Today was the final sail of the season.
I arrived at the boat last night at 10pm. After starting preparations and checking the weather, I decided to let the small craft advisory expire or at least wait a few hours before departing. At midnight, the advisory was scheduled to expire at 5am and I decided to get a few hours sleep and check the conditions again. The moon was nearly full, only 4 days after the 2009 harvest moon. Sleeping proved difficult. I was up every hour until 3am at which time I reviewed the NOAA weather report and decided to depart by 4am.
I was concerned about the weather since it can be very unpredictable this time of year and the weather reports were conflicting. I walked in the dark to the beach for a visual on the waves and to get a feel for the wind speed and direction at the Michigan City lighthouse pier. The wind was about 15kts from the SSW and the waves appeared to be about 3-5 feet. Normally, the lake would be flat with a South wind, so I figured that it was settling. There was no rain forecast in St. Joe until after 1pm which should be fine if I set sail before 7am. I would learn later that leaving at 7am would have been a bad move.
I headed back to the boat and began preparations. I set jack lines for my harness and tether to assure that the boat would not sail off into the sunrise without me. I checked all other equipment and finally contacted the Coast Guard on channel 16 to let them know that I was heading out solo and also to assure that my radio’s were working properly. After warming up the diesel for a few minutes I sent a text message to Krissy to let her know that I was on my way. I released the power and dock lines, checked my running lights, and cast off for a 6-7 hour sail. It was now just before 5am. - still in the dark of night. As I motored through the dark and quiet marina, I thought about the adventures that we shared this summer and summers past. The last sail of the season is usually bittersweet and this time was no exception. This has been a difficult time for business and when the boat is on the hard (drydock) I have one less activity competing for my weekend time. I love to sail, but the winter gives us time to appreciate the summer even more. I look forward to the mid-winter sail show in Chicago and then to the launch in Spring.
This year, we launched on April 11 and while the weather was strange and unusual for much of the season, we still had some great times. We had our 2nd annual “guys trip” this year to Kenosha, Wisconsin and Chicago and I was fortunate to be invited as “movable ballast” (crew) on the successful race boat “Velocity”. Probably most importantly, I had at least six people out sailing who had never sailed before and at least two who had never been on a boat of any kind. I find great joy in showing people the amazing power of nature through sailing. I explain that the boat weighs about six tons and when we quietly glide through the water under sail power only, it is hard not to appreciate the invisible powers at work. Add to that the beauty of the skyline, the stars (for those who enjoyed night sailing), and all the other natural beauty associated with sailing on the big lake and a memorable life adventure is born.
I attempted to raise the mainsail before I reached the lighthouse because the water is calmer in this protected area. Unfortunately, the wind was coming from behind me and prevented me from completing the task. I motored out past the lighthouse, turned into the wind, finished raising the main, and then headed toward Saint Joe. The wind was still behind me at about 13 knots so setting the big genoa sail was fast and easy. I checked my GPS heading and found that I would not be able to sail directly to Saint Joe without making a few adjusting tacks. I shut down the diesel, turned off my “Steaming light” and settled in for a long ride.
The waves were 3-5 feet coming from about 30 degrees off my port stern which caused the pitch and roll that I would enjoy for the next several hours. When sailing up the coast of Michigan at night, the coastline appears in the distance much like a mirage. Trees and sand dunes appear where there was nothing but black water and blue gray sky. There are few lights on land from New Buffalo to Saint Joe except for the creepy and menacing lights of the Cook Nuclear Power plant in Bridgman. It is very well lit (Security) on the lake side and the first time I saw it at night some years ago, I thought it was some kind of small town. As I sailed closer, I realized what it was and changed course before I set off any perimeter alarms. It gave me an eerie feeling.
Ok, back to my story. I was on the lake for a couple of hours and I watched the eastern glow get brighter and brighter. The sunrise was bright and beautiful with blue’s, yellow’s, and red’s in abundance. Within thirty minutes the clouds appeared and continued to gather for the coming rains. There was to be no more sunshine on this trip. Two hours had gone by and I was about one third of the way to my destination. I was feeling chilled so I went below and grabbed a pillow and down comforter and cozied up for the next four hours. The waves continued to roll at about four feet with small breakers and the wind was fairly steady. I was averaging about six knots speed for the trip so far. Onward I went with a blanket over my head in the mid-forty degree weather.
Since I don’t have an auto-pilot, I have to constantly steer the boat and adjust the rudder for every wave that passes. This is a pretty good arm exercise and also prevents me from dozing off but it does get tedious. It’s gray, cool, windy, wavy, and I still have a few hours to go.
I remember several times during this trip having conversations with God. There’s nothing like solitude to provide the perfect setting for reflection and prayer. I was thankful, questioning, apologetic, and hopeful as I talked out loud to God. There were no people to hear me and I said my peace hoping that somehow I would learn from this experience. In hindsight, I DID.
As I approached the St. Joe harbor, and before I could actually see the lighthouse, the wind and waves began to grow and I could see rain in the distance to the West. I was being pushed closer and closer to the coast and soon I would have to tack back out into the open water to get a better angle on my approach. When I was within about three miles of the lighthouse, I started the diesel and motor-sailed to avoid more tacking which would add to my time on the water. After several minutes, I decided to furl the genoa and continue with the mainsail and motor only.
This is when the excitement level stepped up a bit. Until now, this had been a wonderful sail with a couple of hours of beautiful night sailing, an awesome sunrise, and lots of rolling over and surfing on waves. I was startled to hear a sound that we all know and fear. If you’re driving down the highway and suddenly your engine rpm’s drop, you immediately think to yourself – “ok, I’m probably out of gas – I better get to the side of the road quick”. Well, when you’re on a sailboat in “less than calm” weather, alone, there is NO “side of the road’. I have sailed into ports as an emergency maneuver in the past, but this is not a happy thought. When I heard the engine dropping rpm’s, I immediately shut down to avoid additional damage. I continued to sail toward the lighthouse with the main only and was about one mile out. I thought about the possible issues – I couldn’t be out of fuel, but I could possibly have some blockage in the fuel filter. All other possible problems were unthinkable at this point. I was hoping that the problem was fuel related as this was the easiest to manage in this weather. I would have to drop the mainsail and start looking for obvious problems. At this point, I called Krissy just to let her know that I was ok but having a little challenge. I thought she took the news pretty well. I learned later that she had to leave work immediately and drive to Michigan to assist in some way. She just couldn’t concentrate on work while I was out struggling alone on Lake Michigan. Her actions were sweet and commendable. I was happy that she came to my rescue.
I was prepared to call the Coast Guard if necessary and I knew that help was only minutes away if I really needed it. After about fifteen minutes and after ruling out any obvious issues, I started the engine again. It started with no problem. What a relief! I didn’t know how long it might run so I was now on a mission to drop sail and get into safe harbor. The wind was now around twenty five knots and the waves were about six feet and hitting the bow at an angle. I had difficulty steering into the wind and dropping the sail at the same time. After three or four unsuccessful attempts, I motored to the far side of the lighthouse wall which was more protected from the wind and waves. I brought the bow around into the wind again and this time I was able to get the main down and secured. I headed straight for the mouth of the St. Joe river.
I have a very small diesel engine and it was all I could do to motor four knots in the choppy mess at the mouth of the harbor. It seemed to take forever to get past the Coast Guard station, the Yacht Club, and into calmer water. So far, so good. The diesel was still running, I was thankful, and I headed for the railroad bridge which was already open. I called the Coast Guard because I was unfamiliar with the right-of-way rules and they told me that I could pass on either side of the rotating bridge. Great, the first of three bridges is behind me now. Next was the Blossomland drawbridge. I called the operator on channel twelve and a friendly voice said he would raise the bridge right away. The horn sounded, the auto gates dropped, and the bridge raised just as I was approaching. I was feeling good at this point. One more bridge and a shallow alley to the marina and I would be done!
I approached the third bridge and confidently called the operator on channel 12 – “Centennial bridge operator, Centenial bridge operator, this is sailboat Jannie Anne – over”. No reply. I repeated. After what seemed like an endless delay I received a response – “This is the BI-centennial bridge – over”. I apologized for my faux pas and repeated my request for a bridge opening. It seemed a bit petty to me, but I think he wanted to punish me for mis-identifying his bridge.
The water was about eleven feet deep in the middle of the river and I was watching carefully for shoals or sand bars as I circled around in front of the bridge waiting for the bridge to open. Finally, I was allowed passage through the last bridge and began my final challenge. There is a large sandbar no more than fifteen feet off the ends of the harbor slips. I did NOT want to find it today. You need to motor directly off the ends of the docks and make a sharp turn into an available slip. I called the marina and was instructed to take any available slip near the crane slip for haul out. I passed an empty slip, and another, and another, hoping to get close to the haul out bay. I couldn’t turn around so if I passed the last open slip, I would have to back up (not easy with a sailboat) or make a sharp turn and hope for the best. I got all the way to the end and there were no more slips open except for the gas dock slip which had a sign posted “out of order” so I pulled in and tied off hoping they wouldn’t send me back down the river to another slip. Fortunately for me, they had no plans to use the slip and my adventure was officially done! I was tired, a little sore in my neck and shoulders from fighting waves, but mostly I was thankful for another successful adventure. I had a long honest conversation with God today and a few urgent requests too. I am fortunate and I look forward to sharing new adventures with new and old friends in the future. I’ll also be sure to check out that engine problem before I head out again. Thanks for the help today God!
