It has been a little while since I have written to this
blog. After getting out of Parry Sound,
we ran extremely long days through the rest of Georgian Bay and the North
Channel, usually leaving at sunrise and typically ducking into a safe harbor or
anchorage at or near sundown. I was
pretty tired and did not feel much like writing. Moreover, I wanted to complete the crossing of
Lake Superior and have some time to reflect on it before putting it down for
prosperity.
Our crossing of Lake Superior basically began after we left
Drummond Island in upper lower Michigan.
I know that sounds strange, but since Michigan is comprised of upper and
lower peninsulas, it actually makes some sense.
Drummond Island is bordered on the north by the North Channel, on the
south by Lake Huron, on the east by False Detour Pass, and on the west by the
St. Mary’s River and Detour Pass. It’s
only a day’s run from Mackinaw Island and the straights that separate Lake
Michigan and Lake Huron. There, we
checked back into the USA as Drummond Island is an official Port of Entry. There is a US Customs and Border Patrol
office there at the Drummond Island Yacht Haven.
Calling it a yacht haven is somewhat a misnomer. It is pretty rustic. It sits at the bottom of a rather deep bay
riddled with small islands. The approach
was rather spectacular, although there were lots of small boats running all
over the place. We had reservations and
called the harbor on the radio as we approached. I called several times and got no response. Finally, I dialed them up on the phone and
asked whether or not they were monitoring the radio. They told me it was down, but that it was
miraculously working again. So I called
to get instructions to the slip. The
markers on the chart did not in any way, shape or form, correspond with what we
saw out the window. So, out of simple
concern over the rapidly shallowing water, we wanted some direction. We got it……sort of. Fortunately, another boat was coming in and
we watched what he did, schooled off him, and went into the marina and tied up,
unscathed and with the new bottom paint intact.
When we arrived, we were greeted by the seemingly ubiquitous
young, blond female who was working at the marina while on summer break from
school. She was not so swift. She tied the bow way too tight and for a
moment there, we were at serious risk of colliding with a larger DeFever docked
in the same slip. I got a little testy
with her as I told her she had to ease the bow line so we could get the stern
of the boat to the dock. Then, after we
were tied up, and while she was standing around probably awaiting a tip that
was never forthcoming, I asked her where the customs office was located. She said, “Oh you need Customs?” With an air of apparent exasperation, I leaned
out the starboard side pilothouse window and pointed upwards thereby directing her
seemingly depleted attention to the yellow “Q” flag we were properly and
prominently flying from the starboard outrigger. She said, “Oh. Just stay on your boat and they will come to
you.” Fine. So we waited about 10 minutes until the
customs officer arrived, conducted his interview, gave us our entry papers and
left. No problem at all. The customs officer was quite polite and
friendly. I think he was new because he
told us of what turned out to be nothing more than some grandiose rumor about
having to contact the Canadian Boarder Service when we crossed back into
Canadian waters to go into the Sault even though we were not going to be going
ashore in Canada again. He gave me a
number to call to verify and I did. The
Canadian Boarder Service told us this was not the case and that, so long as we
were not going ashore, we did not have to check back into Canada, or even call.
After clearing customs, we went to the marina office, paid
for the slip and got the courtesy car to head out to the grocery store for some
provisions. It was a simple matter of
making a left, then a right, yet another right, and then a final right, and we
arrived at the local IGA. We loaded up
the car and went back to the boat.
After we arrived back at the boat, unloaded the groceries
and were kicking back on the back deck, this guy comes up to us asking us what
we were doing there? I told him this was
the slip we were assigned. He seemed rather
distressed insofar as, apparently, his buddy had already been assigned the same
slip and was coming back from Mackinaw along with a third boat in their
posse. “Sorry”, we said, but we are not
moving. This is the slip we were
assigned to and I had already had a couple drinks, and I was not about to move
my boat. This guy turned out to be
pretty cool about it, but his buddy was not.
He had left his electrical cord on the pedestal. I went and unwound it for him and he took it
from me with nary a comment. His wife
was giving him shit and he had been drinking.
Then again, so had we. It was
best that we all let the matter drop and left it to them to complain to the
marina manager about the situation. They
found a spot two slips over and were right next to their friends only on the
other side of their friend’s boat. All’s
well that ends well, I always say. As it
turns out, it was the same ubiquitous blond teen that tried to help us tie up
that assigned us the slip that had apparently already been assigned to someone
else. I don’t know what they are
teaching kids in college these days, but it would appear that organizational
skills is lacking from the curriculum.
First thing in the morning, we wound our way out of Drummond
Island Yacht Haven, across Detour Pass, and onto the St. Mary’s River heading
roughly north. We were compelled to play
“dodge and weave” with several very large cargo ships heading up river,
too. Even on the narrow river, they move
very fast. I figured it was a good idea
to plug in the AIS. It was helpful in a
number of ways. We could determine the
name of the ships and their speeds.
Ultimately, we moved well over and let them pass before falling in line
behind them.
The St. Mary’s River was very beautiful. On one side is Canada, and on the other, the
USA. It was funny seeing the flags on
either bank. It seems that folks are
trying to outdo one another in terms of size and number. The USA side won handily having displayed the
largest number of very large flags.
This river also took some remarkable bends and turns and we
commented on how interesting it must be for the shore-dwellers on either side
to watch these behemoths freighters negotiate hairpin turns literally yards
from their own boat docks. We saw no
ships coming down until later in the afternoon as we approached Sault St. Marie
(pronounced “soo”). Then, we were passed
by two very large ships, both of which appeared to be fully loaded with
whatever, and drawing nearly 30 feet. We
made sure to stay well clear while some other folks in very small fishing boats
would sit there in the way of the oncoming ship and fire up its little outboard
motor with yards to spare and scoot out of the way narrowly avoiding getting
turned into “chum”.
We knew we were approaching the Sault (pronounced “the soo”)
as development was becoming more apparent.
We could also see the massive radio antennae sticking up over the
rolling hills, and the tops of the mega-bridge that crosses the passage. Then, as we came around the final bend, it
all came into sight. The Sault is a
rather busy area with lots of ships coming and going through the Sault locks
into and out of Lake Superior. This is
the only entrance/exit to/from Lake Superior and we calculated that ships of
all variety carrying all sorts of goods and material transit these locks 3500
plus times per year.
We stopped for fuel at Sault St. Marie Municipal Marina on
the American side. While there, we met
some nice guys on an Olson 40 that were taking the boat down to Chicago for the
Chicago-Mackinaw Race. Later, I learned
that one of the guys on that boat was the owner of the Olson 30 Polar Bear and
had won the single handed class in the Pacific Cup. If I am not mistaken, I think Polar Bear may
have come to Channel Islands Harbor back in 2008 when our yacht club hosted the
Olson 30 Nationals. I could be wrong on
that so I will have to go back to the records.
In any event, it was good to see.
The kid who worked at the fuel dock was a really nice fellow. He told us of his plan to move to California
to pursue a career in film making. He
said he had a buddy who lived there with a girlfriend and that he and his
girlfriend were going to hop on a plane and move in. God bless him and we wish him all the luck in
the world. He’s going to need it.
 |
| These are the American locks at Sault St. Marie |
At the Sault, all recreational boats are directed to transit
the Sault via the Canadian lock as opposed to the huge American locks. It’s not that we were actually prohibited
from using the locks on the American side, it’s just that you are functionally prohibited
from doing so. These locks are primarily
for the freighters. One can wait a long
time to transit if commercial traffic is coming insofar as they clearly have
priority. It’s just faster and easier
with little or no waiting. So, off we
went. We pulled up to the old blue line
and noticed that the lock began draining.
I was surprised that it was such a little thing compared to the American
locks. This became readily apparent when
the doors opened. The locks on the Erie
Canal were larger than this lock. So it
was a pretty quick effort. Pretty red
doors, though.
The Canadian side of the Sault is characterized by large,
modern glass and steel buildings and Indian casinos. The American side is much older with
interesting historic structures such as the hydro - power plant and the tall
spires emanating from a variety of religious structures. I suspect it is completely normal this time
of year, but the weather was calm but overcast.
It seems like we rarely ever saw the sun.
Once we got out of the lock, the shores on both sides were
dominated by huge industrial plants of a wide variety, but mostly relating to
the production of metals such as steel and aluminum. There were huge piles (literally mountains)
of ore waiting to be processed into ore pellets to be loaded on the huge iron
boats bound for steel mills in places like Ohio, Michigan and
Pennsylvania. But we were now on Lake
Superior and it was a tremendous thrill, one neither Robert nor I had
experienced before.
So we wound our way down the St. Mary’s canal on Lake
Superior until we cleared the outer buoys and entered the infamous Whitefish
Bay. Our plan was to cross Whitefish Bay
and make landfall at Whitefish Point, a little harbor of refuge managed and
maintained by the State of Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources. As an aside, you may recall when Brenda and I
were on the Great Lakes previously that, we learned how the State of Michigan
maintains a harbor every 20 miles on Lakes Huron and Michigan. So, when the weather gets stinky (I say when
and not if) one is never more than 10 miles from safe harbor. This same logistic held true on Lake Superior
as well, at least so long as we were in Michigan. It’s a good thing, too, as I will explain,
the conditions on Lake Superior are quite different from the other Great Lakes.
Once we cleared onto Whitefish Bay, the lake was flat like a
mirror and there was absolutely no wind.
The air was slightly chilly, and patchy fog did a number on our
visibility from time to time. But there
we were, on Lake Superior with over 360 miles to go. It was really something. We were passed by a huge Iron Boat on the way
out onto the bay and were very pleased when they waved at us as we passed port
to port. After this, we hardly saw
another boat on the lake throughout our entire journey westward.
On Lake Superior, there are very few longer range cruising
boats. Rather, there are a large number
of smaller boats that leave from a myriad of launch ramps all around the lake. Abreojos was, in most cases, definitely the
big dog on the block. Compared to the
rest of the beaten path known as the Loop, few of those boats ever venture up
here. Some say it’s the lack of
services. Others say it’s the distances
between safe harbors. Some even say
there is no place to go. Well, I think
Lake Superior was spectacular and was a highlight of my cruising career.
After leaving the St. Mary’s River we crossed Whitefish Bay
to Whitefish Point Harbor. If you are
looking for a fancy marina with all the services available, this is definitely
not the place. If, on the other hand,
you are enthusiastic about colors and textures of wide sorts, then this is
definitely a great place to see. Although
it is technically managed by the State of Michigan DNR, there is nothing there but
a boarded up old fish processing plant surrounded by trees and high grass. There were a variety of birds on the roofs
all “wind-veining.” It is apparent that it has been there a very
long time and that nothing has been going on there for quite a while. The processing plant was boarded up and
posted with “No Trespassing” signs.
There is a launch ramp there catering to small fishing boats operated by
rather serious fishermen who spared no expense on gear for trolling for
anything from Lake Trout to Whitefish, Muskee and Bluegill. These boats were not pretty, but they were
all equipped with “kicker motors” so that when the main engine quits, they have
a way to get back to the ramp. There is
NO Towboat US up here. You are on your
own and you definitely have to be able to fend for yourself.
 |
| This is a lighthouse at the St. Mary's Rivermouth where it meets Whitefish Bay. |
Notwithstanding the potentials, the water is crystal clear
and very cold. We never saw water much
above 50 degrees F. It is also quite
deep in places exceeding 400 feet from time to time. The volume of Lake Superior is such that it
can contain all the water from all of the other Great Lakes combined within its
shores. This is a big lake. I really hate it when folks compare the Great
Lakes with the ocean. “It’s just like
the ocean”, is the cry of the uninitiated.
It is not like the ocean. It is
like the Great Lakes. First, in many
cases, it is very shallow (i.e., Lake Erie averages around 40 feet, Lake Huron
is a little deeper on average, and Lakes Michigan and Ontario are yet even
deeper.) It is also fresh water. The buoyancy of your boat is affected
thereby. The water is seemingly
lifeless. On the ocean, one becomes
accustomed to seeing lots of wildlife, such as birds, dolphin, whales, jumping
fish, etc. On the Great Lakes, one sees
little or nothing. Except for the
flies! I have no idea where they come
from, but we were 15 miles off shore passing the Huron Islands, barren rocks,
and were jumped by thousands of black flies, apparently, the Michigan State
Bird. For a while we put Shteutle the
Fly-Swatter to the test and killed hundreds.
Hanging fly strips inside the cabin looked hairy being covered with
stuck flies. Finally, we put up the
screens on the pilothouse windows and just left them there. It helped.
However, the little bastards still found their way in. By the time we landed in Superior, Wisconsin,
Shteutle was held together with duct tape.
So, the Great Lakes are not like the ocean.
The weather on Lake Superior is rather fickle to say the
least. One minute it might be sunny and
ten minutes later, you might find yourself shrouded in very thick fog. The wind and the waves do not necessarily
line up either. There are a number of
prominences sticking out from the shoreline that bend the wind and the waves in
a frustrating way. After 300 milles, I
was absolutely convinced that the indian name for Lake Superior,
“Gitcheegumee”, means “on the beam.” It
didn’t matter what direction we were travelling or what direction the wind was
blowing, or forecast to blow, the waves were seemingly always on the beam,
making for an occasionally uncomfortable ride.
We were pretty careful with the weather forecasts, however, and never
had a bad day. There were several hours
that might be considered unduly uncomfortable, but never really dangerous.
We spent a few hours wandering around the grounds at
Whitefish Harbor and met a friendly couple from Iowa who were part of a tour
group staying in a retired barracks out on the end of Whitefish Point. They wandered up and talked with us and we
ended up giving them a tour of the boat.
They were impressed with the fact that we had seemingly travelled quite
a long way to get where we were. In
fact, we told them we were in the process of bringing the boat back to the West
Coast, and her comment to Robert was, “Doesn’t he have a map?” Oh well, we all got a good chuckle out of
that one.
The following morning, we awoke to some rather obnoxious
wind which delayed our departure a couple hours. It wasn’t blowing that hard, but it was
blowing hard enough to make the water inside the point all cappy and
nasty. We waited for a couple hours
until it stabilized before leaving and making a run for Whitefish Point. Once we got around the point, however, the
wind eased to a following breeze and off we went…….of course with the waves on
the beam.
We ran all day, passing a series of rock piles out in the
middle of nowhere, sporting some rather unique and beautiful lighthouses and
millions of flies, and made landfall in the town of Munising. Munising is a mill town with a large paper
mill and other aspects of lumber harvesting.
There, we met Mike the dockmaster.
He was perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was friendly
enough and rather enthusiastic about having a boat from a California homeport
in his marina; definitely not something he sees every day. He came over to the boat after work and had a
couple beers and told us a little about life in Northern Michigan, and on the
banks of Lake Superior. He pointed out
that the marinas all close up tight by the end of October as the ice begins to
form. We were rather shocked to learn
that the water in the harbor will freeze to as much as 4 feet thick and that
this thick ice would go out for several miles off shore. The offshore islands in the vicinity of
Munising go from cruising grounds to snowmobile grounds in the course of a few
months. Ice fishing is big as well, with
avid fishermen moving small buildings out onto the lake ice, all suited with
propane heaters and lots of whiskey.
There might be as many as 100 houses out on the ice within a couple
miles of shore. From where I sit, although I admire their tenacity, I still
think they’re nuts.
We also barely found the local IGA to pick up some
provisions. It was crazy. Even with directions we ended up walking all
over town. Everyone we asked told us it
was just up the street to the right.
Well, we did that like 3 times.
We were convinced nobody actually wanted us to find the place.
In the morning we left Munising in the rain and in the
fog. The fog was pretty thick but we
left a good track of crumbs on the plotter that helped us clear the big islands
in front of this town. In fact, the fog
cleared nicely once we got out of the bay.
We ran all day, putting yet another 100 miles under the keel and made it
to the Keweenaw Peninsula and the southern entrance to the Portage Canal, a
manmade river that shortens the transit across the lake by over 100 miles. We were headed for the twin cities of
Houghton and Hancock, about 12 miles up the 22 mile long Portage River. Of course, having dodged the fog, several
rather thick thunderstorms, and forthcoming breezy conditions, we thought we
were golden, so to speak. Well, less
than 100 yards from the dock at the Houghton County Marina at the foot of a
spectacular lift bridge, I lost propulsion.
It was weird. We were motoring
along slowly looking for our slip on the river bank when I felt a pulse in the
stick and, even though the engine continued to hum perfectly, we were going
nowhere. I got on the radio and called
the Marina to let them know of our predicament.
Unfortunately, the guy on the radio was one of those kids working part
time while on summer break from school and he was not helpful at all. I then called Towboat US on the phone. Within 5 minutes, the lady from Towboat US
called back and said there were no towing operations in the area and that she
had called Coast Guard Station Portage.
As it turned out, before she even called them, they were already
responding and were within sight. I
guess they overheard me telling the marina that we were stuck in the middle of
the river and that we were dropping our anchor in 50 feet of water directly in
front of the lift bridge. I guess when
you have to do it, do it big, right?
Well, the CG came on over, side tied, turned us around, and
functionally sling-shot us at the dock where we were caught by some good
Samaritans who happened to be lazing around on the dock in the pouring
rain. Suffice it to say I was a little
less than pleased. Robert kept reminding
me, however, that this is cruising and breaking down is part of it. While this is absolutely true, it doesn’t
sound like much fun when all you want to do is get to Superior and start
heading home.
The kid in the marina office, however, had the brains to
call his boss and get some information for us regarding a mechanic. As an aside, it turns out his boss is Scott
Perkins whom, if you have travelled in the Florida Keys, you have probably
heard performing with his guitar in any number of small bars and restaurants,
especially in Key West. I certainly
remembered hearing him play at Schooner’s.
Scott genuinely has the system wired.
He works at a beautiful place all summer and then gets laid off for the
winter. He collects unemployment and
heads south to live on his sailboat with his wife in the Keys all winter. He sold his business and retired a few years
ago and has no mortgage. With money in
the bank, Scott wanders north and south without a care in the world. Sounds pretty good.
On the advice of his boss, Scott, the kid at the marina gave
us a card for a guy named Craig Bekalla.
I called Craig and he seemed less than positive that he could do
anything for us. Yes, he is a diesel
mechanic, but no, he did not have a lot of experience with boats. He gave us the name of the guy who owns and
operates Merkels Marine a couple miles down the river. So I called him and he agreed to come down in
the morning and take a look. I have had
this happen before and was pretty convinced it was a broken damper plate inside
the transmission. So while all of this
was going on, I was calling Lee Spry Marine in Iuka, Mississippi to try to get
a part number since he was the last guy to repair a blown damper plate.
In hindsight, it would appear that locking is very hard on a
boat’s transmission. Moreover, leaving
the engine running for an hour while sitting in a lock is also hard on the
tranny. Furthermore, all the idle and
slow speed running while waiting for locks is no good either. This can be the only explanation. My crewman, Robert, an engineer by training
and trade, puts it in terms of cycles.
He explained that engineers for all products test products until they
fail and have a reasonably good idea how many times something can be used
before it fails. When put in these
terms, it would appear that a transmission is slammed in and out of gear many
times more often when locking than in normal operation. Normally, a boat is turned on, put in reverse
and put into forward, put into neutral and then put into reverse and
docked. This would be approximately four
to six cycles per week or per month, or even per year for some boaters. Under these conditions, a transmission will
last forever. However, consider the
number of cycles a transmission goes through after 70 locking episodes in a matter
of weeks. It is hundreds if not
thousands. This will certainly shorten
the life of a damper plate. When I
considered the number of locks transited before the last damper plate episode
and the number of locks that preceded this episode, it basically adds up. I don’t know.
I may never know for sure, but I can tell you this: Abreojos is done with locks…..for good!
So, Craig called me in the morning before Ron from Merkels
showed up and asked if I wanted him to come take a look. I told him to hold off since Ron was
coming. Well, Ron was no help at
all. In fact, all he could do was tell
us that he was two weeks behind on the work he had in his yard already (Oh
Geeeez, I don’t knoooooow) and express his concern over the lynching he might
suffer if the locals saw him at the marina working on some transient boat. While
he was standing in my engine room whining about his problems, I was fixing to shove a screwdriver into his neck,
I was so pissed off. What in hell did he
expect us to do?!!! Well, I have to take
all the bad words and feelings back because, ultimately, almost as soon as he
got off the boat, Ron started making phone calls and truly organized a great
effort to get us back in motion in less than 3 days. Unbeknownst to me, Ron called Bekalla. Bekalla was already on his way down to the
boat. Ron also called his local parts
guy to find out about damper plates. In
fact, I got the part number from Iuka and the name of the distributor where
they got it from, called them, and spoke to a guy named Al who told me he had
already spoken to Ron and was waiting for the part number, that he would most
likely have it in stock and would ship it overnight to Ron. Well, I was impressed. So very quickly, we went from dead in the
water to enjoying a fast moving momentum towards mechanical salvation. Bekalla started the next morning, and in less
than 10 hours pulled the bell housing, replaced the damper plate, and put it
all back together again.
This guy Craig Bekalla restored my faith in youth. Here is a guy in his early 30’s, running his
own business, with a wife and 3 kids, willing to work around the clock if
necessary to get the job done, and yet he had never even tasted beer! We called him “The Boy Wonder.” He was like
Spiderman in the engine room and came out all covered with grease; literally,
from head to toe. He even had smudges on
his face. This kid worked very
hard. Even though he had not worked on a Borg-Warner
Velvet Drive before, he spent hours on line researching the matter, came up
with the service manual for the same, and came prepared with all the tools,
knowhow and skill to do a terrific job and very quickly. Although he probably thinks he got the better
of us by charging what he called “emergency rates”, he was still less expensive
than any other mechanic of similar skill, and actually got the job done for
$300 less than the veterans in Iuka and in Port San Luis. So, we were very pleased to be under way by
Friday morning. We only lost a day since
we had planned to stop at Houghton/Hancock to wait for weather for two
days.
We left Houghton/Hancock under a sketchy weather
forecast. Our original plan was to leave
the Portage River and make a B-line for the Apostle Islands. However, we decided to divert to the very
small harbor known as Ontonagon, the last of the Michigan harbors of refuge. It’s a good thing too, because within half an
hour of our docking in Ontonagon, the wind dropped down like the hammers of
hell. This harbor was festooned with
whitecaps across a water area hardly larger than an Olympic size swimming pool. All the boats in the harbor were heeled over
due to the force of the wind. Well, that
left us with only one thing to do – go in search of more beer. So off we went. The harbor master in Ontonagon was a strange bird
to begin with and so his directions were something short of useful. Let me regress.
 |
| This dude ran across the railing where we were sitting having lunch. |
When we arrived in Ontonagon, we called in and the harbor
master said he was not going to be there when we arrived, and that he would be
back around 7:00 that evening, so if we missed him, he would catch up with
us. Well, after we tied up, we made no
rush to get to the office. Within about
10 minutes of docking, he shows up. So,
we took our beers with us and walked with him to the office to sign in. Most places we have gone at least have a
pre-printed form to complete. Not this
guy. What he did was take a legal pad and
write out all the information he wanted me to provide. Like, hasn’t this guy heard of a copy
machine?????
Oh well, so he gave us directions to a convenience store he
said was closer than town. Just go out
of the marina and follow the road. Well,
we followed the road out of the marina and came to a “Y”. Our friend the harbormaster neglected to tell
us which way to go then. We made a guess
and headed to the right. Now, there is
nothing……NOTHING……out there but grass and some trees. But, we did find the convenience store/auto
parts shop/mechanic/bait shop and gas station, and they had what we were
looking for. Moreover, there was this
really nasty woman working there as the clerk.
She was quite the smart-ass. We
laughed at her funky hair and decided the word “Ontonagon” was actually a Chippewa
Indian word describing the nasty things that should happen to her; things I
will not repeat here. We got a good
laugh of it though, as you would expect two guys travelling together on a boat
for the last two and a half weeks to do.
Interestingly, the water changed as we approached
Ontonagon. We could see what looked like
a long sandbar extending out from the river mouth. As we got a little closer, however, we could
see that it was just very muddy water. The
water went from crystal clear and blue to absolutely brown. It was like this all the way up the river to
the town dock. We asked the harbor master
about this and he informed us that it was from rain runoff and also due to the
fact that they are trying to lower the water behind the dam by some 60 feet to
repair a broken valve, or something like that.
This was quite a bit different from the water quality we experienced the
next day when we ran another 80 miles from Ontonagon to the Apostle Islands.
The Apostle Islands are a group of around 15 islands that
form an archipelago extending from the northern tip of the Bayfield Peninsula
in Wisconsin. They are largely
uninhabited, except for the occasional NPS Ranger station, and are also largely
inaccessible except by small boat. There
are a few docks scattered throughout the archipelago which are almost free to spend the
night. There is no electricity and no
water. There may be a primitive
bathroom, but that’s about it. The rest
of the islands are thick forest on top of granite carved millions of years ago
by receding glaciers. They are covered
with small wild life of a vast variety.
We saw snakes, lots of birds, frogs, insects of all kinds, and other
amphibians. There was a sign that
suggested that bears not be fed, although I think that was for the tourists as
these islands are generally too small to support the foraging needs of your
average black bear. The water was
crystal clear and teaming with small fish darting in and out of the pier
pilings. It was beautiful, but the water
was very cold. I can honestly say that
our Channel Islands on the west coast have nothing on these islands in Lake
Superior. While they are very different,
they are at least equally superb.
Robert just had to go swimming; so he could cross it off his
bucket list; that’s right, take a quick dip in Lake Superior. I stood by at the ready to gaff him if he
lost his breath, not to mention his ability to swim, due to the cold water. In spite of it all, however, Robert made good
on his word and cheated death like a real cowboy, screaming expletives starting
with “F” all the way in. I guess he can
now say he went swimming in Lake Superior.
Me? Hell, I don’t give a
shit. I hate cold water whether it’s
fresh or salt, Lake Superior or Larry’s Lilly Pond. I wasn’t going to dip my ass in 50 degree
water just for the hell of it.
We had a great dinner specially prepared by Robert as taught
to him by his mother, had plenty of drinks to celebrate our last night of the
cruise, and laughed like monkeys until the wee hours before hitting the sack,
for the morrow would be our last day on Lake Superior…….forever.
We did not bother to set an alarm as it was only 63 miles
down to Superior, Wisconsin. The
forecast was stable and we had no need to get in early. So we woke up, luxuriated over a couple pots
of coffee before casting off from Rocky Island in the Apostles for the cruise
to Superior. This would be a very long
day for me as I was only concerned with one thing – finishing this passage and
starting to work my way home. Every
sound caught my attention. Every bump or
knock caused my bowels to tighten.
Ultimately, it was all nothing, but I was prepared, and after a long day
(another long day) we pulled into the service dock at Barkers Island Marina and
marked the end of this cruise.
For me it was, once again, bitter-sweet. I love being out cruising and exploring a lot
more than I enjoy terrestrial life. We
called this trip a delivery and thus forwent a lot of the tourist opportunities
along the way. We did, however, enjoy
the essence of the passage; the beautiful scenery all around us, and the sense
of knowing that we travelled over 1600 nautical miles from Camden, NC to
Superior, WI having navigated on the Dismal Swamp Canal, Chesapeake Bay, the
C&D Canal, the Delaware River, Delaware Bay, Cape May, the Atlantic Coast
of New Jersey, the Hudson River, the eastern half of the Erie Canal, the Oswego
Canal, Lake Ontario, the Trent Severn Waterway, Georgian Bay, the North
Channel, the St. Mary’s River, Sault St. Marie, and Lake Superior.
Finally, Abreojos was prepared for departure, loaded onto
the back of a great truck, and is now making her way in the fine care of
Absolute Yacht Transportation to her new temporary home in Everett, Washington. Abreojos will ride again soon, and I’m
certain we’ll have more to say about her travels as we draw to a close our
version of America’s Greatest Loop.
Cheers for now.
