Tilghman Island: So Close and Yet So Far

Tilghman Island is the Perfect Escape for Sailors Seeking Small Town Charm

As the crow flies (or more correctly as the catboat sails), Tilghman Island is a stone’s throw across the Bay from Annapolis: 12.6 nautical miles from the mouth of the South River. Steer a straight course of 330 degrees; jog around Poplar Island; follow the channel markers (making sure to keep the private green mark that sits in the center of the channel well to port). And you’re across the Bay and tied up at Knapps Narrows Marina in a couple of hours. Faster if your craft makes more than six knots, which I averaged in my 20-foot Mystic 20 catboat.

The Tilghman Island bridge operator
The Knapps Narrows bridge operation room

As close as Tilghman is, it’s a far cry from the hustle and bustle of mainland Maryland or from the trendy Eastern Shore enclaves of Oxford and St. Michaels. And that’s just how the locals like it. “If posh restaurants and frou-frou shops are what you’re after, you’ve come to the wrong town,” says Knapps Narrows Marina’s loquacious dockhand, Joe Bradley. “But if your idea of a good time is watching the watermen head out, nursing a cold one while you eyeball the boats that come and go through the Narrows, or munching on some take-away oyster chowder while you catch the sun dip below the horizon down where Route 33 heads into the water, then you’ve come to the right place.” Tilghman Island waterman Wade Murphy agrees. Wade is one of the few remaining skipjack captains left on the Bay. He takes great delight in showing landlubbers what the life of a Bay waterman is all about as he incorporates local lore and ecological information into the two-hour tours he regularly leads aboard his 130-year old skipjack, Rebecca T. Ruark. “The Chesapeake Bay spins a special kind of magic,” Wade relates. “Making a living out here is a tough life. But it’s a rewarding one. Here, take a look at this,” he says, pulling a crab pot from beneath the surface. “You can tell the females from the males because at this time of year, the girls all are wearing nail polish.” If only life on the mainland were so simple.

The earliest records for Tilghman Island date back to 1659 when it was granted to Seth Foster. Matthew Tilghman purchased the island in 1752. The Tilghman family owned the island for about a century. Entrepreneur James Seth purchased the island for around $25,000 in the 1840s and began selling off tracts of land to farmers and oystermen. Today, Tilghman Island boasts a population of around 850. There are new developments such as Tilghman on Chesapeake which jut out into the Choptank River. And there are a couple of upscale bed and breakfasts. (The Black Walnut Point Inn is perhaps the best known, with rooms starting at $120 per night.) The soul of the town remains rooted in the past. The passage of time is marked by the throaty growl of dozens of diesel engines as they rumble, belch, and fume while carrying their watermen masters out to the Bay for another day of hoping beyond hope that “This is the day the tide will turn, and we’ll see oyster and fish yields like we used to.”

Set to the tempo of a blaring klaxon horn that announces yet another Knapps Narrows Bridge Opening, Tilghman moves to its own unique vibe. The bascule bridge, built in 1998, is arguably the busiest bridge in the United States. (The 60-year-old previous bridge was barged 20 miles to St. Michaels, where it serves as a steel sentinel to the entrance of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum.) On a good day, the bridge opens and closes around 50 times. Annually, the bridge averages 12-15,000 openings a year. Each is accompanied by the blare of the klaxon which echoes up and down the waterway each time the bridge tender readies the mechanisms to lower the traffic gates and open the bridge for one of the more than 20,000 vessels that find Knapps Narrows a convenient and time-saving link between the Chesapeake Bay and Choptank River. A dedicated team of private contractors (each of whom pulls a 12-hour shift for an hourly wage that would make that of a Walmart greeter seem princely) mans the bridge day and night, 365 days a year. The bridge opens on demand. Rain. Sleet. Snow. Or dark of night. A fact I became aware of at 2 a.m. when the klaxon sounded yet another passage through the span, rousing me from a deep sleep brought on by a surfeit of good boat grub and grog.

Brian Souder is one of the bridge tenders. A retired architect, he loves his job and finds it a welcome respite from mowing the lawn and/or tending to his boats at home. A stack of first-run movies sits next to the big-screen television set in thespacious 200-square foot office. His guitar rests against the leg of well-worn playpen sofa. A pair of binoculars sits next to a clipboard, on which each passage is meticulously recorded. The control panel glows with red and green buttons. “I call this my window on the world,” Brian says, looking up at the waterway to check for approaching vessels. “You see all kinds from this perch: people who know the procedure and people who don’t. Some boaters don’t have sense enough to come out of the rain. No radio. No horn. No way to make contact. We get some big Navy training vessels through here, and the occasional mega-yacht. The story goes one of our bridge tenders was “flashed” by a bevy of beauties who wanted to thank him for the opening. My lips are sealed.” A sailboat approached, headed out to the Bay. “Time to go to work,” says Brian four hours into his 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift. It promised to be a busy day at the bridge. That’s how he likes it.

Accommodations on Tilghman Island are diverse. In addition to a nice little basin accessible by shallow-draft vessels that is perfect for anchoring out, boaters have three quality marinas from which to choose: Knapps Narrows Marina and Inn, Lowe’s Wharf Marina, and the Tilghman Island Inn. All offer transient slips with a host of Eastern Shore hospitality and a raft of amenities including bicycle and kayak rentals and plenty of local advice. In selecting a marina, it is a good idea to inquire about boat traffic and wakes. If you can get situated behind a breakwater, so much the better. Joe at Knapps Narrows Marina moved me to a spot inside, near the pool and bathrooms after he sized up my craft and reckoned I’d be rocking all night long if he put me along the outside dock. A $5 tip brought a smile to his face, but I got the impression that his help and advice were free to anyone, anytime.

Tilghman Island doesn’t lack for dining options. There’s the venerable Harrison’s Chesapeake House whose motto is “No apologies. Lots of butter.” Mike & Eric’s Bay Hundred Restaurant, recently relocated, still serves the same menu of eclectic delicacies that made it worth a drive from the mainland. Character’s Bridge Restaurant offers a bird’s eye view of the comings and goings through this busy waterway. Try the crab dip and calamari. For lighter fare, there’s the Two if by Sea Restaurant, the Country Store for a nice wine selection and killer oyster stew, and Chessie 2 Go, a sandwich shop with a decidedly fishy orientation. All of these establishments are a short walk or bike ride down Highway 33 which runs from the bridge to the end of the island.

The Tilghman Island website has links to all the attractions and recreational activities. There’s sailing on Wade’s Rebecca T. Ruark or a sunset cruise on the 80-year-old, 45-foot wooden yacht Lady Patty. You may fish on the Bay with any number of qualified charter operations. I recommend the Tilghman Waterman’s Museum, soon to move to new digs down theroad, and Crawford’s Nautical Books, packed with more than 12,000 books covering all categories watery. When visiting off-season, be sure to check shop and museum days of operation.

Everyone I visited with was most accommodating and eager to share the island with mariners and landlubbers alike. My stay on Tilghman was short-lived. Only one night. But as I motored out the channel and set sail for home, I felt as if I was leaving an old friend. Next time, I’ll bring my wife. She’ll opt, I’m sure, for an air conditioned room. I might join her. Or I might not. The reassuring bleating of the bridge’s klaxon horn thundering through the open hatch of a small boat is a Tilghman Island experience not to be missed. Visit tilghmanisland.com

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