Bridges, Bald Eagles & Burgers: A Cold Ride to Blackwater

There’s something surreal about cruising at 60 across the Bay Bridge — the water stretching out on both sides, the steady hum of tires on pavement, and the world opening up in front of you. I used to think I was nervous about riding over bridges, and as we approached the span that morning, I felt a flicker of that old anxiety. But once we started across, I remembered — it was never my fear. It was my wife’s. Funny how sometimes we adopt other people’s fears as our own without even realizing it. The bridge didn’t bother me at all. What caught me off guard was the wind — steady, relentless, and always reminding you who's really in control out there.

Not long after we rolled out, I had to pull over and add a layer. My hands were stiff, and the wind had started creeping under my coat, making my chest feel tight — not from the chill, but from that all-too-familiar anxious grip. It's wild how fast a physical discomfort can trip that mental wire. But that extra layer? That did the trick. Sometimes it’s as simple as stopping, breathing, and adjusting. And then the ride becomes something else entirely.

Uncle Beardly and Captain Crunches were my companions for the day. It was my first time riding with Crunches — and watching him handle the road with such ease was inspiring. There’s a rhythm to group riding when it clicks, and we found that tempo somewhere between Easton and Cambridge.

The highlight? Blackwater. Rolling through the refuge, we saw a few bald eagles — both flying above us and perched on a pole, just scanning the marsh like kings of the sky. Wildlife tracks were scattered like stories across the wetlands. The place feels ancient and untouched, a quiet sanctuary where nature doesn’t just live — it thrives.

Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge is over 80 years old, originally established in 1933 as a haven for migratory birds. It's a massive stretch of tidal marsh, forest, and shallow water that plays host to hundreds of species. There’s something calming and humbling about being surrounded by that kind of wild beauty — untouched landscapes, mirror-still water, and trees that look like they’ve been standing guard for centuries. It's the kind of place that forces you to slow down and look around.

The Visitor Center is one of the nicest I’ve seen. It’s warm, welcoming, and full of natural light. Inside, there are displays of local wildlife — foxes, waterfowl, birds of prey — all beautifully preserved in lifelike settings. It’s like a miniature museum dedicated to the Eastern Shore’s natural world. There’s something grounding about standing eye-to-eye with a taxidermy owl while the real ones call outside. It makes the whole experience feel even more immersive.

After soaking all that in, we made our way to RAR Brewing’s Taproom in Cambridge for lunch. I had one hell of a burger — juicy, messy, and worth every napkin. Washed it down with a dark, rich stout that might be my new favorite post-ride drink. Nothing fancy, just solid food, cold beer, and the satisfaction of being warmed back to life from the inside out.

The ride back to Severn wasn’t long, but it felt earned. Not every ride has to be a marathon to be meaningful. Sometimes, it’s the short ones with the right people that leave a mark.

Here’s to open roads, good company, and eagle sightings in a place that reminds you just how beautiful Maryland really is.

Brake, Bite, Breathe.

Dom