1 Love it or hate it, the region was forever changed by the William Preston Lane, Jr., Memorial Bridge, aka the Bay Bridge, upon its completion in 1952. On its opening day, July 30, a throng of 20,000 came to see then-Gov. Theodore McKeldin (and Francis the Talking Mule) lead a caravan across what he called “the most outstanding single accomplishment that Maryland has ever undertaken.”

Its 4.35-mile length made it the third longest bridge in the world and the longest continuous-over-water steel structure. Traffic always exceeded expectations, spawning a three-lane westbound span in 1973. Today, as annual traffic nears 25 million cars (predicted to increase by 40 percent in twenty years), old ideas, including a return to ferries or trains—or another new span—are being floated by planners and politicians. Still, since that momentous day in 1952, the Eastern Shore has never been the same.—J.S.

2 Just the sight of orange glass crab dishes makes our mouths water. These fifties icons, which graced many a grandmother’s table, were usually vessels for golden crab imperial. Now they’re an eBay staple, though not rare enough to go for more than around twenty dollars. If only we could find ours!—K.H.E.

3 How many ways are there to prepare an oyster? Eat, Drink and be Merry in Maryland, Frederick Philip Stieff’s classic anthology of Maryland recipes, lists twenty-one, including raw, fricasseed, panned, baked, pickled (!), in a loaf, in stew, in pie, with ham on toast, and in a cocktail. Oysters, in fact, have their own chapter in the cookbook, a single-ingredient honor shared only with terrapin and ham. (Take that, crabs!)—M.Z.

4 A debate has raged for years as to whether Newport or Annapolis is America’s sailing capital. Annapolis’s United States Sailboat Show seals the deal for us. The “boat show” is the world’s largest of its kind—and one of the only still privately owned. Its been going strong down at the City Dock since 1970, attracting 50,000 visitors, with more than 600 sailboats for sale. The sister powerboat show the following week offers twice as many boats to ogle.—E.B.W.

5 So what if its waters are occasionally so contaminated with bacteria that you can’t safely swim off its beaches, or that, when the wind blows just right, diesel truck fumes waft off the Bay Bridge? Sandy Point State Park has been the site of some of the Bay’s best festivals, celebrating everything from Mid-Atlantic wines to seafood to the blues. It’s also a great spot to go fishing, launch a boat, or spot waterfowl—and so much better than private balconies hogging all the great views of the Bay.—J.S.

6 It was the local Indians who created lacrosse, with hand-carved wood sticks and rawhide strings. Now it’s the darling of prep school and college jocks everywhere (even if they are taking the off-the-field antics a bit far). If there were ever a Chesapeake sport, this is it.—K.H.E.

7 For many, eating crabs without Old Bay is as unthinkable as peanut butter without jelly. But most people don’t know that this Chesapeake classic was created by a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, Gustav Brunn. Owned by McCormick Spice Co. these days, Old Bay has expanded beyond the Chesapeake into the nation’s kitchens. Need proof? Witness the host of recipes on the company’s website suggested by people from New Jersey to Indiana. Indiana? Can you even get crabs there?—J.S.

8 For one weekend every winter over the last sixty years, Dorchester County’s muskrats fear for their lives. The National Muskrat Skinning Championship, the highlight of the National Outdoor Show, is a combination Olympic event and rodent apocalypse, in which contestants, from pre-teens to senior citizens, use their sharpest wits—and knives—in a battle for skinning supremacy. But the Outdoor Show is not all blood and fur. There’s a duck-calling contest, outdoor-related goods a-plenty, and the crowning of Miss Outdoors. In a place where golf course resorts are threatening to infringe on well-practiced ways of life, the National Outdoor Show gives us a strange sense of comfort. Of course, the muskrats would probably disagree…—J.S.

9 Long a landmark on the way to the beach, Holly’s was founded in Grasonville in 1955 by Thomas and Mary Ewing. Ewing’s daughter-in-law, Kay Ewing Maloney, still runs the place, and hasn’t changed the restaurant much since she took over in 1987. The green-and-white tile floor, wood-paneling, and paper placemats remain familiar sights, and all the food is still made on the premises, including the vegetable crab soup, touted as “the best on the Eastern Shore.”—J.S.

10 Carson City ain’t got nothing on Frontier Town. With its very own contingent of ruthless outlaws,  sheriffs sporting white hats, and sassy can-can girls, Frontier Town has been thrilling kids who love all things western since 1959. Daily stage coach robberies, shoot-outs at the OK Corral, and bank robberies make its dusty streets just as exciting as the real Wild West.—K.B.

11 It’s hard to believe that a fourteen-mile-long ditch could change the course of history and commerce. Yet when the C&D Canal opened in 1824, it did just that. After almost a century of planning, the canal finally connected the Delaware River and the Chesapeake Bay with the Port of Baltimore. The waterway, which shaved 300 nautical miles from the previous route around the peninsula, is now the second busiest canal in the country, and delivers more than 40 percent of Baltimore’s shipping traffic.—K.H.E.

12 Blue crabs aside, Southern Maryland owns the bragging rights on another regional delicacy: stuffed ham. Natives of Charles and Calvert counties, and particularly St. Mary’s, have been cooking up ham filled with a mixture of tangy greens since the early seventeenth century. Ham lore has it that some thrifty cook once decided to stuff the boneless cavity of a ham hock with kale, cabbage, onions, and spices, and—voilà—a Bay classic was born.—J.S.

13 The Little Crab House that Could It’s hard to believe that Phillips Restaurant, that of crab cake fame, of Tudor-style timbers and long waits in line, is celebrating its fiftieth birthday. Yet it was fifty years ago that Brice and Shirley Phillips moved their family to Ocean City and opened their first restaurant—a one-room carryout on 21st Street—as a way to sell the leftover crabs from their Hooper’s Island packing house. (Heck, it’s even harder to believe that there could ever be the problem of too many crabs).

As the business grew, the Phillips’s added dining room after dining room to the original structure. During the season, recalls Joanna Phillips, granddaughter of Brice and Shirley (and the company’s marketing manager), the family would live in rooms above the restaurant, and the cooks and wait staff had their own bunk rooms. (Later, dorms would be added.) “All of us, my cousins, my brother and I, started out working there,” Joanna says of her own stint in the mid 1980s.

Today, the Phillips’ empire includes nine restaurants in four states plus D.C., and a seafood company that handles between twelve and fourteen million pounds of crabmeat—mostly imported from Asia—per year. (Phillips’ plant in Locust Point alone handles two million pounds of crabmeat, for crab cakes from Shirley Phillips’ original recipe.) But while the black cans of Phillips’ crabmeat may be ubiquitous, it’s the 21st Street restaurant that captures the true charm of the family endeavor. Says granddaughter Joanna with pride: “Phillips is still a
destination in Ocean City. It’s still considered an event for a lot of people who grew up going there on vacation.”—M.Z.

14 There are so many reasons why Chick n’ Ruth’s Delly made this list: It’s one of the oldest, continuously run businesses in downtown Annapolis (founded in 1965 by Chick and Ruth Levitt); you can order the sandwiches by name (We’ll always think of former Maryland Governor Marvin Mandel as chopped liver and corned beef) the staff leads the Pledge of Allegiance every morning; the pickles are free. The list could go on, but above all, it’s the tasty food and friendly service that keeps us—and thousands of other hungry diners—coming back.—J.S.

15 It takes about one year for an oyster to mature but less than two seconds to down the poor thing. We don’t know who actually invented the oyster shooter, but it’s pure brilliance in its simplicity: one fat Chesapeake bivalve swimming in a shot glass of cocktail sauce followed by a pop of cold beer. We’ll drink to that.—J.S.

16 Our own “ol’ blue eyes,” baseball legend Cal Ripken thrilled the world with a host of records, including his ironman stint. But hometown fans have long known—and loved—the family Ripken. From dad, Cal, Sr., so familiar over almost four decades as a line coach and later Orioles’ manager, to brother Billy, also a major leaguer and O’s alum; even mom Vi urging them all on.

But they’re not resting on their laurels. After Cal started up the Aberdeen Ironbirds, and built The Ripken Baseball Complex, the brothers are continuing their father’s legacy with the Ripken Youth Baseball Academy, housed at the Aberdeen site, hosting an annual youth World Series as well as camps and programs throughout the year. The cool thing is that the kids will play in a miniature Camden Yards, fittingly named for Cal, Sr.—K.H.E.

17 Tucked into a nondescript business park in Stevensville, Md., lies an unusual factory that makes beautiful music. World-class musicians, from Carlos Santana to Dave Matthews, have made their way to Paul Reed Smith for his quality guitars, many with distinctive birds inlaid between the frets. Smith started making custom guitars in Annapolis back in his college days; thirty-plus years later, more than 200 employees are cranking out thousands of instruments per year. They’ve just broken ground on an expansion that will quadruple the size of the factory, with room for a museum. Rock on!—K.H.E.

18 Way before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat, a little lady from Bucktown, Md., made huge strides for her African-American compatriots. Born into slavery around 1820 on a Dorchester County estate, Harriet Tubman stole away to Philadelphia to establish her own freedom in the 1840s. During her lifetime, the brave soul personally saved more than 300 other slaves, and helped to spirit thousands more north as a conductor on the Underground Railroad. Though she settled and died (in her nineties) in Auburn, N.Y., her roots in our region are strong. Her birthplace is marked at the Brodess Plantation, just south of Cambridge.—K.H.E.

19 By their very nature, remote and steeped in tradition, Smith and Tangier islands have long captured the imaginations of outsiders, drawn to the real Chesapeake working life tradition: the crabbing, oystering, and fishing that define the local inhabitants’ livelihood. Low tide reveals that the two islands were once one. Years of erosion finally split them, and their individual characters took over. Distinct accents persist on the two islands, which now exist in separate states. Tangier welcomes an increasing number of visitors, who come by boat to enjoy its long, narrow, and friendly village; Smith also owes much of its economy to tourists who explore its three small towns and sample its famous cakes. The marshlands of both draw flocks of birders, and the unique settings have inspired reams of writer, photographers, and painters.—K.H.E.

20 They began as pick-up races among those working on the dugouts, but someone was smart enough to organize log canoe races (left) in St. Michaels in 1840, where a rivalry grew and boats were soon made just for the competition. The Chesapeake Bay Log Sailing Canoe Association was born in 1933. And, today, many still race—and flip—their over-canvassed canoes into sea nettles every weekend without ever letting go of their Bud.—E.B.W.

21 We know the deep roots of the South Pacific and Hawaii from his major epics. But when James Michener moved to St. Michaels to pen Chesapeake in the late seventies, he met with a welcome and a rich subject. And he left us with a sweeping narrative that’s a fine primer on Eastern Shore lore. But we still wonder, who was that first Indian to actually bite into a blue crab?—K.H.E.

22 Elkton has a “quickie wedding tradition” that rivals Sin City’s matrimonial morals. Prior to 1938, the town drew couples from all over to its slew of chapels ready to hitch up folks at the drop of a hat (no license required). Now the annual National Marriage Day, held each June, celebrates the tradition. A mere $40 gets you champagne, cake, and a carriage ride through town. (You’ll need another $30 for a license.) Oh, and hearty congratulations for a lovely future.—K.H.E.

23 The smoke rising over Route 404 is a telltale sign that the fellas of the Bridgeville Kiwanis Club are back at the grills, cooking
up great barbecued chicken. Hordes heading to the beach have been stopping at the roadside stand since the sixties. Thirty-plus members of the local charity organization volunteer as cooks, and, says barbecue chairman Dan Vanderwende, all the profits (upwards of $2 million over the last forty-five years) go back to the community for scholarships, emergency loans, and the like.—K.H.E.

24 Okay, so a rockfish is really a striped bass, but who cares? Marylanders know it as rock, so rockfish it will be. As legend goes, the fish was once so plentiful near Rock Hall that folks said they would jump into your boat; no need to toss a line. Then an over-fishing scare caused a four-year-long moratorium in the eighties. Now the delicious flaky filets grace Chesapeake tables once again. Thank heavens!—M.Z.

25 They once dotted the fields of Southern Maryland and beyond, spacious wood-frame barns that opened to reveal the hanging sheaths of tobacco drying within. But these iconic tobacco barns have become an endangered Chesapeake landmark, victims of development and smoking backlash. To the rescue is the Southern Maryland Tobacco Barns Preservation Initiative, which is working in Anne Arundel, Prince George’s, Calvert, Charles, and St. Mary’s counties to preserve these symbols of our rural heritage.—K.B.

26 The crab may be our regional symbol, but the Chesapeake Bay Retriever is surely our pet of choice. As the story goes, the breed was spawned from Newfie pups, Sailor and Canton, rescued from a sinking English ship in 1807 by a Maryland captain. This powerful and efficient retriever was born to do the undesirable job of finding and returning downed fowl, made possible by a coat with a double layer of fur: thick on top for warmth, oily underneath to keep dry. The first time a Chesapeake was shown at a Kennel Club show, it was suggested that they be dunked in ice water so the judges did not miss the purpose of such a frizzy, oily coat.—E.B.W.

27 Master Photographers
Of all the people who ever pointed a camera at our region, these two photographers were undoubtedly the most skilled, prolific, and thoughtful at capturing what makes the Chesapeake region unique. A. Aubrey Bodine, the longtime photographer for the Sunpapers, specialized in “pictorial photography,” using the darkroom to manipulate images, pre-computer.  His moody, iconic shots of skipjacks, watermen, and regional landmarks (like Wye Oak, above) are still reprinted frequently in magazines and books. Though Marion E. Warren was born in Montana, he became enmeshed in the region after moving to Annapolis in 1947. Years as an official photographer for the state of Maryland honed his photography skills and provided a treasure trove of images from around the region. The eighty-six-year-old was still signing and selling his prints from the Annapolis Publishing Collection on State Circle when he died this past September. Both are missed, but their images will live forever.—J.S.

28 It was bigger than a circus tent and older than William Donald Schaefer, and we always thought we could lie in its shade forever. When the Wye Oak finally fell during a storm on June 6, 2002, at more than 460 years old, it marked the death of the nation’s largest white oak tree—and the birth of a new industry. In the years since its demise, wood from the tree has been used to make everything from guitars to oyster shucking knives to the governor’s desk. The Giving Tree, indeed.—J.S.

29 There’s just something about bamboo, a grass roof, and mai-tais that make us—and throngs of others—think of summer. Solomons Island Tiki Bar’s annual opening in April, which draws more than ten thousand people, signals the start of bathing suit season better than any weatherman could.—J.S.

30 Is it really the world’s largest crab feast? If not, the Annapolis Rotary Crab Feast is hard to beat. This year, on its sixty-first anniversary, Rotarians ordered up 390 bushels of crabs, 3,400 ears of corn, 130 gallons of crab soup, 1,800 hot dogs, 150 pounds of beef barbecue, and hundreds of gallons of soft drinks and beer for the 2,400 people who attended the annual summer event, held at Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium. All funds raised by the event are donated to local charities—more than $47,000 in 2005.—M.Z.

31 Maryland’s Eastern Shore has a justified reputation for tasty fried chicken, but perhaps the tastiest of all can be found just over the state border, in Melfa, Va. Tammy & Johnny’s, named after owner Ronnie Edward’s son and daughter, has been serving up perfect, amazingly greaseless fried chicken since 1967. How sublime is this bird? Just ask the recently unemployed folks at the nearby KFC and Popeye’s, both of which couldn’t compete with T&J’s golden-fried goodness.—J.S.

32 In 1774, citizens of Chestertown followed the Bostonians’ lead and chucked their own tea stash, that on the brigantine Geddes, into the Chester River and resolved to be done with the tea trade. In 1968, the local residents began commemorating the event with what is now known as the Chestertown Tea Party Festival, complete with a re-enacted tea dump, a colonial parade, crafts, English country dancing, and appearances by Ben Franklin and George Washington.—M.Z.

33 Discover what millions of Canada and snow geese already know: Blackwater Wildlife Refuge’s 27,000 acres of water, marsh, and woodlands outside of Cambridge, Md., is a national treasure. The refuge, with its prime location on the Atlantic Flyway, is an important waterfowl sanctuary.
New kayak paddling trails through the marsh, plus miles of hiking trails, have made this a refuge for nature lovers as well, hoping to spy a falcon or bald eagle. A recent fight has ensued over proposed development near the refuge, which could harm one of the Eastern Shore’s most well-loved nature spots.—K.H.E.

34 You don’t often see crazy guys (and gals) galloping at breakneck speed (often in suits of armor) thrusting a ten-foot spike into a little metal ring. But jousting is Maryland’s state sport, with tournaments taking place throughout the region, most regally at Crownsville’s annual Renaissance Festival.—K.H.E.

35 When the Ark and the Dove landed on these southern Maryland shores in 1634, they brought Catholic Englishmen in search of religious freedom. Today, reenactments, a replica of the Dove (which sails the Chesapeake on goodwill missions), and numerous restored seventeenth-century buildings provide living history at its best in St. Mary’s City.—K.H.E.

36 The menu at hundreds of bull & oyster roasts is pretty much the same no matter the sponsor, be it the Mid-Atlantic German Shepherd Rescue, the Baltimore County Bar Association, or the Air Conditioning Contractors of America. There are oysters prepared every imaginable way, juicy pit beef piled high on rolls, beer, and the always puzzling term “set-ups,” (those mixers to dilute your supplied spirits), accompanied by salads, sides, and local homemade desserts. We’re not sure where or even how this local tradition started, but look to your neighborhood firehouse or not so fancy banquet hall every fall, and you’re sure to find a party centered around this down-home version of surf and turf.—M.Z.

37 Looking for a mahogany mantelpiece? Or maybe the gas tank to a 1924 Model T Ford? You’ll likely find both at Dixon’s Auction in Crumpton, Md. Since 1963, the weekly auction has drawn everyone from New York antiques dealers sniffing out a bargain to local collectors in search of the perfect thingamagig. The auction (really three separate auctions occurring simultaneously) takes place rain or shine, year-round, every Wednesday except Christmas. The action starts at 9 a.m. and continues until everything is going…going…gone.—J.S.

38 As you’re driving own Route 13 in Olney, you can’t miss Turner Sculpture, a striking gallery/studio/ foundry with giant Bay creatures outside. In less than twenty-five years, the father and son team of Bill and David Turner have forged reputations as Chesapeake sculpting icons. And they’ve done it with the emblematic natural symbols of their surroundings: blue heron, ducks, and geese, all frozen in bronze.—K.H.E.

39 Starring in 200 of his own TV commercials, Frank Perdue convinced us that “It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken,” and thanks to those trustworthy, forlorn blue eyes, we believed him.

The Salisbury native’s father, Arthur, started Perdue Farms in 1920, with Frank taking the helm in 1952, transforming it into the nation’s third largest chicken company. His success came from his decision to peddle his poultry in New York as well as his pioneering vision to advertise on TV, where—with a heavy does of humor and eerie physical resemblance to a chicken—he and his birds became a household name.—K.B.

40 The man spent more than five decades in public service, often capturing the media’s attention with his devil-may-care attitude. But, in the end, it was political correctness rather than politics that cost William Donald Schaefer his latest bid for state office. Marylanders have much to thank him for, including championing Oriole Park at Camden Yards and the National Aquarium in Baltimore. The National Organization of Women will thank him for leaving town.—J.S.

41 Even those who can’t bear to pick it agree that the blue crab is one of the Bay’s most versatile and tastiest gourmet treats: You can steam it, broil it, or fry it up in a pan. You can roll it into a ball, flatten it into a patty, or crack it open directly from the shell. And it complements more recipes than you can shake a chicken neck at, from casseroles to pasta dishes to cold salads. It’s the culinary glue that has been bringing Chesapeake families together at summertime feasts for
centuries.—K.B.

42 At the turn of the nineteenth century, more than forty screwpile lighthouses graced the Bay. Today, we are down to four, with only one in its original rocky spot (Thomas Point Shoal, 1875). The unique design came from an Irish engineer, Alexander Mitchell, who created it as an inexpensive alternative to the straight towers, more suited to sandy and muddy bottoms. The name comes from its central corkscrew-like pile, which is set first and then surrounded by six or eight perimeter piles that are screwed in place, eliminating the need for underwater masonry.—E.B.W.

43 Annie Oakley—and her gun—made a huge splash around the world as part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, along with her famous co-entertainers Bill Cody and vaudeville marksman—and future husband—Frank Butler. Annie and Frank built a retirement home outside of Cambridge—it’s the only surviving residence (now privately owned) of the popular entertainer and suffragette. Local lore has it that she could step out on her specially designed roof to shoot game off the Choptank River.—K.H.E.
44 Any inn that has been going full-tilt boogie for 110 years must have something going for it. Harrison’s combination of country accommodations, spectacular water views, and “no apologies, lots of butter” cooking is what keeps everyone coming back to the Tilghman Island eatery. You won’t find veal reductions, but you will get hot crabs, cold beer, and the liveliest deck bar around. Arrive by boat, arrive by car, but don’t arrive on a diet.—E.B.W.

45 The old salts of Annapolis know where to find their turnbuckles and sea boots. Fawcett Boat Supplies has been outfitting boats of all stripes with everything from Honda 4-strokes to Harken sailing equipment for more than a half century. No easy feat for a store with no room to grow and all those chain stores moving into its territory.—E.B.W.

46 Perhaps it plays into the universal childhood “I want a pony” dream, but there is no denying that those stocky, wild ponies living on Assateague Island put neighboring Chincoteague on the map, starting with the first Pony Penning in 1924. The internationally known event continues each July, when the town’s volunteer firemen serve as saltwater cowboys, rounding up the ponies and driving them across the channel for the annual auction. The event inspired Marguerite Henry’s 1947 children’s book, Misty of Chincoteague, which hit the big screen in 1960. (It was filmed right on the island.) Now even strangers of the Eastern Shore of Virginia know that Chincoteague’s “where the ponies swim!”—D.B.

47 For better or for worse, English’s has been the Shore’s favorite family restaurant since 1951. Renowned for its kettle-fried crispy chicken, sweet potato biscuits, and diner atmosphere (heavy on the chrome and red vinyl), English’s was once twenty-two restaurants strong in its heyday. Now, the only eatery in the chain that remains is on 15th Street in Ocean City, where patrons can still find its original comfort food-inspired menu, complete with twenty side dishes. Longing for a piece of the past? English’s devotees can make a pilgrimage to the American Diner Museum in Providence, R.I., where the steel dining box car belonging to the chain’s first restaurant, formerly located in Salisbury, Md., is proudly on display.—K.B.

48 We grew up thinking the “land of pleasant living” in its jingle was somewhere exotic, like along the Great Lakes of Michigan or the wilds of Minnesota. But Natty Boh, officially National Bohemian beer, was our very own, “brewed on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay.” The iconic logo still lives on for a new generation, gracing the Baltimore skyline (even though the beer is brewed in North Carolina by Pabst.)—K.H.E.

49 Saving the Bay Are we saving the Chesapeake Bay or paving it? The answer isn’t always clear or reassuring, but one thing’s certain: There’s no shortage of organizations championing the benefits of making the Bay healthier. Today’s formalized Save the Bay movement began in 1967, with an upstart volunteer group called the Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF). CBF now claims 116,600 members and a staff of more than 160. Not much goes on with the Bay without CBF in a leading role, fighting nearly every environmental fray withinthe vast watershed.

But CBF isn’t the only nonprofit watchdog group out there. The Maryland League of Conservation Voters is small but feisty and keeps a scorecard on politicians’ environmental records. The Alliance for the Chesapeake Bay distributes the best publication about what’s happening around the Chesapeake. The 1000 Friends of Maryland pushes a cleaner Bay as well as safer roads and more affordable housing.

Quasi-government organizations formed to promote Bay restoration include the Chesapeake Bay Program and the Chesapeake Bay Commission. But the movement has its grassroots components as well, from consortia, school groups, Girl and Boy Scout troops, to lone voices preaching the clean water mantra. And the Chesapeake thanks them all.—B.T.

50 Call ‘em damn Yankees or come-heres, but in 1884, Pennsylvanian tycoons William L. Scott and Alexander Cassatt (Mary’s brother) brought a railroad—and prosperity—to the tiny Eastern Shore of Virginia. Connecting the North to the South with a revolutionary idea of floating train cars across the Bay (which continues to this day), the railroad’s tracks were laid down in the center of the rural region, birthing a legion of towns along the way. The shortline lives on as Bay Coast Railroad, a freight and future tourist excursion train, proving that the little railroad that could still can.—D.B.

51 Part Charles Kuralt, part Mark Twain, Scorchy Tawes is one of the Chesapeake’s great storytellers. For twenty-five years, Scorchy (named for the blond color the summertime sun bleached his hair) worked for Salisbury-based WBOC-TV, getting his start in 1975 as the host of the fishing show, “Outdoor Report.” In 1977, the station hired the Crisfield native to write/host his very own Monday night feature, “Scorchy’s Corner,” when he took viewers inside the homes and workplaces of everyday folks, from watermen to coffeeshop owners to chicken farmers, proving the old adage that everyone has a story to tell. He invariably ended the program bidding viewers adieu after another segment spent “wandering this Delmarvalous land.” Tawes retired in 1998 after airing more than 2,000 stories, and now, at the age of eighty-six, spends his time photographing the great outdoors.—K.B. 

52 Larry Albright may well be the arch enemy of every goose, deer, and duck that dare traverse the farmlands of the Eastern Shore. But to hunters, he’s man’s next-best friend. With a full stock of all things camouflage, Albright’s Gun Shop in Easton has been a mecca, since 1982, for serious sportsmen clientele, who range from game wardens to high-powered politicos. And now she-hunters have a haven of their own: In November, Albright’s opens its first women’s store, Albright’s at The Tidewater, in The Tidewater Inn. Looks like the term “shotgun
wedding” just got a whole new meaning.—K.B.

53 Wander the shoreline of Calvert Cliffs, and you step waaay back in time. Consider what has happened here—how the sea carved these magnificent cliffs over 15 million years ago, how creatures known to us only through their bones made Maryland their home. Fossils of more than 600 different species have been found here, including shards of the pig-like peccary, crocodiles, and even mastodons. Sharks’ teeth still litter the sand. What, we wonder when thinking of the nuclear plant nearby, might someone find 15 million years hence?—M.Z.

54 Ever since Maryland’s first steeplechasing event in 1873, it’s been a spring tradition for the local horsey set to pack an elegant tailgate, don woolen hounds-tooth jackets, and cheer on jockeys and their horses, bounding over fences in sprawling farm fields. Among the dozen steeplechase competitions throughout the region, the Marlborough Hunt Races at Roedown Farm in Davidsonville is one of the most popular point-to-point events, drawing thousands each April, rain or shine, to Anne Arundel County’s horse-country tradition.—K.H.E.

55 Skipjack
Hail the skipjack, Maryland’s state boat and member of America’s last commercial sailing fleet. It was cold, hard winter work that these shallow-draft, late-nineteenth-century oyster boats made possible; there were 700 registered in 1880, many sinking to the gunwales from the weight of their catch. In 2006, their numbers stand at a dozen or five (depending on whom you ask), most cruising the waters as floating classrooms and private charters.—E.B.W.

56 Reported sightings of a Nessie-like, ninety-foot sea serpent plying the Chesapeake waters surfaced more than a century ago. (See story on pg. 131.) The creature (or its cousins), dubbed Chessie, was spotted as late as the 1980s, but scientists still can’t verify it’s anything more than a myth.—K.H.E.

57 Sure, Illinois gets to claim Abraham Lincoln, but we get George Washington. President numero uno was born on the shores of Popes Creek on Virginia’s Northern Neck in 1732. His boyhood home is long gone, but at the site’s interpretive center, visitors can still take in the same views that inspired America’s first leader. —J.S.

58 It’s the ultimate mystery meat, an acquired taste typically enjoyed at breakfast, preferably fried up crispy and thin, or thick and chewy, slathered in ketchup. Ralph and Paul Adams founded RAPA Scrapple in 1926, using up assorted pig parts to make a poor staple for tough times. Although it’s been eaten up by Jones Dairy, a conglomerate out of Wisconsin, the company continues its local manufacturing of numerous modern-flavored versions (with bacon, hot and spicy) in Bridgeville, Del. Celebrate the gray meat at the town’s annual scrapple festival each September.—K.H.E.

59 Walk into any crab house on the Bay, and it hits you—that briny freshness of crustaceans coupled with the salty spiciness of Old Bay and a hint of stale beer. In classic joints such as Cantler’s, The Red Roost, The Crab Claw, and many more, pull up to tables wrapped in brown paper like packages ready for the post office, next to generations of families wielding wooden mallets with ease, tapping and cracking and crushing the claws of mediums, jumbos, or colossals. Grandma pulls the apron off a crab. Dad offers up a shard of claw meat to his little daughter. Pitchers of beer disappear. This is summer on the Chesapeake.—M.Z.

60 There are several great oyster festivals along the Bay, but only St. Mary’s County bivalve blowout features the National Oyster Shucking Contest. The St. Mary’s Oyster Festival, held on the third weekend of every October, pits man (and woman) against twenty-four oysters. Whomever shucks them in the fastest time—two minutes forty-one seconds is the record—wins.—J.S.

61 The incomparable Vera Freeman, who stood watch over her namesake restaurant for more than half a century, finally sold her eccentric eatery last year, but her legacy—and the tchotchkes assembled from her travels—still shines at Vera’s White Sands Beach Club and Marina. New owners have spruced the place up and revamped the menu, but its quirky Polynesia-meets-Calvert County vibe remains. Actor Robert Mitchum, who, in the 1960s, famously leapt off his yacht into Vera’s and declared, “Gimme a drink, right away,” would undoubtedly approve.—J.S.

62 Chief Little Owl was erected in 2002 to welcome all who venture into town. The Bethany Beach totem pole, a Nanticoke Indian carved in cedar with the head of an eagle facing north, replaced its 1976 predecessor, Whispering Giant (which decayed). Both were carved and presented to the town by Hungarian sculptor Peter Wolf Toth. It’s one of a series of sixty-seven totems he created to stand in all fifty states and Canadian provinces.—K.H.E.

63 His nautical CV includes tactician on the 1977 America’s Cup on Courageous, ESPN sailing analyst, all-American collegiate sailor, and author. Heck, Gary Jobson’s movie-star looks even earned him a spotlight in a Dewar’s Scotch profile. Annapolis’s Jobson has made a career out of marketing his talents: world-class sailing—and talking. He continues to pack lecture halls across the world with old salts who crave a taste for the kind of back-to-the-wall action that only life on the high seas can bring.—K.B.

64 When seventeen-year-old Kunta Kinte was brought to Annapolis from his native Gambia in 1767, he could never forsee the impact of his legacy. Kinte played a major role in Alex Haley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Roots, which inspired African-Americans throughout North America to research their own genealogies and take pride in their ancestors’ struggles. When the Kunta Kinte-Alex Haley Memorial was completed on Annapolis’s City Dock in 2002, it became the only memorial in the United States to commemorate the actual name and place of arrival of an enslaved African.—J.S.

65 When it comes to freeing the steamed crab’s meat from its shell, no machine has been invented that can compete with a human. So, today’s crab harvests are picked much the same way as they were a century ago, in picking houses that once dotted waterfront Bay towns.
Nimble-fingered crab pickers—traditionally women, because many of the men were out on workboats—sit at metal tables with small knives prying the white meat from the shell. Now, few houses remain, with Latinos taking up the slack from a diminishing African-American workforce. But the rich tradition of that force remains, as they belt out a pantheon of sea shanties and religious songs to pass the tedious hours at the picking table.—B.T.

66 Chowing Down, Downy Ocean
Summer vacation ain’t vacation without french fries, pizza, and saltwater taffy. As luck would have it, our local traditions in these beach food delicacies are strong. Thrasher’s of Ocean City has been at the top of the french-fry heap for more than seventy-five years. Its original boardwalk stand still draws long lines for its potatoes deep fried in peanut oil, best served, as generations know, with a splash of vinegar. Local competitor Boardwalk Fries, founded in 1980 and now a franchise gone nationwide, gives them a run for their money.

Delaware beachgoers have long argued the merits of Nicola vs. Grotto pizza; you were the dedicated citizen of one or the other, never both. Teenager Dominick Pulieri and family members started up a little pizza business named Grotto in 1960, giving out samples on the boardwalk. The family-owned Nicola Pizza came along in Rehoboth Beach in 1971; it’s mostly known for the delicacy known as a Nic-o-boli (rolled-up pockets of pizza deliciousness). We still know families that ship home frozen Nic-o-bolis for winter grazing, but Grotto has edged ahead in popularity, spawning numerous franchises off the beach and into Pennsylvania.

Dolle’s has been serving four generations of candy-craving tourists, creating the original Ocean City saltwater taffy in 1910; its iconic script logo still defines the Rehoboth skyline. And sweet tooths have flocked to Ocean City-based Candy Kitchen, with its familiar orange-and-pink stores dotting Ocean Highway, since its family beginnings in 1937. Sweet.—K.H.E.

67 Assateague has always been in the shadow of Chincoteague’s star. There’s no pony roundup on this end of the island (though there are plenty of ponies); no firemen’s carnival to speak of; no best beloved children’s book evoking its history. Yet Assateague is a natural wonderland that we keep returning to over and over. We love to watch the pelicans dive and the egrets step gingerly around the marshes, to spot sika fawns hiding in the brush, to get close but not too close to the painted ponies, to revel in the bioluminescence of the nighttime surf. And to look north to the growing sprawl of Ocean City and be happy to be so close but yet so far.—M.Z.

68 Gen. Robert E. Lee likely wouldn’t have approved of Yankees poking around his childhood bedroom, but that’s too bad. Luckily, both Northerners and Southerners get to check out Stratford Hall, Lee’s impressive early eighteenth-century boyhood home on Virginia’s Northern Neck. A fine museum and visitors center showcases the history of this storied general and his family home.—J.S.

69 It all started back in 1982 as a sideline business for Lloyd Lewis and his Talbot Street Pier in Ocean City. He opened a tiki bar named M.R. Ducks, playing on the Eastern Shore colloquialism between two hunters in a duck blind. When he followed it up with a T-shirt shop, little did he know the brand would grow into its own empire. Now more than six independent stores sell all manner of M.R. Ducks clothing and accessories. Got your 2006 collectors’ edition T-shirt yet?—K.H.E.

70 Although we think of them as an endangered species (seafood harvests are down, waterfront towns are being taken over by condos and fancy boatyards), the Maryland Watermen’s Association estimates that about 10,000 watermen still live around the Bay. Many only work part-time on the water and others hold on to their commercial licenses in hopes that some day, when there are more oysters and crabs, they’ll return to their workboats.—B.T.

71 It’s one of the few local food traditions that double as a deadly weapon. With the density, size, and shape of a golf ball, the beaten biscuit made its culinary debut on dining room tables throughout the Eastern Shore during the eighteenth century. Constructed of flour, lard, baking powder, salt, sugar, and water, the dough is then flogged with a rolling pin, shaped into a chubby orb, and baked until the color of toasted paper. (Orrell’s, the nation’s sole commercial beaten biscuit business, is located in Wye Mills, Md.) The biscuits’ not-so-heart-smart ingredients were apparent even to our country’s earliest foodies. Wrote Eliza Leslie in her 1857 New Cookery Cookbook, “This is the most laborious of cakes and also the most unwholesome. When living in a town where there are bakers, there is no excuse for making Maryland biscuits. Believe nobody that says they are not unwholesome. Better to live on Indian cakes.”—K.B.

72 For a dose of history all concentrated in one place, few Chesapeake destinations can compete with the eight antebellum James River plantations in Charles City, Va. Presidents William Henry Harrison and John Tyler were born and lived here, and Gen. Robert E. Lee spent much of his boyhood here. But what separates these plantations from ersatz Williamsburg is that many of these homes are still in the same family—and still armed. —J.S.

73 He traveled the world, playing with musicians from Andres Segovia to Stan Getz, but guitarist Charlie Byrd was, at heart, a kid from Tidewater Virginia. Byrd and saxophone player Getz collaborated on 1962’s seminal Jazz Samba, one of the most highly regarded albums of the Bossa Nova era, and recorded more than 100 albums over five decades, many with his brother Joe on bass, two-thirds of the Charlie Byrd Trio. After the brothers moved to the Annapolis area, Main Street’s King of France Tavern became their regular showplace. Charlie died in 1999, but brother Joe still lives on in Edgewater, frequently jazzing up the local music scene.—J.S.

74 Dinner parties during the Victorian era were seldom complete without oysters. And so nineteenth-century hostesses on both coasts demanded ornate tableware to present the beloved bivalves in style. Enter the oyster plate. Today, fancy plates by the likes of Wedgwood, Minton, Haviland/Limoges, and Quimper fetch hundreds of dollars on the regional antique circuit.—K.B.

75 As with so many other great traditions, the Maritime Republic of Eastport was founded over some beers at a Super Bowl party in 1998. Feisty locals banded together with a flag and an independent attitude when repairs to the Eastport drawbridge threatened to cut them off from hoity-toity neighbor Annapolis; talk of secession followed.  Continuing under the slogan “We Like It This Way,” the group holds parties, tugs of war, and assorted fun gatherings throughout the year, with proceeds going to everything from local starving musicians to reading programs and the SPCA.—K.H.E.

76 Folks have been heading to the quiet banks of Carter’s Creek in Irvington, Va., since 1947 for the ideal family-oriented, Chesapeake-themed vacation. (It’s even dog-friendly.) That’s when the Stevens family opened The Tides Inn. Their modest resort would pale in comparison to its more modern, updated version, which includes three restaurants, two golf courses, and a full-service spa. But quiet, Chesapeake tradition still reigns, especially on a cruise aboard its 127-foot classic yacht, the Miss Ann.—K.B. 

77 Herons
You see them in marshes, on license plates, and company logos. They’re blue herons, and they’ve become the unofficial mascot of the Chesapeake. More than half of the Atlantic coast’s population of these regal birds breed in the Bay area, where they nest. Sure, these birds are beautiful (they were once hunted for their plumage), but, man, are they noisy. When it’s time to chat, they produce a prehistoric, guttural cry that’s enough to make you want to fly the coop.—K.B.

78 Nothing says Chesapeake childhood like a firemen’s carnival: the grassy (often muddy) thoroughfare, whirling colored lights, polyester-pelted prizes, churning Ferris wheels, fried fare from clam strips to funnel cakes doused in powdered sugar. Once as plentiful in the summertime as blue crabs, not all in the region have survived.

After seventy-seven years, the Onancock firemen’s carnival folded its tent in 2005. Due to the rising cost of carnival expenses, the fire company sold its rides and the longstanding parcel of land that supplied so many years of summer fun.—K.B.

79 Carving Out Their Place Crisfield natives Lem and Steve Ward were barbers back in the 1930s. But since cuts were 15 cents and decoys $1.50, the Ward Brothers spent most of their time perfecting their skills as decoy carvers, gaining a worldwide reputation among the hunting set. Native Americans used decoys to attract birds, drawing them close enough to kill. For the modern-day sportsman, the theory is still the same, but the advent of plastics has changed things a bit. The hand-carved geese and ducks, many made from telephone pole chunks, have moved into auction houses and onto mantelpieces.

With our spot right on the Atlantic Flyway, it makes sense that we have some of the best carvers in history: R. Madison Mitchell (Havre de Grace), Ira Hudson (Chincoteague), and Charlie Joiner (Chestertown), to name a scant few. But the most famous are those of the Ward brothers, whose decoys today fetch up to six figures. Not bad for a pair of country boys.—E.W.B.

80 By her reckoning, Mrs. Frances Kitching may have been the originator of the famous Smith Island Cake. Or maybe not. No matter. We’re just thrilled that someone thought to bake ten impossibly thin cake layers and fill them with crushed candy and a luscious icing that is a cross between caramel and fudge. Although Duncan Hines cake mix is often the base for these towering creations, the home-cooked chocolate frosting is what elevates it to cult status. (We’ve even seen recipes with banana frosting as well.) You’ll find the delicacy on Smith Island, of course, at weddings and other celebrations, but if you miss the ferry, there have been cake sightings in Crisfield and Salisbury. —M.Z

81 Ocean City without its boardwalk is like New York without Broadway. But O.C. didn’t always have its famous promenade. Back in 1902, a few hoteliers laid some wood on the beach so their guests wouldn’t scald their delicate toes on the hot sand. But the slats had to be removed every day at high tide. A permanent boardwalk (five blocks long) was erected in 1902. It was leveled in 1962 by a storm, then expanded to its present length—nearly three miles. Today it boasts tacky shops, rides, and eateries along its 52,600 planks. How many nails? We’ll save you the trouble of counting. It’s got 1,372,800.—J.S.

82 Many a lassie has tracked down a Middie to marry, ever since the Philadelphia Naval Asylum School became the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis in 1845 on the ten-acre Army post called Fort Severn. Annapolis was chosen by Secretary of the Navy George Bancroft because it was “healthy and secluded,” removing midshipmen from “the temptations and distractions that necessarily connect with a large and populous city.” More challenging distractions came later, with the advent of the Army-Navy games and the arrival of women in 1976.—E.B.W.

83 McGarvey’s Saloon has had the enviable spot in the corner of Market Space in downtown Annapolis for thirty-one years, drawing regulars to its lively bar scene and raw bar. (Though plenty of others travel for their crab dip and Aviator Ale, a nod to owner Mike Ashford’s past as a Navy pilot.) The dress code still requires gentlemen to “wear sleeves,” so if you are not a gentleman, perhaps you should continue on to the next port of call.—E.B.W.

84 We mark the progression of the summer by what’s fresh at the farm stands. In June, we savor sweet Eastern Shore strawberries and asparagus. In July, it’s the first taste of Silver Queen corn and juicy peaches. By August, we’re filling up on tomatoes, cukes, and melons. Come September, apples fill our trunks and backseats. Everyone has a favorite farm stand—some are around the corner, others are on the way to the beach. All harken back to a time when people knew who grew their food, and all are deserved Chesapeake classics.—J.S.

85 Behold the chicken, in all its fine-feathered glory. Yards throughout Delmarva flout signs sayings “Eat Chicken Tonight”; in other words, support one of our region’s key industries. Those long, skinny chicken houses, silver on the outside, lights blazing constantly within (if they’re awake, they’re eating) are ubiquitous reminders of our agricultural heritage. So when you pass that truck, chock-a-block with crates, white feathers flying, nod your hat to our avian martyrs, and pray the bird flu doesn’t make its way here anytime soon.—K.H.E.

86 Around 1710, ship carpenters built a residence with pegs and hand-hewn beams by Oxford’s waterfront. In 1730, it was bought by Robert Morris and inherited by his son, Robert Morris, Jr.—the “Financier of the American Revolution”—  in 1850. Since then, it has served as a town hall, boarding house, convalescence home for WWI veterans, and a general store. The Robert Morris Inn, with its thirty-four rooms, started welcoming overnighters in the forties. It still retains some of its original architectural elements: handmade nails, fireplaces made from bricks that were used as ballast in ships, and handmade wallpaper and paneling. It also retains its reputation as James Michener’s favorite spot for a crab cake.—E.B.W.

87 It just ain’t summer in the Chesapeake without the lovely, if not lovable, jellyfish. Peer into the Bay and its many tributaries come July and August and spy its ghostly, graceful strands. (They’re especially numerous if it’s been a dry spring.) We remember the sting, after that ill-chosen dive, and the home remedies that cured it. But it’s the shadowy shape that makes us say, yet again, “Maybe I won’t go swimming today.”—K.H.E.

88 More than three generations have discovered the fact that Annapolis’s Middleton Tavern is bipolar. On one hand, the 250-year-old building retains its colonial tavern atmosphere (not surprising, for one of the oldest pubs in continuous operation in America). But by night, it’s a popular bar where live bands play. You can romance someone upstairs with filets, champagne, and piano music, then go bob your head to the thomping music downstairs with your wingmen and a draft. It’s the prime Annapolis spot for those who have their heads in different centuries.—E.B.W.

89 If it’s Chesapeake nautical history you want, the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels is your ticket. Built on two acres in 1965, it now spreads across eighteen prime waterfront acres of classic-boat heaven. Nowhere else can you find such a collection of Chesapeake watercraft, naval history, or the nation’s most complete collection of Bay artifacts. You can even roll up your sleeves and help restore traditional boats as an “apprentice for a day” at the on-campus working boatyard.—E.B.W.

90 It has been sitting on the corner of Dover and Harrison Streets in Easton like a fortress since 1947, adopting the moniker of “The Pride of the Eastern Shore.” The Tidewater Inn occupies the site of the Avon Hotel, built in 1841 but lost to fire in 1944. It’s made a name for itself as host to many celebrities, the place to stay when in town for a hunting trip (kennels were kept in the basement but dogs are now allowed in the rooms), and the hub of the November Waterfowl Festival’s social whirl. Now it’s spiffing up with new owners and a new restaurant.—E.B.W.

91 A century’s worth of screeching kids can’t be wrong. Founded around 1900 by Daniel and Margaret Trimper (their grandkids still own it), Trimper’s Amusement Park at the Ocean City inlet “modernized” with a hand-carved carousel in 1902. Out of its forty-plus rides, we’re not sure which is worse (or better): the corkscrew Zipper; the manically swaying, colorful Freak Out; or the boomerang roller coaster known as the Tidal Wave, with its cars speeding upside down around loops so big you see them from miles away.—K.H.E.

92 It began as a small celebration of local life on a watermen’s island and has turned into an event not to be missed. People come from afar to Tilghman Island Days for the oyster-shucking and crab-picking contests, workboat races, and to listen to Bird Dog Wheeler’s band. The menus at the firehouse and Methodist church represent the seafood mecca well, with cream of crab soup, oyster fritters, and softshell steamers. Is this the place to find the ultimate crab cake? “‘deed Lord so.”—E.B.W.

93 Born in 1818 in a cabin along the banks of Talbot County’s Tuckahoe River, Frederick Douglass lived a miserable existence as a
slave. But after finally winning his freedom, he claimed his Eastern Shore heritage with pride: “I am an Eastern Shoreman, with all that name implies. Eastern Shore corn and Eastern Shore pork gave me my muscle. I love Maryland and the Eastern Shore!”

Douglass went on to become an advisor to President Lincoln and one of America’s most famous orators during a time in American history when African American voices were silenced. Today, his autobiography is required reading in schools across the country, with good reason: His credo of believing in oneself, taking advantage of every opportunity, and using the power of spoken and written language to effect positive change for oneself and society still ring true today.—J.S.

94 In the middle of November’s fall foliage and migrating geese, historic Easton shuts down its streets and swings its doors wide open for the annual Waterfowl Festival, a celebration of waterfowl art and the sporting life. It began in 1971 with fifty exhibitors; now it attracts more than 450 artists, from painters to decoy carvers. Thousands come to hear the world championship duck- and goose-calling contests, watch sportsmen shoot clays, and check out the outdoor fly-fishing and retriever demonstrations. And a good portion of the proceeds goes to protect those very birds and the marshes that they inhabit.—E.B.W.

95 Whether or not you see eye-to-eye with its current occupants, you have to agree that the Maryland State House is one impressive piece of work. Designed by colonial architect Joseph Horatio Anderson and completed in 1779, it’s the oldest state house in continuous legislative use. It briefly served as the national capital (Nov. 26, 1783 to Aug. 13, 1784); Gen. George Washington resigned his commission here; the Treaty of Paris was ratified here; Benjamin Franklin even designed its twenty-eight-foot-tall lightning rod. But these days, the loudest thunder reverberates beneath its wooden dome.— J.S.

96 It was no mere flag, this giant that flew over Ft. McHenry in 1814. Made the previous year by Baltimore’s own Mary Pickersgill, it inspired not only Francis Scott Key, but generations to follow. The thirty-by-forty-two-foot Star Spangled Banner is now in the hands of preservationists, working on its tatters to ready it for its new home in a gallery currently under construction at the Smithsonian’s Museum
of American History. But you’ll have to wait until 2008 for the unveiling.—K.H.E.

97 What a dude. Not only did Capt. John Smith beat the pilgrims to the New World by thirteen years, but he was the first explorer to chart the Bay watershed—his maps are considered still correct by modern standards. What’s more, after his 1607 landing in Jamestown, he was elected leader of the colony, survived disease, and won the respect of Chief Powhatan of the hostile Algonquin Indians after being held captive.

(He even made Smith a subordinate tribal chief.) Subsequent trips to the New World in April 1614 had the roving captain exploring Maine and Massachusetts, which he dubbed New England. Though he wanted to return to Virginia, Smith was barred, due to his quarrelsome, independent nature. He spent the rest of his life writing books in England until his death in 1631 at age fifty-one.—K.B.

98 Crisfield’s National Hard Crab Derby, held each year to celebrate the end of summer and the town’s most famous seafood, had modest beginnings in 1948. It was then that a couple hundred townspeople gathered on Main Street to watch a few blue crabs scurry from the center of a chalk circle. Now boat races, a parade, a Miss Crustacean pageant, and crab-picking and cooking contests bring thousands to the little town. Most turn out for the derby itself, with racing crabs named the likes of Grouchy Meg, Big Red, and Willie. The race course, a wooden ramp raised at one end and covered with water, can accommodate a couple dozen crabs at a time. It’s the perfect occasion to enjoy seafood and watch Crisfield’s characters—both the two-legged and the clawed kinds. What’s next? Synchronized shad swimming?—B.T.

99 The Bay Bridge may have put several lines out of business, but two of the oldest ferry services in the country still operate today on the Eastern Shore. The 1685 Whitehaven Ferry, named for the quiet little town on the banks of the Wicomico River, is billed as the country’s oldest publicly owned ferry. The motorized boat follows an underwater cable and shuttles people and up to three cars between Wicomico and Somerset counties. The better known of the two, the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry, is touted as the country’s oldest privately operated ferry, with origins also in the 1680s. The three-quarter mile trip across the Tred Avon River (March through November) takes about ten minutes and offers great views of the Strand, Oxford’s fashionable waterfront. So while you’re absorbing some history, you can also take in some scenery in a traffic-free ride.—B.T.

100 Last but not least, the Chesapeake Bay! Without it, where would we—and the other 99 classics—be?