August 2008: A trip report.
James Island was once a very sizable island, in fact a peninsula on
the south shore of the Little Choptank River. However, with falling sea
levels—yes I do mean falling sea levels, since it was a sandbar formed
when sea levels were much higher—it has eroded into three islands that
will probably disappear in my lifetime. You'll not find a description of
James Island in any guidebook and little on the Internet. I spotted it
on Google Earth as a lonesome spot with potential, researched on the
Internet that the owner doesn't mind visitation by low impact users, and
stopped by briefly on a trip a year earlier, while passing from
Smith Island to St. Michael's. What we discovered was one of the nicest
little desert islands on the Chesapeake Bay. The east side of the center
island forms a beautiful sandy crescent, protected from all but east
winds. From any other direction doesn't look like much.
Thin Water. Though we spent the night, 3 to 4-foot depths extend for about 1/2-mile.
We arrived mid-afternoon, anchored near the shore and next to two small
powerboats. We walked the length of the island to reacquaint ourselves
with the beach. Jessica explored the tidal pools at the north end. She
then began to lead me through the brush and in the middle of the island…
and within 15 seconds came charging back at me, followed by a cloud of
flies and mosquitoes. Her assault on the interior of the island had been
repulsed.
The rest of the afternoon was spent… well, not really doing anything.
That's an odd choice for an adult like me, who is inherently goal
oriented. Not that I'm a super achiever in business. Not that I'm a
workaholic. But my goal is to go sailing I want to go sailing well. If
the goal is to go rock climbing, I want to climb well. Today my only
planned activity was to relax, and I suppose I did that well. With a
book in hand, bug spray applied to the back of my neck, my boat anchored
30 feet off the beach, and the calm sandy bottom on which to plop my
butt (chest deep in the 80 degree waters of the Bay), I proceeded to
think about very little for the next few hours. I fished a little, but
only tiny croaker and spot were biting.
We settled down for the evening. A passing thunderstorm grazed us,
providing some fresh air but no rain. We watched a Jackie Chan movie on a
portable DVD player. We tried fishing again—I reasoned that if there
were small croaker during the day there might be larger fish at
night—and we cleaned up. One fat fish after another, all over a foot
long. “Fishbites” was the trick, an amazing fake bait. I tossed the
cleanings off the stern, attracting squadrons of smaller fish.
_________________
Visit while you can; these islands will be gone in a generation.
There has also been discussion of converting James Island into a dredge spoil disposal site. The Army Corp of Engineers has the project on
temporary hold.
http://www.chesapeakeboating.net/Media/Quick-Cruises/James-Island-Treasure-Island-Hunting.aspx