Crossing Smith Island

I spent last weekend on Smith Island which is a tiny island in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. There are two ways to get to Smith Island, get born there or take the ferry. I chose the latter.
Smith Island is truly a place out of time. The island is absolutely beautiful (I took the picture above at dusk). It’s one of the few inhabited islands in the Chesapeake Bay that’s not connected to the mainland by a bridge. Its isolation has served it well.
The island was settled by English speakers over 300 years ago. I should use the phrase “English-speaking” rather delicately. Smith Islanders do indeed speak English, but their accent is…well, I’m not sure how to describe it. They beat their A’s and O’s into submission. I’m sure Professor Higgins would be appalled. And when the islanders talk to each other, they speak backward. No, seriously.
Smith Island, and it neighbor to south, Tangier Island, are often studied by linguists. Some believe that the resident’s speech is the closest to Elizabethan English.
The island is very small but very charming. Think of it as Gilligan’s Island meets Jamestown. Most men there are crabbers, like their fathers and grandfathers before them. There are about 380 inhabitants in three “cities.” I rented a small cottage in Ewell, which is, for lack of a better word, the capital.
Smith Island is a libertarian’s dream. There’s no government. No mayor or town council. No police. The people simply govern themselves. Many of the cars don’t bother with license plates. There are only two roads, and not much to crash into, perhaps a wayward crab. The highest point on the island is five feet. Strangely, the Maryland-Virginia border runs across the southern tip of the island (I’m told this is a sore subject). You can easily see across the entire island.
There are no banks or ATM’s. No McDonald’s. No hedge funds. No SEC. The entire island is cash-only. There are, however, three Methodist churches. There’s one elementary school. The high school kids take a boat to the mainland each day. The island cemetery has many of the same names: Evans, Tyler, Bradshaw, Marsh. (No Elfenbeins, I checked.)
Smith Islanders are unfailingly polite. I’m not exaggerating when I say that every single person I passed either waved or said hello. No exceptions.
The sad part is that Smith Island is slowing fading away. Crabbing is hard work, and there are more job opportunities on the mainland. One hundred years ago, Smith Island was home to nearly a thousand people. Steamers went straight from Ewell to Baltimore. Not anymore. Most of the young folks are moving away. For such a teeny place, I saw a surprising number of “for sale” signs.
If you’re ever in the mid-Atlantic and want to forget about your e-mail for a weekend, I highly recommend a visit to little Smith Island.

Posted by Eddy Elfenbein on June 24th, 2006 at 7:40 pm

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