A Favorite Hoax

Urbanna,  VA

37 38.16 N 076 34.16 W

Welcome back to Urbanna.  This is one of our favorite places to spend a few relaxing days.  There is no weather window to go outside now through Friday.  We also have to choose whether to go back down the Chesapeake to go outside at Norfolk, or to continue up the Chesapeake and down the Delaware to go outside at Cape May, NJ.  We'll decide in the next few days.

Today we passed the sight of one of my most successful hoaxes ever.  It made me chuckle just to think about it.  I think I wrote about it once before in this blog; but what the heck, it's worth retelling.

A few years ago, we made a date to meet some friends in Urbanna and to take them out for a day sail.  The day before, we sailed up the Rappahonnck to Urbanna.  To get there, one needs to go around red buoy number 6, then head straight for Urbanna.  I remembered the day before setting up a route that this last leg from R6 to Urbanna had a heading of 292 degrees.   

On the day of the sail, one of the guests was Mr. T.  T is a naval officer. In fact he is Commander T.  I won't identify him further lest the men he commands might find this blog.

At the end of the day sail, we were heading back to Urbanna.  Commander T had the helm.  I was up on the forward deck talking to the women.  Commander T shouted out to me, "What heading should we take back to Urbanna Captain?"  I looked out. We were right next to R6.  I knew that Commander T back in the cockpit was lookng at the GPS and that he was testing my seamanship.  I couldn't see the GPS from where I was, but I knew from memory that the heading was 292.  I was certain that the big fat number 292 was on the screen right in front of the Commander's face.

I looked out toward Urbanna.  I said, "Well."  Then I looked up into the sky (which was overcast).  I spun around in a circle looking up.  I spun around again.  "Well," I said, then added a pause, "If I had to guess, I would say head 291."   Commander T's jaw dropped in surprise.

It took all my will power to conceal my mirth.  It doesn't get much sweeter than that.