Road Trip: Day 7, Island by the name of Smith
Off the coast of Maryland, deep in the waters of the Chesapeake, sits an island that goes by the name of Smith. Accessible only by ferry, this place is a reminder of the life of fishermen's days gone by.
Broken down and abandoned crab and fishery shacks pop up along the marshes that surround the villages of Tylerton, Ewell, and Rhodes Point; graying wood and collapsed ceilings, with pelicans and seagulls perched on the pylons that were once docks or fishing piers.
Once setting foot on Tylerton, the remoteness and purity rings clear. The people move about in golf carts and bicycles. Since the island is walkable in less than an hour, cars are nowhere to be found. Residents all know each other by first name; Larry knows Mary Ada, who knows JoAnne who lives in Ewell. And in the center of this small village, where everyone literally knows everyone's name is the single room market that seems to supply the island with all of the necessities from toilet paper to their famous crab cakes and state desert of the Smith Island Cake.
With a couple of fellow travelers, the famous crab cake sandwich was in order. Sitting at the two tables, we awaited our much discussed meal. Locals coming in almost only to take a breathe from the heat and to say hello to the others.
By the time the sandwiches had arrived, our mouths were watering from the smell emanating from the kitchen, and they didn't let us down. They were thick and juicy; the Quarter Pounder of crab cake sandwiches. Perfectly fried, seasoned and filled with complete, wholesome goodness.
Whatever room we had left in our bellies was filled was soon filled with the super sweet and also famous Smith Island Cake. With nine layers of heaven slathered with chocolate decadence, it is no wonder why this cake was named the state dessert of Maryland.
After the big lunch, we walked around this seemingly lost island trying to burn off the calories from our super rich meal. As we explored, snapping photos of the quiet streets and houses, we waited for our return ferry; to watch this hidden treasure disappear back into the sea once again.









