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Kidnapped to Tilghman Island (and loving it)!
The call came on a particularly dreary March morning. "I want to kidnap you next Sunday and Monday. Are you free?"
Never one to turn down an invitation to get outta town, I said yes before confirming the caller's identity. "Do I need my tiara?" I asked my friend. "Nope, the usual [jeans] will do just fine."
A week later, the sun shining for the first time in weeks, we crossed the Bay Bridge to the Eastern Shore and joined the locals at Angler's in Grasonville. Fortified with bacon, eggs and home fries (manna when prepared by someone else), we headed east again.
We stopped in St. Michael's on what was shaping up to be a 60-degree day and ambled down Mill Street to the creek behind the Crab Claw. There we watched rosy-cheeked children feed cracked corn to some obese tundra swans. Leaving them to their gluttony, we browsed the shops on Talbot Street for an hour or so before resuming the drive south. About 15 minutes later, past fields of honking Canadian geese and roads ribboning to the water, the drawbridge to Tilghman Island came into view.
It felt strange driving over the drawbridge, accustomed as we were to navigating a sailboat through the shallow, winding channel known as Knapp's Narrows. I could feel my pulse slowing, as if the troubles of the world were barred from crossing with us.
That Tilghman is surrounded by water--Knapp's to the north, the Chesapeake to the west and south, Harris Creek to the east--determines its character and laid-back charm. Third and fourth generations of several families still live here and make their livings from the Bay. Seafood-dredging and fishing--processing and wholesaling oysters, crabs, clams and fin fish--are as integral to Tilghman, as chocolate is to Hershey, PA. You can hardly walk down a street without crunching oyster shells. Adding to the gentle ambiance, everyone seems to know everyone else and most houses have names not numbers.
We rounded Gibsontown Road at the Tilghman Country Store, evoking Mayberry RFD, and pulled into the Wood Duck Inn. Ours was the only car. I wondered if my abductor had erred and the inn was closed.
 | | Mac Bogert | | The Foxy Lady on its way to dredge for oysters. |
Kimberly Bushey, who with husband Jeff, owns and runs the inn, met us at the door with a broad smile and showed us around. The parlor, inviting and warm with family and nautical photos and antiques, seemed to wrap its arms around us. Atop the baby grand, two pictures of the Bushey's grandmothers--alive and still kicking at 95 and 100, respectively--drew my attention. Also drawing my attention, and approval, was the lack of clutter. I've often wondered why so many inns go overboard with artificial flowers and bric-a-brac. The Busheys, veterans of the corporate hospitality industry, must have graduated from the "less is more" school of decorating. Their restraint in furnishing the Wood Duck is refreshing.
My kidnapper had done well. Our "Dogwood Room" was light and airy, with blue-and-white-striped wallpaper and windows on three walls. Since the other five rooms were unoccupied-a rarity at the Wood Duck between April and November-we did our share of snooping. All rooms are immaculate, attractively and comfortably furnished. All have private baths. From all but one you see water. A separate cottage is available for small groups. The Wood Duck welcomes kids 14 and older. Those with young children can find lodging at other B & Bs and motels on the island.
In T-shirts and shorts, we joined the Bushey's leashed (leashed so he wouldn't lick us to death) chocolate lab, Mulligan, in the yard backing onto Dogwood Harbor, an actual working harbor. We looked past the gazebo and across the sweeping lawn to the Rebecca T. Ruark. Built in 1886, the oldest skipjack on the Bay docks here when Capt. Wade Murphy Jr., is not dredging, ferrying visitors on cruises or piloting fishing charters.
In need of a mid-afternoon pick-me-up, we moseyed up the street to the Tilghman Country Store which sells everything from carry-out and snacks to lottery tickets and beer. We left with ice cream, pretzels, chips and soft drinks-and change from $6. Try that in Annapolis or Baltimore.
Disappointed to find Crawford's Nautical Books closed, we vowed to return in season to the shop that sells new, used and rare books, weekends only, April through December.
With cameras and field glasses, we drove to the seawall at Black Walnut Point where we inhaled the magnificent panorama of water. We joined two other birders and enjoyed the passing show of geese, ducks and cormorants. The piece de resistance of the afternoon: I spied my first bald-headed eagle. I was getting into this kidnapping business in a big way.
Back at the Wood Duck, Kim asked us what time we'd like breakfast Monday, then left for the day (the Busheys live offsite). We could hardly believe our good fortune. We had the run of the place, could be guests and innkeepers for 15 hours.
 | | Mac Bogert | | A breakfast masterpiece, complete with beet spaghetti |
Sunday night I felt like one of the overfed swans in St. Michael's after scarfing a country-style dinner of raw oysters, fried chicken, crab cakes and sides of vegetables and potatoes at Harrison's Chesapeake House, a family-owned and -operated restaurant and inn for more years than I can count.
I collapsed into bed. No snoring neighbors, slamming doors or footfalls. The quiet was music to my ears.
The next morning a rooster provided the wake-up call. We took a walk then had coffee in the sitting room while waiting for Jeff to weave his magic in the kitchen. A hotel chef for 11 years, he prepared us a country omelet filled with fresh asparagus, smoked bacon, brie, and bit of black truffle oil, garnished with beet spaghetti. Fresh fruit topped with citrus poppyseed yogurt, juice, croissants, jam and plenty of piping hot java rounded out breakfast (and us). Sticklers for detail, the Busheys record what they serve guests, so as not to repeat.
On weekends in season, Jeff will prepare a fixed-price ($57), four-course dinner for guests who've given him enough notice. He'll do the same for groups of six to eight on other nights, by special arrangement. A typical entree, served on April Cornell linens in the traditional dining room, might consist of roasted duck breast, French lentils flavored with bacon, braised turnips and savoy cabbage. The menus change seasonally, and also at the chef's whim.
In warm weather there's plenty to do on Tilghman. Fishing, kayaking, biking and old-fashioned walking are a few ways visitors burn calories. Fishing and cruising charters abound. A handful of antiques and consignment shops provide entertainment for more sedentary types.
 | | Mac Bogert | | An afternoon breeze stirs native grasses at Black Walnut Point. |
I probably shouldn't admit it, but I was so relaxed when we left, I didn't know what day it was. "When will you kidnap me again?" I asked on the drive home.
He laughed. "It's your turn."
ADDITIONAL RESOURCES:
General information: www.tilghmanisland.com.
Chesapeake Wood Duck Inn: www.woodduckinn.com or 800-956-2070
Tilghman Country Store (open daily): 410-886-2130
Harrison's: www.chesapeakehouse.com or 410-886-2121
Rebecca T. Ruark: www.skipjack.org or 410-886-2126
Crawford's Nautical Books: bookbank@bluecrab.org or 410-886-2230
DIRECTIONS:
Route 50 East past Annapolis, continue over the Bay Bridge, continue on Route 50 East (take 50 toward Ocean City at 50/301 split) to 322/Easton Parkway, then 33/St. Michael's Drive through St. Michael's, left at Tilghman Island Road (a continuation of 33). Proceed another 12 miles.
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Beth Rubin is the author of the award-winning novel,Split Ends, Frommer's Washington, D.C. With Kids, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Washington, D.C. and Washington, D.C. For Dummies, as well as scores of travel features. (For more, go to: www.bethrubinauthor.com.)
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