Cheeseheads

We are under way southbound in Green Bay (the bay, not the eponymous city), bound for Sturgeon Bay. We just passed Chambers Island to starboard and the communities of Sister Bay, Eagle Harbor, and Sister Creek to port. I would have started typing three hours ago, when we left port, but I've spent all of that time in a futile goat rope trying to get myself to Atlanta.

Yesterday we were offline most of the day, which, of course, meant that would be the day for the Red Cross to call to deploy me in advance of Hurricane Dorian. My phone was offline all night, too, but Google Voice had helpfully forwarded that message to me in email, which I discovered around 10pm.

This morning thus was a mad scramble, starting with making sure there was a marina in Sturgeon Bay who could fit us and had two weeks of availability -- we had originally planned to just anchor there. Of course, today is Labor Day, and so only one of the five marinas even answered the phone, but, at least they had room, albeit for a price. That gave me the green light to call the Red Cross back and say "yes," and they immediately assigned me to the Georgia operation and started working on travel logistics.

Passing the white cliffs of Washington Island in Green Bay.

That's where things ultimately went off the rails. Even though the Green Bay airport is just an hour away, the cheapest transportation we could find was about $100 each way. The Red Cross has a firm reimbursement limit of $50 round trip, so a $150 disconnect. After a brief discussion here we decided to just eat the difference as an additional donation to the relief effort; after all, just parking the boat for the two weeks I'd be gone was going to be over $1,300. In the end, they decided they couldn't let me pay that much out of pocket (?) and canceled my deployment.

In the meantime, I had used the time offshore on autopilot to completely pack my suitcase, which is still sitting down on the bed. I might just leave it packed; we'll be closer to the airports in a few days, and if Dorian cuts up the coast like a buzz saw as currently projected, there will be more deployments in the coming days.

Yesterday ended up being one our most uncomfortable days on the water since we moved aboard over six years ago. Shortly after I last posted here, we dropped the hook on a shallow sand bank at the edge of St. James Harbor, at the north end of Beaver Island (map). It was dead calm in the harbor, and we dropped the tender to go ashore. We made two trips; one to the private marina for a little (expensive) tender fuel, and groceries from the store next door, and one to the municipal dock in the middle of town.

Vector anchored in St. James Bay, Beaver Island.

We enjoyed strolling the quaint island town before being picked up at the marina by the shuttle for the Beaver Island Lodge, where we had made dinner reservations. Even though it was a spendy white-tablecloth place, it was picture-perfect, with a window table overlooking Garden Island to the north across a small strait. The lodge was otherwise surrounded by evergreen forest. It was all quite lovely.

We had a calm, quiet evening aboard, and I even went on deck late in the evening to look for the aurora, which might have made an unusually southerly appearance (it did not). Our first indication of trouble was a staccato rolling motion when we awoke, which I initially thought was just a bad boat wake. When it didn't stop, we jiggled our way through our first cup of coffee with the weather forecasts open in front of us.

When we had left Mackinaw City, we had a forecast for at least two and maybe three good days on the lake for our crossing; Beaver Island was just a way station. But by yesterday morning the forecast had deteriorated significantly. We were now facing ten hours of 2'+ seas on a short 3-second period. Nothing dangerous -- Vector hardly notices -- but very uncomfortable for the mammals aboard.

Our alternatives were none too appealing, either. We could hunker down in the harbor for several days, moving to deeper water, but clearly the waves were already making their way in, and tomorrow the forecast calls for 8'-9' waves on the lake. We could bash our way east instead of west; a shorter and slightly more comfortable trip, but again we'd be pinned down on the east side of the lake for several days, giving back the westing we had already done.


The small community of Jackson Harbor, Washington Island.

With a possible ten-hour passage, we did not have the leisure of sitting around while we mulled it over. We got under way on our original route, leaving the option to turn back at the edge of the island group if things got untenable. We curled around the northeast tip of the island and steamed through the same strait that we had admired the night before. The lee of the islands provided a comfortable ride until we passed the northwest tip of High Island.

That's when, as expected, things got bumpy. But another hour or so west, the projected 10-15 mph southerlies had already escalated up to the 20s, and the south wind building all morning and running up 250 miles of uninterrupted lake was pushing waves into the four-foot neighborhood. We spent the next six solid hours bashing against four footers with a 5-second period on the port quarter. I increased engine rpm from our normal 1500 to 1700 just to get us through it faster and give the stabilizers a little help. I added another 20 gallons of fuel to the day tank to cover the extra burn.

It was 6pm by the time we finally made the lee of Rock Island, the northermost tip of Wisconsin's Door Peninsula. We passed the Rock Island State Park to port as we made our way into the tiny Jackson Harbor, at the northeast tip of Washington Island, where we dropped anchor in the only part of the harbor deep enough for Vector, right near the entrance (map). The bottom was rocky but we got a set in a light cover of sand.


Turning around Rock Island.

We had leftovers aboard, and Louise crashed hard shortly after dinner. She was already in bed when I discovered the voice message from the Red Cross. Even though it was another potential aurora night, I, too crashed before midnight. This kind of passage is exhausting; it's too rough to want to type, or read for very long, or do much of anything, and just moving around the boat to use the head or get a drink is an acrobatic exercise. Even though it was a day cruise and broad daylight, we each went belowdecks to spend an hour or so in bed, where the motion is the least. On top of all that, it was a very emotional day for us with Dorian visiting death and destruction on the Abacos.

I might have run ashore this morning just to have a look at the small community near the harbor, but with deployment a possibility we instead weighed anchor first thing to get a head start to Sturgeon Bay. Complicating matters was the possibility that Green Bay itself would be too rough in today's northerlies, and we'd have to cross over at "Death's Door", the Porte des Mortes Passage, and come down the lake side instead, adding an hour to the trip.

Other than the mad scramble this morning leading nowhere, it has been a lovely cruise. The Powatomi Islands and the Door Peninsula are stunningly beautiful, and we can look across Green Bay and see the mainland to the west. Had we not been racing to Sturgeon Bay for a deployment possibility, we might well have stopped at one of the small harbors we passed earlier. One thing is for sure: with 8-9 foot seas tomorrow, wherever we stop tonight will be our home for at least two nights.

Free at last

We are underway westbound through the Straits of Mackinac, bound for Beaver Island, Michigan. It feels good to be back underway after being pinned down by weather for nearly a full week. Of course, we are thankful to be here, casually waiting out weather on the lakes rather than anywhere along the southeast coast of the country right now. Our thoughts are with our many friends there.

When last I posted here, we were en route to Mackinac Island, and we were docked at the state marina there (map) shortly after 1pm. Knowing the weather situation, we paid for a full four days, the limit there for transient vessels. I headed off on foot to explore; Mackinac island prohibits electric bicycles.


Approaching the Mighty Mack in the calm this morning. We did not go under the main span, some two miles out of our way; we passed off-camera to the left.

It did not take long to walk all the way through town to the entrance to the Grand Hotel and back. On a pleasant Sunday afternoon, the town was jam-packed with tourists. Business was brisk all along Main Street, which is lined end-to-end with fudge shops, souvenir stands, overpriced restaurants, and exorbitant bicycle rentals.

Motor vehicles, even electric carts, are prohibited on the island, and so all commerce, from tours to taxis to deliveries to service contractors, moves by horse-drawn cart, or by bicycle. Both of those run in the streets, which have a thin coating of horse poop their entire length. It's all very quaint if not very practical, and I decided to hold off on taking photos for the blog until a weekday, when it would be less crowded.


Fort Mackinac, overlooking the marina. They fired the canon periodically; it was uncomfortably loud.

By dinner time, the wind had picked up and clocked around to the southeast, and there were two footers coming into the marina. A number of boats arriving after us had a real challenge docking, and we were very glad that we made the decision to get an early start for an arrival before things picked up. We bounced all afternoon, evening, and night, one of our least comfortable marina stays.

There are more than a dozen restaurants in walking distance of the marina, but only two or three had decent reviews online. When dinner time came we opted to stroll over to the Seabiscuit Cafe, which is themed after the storied racehorse. We went a bit early, anticipating a weekend crowd, and we beat the rush. It was good to be off the bouncing boat.


Vector at Mackinac Island. Chippewa hotel to the right.

When Monday morning rolled around it was still uncomfortable in the marina. We knew that sometime Tuesday the winds would clock around to the west, making the marina itself much more comfortable, but basically pinning us there for the duration. And when we checked the forecast Monday morning, things had deteriorated, and it looked like "the duration" might well be all the way to Saturday (today).

You may recall that I mentioned the marina has a four-night stay limit. That meant we'd have to leave on Thursday, or else cross our fingers and hope that they'd give us a waiver due to weather. Several other boats were already signing up on the list they keep for that purpose. On top of all this, the storm that was soon to become Hurricane Dorian was taking aim at the U.S., and I am on call this month for the Red Cross. If I got called, Vector would have to stay in place for at least a couple of weeks.

Looking back toward the Grand Hotel on our way out.

Two nights would have been a perfect stay on Mackinac Island. It's enough time to see all that's on offer, and overpay for a couple of dinners at the only decently rated joints on the island. Maybe we could even have cocktails again at the cupola bar at the Grand Hotel, which was a much nicer experience than their dining room the last time we were here. Four nights, which is what we planned on arrival, we would have endured, but it would be very old by then. But being stuck here for a week or longer was beyond the pale.

We opted to get out of Dodge while we still could, before the wind clocked around, and make it to the mainland. There we'd have more inexpensive restaurant choices, we could stay longer without concern, and if I got deployed I could make my way to an airport. We ruminated over lunch about whether to leave before the 1pm checkout, or first thing in the morning. The forecast gave the edge to an immediate departure, so we informed the office, requesting a refund of our three unused nights, and dropped lines for Mackinaw city. I never did get the photos I'd planned to take.


Vector at Mackinaw City, as seen from the bridge of the USCGC Mackinaw, WAGB-83.

I picked Mackinaw City, at the tip of the "mitt," rather than St. Ignace, on the upper peninsula, simply because we'd been  to St. Ignace in the bus, and that's where we did our round trip ferry to the island. Either way would be about an hour of bumpy ride, and bumpy it was. We backed into a slip in heavy crosswind, and were tied alongside (map) by 2pm. In hindsight, St. Ignace would have been a better choice simply because there are more services there.

Nevertheless, we made the best of a five-night stay. There are only a few decent eateries in town, and we tried them all. The lone grocery store here is even less well-stocked than the upscale one on the island, albeit with somewhat better prices, and we had to settle for off brands for staples such as cat litter and coffee. Louise did a lot of quilting, and I knocked out a couple of maintenance items and spent an inordinate amount of time re-writing the route plan every day based on new weather information.


Ice Breaker Mackinaw museum. Docked at the old railroad ferry ramp.

Of course we both also spent a lot of time watching Dorian and chatting with people making plans around it. I did get out to explore a bit, spending a pleasant hour touring the historic Coast Guard ice breaker Mackinaw, and an afternoon riding the e-bike around the tip of the mitt, under the bridge, and past the Headlands International Dark Sky Park. I stopped at the beach there, overlooking Lake Michigan, for a visceral confirmation that the lake was no place to be quite yet.

After six solid days of blowing, the wind and waves finally laid down late yesterday afternoon, too late in the day to make any sort of progress, and well after checkout time. This morning we awoke to the sounds of a half dozen boats starting their engines; at least a couple of them had been there longer than we had. We enjoyed our coffee before getting started, letting the pack clear out ahead of us.


Old Mackinac Point Lighthouse, in the lovely park at the north end of the town.

We have a three-day window of good weather, and while it would be nice to continue a little ways down the Michigan coast, perhaps to Charlevoix, before crossing the lake, we are wary of being stuck on the eastern shore for another multi-day period, and so we've decided to make our crossing now, while the crossing is good. That will put us in Wisconsin tomorrow night, where it will be a lot easier to get to a major airport if need be.

Tonight we will be anchored in the harbor at the north end of Beaver Island, where we have an opportunity to get ashore, and where we hope to find a slightly better store than the one in Mackinaw City. Tomorrow we have a ten-hour passage across the lake to the northern tip of Wisconsin's Door Peninsula. I expect to be offline most of the day and maybe even overnight. On Monday we will make our way down Green Bay toward the community of Sturgeon Bay, where Vector, then known as Acadian, spent the first four years of her career.


The only photo I took aboard the Mack, the helm console. Only because they used uncommon Jastram steering equipment, just like Vector. Compass is mis-labeled: gyro repeater is off to the left; that's the magnetic compass ahead of the sign.

Outrunning the weather

We are underway in the northern reaches of Lake Huron, westbound for Mackinac Island. I can see the island, and beyond it the Mackinac Bridge, ahead of us, even though we are still two hours away. We are back in the "pack" of loopers after seven weeks off the beaten path, with two ahead of us and one behind as I type.


Passing a laker close aboard on the St. Marys.

Shortly after my last post, we splashed the tender and bashed our way through the chop to Pickles restaurant in Brimley. We tied up in their little basin and had a casual dinner with a couple of drafts. My burger was fine but Louise's fish tacos were disappointing. We decked the tender immediately after bashing our way back; ironically, it was flat calm when we awoke in the morning.


Vector in Waiska Bay as seen from our table at Pickles.

With a potentially long day, including maybe waiting on locks, we got an early start, and had a nice push back downriver to the locks. Having uplocked on the Canadian side, we called the American side for the ride back down, planning to divert to Canada if the wait was too long. As it happened they were just locking up a tour boat as we approached, so perfect timing.


Tour leaving MacArthur lock. We were part of the scenery.

On our way into the MacArthur lock we passed the enormous tug Victory with her gargantuan attached notch barge, waiting on the Poe lock. In the lock was Indiana Harbor, one of the big thousand-footers. These dozen or so largest Great Lakes freighters are forever restricted to the four uppermost lakes, as they are all too long for the Welland Canal. They were built here, they operate here, and they'll be scrapped here when that time comes.


The visitor gallery. I had to be perfect in the lock. Looks like I bored them: excellent.

After exiting the lock we had just a few hundred feet before turning back into the George Kemp marina again to pick up our package. We were rigged to tie up to the fuel dock, but after I called on the radio they actually brought it out to us, and I only needed to get Louise within handshake distance of the dock. We were back out in the river in no time, following the Indiana Harbor downriver.


Preparing to exit the MacArthur lock chamber.

We spent the whole day sandwiched between her and the Victory. At one point the Indiana Harbor slowed down for a couple of turns and we caught up to her; when I got within a half mile I had to slow down for the wake turbulence. In short order she was opening the gap again, and by the time we got to our anchorage at Sweets Point, the Victory had also caught up to us and was overtaking us to port.


Catching up to Indiana Harbor.

After passing the Sweets Point Light to starboard we exited the ship channel, cleared out with Soo Traffic, and dropped the hook in the bight of the point (map). Our view included the beautiful wooded islands of the St. Marys as well as the DeTour Village area of the mainland peninsula, where we could see the forlorn lake freighter John Sherwin laid up in storage. Other than the occasional roll of a ship wake, it was a calm and pleasant anchorage.


Passing the laid-up John Sherwin this morning.

This morning we got a very early start, as the winds will be increasing all day and by cocktail hour will be strong enough to make docking or even anchoring a challenge in Mackinac's tight harbor. We have our fingers crossed that there will be a slip available, as the reservable ones are sold out; another good reason to arrive as early as possible.


The bow and pilothouse of the John W. Boardman, now a cottage in Detour.

The weather on the lakes will have us pinned down here for a few days. Whenever a window opens, we will continue west through the Straits of Mackinac and under the Mackinac Bridge. My next post will likely be under way in Lake Michigan.


Another spectacular UP sunset.

On the shores of Gitche Gumee

We are under way in the ship channel, headed for Whitefish Bay on Lake Superior. Winds today are gusting to 20 knots, and so we will not be heading out into the lake or even crossing the bay.

Our cruise Wednesday afternoon through the St. Joseph Channel in Canada was absolutely beautiful. The channels are deep and rocky, and the current is swift in the narrower sections. Even though it is still August, some fall color is already starting to show here, the farthest north we've ever been in Vector.


Sunset from our remote and peaceful anchorage at Glen Cove Tuesday.

We cleared under a single fixed bridge on the route, at the Twyning Islands, connecting them and St. Joseph Island to the Ontario mainland. We ended the day back in US waters just east of the southern tip of Sugar Island, where we dropped the hook in a dredge spoil pile (map). This channel of the St. Marys River is scoured to rock through much of its length, and while there are a couple of protected anchorages on the Canadian side, we can't use them without clearing customs in both directions. The spoil pile provided holding where there would otherwise be none.

This anchorage, while not as remote as Tuesday's, was also mostly dark and quiet; a Corps of Engineers crane barge arrived in the evening and tied to the shoreline a half mile from us, and left again in the morning. We had a nice dinner and a quiet night aboard.


Cruising the Wilson Channel on approach to the Twynings Islands Bridge. Much of the scenery looked like this.

Yesterday morning we got an early start, heading upriver and into Lake George, where I could let the autopilot drive for an hour or so. More fjords, current, and spectacular scenery, this time alternating between Canadian waters on our starboard and Michigan to port, eventually brought us back to the main ship channel at Sault Ste. Marie.

We cleared in with Soo Traffic, and a short while later we arrived at the George Kemp Marina, another DNR marina in downtown Sault, almost immediately downstream of the Soo Locks. We backed in to a 45' slip as directed (map) and were secure alongside by 1:30 in the afternoon. We immediately started in on "dockside errands," with Louise starting on several loads of laundry (we really need dockside water for laundry) while I pressure-washed what seemed like tons of bug poop off the aft deck areas.


The lake is still very high, and this camper on the Michigan side was flooded.

That still left me an hour to explore town on the e-Bike and swing by the grocery store, on the other side of the hydroelectric canal, for some much-needed provisions, including replenishing the critical beer supply. Long-time readers may remember that we stopped here in Odyssey over a decade ago,  and not much has changed about the small downtown area since then. We spent the entire visit watching the locks back then, rather than strolling the town.

Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan is all about the Soo Locks. What tourism is here is here for the locks, and it supports a small handful of souvenir shops and tourist restaurants. The rest of the infrastructure supports the Coast Guard station, which includes a Sector command, and the Corps of Engineers, who run the locks and also maintain an office, a survey crew, and channel maintenance crews here. By contrast, the Canadian counterpart across the river is a larger city, supporting a Walmart, numerous restaurants, and the like, being, as it is, in the temperate part of the country.


Our dinner venue, overlooking the lock across the street. I love the vintage sign.

Last night after dinner, I spent about four hours on routes, plans, and contingencies. The fall color and crisp temperatures were something of a wake-up call; we need, in short order, to be moving steadily south. We have a target of leaving Chicago, our final city on the Great Lakes, on October 3rd, to be queued for the Lockport lock on the Illinois Waterway when it reopens on October 5th after a two-week maintenance closure.

The timing would support us spending perhaps a bit over a week here in Lake Superior. That's not really enough to get to the most interesting parts, which would be the Apostle Islands or Isle Royale, and certainly not enough to make it to Duluth and back, but it would be just enough to get out to the Pictured Rocks and a short stay in Munising. Again, long-time readers may remember we stopped in Munising in the bus and took a tourist cruise past the pictured rocks.


The view from our marina. Laker in the background is a museum ship; historic Water Street homes are at right.

Alas, the weather on the lake will not be conducive to even getting that far in a week's time, or possibly even longer. With each passing day the odds increase that we'll be stuck somewhere on the lake for several days, picking our way back. A 60-mile stretch, ten full hours, from Whitefish Point to Grand Marais with no intermediate safe harbors of refuge means we'd need a full-day window in each direction to even make it to the next town.

This morning's re-check of the weather confirmed that it would be a bad idea to even cross Whitefish Bay, and so we opted instead to merely have a taste of the big lake, going as far as the Gros Cap Reef and then turning around for one of the few accessible anchorages, in a small bay called Waiska Bay and known locally on the VHF as Whiskey Bay. On the shores of the bay are a Native American casino and a state park where, as it happens, we stayed in Odyssey, just before our stop at the locks.


This CoE building from 1942 still says "War Department." For those on the water it is easy to forget the CoE is still part of the Army, in the Department of Defense.

The wisdom of our decision was confirmed as we made our approach to the reef light, bouncing over steepening waves as the St. Marys gave way to Whitefish Bay. As soon as we turned around to put wind and waves (and current) behind us, the ride got much more comfortable.

Knowing we would be in a marina last night, we had our mail and another package sent. Our mail arrived yesterday, but the other package was delayed. We lingered a bit at the dock this morning, but ultimately had to drop lines without it. We have to pass this spot in the other direction, and we asked if we could drop by the fuel dock and pick it up. We stopped at the same dock on our way out for a pump-out. The package arrived, according to tracking, a couple of hours after we left.


The "Tower of History." Little more than an elevator to a tiny overlook, built in brutalist style. We did not ascend.

We crossed the channel to the Canadian side to uplock through the Canadian lock. The big locks that handle the freighters and tugs are both on the American side, with the actual St. Mary's Falls in between. The Canadian lock is much smaller and easier to use for pleasure craft, and the CoE prefers pleasure craft and other small vessels use the Canadian lock. As we entered the lock, the pilot boat was coming out from locking down. We did have to wait about ten minutes. Clearing in with customs is not required just to use the lock.

The Canadian side of the St. Marys River upstream of the locks is very industrial, basically a large transfer port for bulk material, arranged in tall piles. I was too busy navigating to get a photo. That was out of sight, though, as soon as we rounded Pointe Aux Pins, and the lakefront is now quite scenic.


Approaching the Canadian Canal lock. US-flag pilot boat is just exiting. Lock keepers were very friendly.

Update: We are anchored in Waiska Bay (map). We are now at 603' above sea level, 210' below our record, set in Knoxville three years ago. Shoals surround us so we are pretty much mid-bay, and even in this little bay the wind is stirring up some chop. As long as it does not get too bad, we'll splash the tender and run the 3/4 mile to shore, where we spotted another restaurant down the street from the casino. If that doesn't pan out, the casino has a dock and three restaurants.

Yoopers.

We are under way in the North Channel, headed for the St. Joseph Channel and an anchorage near Sugar Island. We are in Canadian waters, having left US waters a short while ago, and we'll just be back in US waters when we drop the hook this afternoon.

Monday evening we anchored in Presque Isle Bay (map). We had the place to ourselves for the night; a small power boat was anchored when we arrived but left by dinner time, and a handful of unoccupied sailboats were on moorings in the bay. A small state marina is at the north end of the bay, but offered nothing we needed, the restaurant there being closed for renovations. The Presque Isle lighthouses were too far from the docks to make it a pleasant visit.

Instead we ate aboard and just enjoyed finally being in the quiet and scenic parts of the Michigan coast. Here, deciduous trees have mostly given way to evergreens, and the forests come to within a few feet of the shoreline. Around the bay we could see only a few structures, and only a handful of lights disturbed the overnight darkness, including the occasional flash of the Presque Isle light, and the floodlit Old Presque Isle Light keeper's house. The water here is crystal clear, and we could see our anchor chain on the bottom some 17' below the surface.

Yesterday morning we weighed anchor first thing and set out across the lake, on a mostly due north heading. It was a perfect day for it, with the lake nearly flat calm and zero commercial traffic. We very briefly lost our Internet coverage just past the midpoint, and since then we've been using my T-Mobile phone, which is roaming on Canadian towers. By early afternoon we were entering the False DeTour Channel, wide and deep. At 120'+ of depth I expected to find some adverse current, but there was none, and, in fact, we had a small push just before turning into the North Channel.

We proceeded west along the north shore of Michigan's Drummond Island, dropping the hook in Glen Cove (map), a small bay with only a little silt over the rocky bottom. Still, it was plenty to hold us in last night's mirror-calm conditions. Here we could see no lights at all; no navigational lights were in sight, and only a soft glow in the sky above Sault Ste. Marie in the distance interrupted the otherwise total darkness. Before the moon rose after midnight, we could go on deck and see the Milky Way; while she was out looking at the sky Louise saw a bat feasting on the smorgasbord of bugs that Vector brought with her.

Things were also flat calm when we awoke this morning, but no longer. Seas have been building all day, and we now have whitecaps ahead of us; we got an early start so we can be into the more protected waters of the St. Joseph Channel before the forecast squalls hit today. The Canadian Coast Guard has been broadcasting about it since early yesterday. This morning a couple of loopers passed us, pushing hard to make DeTour this afternoon before the winds arrive.

I have no pictures to share with this post, for the first time in quite a while. We passed the lighthouses too far offshore to get good pictures, and, as beautiful as Presque Isle Bay and Glen Cove were, they did not make for good photos. Our Internet access is likely to be limited this afternoon and tonight; tomorrow we will continue along the Canadian border, through Lake George and around Sugar Island to Sault St. Marie.

Shipwreck Alley

We are under way northbound in Lake Huron, just crossing Thunder Bay as I begin typing. We are bound for Presque Isle Bay for the night, our last stop along the "Sunrise Coast" of Michigan.

Saturday afternoon we rounded the tip of the "thumb" and turned south just past the Port Austin Reef Light and into Port Austin harbor. As we came in past the breakwaters, another trawler anchored in the harbor greeted us, the Deanna, hailing from Newport Beach, California. Seeing us arriving, the harbormaster hailed us, wondering if we were coming to the dock; they were able to confirm for us that there was sufficient depth outside the channel to anchor. We dropped the hook just outside the green buoy line (map).


Port Austin Reef lighthouse.

For reasons that are not clear to me, DNR has marked off a very wide channel in this harbor; it's wider than both the harbor entrance and the marina fairways. Not long after we had the hook set, the DNR police boat came out, passed us, and headed over to Deanna, which was anchored at the edge of, but inside, the marked channel. They apparently told them to move, and then headed toward us. Fortunately, we were well-positioned, and they simply wanted to know if we had enough depth in our swing circle, as apparently the other crew was worried about it.

It was a gorgeous evening, and we might well have splashed the tender and gone ashore for dinner; we could see some lovely patio tables at a riverside eatery. But when we had spoken with the harbormaster on the radio we asked about dinghy dockage, and they told us it would be $12 for a couple of hours. We left it on deck and ate aboard. We did get to hear the live music emanating from that same patio a short while later.


Spectacular and peaceful sunset over Saginaw Bay and the Port Austin breakwater, before the tintinabulation of the bells.

We settled in for a quiet evening. The harbor was calm and lovely and the music stopped at a reasonable hour. And then, at 1 a.m., the church bells started ringing. The recorded kind, played over speakers at high amplification. A series of hymns played for literally 45 minutes, coming right past my headphones and confounding what I was listening to on my computer, and waking Louise. Perhaps a glitch in the electronic timers, or someone bumped the "play all" button, or maybe the harbormaster requested it to keep those pesky parsimonious anchored boats from coming back.

Yesterday morning the forecast showed we could make good progress on the lake until early afternoon, when we'd have to be in safe harbor due to storms. So we weighed anchor right after coffee and got underway, crossing the mouth of Saginaw Bay. I had to alter course and speed to avoid an enormous freighter that was inbound for Saginaw, but we had an otherwise uneventful crossing until about a half hour out of Harrisville Harbor, our destination.

That's when the marine radio cackled with a small craft warning; the storms were in progress and headed our way at 40mph, with potential 65mph gusts and hail. We looked at the radar and did the math, figuring we might just make harbor by the time they hit. I did my regular daily engine run-up, holding it a bit longer than normal and shaving a couple of minutes off our arrival time, and we battened down everything on deck in our usual high wind protocol. Seas were already building to 3' or so and I had to steer by hand the rest of the way to port.


Vector looking diminutive in Harrisville Harbor this morning, even though you'd be hard-pressed to squeeze another boat in the anchorage.

We poked into the harbor just as the rain was starting. Again the harbormaster, seeing us coming, hailed us to get our intentions, and gave us directions for anchoring We dropped the hook in between the marina channel and boat ramp channel (map) and were well set before the wind arrived. Fortunately, the bulk of the storm skirted south of us (ironically, slamming Port Austin) and we only ever saw 20kt winds and moderate rain.

The harbormaster here was much more accommodating when I asked about taking the tender ashore, telling us to tie up to the west side of the fuel dock for a short visit. We were looking forward to getting off the boat for dinner, especially since it was a beautiful afternoon after the storm passed. Sadly, on a Sunday evening there were no dining options in town; the well-rated pizza place is carry-out only, and the sports bar was replacing their grill and so their kitchen was not open. We again ate aboard and figured to again leave port without going ashore.

That plan changed later in the evening when, while doing the route planning for the next few stops, I realized that this is the last grocery store we will see until the Soo Locks. The lone restaurant at the Presque Isle harbor is closed for renovations, and the two stops beyond that are remote anchorages. We needed to top up the produce supply for three more nights at anchor. The grocery opened at 9 this morning and we splashed the tender before that and arrived ashore right at 9. By 9:30 we were decking the tender and getting under way.


Thunder Bay Island Light.

As I wrap up we've just rounded Thunder Bay Island, having passed a half dozen or so shipwreck mooring buoys along the mouth of Thunder Bay, here in the Thunder Bay National Marine Sanctuary and Underwater Preserve. The lake surface temperature is just 69°F today and we saw no dive boats out, but the lake water is so clear I can imagine it is some spectacular wreck diving with the right gear.

Tin Can Tourist

We are underway northbound in Lake Huron, hugging the coast of Michigan's "thumb." We have a long 50-mile day today, headed for the mouth of Saginaw Bay. The plotter is showing anchor down right at beer o'clock.


Moonrise over the lake vies for attention with the Sanilac breakwater light.

Yesterday afternoon we had the hook down in Sanilac Harbor (map) right around 3:15. The entire harbor bottom is covered in weeds, which confounds our depth sounder and also makes anchoring, and, later, weighing anchor, more of a challenge. We dropped where the chart says there was plenty of depth and we were out of the way of the busier-than-expected harbor.


Vector in Sanilac Harbor.

I soon learned the reason for that, after I splashed the tender and headed ashore to explore. It turns out that today is the annual Sanilac Antique Boat and Vintage RV show, and the harbor was filling up with old woodies, and the Tin Can Tourists had already set up shop all over the adjacent park. The street leading to the harbor was closed off, and a couple of food trucks and carts were set up for the weekend.


This 60's Frolic had highly polished side fluting.

Long-time readers will know that, before Vector, we lived in our RV for nearly a decade, and for nearly two years before that, I was fully engaged in the project of converting a Neoplan bus into what would be our home. As such we were well immersed in RV culture, and I even became something of a figure in RV and particularly bus conversion circles as a technical expert on systems. So this was sort of a flashback into a former life for me.


A '36 fifth wheel with its custom '38 International tow vehicle.

You might say I am a bit jaded, as it was plenty for me to just admire these vintage rigs from the outside and enjoy a few glimpses through doorways, without having to venture inside any of them (many were open for tours even yesterday evening, although the show started this morning). Also, it was enough for me to enjoy their beauty without having to drill down into makes, models, and age, although I recognized quite a few marques.


Lovingly restored Vagabond.

On the water side of things, I am not much of a vintage boat fan, and a number of readers were disappointed that we eschewed the antique boat museum in Clayton and any number of maritime museums along the lakes. But these lovingly cared-for boats were certainly things of beauty; unsurprisingly for the region, Chris Craft was well represented. Keeping anything in that kind of show condition is more work than I would be able to muster, and looking at boats (or RVs) is something of a busman's holiday, so the whole show took me less than half an hour to take in.


Most of the smaller boats, like this 39 Chris Craft, arrived on trailers, then were brought around to the docks.

I scoped out the grand total of three restaurants in town as dinner options; the over-priced waterfront joint was already booked solid from 6-7:30. There was also a very nice hardware store in town, and a Family Dollar had we needed any provisions (we did not). I was also nearly mown down crossing the street at the four-way stop by some idiot buried in his cell phone as he made a left turn, and pulling a heavy trailer. I jumped out of the way at the last second, screaming. No harm done, except a bit of a sore throat later.


This once-futuristic trailer has a teardrop back and the entry door in front.

We returned ashore for dinner at the Blue Water Grill, a casual sports bar in town, where the food was decent and a third the price of the waterfront place. Even the nice selection of drafts was well-priced. Afterward we walked to the mini-mart at the Marathon station, as somehow we forgot to replenish the beer supply in Detroit, and we were completely out. They had the local Great Lakes brews in stock and I picked up some Edmund Fitzgerald Porter.


The DNR police were cruising past when we pulled up this ball of weeds. It cracked them up.

This morning we again pulled up a hundred pounds of weeds with the anchor, but Louise has gotten quite good at removing them with the boat pole as the chain comes up. We left the harbor with a giant mustache of them stuck behind the snubber, but that all came off under way after a few miles.

Lake Huron

We are under way northbound in Lake Huron. We're back up to our normal cruising speed of about 6.5 knots for the first time since leaving Lake Erie on Sunday, and the plotter says we should have the anchor down in Port Sanilac by 3:30 or so.

Shortly after my last post, we splashed the tender to go ashore; no small feat in itself in close to a knot and a half of current. I had figured to land at the downtown bulkhead, but it turns out that the decent restaurants as well as a needed gas station and a nice grocery store where actually a mile or so downriver behind us, near the public boat ramp and the old Chris Craft factory, which is now a marina.


Picton Castle at the dock in Algonac. Flux is docked under her bowsprit.

We did not want to eat at the marina's restaurant, and so instead we landed at the boat ramp and lined the dinghy around to a bulkhead to keep it out of the way of ramp users. The excellent Catch 22 Bistro was just a block away; their walls are absolutely crammed full of Chris Craft memorabilia. After dinner we walked to the Kroger for a few provisions and a gallon of gas for the tender; no way did I want to run short in these rivers, where the current could sweep us away and our dinghy anchor won't even reach the bottom.

After dropping Louise and the groceries back at Vector, I tendered back ashore at the downtown bulkhead, tying up just in front of Picton Castle. They had just wrapped up a tour stop here, scheduled to shove off in the morning, but even closed for the day, a number of visitors were milling around the dock checking her out. Immediately adjacent to this dock is the ferry landing for the small car ferry to Canada, which came and went constantly during our stay.


Dinner at Catch-22 amid the Chris Craft and Garwood memorabilia.

I walked around what passes for a downtown now, where the go-to hangout joint is the local Dairy Queen. A couple of dollar stores and pharmacies and the large Seafarer's Union hall are along the otherwise sparse waterfront. Still, it was an excellent stop, and with good holding in constant current, Vector did not move even half a boat length in any direction all night.

In the morning we weighed anchor for the uphill climb to Port Huron. It was a pleasant cruise, but the 23 mile trip took over five and a half hours. We averaged just 4.3 knots while making turns for 6.5, so a little over two knots against us the whole way. Along the way we passed the towns of Marine City and St. Clair, with the former looking like it would have been a very nice stop, with several waterfront cafes and a cute downtown. But there is literally nowhere to anchor on the American side, and we did not want to pick our way up the Belle River to the sole marina or go through four border crossing clearances to anchor across the river.


Marine City from mid-channel. The lighthouse is decorative.

At Port Huron we also had no choice but to take a dock, but at least here the Black River is relatively wide and deep, and there was a choice of four workable docks. We stopped at the very first one, the Port Huron Yacht Club (map), where our reciprocity let us take a spot on the face dock for $1 per foot, including 30-amp power, and we would not have to wait on the Military Street drawbridge in both directions.

After we tied up I took the e-Bike for a spin around town, bumping into the Thursday evening concert series in the waterfront park and exploring the quaint downtown, which still sports a number of going concerns including a handful of well-rated restaurants. We walked to dinner at the Vintage Tavern, which was good, if a bit pricey for this part of the country.


Vector at the Port Huron Yacht Club.

Across the St. Clair from here is the larger town of Sarnia, Ontario, which is where the Canadian Coast Guard maintains its communications center for this region -- we've been hearing them since mid-lake Erie, where the transition happens from Prescott Coast Guard Radio. Also in Sarnia is the Vessel Traffic Control center for the shipping lanes from Lake Erie to Lake Huron; listening to Sarnia Traffic is highly recommended coming through here in order to know about ship movements. Ships only monitor Traffic and not the international hailing and distress channel here, so they also need to be hailed on the Traffic channel, which is VHF 12 from Lake Erie to the middle of Lake St. Clair, and then VHF 11 the rest of the way to Lake Huron.

Our forecast said the lake would get better throughout the day, and so we lingered at the dock over coffee this morning. CBP was out walking the docks, presumably looking for anyone who might have arrived overnight without clearing in. Just as we were making ready to leave, three freighters were converging on the port, and we waited at the dock until they were past the Black River entrance.

This morning's challenge was the St. Clair Rapids. The narrowest part of the St. Clair River is between the abutments of the Blue Water Bridge, connecting Port Huron and Sarnia (never mind that the water here is green). Every drop of water leaving lake Huron passes under this bridge, and the current can get as high as seven knots. That's higher than Vector's cruising speed and just two knots shy of her top speed, where she burns a gallon of diesel every five minutes.


The reason we keep running into tall ships.

We had advice that by hugging very tightly to the Canadian side, which is the inside of the bend, we'd find a counter-current right up to the bridge. Sure enough, after passing the Port of Sarnia berths our speed picked up until an indicated 7kt, or about a half knot behind us, until we rounded the edge of the bulkhead at the foot of the bridge, where our speed dropped to less than 3kt in the span of two boat lengths.

Almost immediately the stabilizers centered themselves because our GPS speed had dropped below 4, and we found ourselves rolling through the rapids. Typically the term "rapids" conjures up shallow water with awash rocks; these rapids are 40' deep and still just as rough. We quickly hit the speed signal override on the stabilizers, and I advanced the throttle to 1800rpm, which got us up to 2.5 kt for the worst of it. Past the bridge and still clinging tightly to the Canadian bank, our speed gradually ratcheted up, and I was able to bring the throttle back about a quarter mile from the bridge.

We continued veering into Canada along the southeastern shore of Lake Huron until our speed climbed back up to 6 kt, and then we turned onto a direct course to Sanilac. This was, bar none, the strongest current we've ever seen, at close to five knots in the short stretch under the bridge, edging out the Gulf Stream and the Lower Mississippi, at just over four knots each.


Looking back toward the St. Clair river entrance and the Blue Water Bridge from the calm of Lake Huron.

Holding the boat just a hundred feet or so off the shoreline on the approach and departure, and wrestling the helm through the rapids, took all of my concentration and both hands, and so I missed getting any photos of the Lightship Huron permanently docked in Port Huron, or the historic Grand Trunk Western depot, more or less right under the bridge.

If all goes to plan we should be anchored in Sanilac's protected harbor this evening, and tomorrow we will continue north along the "thumb" of eastern Michigan. Harbors are few and far between here, so tomorrow will either be a very long or very short day, depending on how we feel.

Motown

We are under way northbound in Lake St. Clair, just abreast of Grosse Pointe, Michigan, as I begin typing. The lake has a bit of a chop but is mostly comfortable, and we intend to be off it entirely by this evening, as tomorrow it is forecast to be untenable. While small in comparison to its neighbors, this is by no means a small lake, and it can get rough. Some call it the littlest Great Lake.

We had a quiet and peaceful night Sunday, after the numerous go-fast boats finally quit for the night. Our tenuous grip on the rocky bottom held fast with 100' of chain. We were directly abreast of the Detroit River Wildlife Refuge, and all evening we saw and heard lots of birds. About 11pm or so, something let out a howl (coyote, I would think) and in the span of a minute or two, hundreds of other voices had joined the chorus. The refuge has just built a new visitor center, fishing pier, and boat dock, but they are not yet open, else I would have tendered over.


Approaching Detroit, with the Renaissance Center center frame beyond the Ambassador Bridge. The ship ahead of us is the Whitefish Bay, who just pulled away from the dock and passed us.

Monday morning we weighed anchor to make the 10:45 opening of the Grosse Ile Parkway bridge, which is hailed on the radio as the "grow zeal free bridge" (the subtleties of French have been lost over time). We then had to putt along slowly to stretch our arrival at the Grosse Ile toll bridge to 11:30. The mainland shoreline from here to Detroit is an odd mix of going concerns, abandoned and decaying infrastructure, and land repurposed into waterfront development.

We left the Trenton channel and in relatively quick succession passed Wyandotte and Ecorse before rejoining the main channel at the Ecorse channel junction. Although we are not required to do so, I cleared in with Sarnia Traffic on channel 12. Just as we were coming up on the River Rouge outlet (leading to Dearborn), an enormous freighter, the Whitefish Bay, announced on that same channel that they were leaving the dock on the Canadian side, and we had to move over to the American side of the channel to make room, costing us a half knot or so. Overall we had about 1.5 knots against us.


Sunset over the Detroit Wildlife Refuge from our anchorage.

After passing downtown Detroit to port (and downtown Windsor, Ontario to starboard) we arrived at the William G. Milliken State Park and Harbor, with its very robust decorative lighthouse. We plowed through a little hump of silt at the entrance and tied alongside the first T-head (map). There is actually a designated federal anchorage in the river just outside this harbor, but there's no good place to land a tender, and it's a deep anchorage. At $1.25 per foot we were happy to have a secure dock for Tuesday's forecast high winds.


We made passing arrangements with the tall ship Bluenose, who seemed confused about whistle signals.

As luck would have it, a Grand Banks that had been gaining on us out on the river came in right behind us, and they turned out to also be loopers, the first we've seen in these parts. I was happy to meet Matt, Jen, and their son Felix aboard Long Way Home. We did not get a chance to spend any time with them, as they had a previous commitment with family across the river, but there is a good chance we'll run into them further along.


The RenCen. Instantly familiar.

With most of the afternoon ahead of me, I set out on the e-Bike to explore the neighborhood. I started by heading west along the very nice new Detroit River Walk to the Renaissance Center, locally known as the RenCen, a mixed-use facility that is now the world headquarters of General Motors. I've never been here before, but walking in the door I was instantly in familiar surroundings.

A big part of that is because architect John Portman (of soaring hotel atrium fame) used essentially the same blueprints, but on a smaller scale, for the Bonaventure hotel complex in Los Angeles, right down to the elliptical cantilevered conversation pods. I've spent more than my fair share of time in the Bonaventure (and many other Portman hotels). Like its smaller west coast cousin, the RenCen also hosts a hotel, the Detroit Marriott, which occupies the center tower.


Looking south through the "Wintergarden" area of the RenCen. Center-frame across the river is Ceasar's casino in Windsor, Ontario. Yes, Canada is due south of Detroit, no matter what the Journey song said.

The other familiar memory called up for me here was of the General Motors building in Manhattan, which I visited a number of times in my youth. There, too, huge swaths of the first floor were given over to an all-marques GM new-car showroom. The cars here, other than the ones on the rotating center turntable, are all unlocked for visitors to have a test-fit. In addition to actual cars, a life-size, 3,800-lb replica of a Silverado pickup is made entirely of Lego bricks, and is incredibly detailed.


Lego Silverado.

In the RenCen I also found a half dozen restaurants, a food court, a few shops, and a station for the People Mover. I did not have time to explore more of downtown, but instead I rode back past the marina to the Warehouse District to scope out a couple of our walkable dining options. Before I left the RenCen I noted the Mariner's Church across the street, and beside it the entrance to the tunnel to Windsor, where, for $5 (US or CDN) one can take a bus across for a visit.


A number of tall ships have been cruising downriver, likely returning from another tall ship event. In addition to Bluenose we again saw the Nao Santa Maria, and this, the Appledore IV, whom we see regularly in NY and Key West.

By dinner time, the forecast for rain had been pushed back to 9pm, and we walked a few blocks east to the Atwater Brewing Company for dinner. They had a large selection of their own brews on draft, and we found all three that we sampled very good.


The retail arcade in The Guardian Building.

Yesterday I again took the e-Bike out for some exploration. I rode all the way to the end of the River Walk, where the remains of the Joe Louis Arena are being slowly dismantled. From there I rode through Hart Plaza, which seems like it ought to be a vibrant public space but was, rather, little more than a homeless encampment, perhaps emblematic of the study in contrasts that is modern Detroit.


Looking over the main lobby in the Guardian Building.

From Hart Plaza I made the short ride to the historic Guardian Building, just to see the splendid and well-kept 30's-era lobby areas, before riding around Campus Martius Park, the nominal center of the city. From there I rode out Woodward Avenue, the main drag, all the way to the complex of new sports stadia on the edge of downtown, just past the theater district. I ended my tour back at the RenCen, where for 75 cents I hopped on the People Mover and made the full loop, just for the view.


The James Scott fountain on Belle Isle. My photo could not do it justice.

After a quick late lunch stop at the boat I rode out to Belle Isle. The entire island is a park, and as an urban park, it rivals Central Park, larger in size and also designed by Frederick Law Olmsted (who also designed the layout of the national mall and one of my alma maters). By rights it ought to be an urban gem, like its distant cousins in New York and DC, but Detroit's financial troubles doomed it to a shadowy ghost of its former grandeur. It has been leased to the state and is now operated as a state park. I circled the entire island, stopping at the famed fountain, the "casino," the Conservatory, and just outside the Detroit Yacht Club.


The Casino building at Belle Isle. For the record, I can distinguish between excrement and this decidedly modern clock.

At dinner time we strolled along the River Walk to the RenCen for dinner at the upscale Italian place, Andiamo. New York prices for Detroit quality, but we enjoyed sitting outside overlooking the river and the food was acceptable. I think it's a captive audience, with the Marriott hosting a booming conference business.


The aquarium, conservatory, and formal gardens. Not open on my visit.

A day and a half of exploring and two evenings out was plenty of Detroit, and yesterday evening we stowed the e-Bike after dinner and settled in for a final evening of unlimited air conditioning. Around 9:30 we were both rousted from our seats as a loud crash, a sharp movement, and the immediate sound of engines revving told us we'd been hit. A 35'-ish express cruiser had slammed us with his swim platform as he was trying to dock at the other end of the T-head. Inspection in daylight this morning revealed nothing more than a scuff, but sheesh, people, get some boat-handling lessons.

This morning we dropped lines after inspecting for damage and offloading the last of the trash and recycling. The channel west of Belle Isle would have been our preferred route upriver, but at this water level, clearing the fixed bridge would be dicey. Rather than even hassle with it, I cleared in with Sarnia Traffic and we took the ship channel up the Canadian side, departing it when we reached the lake.


View toward Windsor over Hart Plaza.

Update: We are now anchored in the North Channel of the St. Clair River, across from downtown Algonac, Michigan (map). Our old acquaintance the Picton Castle is tied to the bulkhead downtown across from us. We arrived here via the Middle Channel, which has a 7' bar across the entrance, and I had to stop typing until now. The St. Clair actually has a broad delta in Lake St. Clair, with the bulk of the flow taking the three largest channels. The South Channel is the ship channel, and we wanted to keep clear of that as long as we could. In the morning, we'll take the ship channel all the way to Port Huron.