We have encountered many people who have told us not to underestimate Lake Michigan. Explaining how she can turn on you in no time kicking up swells of 6-8 feet or more leaving even the seasoned boaters scrambling for a harbor of refuge to wait out her wrath. Little did we know at the time how spot on they were.
The port engine has been a little finicky as of late. I waved to Shoreline Traveler and wished them safe travels as the Captain tended to the engine which refused to start. A hour or so after our planned departure and a set of spark plugs later, the engine started up with no issues and we were off. I let out a sigh of relief and, leaving Mackinac Island in our rearview mirror, we passed under “Mighty Mac” spanning almost 5 miles across the Straits of Mackinac. There was a chill in the air as the wind circled around the flybridge so we bundled up (me with my newly purchased Mackinac Island sweater) and settled in for the long ride down the lake.
After a quick gas stop in Harbor Springs, we crossed over Little Traverse Bay and slid into a slip at the Petoskey Municipal Marina just as the water was getting choppy and began tossing us from side to side. Renee and Pierre helped us tie up safe and sound and we sat on their boat discussing the possibilities for tomorrow as the weather was turning bad quickly. Their adorable cat, Poilu, relaxed at the dinette as we talked over our options. After having a few drinks at Beards Brewery, I threw in some laundry and took a shower as Duane caught up on episodes of Family Guy in the lounge. All refreshed, we had decided to leave before sunrise to make it to Charlevoix before the gale force winds ensued and the surge invaded the harbor in Petoskey and made our stay very uncomfortable. We haven’t traveled in the dark EVER so I had butterflies in my stomach.
Charlevoix Marina was situated in a protected harbor so the effects of the predicted foul weather would not wreak havoc on the waters once we passed the inlet. Shoreline Traveler was not comfortable boating in the dark so they were staying behind waiting out the weather, but Duane said he had everything under control and made the call to cast the lines at 5am. Being appointed the lookout, I was very uneasy not being able to see in the pitch dark and prayed the radar would alert us to any impending obstacles. He kept asking me to elaborate on my response of “absolutely nothing but darkness” when asked what was ahead to which I almost hurled my headlamp at him. Around 7am we saw a glimpse of sunrise and I started to breathe easier. The wind was whipping as we turned North Point and the waves started to get riled up. In just about three hours we arrived at the inlet and bounced violently into Round Lake. Safe and sound and down a pack of Gin-Gins, my stomach settled and we were now ecstatic that we chose to make the early morning journey. The weather the next four days was going to make the lake unmanageable so we were hunkering down and going to enjoy the town.
To our delight, there were seven other Looper boats in the harbor waiting for the lake to calm, so docktails were scheduled for that night and we looked forward to meeting the group.
After we woke up from a short nap, we biked around the area. Charlevoix had the character of a true small town as residents welcomed us on every corner.
The main tourist attraction in the area — the Mushroom houses erected by Earl Young dating back as early as 1919— were constructed of indigenous materials and each unique in their own appeal. The Thatch House was my favorite and I wouldn’t have been surprised if a hobbit suddenly walked out of the front door.
We strolled along the beach and played in the park like children. And just like a five year old boy, Duane tried to ejected me from the seesaw like a torpedo.
A few hours later we met our fellow Loopers at the clubhouse and exchanged stories of boating mishaps and triumphs. Duane had a good laugh telling stories of my less than accurate attempts to snag a cleat with the dock line. If I could have predicted this to be my future, I would have taken up lassoing in college. Meeting Chris and Catherine (Two Loons), Linda and John (Moon Dance IV), Beth and Ray (Aristarcus), Tom (Careb), Joe (Breeze), Mike and Betty (Mon Ami), Geoff and Ruth (Geru) and Jim and Wendy (My Everything) was a pleasure and we finally felt like we were in the mix.
After the gathering I felt more at ease and assured that even if the day didn’t go as planned, which will happen often, and that there would be unexpected ups and downs everyday, we could get through it and the experience will be exhilarating.
The waves were unrelenting the next day from our view walking to the inlet. Once we stocked up on fresh baked goods and homegrown veggies from the Farmers market, we walked down to observe the swells. Thank God we were not traveling today. Renee and Pierre would definitely not be on the water today but we looked forward to seeing them soon.
Just by chance we met a couple, Jeff and Darlene, who were locals from Michigan and had their boat in the marina. After a few hours of bantering about boats and engines, (the men that is) they invited us to take a ride with them on their boat down Lake Charlevoix to Boyne City and East Jordan for dinner and drinks. We zipped along sipping our drinks and arrived at the end of the lake before Bella Donna’s engines would have even been warmed up. It’s nice to have friends with fast boats.
There were some spectacular homes up and down the banks of the lake which we all marveled at as we sped on by. It was definitely a great night had by all as we were elated to have met each other. We were absolutely grateful for their hospitality and hoped our paths would cross again soon. Duane was excited to have someone who appreciated his excessive boat talk and I was elated to have someone to share my cocktails with.
The next morning we received a text that Renee and Pierre were braving the waters to travel to the harbor. Arriving mid-morning into a slip right next to us, the rain was steady but everyone was content and relieved to be in a safe harbor. That afternoon was spent biking to the fishery and stocking up on the essentials–beer and wine. Duane tried to master the tricycle to transport our goods and almost lost our precious cargo as well as a tooth. I was starting to get antsy to travel on, but the lake had other ideas. It would be one more day…more docktails….and more rain before we all made our move. We met Chuck and Maggie that evening who arrived aboard their impressive sailboat, Timbuctoo, and were treated to homemade blueberry wine –maybe a little too much —before we turned in for the night.
The morning we departed the sunrise was as brilliant as we’ve seen in days. The Harbormaster helped send us off and as he pushed Bella Donna off the dock he uttered the taboo words…”Red skies in morning.” I cringed knowing the day may not be as smooth sailing as I had hoped…
After five hours of 3-4 foot rollers on the stern pushing us around, we both decided to call it a day and head to the quaint town of Leland. Two other Loopers took the same route as us as the others decided to travel further south and make up for lost time. We learned early on that this trip is ours and ours alone, so we bid farewell for now and decided to move at our own pace.
Leland resembled a small shanty town from one perspective and a peninsula which was renowned for it’s wineries from another. Taking off to town, we stopped at Grand Traverse Distillery for a tasting. Purchasing some irresistible chocolate vodka and a spiced rum, we worked our way to Verterra Winery which proved equally as inviting and satisfying. Our next stop was Fishtown which was a world unto itself. Fathers and sons cast lines from the water’s edge hoping to catch a salmon battling to conquer the dam. An older woman hung laundry over her porch just feet above the raging waters and tourists walked in and out of the alleys taking in the normalcy of it all.
Indulging in the best seafood chowder I have tasted in months at The Cove, we were at ease with our decision to turn into port that afternoon and not push further south. Tomorrow is another day and would be another challenge.
Our next three ports of call were in Frankfort, Ludington and Whitehall respectively. As we moved further along the lake, the wind and waves had exponentially increased so much so that I feared we were running out of opportunities for a good weather window to cross over to Chicago.
The trip to Frankfort started off as a rocky ride with the waves on the beam incessantly. The swells progressively got worse until the last 6 miles after the point… the wind was blowing at 25 knots and we were getting pounded by 3-4 foot waves. The rain had begun to fall as we made a beeline toward the inlet.
We anchored out in the harbor amongst two of our fellow boaters, Mon Ami and Careb, and then took Baby Belle ashore. After taking a stroll to the beach on the safe side of the crashing waves, we stopped for a drink at the eclectic Frankfort Hotel.
In the middle of the night, I was rudely awakened by water dripping on my head from the hatch. One of the many detriments of having an old boat are the leaks, so I put on my sweatshirt, pulled up the hood, and rolled over. The rain and wind wasn’t expected to let up all day so we planned to stay on the hook. That day proved to be very eventful as two boats in the marina burst into flames in the early morning. As plumes of smoke rose in the sky, we watched in horror through the binoculars and then everything went dark….blackout!
A few hours later Duane decided we should be adventurous and handed me a life jacket and my rain gear and jumped into Baby Belle. Sighing I grabbed a roadie and knew there was no way I was coming back as warm and dry as I was now. We bounced our way to gawk at the waves from the inlet and drove passed the burnt out boats before stopping at the grocery store, which was running on a back up generator, to purchase supplies for our next stop.
The skies were still ominous as we left in the morning, but we had a good weather window with the waves subsiding and the wind at our back. Trudging on toward Ludington, we had decided to treat ourselves to an “Anniversary” dinner. As Duane says and I concur, we were celebrating five years of me putting up with him. Our plans were quickly dashed once we tied up at the dock and stumbled onto a flood in the cabin. We had been tossed around pretty good the last few hours slamming down hard a few times due to the short wave periods that one of the fresh water hoses detached and the tank dumped into the bilge and all over the cabin. The next few hours were dedicated to cleanup which included four loads of wet towels so an Anniversary dinner was not in the cards today.
While the laundry was spinning, we grabbed some wine and took a stroll along the waterfront. The S.S. Badger was docked at the end of the pier. The massive steamship car ferry was 7 stories high and 410 feet long and dominated the skyline. Resembling the Titanic, the historic coal-fired steamship which was launched into service in 1953, shuttles passengers across the lake between Michigan and Wisconsin. Duane was is awe at the sheer enormity of the stacks rising from the deck bellowing out plumes of black smoke.
Clean towels folded, we departed in the morning to trudge further south. The coastline was very uniform with sand dunes sprawling upward from the coast. I settled in to drive for awhile as the Captain went below to have breakfast. The waters were currently calm, but there was a heavy mist invading the comforts of the flybridge so I was thoroughly soaked when he resurfaced. As much as he denied it, I think the timing of his meal was totally intentional. The drunk snake was more like a slithering eel as of late since the unpredictable lake action counteracted my steering ability to keep us on course.
Our friends on Geru were in our sights as we continued onward. Checking in on the radio, we discussed how the lake was predicted to stir up in the next few hours and we hoped to be safe in the harbor by then. Unfortunately for us, things quickly spun out of control as we passed Little Sable Point still 6 miles from White Lake. Being an hour ahead of us, Geru warned us that the lake had turned nasty as they pulled into the inlet, but there was nothing we could do except move on as the closest safe harbor was where we were heading. Soon we were in the thick of it with 6-7 foot waves crashing on the beam. The boat tipped so far over at one point that the handlebars of my bike strapped to the bow touched the water. The cooler in the back of the boat was thrown clear across to the other side and the cushion we had securing the dinghy became our second sacrifice to the water gods. As I descended the flybridge stairs to tie the dinghy down and prevent further disaster, I decided to sit on the cooler and wait out the turmoil. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility. As Duane bellowed for me to come back up and secure myself to my seat immediately, I knew the situation was much more dire than I thought. He usually taunts me with the theme to Gilligan’s Island during rough waters, but now he was stone-faced and silent. We did not speak for the next 15 minutes as he tried to maneuver us to safety by turning the bow 90 degrees off course pointing us toward Wisconsin. My grip was so tight on the handrail it was going to take hours for the “Lego hands” to subside. As we came down hard relentlessly every few seconds, Duane was attempting to find the perfect opportunity to put us back on course and not get tipped in the process. He asked me to find him a “small” wave to make his move, but I sat in silence as each looked tremendous as we seemed to be hurling toward a brick wall over and over. It seemed like hours, but his plan worked and he made his move on the perfect wave projecting us directly toward the inlet. Unfortunately, the worse was yet to come as we assumed once in the inlet our troubles were over. Oh how wrong we were! Barreling right at the breakwater wall there seemed to be no stopping our momentum as the waves were surging forward through the inlet. 37 feet from disaster, the Captain shut down one engine and floored the other and we broke free from the collision course with the rocks. The rest of the trip into the anchorage was a blur as we settled in the calm waters off the left bank behind Geru who were relieved to see us arrive safely.
Almost 200 more miles on this lake….not sure my nerves can take it.
