Even before we arrived in Lewes we had heard about Delmarva. Apparently it is quite the hopping place and the other jurisdictions in the area seem intent on comparing themselves to Delmarva.
Delmarva has its own power company, a major bank with branches in many other cities and its own minor league baseball team, the Delmarva Shorebirds. Also, it seems many retailers are intent on proclaiming that their product is the brand most-favored by Delmarvaites (i.e. “the best pizza in Delmarva” “Delmarva’s favorite tattoo parlor” “the best-selling mattress in Delmarva” etc.).
The only problem was we could not figure out where Delmarva is located. Is it in Delaware or Maryland?
In vain I pored over maps looking for the place. Betsy googled her i-phone so ferociously in pursuit of information on Delmarva that I feared the overworked machine might burst into flames, immolating Betsy and turning her into a martyr among i-phone users that would trigger a wave of unrest among the masses; eventually leading to the overthrow of Steve Jobs, ending his long reign as the King of Silicon Valley.
Then one day we discovered that the Delmarva Shorebirds play their home games in Salisbury, Maryland. That’s odd I thought. A place as big as Delmarva doesn’t have its own baseball field? Then another thought popped into my head; DELaware, MARyland and VirginiA are the three states on the peninsula that stretches between the Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay, from Philadelphia to Norfolk.
Sure enough, it turns out Delmarva is a made up name for this region and not a city.
Oh, never mind.
I spent a good portion of my morning driving around Sussex County scouting out a good route for my planned bike ride across the state of Delaware and I think I have found a route that will be reasonably safe and, with a few notable exceptions, fairly scenic.
One of those exceptions is the incongruously-named Mountainaire chicken processing plant that straddles the highway outside of Millsboro. Not only is the smell distasteful but the chicken feathers blowing across the highway are unsettling.
Also, the Mountainaire corporate motto “fresh young chickens” seems vaguely lurid.
Chickens seem to be a big business here in Delaware. There are lots and lots of those long, low chicken barns scattered about the countryside.
While I was out scouting for my bike route Betsy was conducting IABC business via conference call (while trying to ignore the four construction workers standing on our porch sawing, hammering and nailgunning). She also did some scouting of her own in downtown Lewes where she discovered a small grocery that specializes in Italian foods and another shop that sells nothing but puzzles.
I’m puzzled how someone can make a living selling nothing but puzzles.
About mid-afternoon we took off on a circular drive to Fenwick Island, a city on the coast in the extreme southeast corner of Delaware, just north of Ocean City, Maryland. We returned via the coast highway and stopped in Rehoboth Beach for an obligatory (and a somewhat chilly) stroll on the city’s famous boardwalk.
Of course we also stopped in for a pint and a growler at Rehoboth’s famous Dogfish Head brewpub.
Just a few blocks from the brewpub is the Big Fish Market where we picked up two fresh young flounder fillets.
Soon we were back at the quiet condo (the workers had gone home) where we reclaimed our porch and re-pondered our questions about what the many lights we see in the distance across the bay represent (anchored ships, the New Jersey shore?) over a few glasses of 60 minute IPA.
Lightly-breaded and pan-fried in olive oil, the fresh young flounder was superb.
Paraphrasing Sarah Palin; "I can see New Jersey from my condo."
OK, maybe not. But we can see the ferry FROM New Jersey as it approaches Lewes.
OK, maybe not. But we can see the ferry FROM New Jersey as it approaches Lewes.
Below: scenes from bucolic rural Delaware.
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