't see others swimming and the waves looked rough, so I did no more than get thigh-high in the waters a few times. In fact, even on the next day when the waves were less ominous I didn't go all the way in. I'm a decent swimmer with a pragmatic view towards the likelihood of shark death, but being alone I had to worry that no one would really be looking out for me in the unlikely event that I began to drown or get carried away in a rip tide (go with the tide, swim parallel to the beach til you get out...right?). This sense of caution prevented me from fully enjoying the swimming element of the beach, but the crisp coldness of the water balanced with long stretches in the sun and breeze...well that wasn't so bad. 

Far, far down you can make out the main bath house where the majority of day visitors pitch their various beach encampments. I was glad to be away from so many throngs of folks.

Unfortunately I can report zero dolphin sightings. Hopefully if I get to return in August they'll be in better moods to entertain me with their existence.

Happy Hour c/o Fin's, Night Times c/o Cape Henlopen State Park

As is my wont, last week marked my first camping excursion to Delaware. I took Thursday and Friday off, which allowed me to get down there without too much terrible beach traffic. I arrived a little after 1 on Thursday, put together my tent, blew up the air mattress, got ice to keep my strange collection of snacks and drinks cool, and then headed on out to try Fin's Happy Hour. I read that sometimes there is a line to get in the door at 4. And I hate lines, so I got there at 3:45 and wouldn't you know it other folks had the same idea and when the door opened exactly at four, it took about six minutes for all the bar stools to be full in the bar area. When it was my turn to order I immediately went with a dozen of the happy hour oysters - six of the Hog Island variety and six of the Chincoteague. This worked out to $5.75 a half dozen. I found the Hog Islands to have that super salty with a touch of fish pucker, while the Chincoteagues were a wee bit mellower with a nice sweet finish. I went with a Troeg's Pale Ale, which was refreshing and not too hoppy.

I I also took advantage of the 1/2 pound of shrimp for something like $5. Nicely steamed and seasoned, I was well satisfied and full within 45 minutes of sitting down. The bar is run well. Bartenders and shuckers communicating effectively, doing the dance of moving around one another without the clatter of a fallen tray or shatter of a breaking glass.

Though I knew I would be hungry again before the night was done, I did feel like I couldn't possibly eat any more so after about an hour or so at Fin's I paid my bill (which came to just a little less than $25 (the bartender comped me one of my two beers, which was a nice thing) and made my way back to the camp. This year I chose a site on one of the outer rings, which meant that I only had neighbors to the left and right of me, and across the road....but that in one direction it was just woods and sand. This allowed me a little more sense of privacy and lovely sky views.

I spent the rest of my evening sipping on beers and reading the third Game of Thrones book. My goodness, once you get sucked in, you're in.

Morning Time

C., Mr Ass and I camped on the site I had reserved while C. and J. and K. camped on their own site and K. had her own site as well. In the morning - hmm there are too many C's and K's. Let's call my friend and pizza/wine C. C.P. and let's call friend from college C. C.S. and college K. K.H. then J. can be J. and K. can be K. I'm glad we worked all of that out. Anywho. In the morning C.P. and I awoke around the same time. She promptly readied herself for a run while I began eying a box of garlic Triscuits for breakfast. Later on Mr Ass also got up and though it wasn't even 9 in the morning, we began a game of Scrabble. Meanwhile C.S. and J. were having a little time in their hammock. I took a photograph or two, but either I focused poorly or they had multiple chins.
The view of my campsite from C.S., K.H. and J.'s perspective.
Mr. Ass played admirably, but was ultimately defeated.
More of the bounty that C.S., K.H., K. and J. picked up at the farm stand.
After C.P. returned from her run, she, Mr. Ass and I got into Mr. Ass's car and drove to Dunkin Donuts. I ordered myself a coffee and since it was my *birthday* I felt I was entitled to eat my first egg sandwich from Dunkin Donuts since my college years. Strange thing-ish: except for one African American teenager, the entire Dunkin Donuts staff was made up of young men and women from some Eastern European country. I don't know which one, but I'm sure of that. It made me wonder if they were there legally, and if they all were somehow related. A mystery that I'm sure someone could easily solve.

Next Stop, Delaware

A while back I was seeing a whole ton of 30th birthday party photos on Facebook, and it got me jealous. Jealous that I hadn't attended the parties in question, and jealous that I never have parties like that for my birthday because it always falls on or around Thanksgiving, and folks are too busy with their families for that kind of shenanigan. So I decided I was going to throw a faux thirtieth birthday weekend for myself...because if I didn't do it, who would? No one. So I let a whole bunch of people know that this was my intention, and where I would be, and invited them to join me. I actually gave them two opportunities, and that Friday was the beginning of that first opportunity. I drove to Philly, unloaded some stuff and reloaded other stuff (tent, lantern, etc) and then drove out to Cape Henlopen. By the time I got there (not as early as I originally intended), C. and J. and K. and K. and C. were already at the campground. Yeah. I wanted my faux 30th to be held at Cape Henlopen because it is magic there. Once I arrived I put up my tent and had a beer. C. and J. and K. went to the beach, but C. also put up her tent and joined me in the glory that is having a drink or so while the sun is still in the sky. We also bought firewood.
Firewood we turned into a fire. Because I hadn't expected to spend the night in the Hudson Valley, my entire timeline was a little wacky and I hadn't really figured out what any of us would eat that first night. Thankfully C. and K. were better planners than myself, and it is really because of them that we had anything to eat at all.
Mr. Ass arrived later in the evening and contributed S'mores and corn. Well, more corn - I hadn't realized that C. and K. et al had already purchased a few ears at a farm stand on Route 1.
These peppers were especially good.
K. was a bit of a grill master.
We all had a good night of fire sitting, hot dog eating, corn gnawing and bourbon drinking. I'm so glad this group of folks all made it.

Rain Drops (Not Falling on my Head)

The days were generally hot, very hot, but a storm did roll through on Sunday. I holed up in my tent and took a nap.