Hooper’s Island

I finally got to Hooper’s Island.  It never loomed quite as large as Smith Island in my heart, but I’d rank it around number 5 on my mental list of Chesapeake Bay islands I’d like to visit.  The only problem was that no one in my life else felt that Hooper’s Island love.  We’d drive past the turn off, always on the way to other places, and I’d remark that I’d love to go to Hooper’s Island.  Everyone else in the car would remain silent, as if by not acknowledging it, I would forget that it was just 22 miles off the main road.

But then magic slid a plan into place.

We needed something to do, so I suggested Hooper’s Island.  Everyone suddenly got very interested in the books they were reading and couldn’t answer me.  So I Googled Hooper’s Island and discovered three things: (1) it was full of bleak, empty beaches (my true love), (2) it had a restaurant that served fried fish (the Wolvog and Josh’s true love), and (3) the restaurant was haunted (the ChickieNob’s true love).

We ate lunch at Old Salty’s, making our game plan to speak to Mary of Mary’s Ghost fame.  It turns out it’s pretty easy.  You just ask to speak to Mary and she’s happy to tell you all sorts of freaky stories about the ghost.  It turns out that the table we had randomly chosen for lunch is the place the ghost always sits, so we felt like we chose our booth well.  We also went into the banquet area and climbed up onto the stage.  (The ChickieNob got goosebumps down her arms and said she felt freezing, even though the temperature was the same as the rest of the restaurant.)

Afterward, we stepped outside, and there was a guy smoking on the porch.  “Get a good ghost story, girls?” he asked, and we nodded.  We walked a few feet, and I whispered to ChickieNob, “What if we turned around and he wasn’t there, and it turns out that he was a ghost?”  So we turned around to smile at the man again, AND HE WAS GONE!

Well that was a little freaky.

We drove all over the island, photographing some of the houses and the bald eagles and the bleak beaches. I pointed out all the houses for sale, but people suddenly couldn’t hear me.

And there’s still so much to do.  We didn’t have time for the new Harriet Tubman museum.  Or explore the churches.  Or take a tour of the seafood factory.  (Um… we may skip that since we don’t have a burning desire to watch people dissect crabs.)  See, it was a good idea.  Next one: Solomons Island.