Stationary Front

Holiday Letter 2009


A low develops. It drops down from the Arctic or is born in the Pacific off the West coast of Washington State, and travels eastward across the continent. It stays in Canada due to the influence of the jet stream and sits unmoving, centered over Ontario.

Tendrils extend south past Chicago, but most of its venom is unleashed on northern Michigan and above. NW wind gusting to 25 knots, low clouds, cold and rain are what it contributes. Summer nights are not balmy while it spins counterclockwise above us, but a frigid fifty degrees.

On the West coast of Lake Michigan where I live, this NW wind would not represent a problem. Though the wind may blow, the surface of the lake remains calm. There is no fetch to allow the waves to build. We can usually travel without discomfort, vigilant not to be blown off course with our little ship crabbing into the wind to maintain the proper track.

But here on the East coast the waves have time to build and hit Carrie Rose on her starboard bow just aft of the forward quarter. The long keel, large diesel and equally large prop of our Nordic Tug keeps us moving in a more-or-less straight line, but does not prevent the inclinometer from quickly swinging 15 to 30 degrees either side of center.

Out on the lake just south of Charlevoix, MI we begin to think of options. No long trip today. I depressed the GOTO button on the GPS and alter course. Fresh blue water cascades up and over the pilothouse, and soaks our bed because I have neglected to secure the forward hatch. Either due to complacency or over familiarity with the process, I have stopped consulting my pre-departure checklist, wrongly thinking I will reflexively perform the appropriate tasks. Is this not the precise reason for a checklist?

Our new destination shortens today’s trip from fifty to fifteen miles. First we need to cross Grand Traverse Bay and then, once in the lee of Lighthouse Point, things should calm down. Soon after that all will be well except for a few shoals to avoid in Northport Bay, and then the ever-present anxiety about when to depart will begin.

If you look at a map of Lake Michigan you see an undulating coastline like the design on the blade of a fine samurai sword. On land these curves hardly matter. Most are sought after for their scenic beauty. On the water they are obstacles to surmount.

Grand Traverse Bay’s large opening alters the weather and waves surrounding it. Points of land also do this. More of a factor for sailboats, I also note the different feel and sound of boat and engine as we round the various headlands. This gets the hair on my neck ruffled and heightens my awareness. With good reason as many of these points have sent much larger boats than ours to the bottom.

Large lighthouses mark their farthest reaches. Big and Little Sable Points, Point Betsie, Grand Traverse and North Manitou Shoal illuminate the hazards to navigation. I do not follow the coast closely, preferring to stay off shore watching the beach as it recedes and then miles later, comes up to meet us. This habit of staying offshore is a remnant from my sailing days.

On our harried trip home we travel from Northport to Pentwater, skirting through the Manitou Passage protected from the NW wind by the North and South Manitou Islands. We hop-scotch from Sleeping Bear Point to Point Betsie to Big Sable Point, and then after 116 nautical miles (our longest trip yet) gratefully tie up at the fuel dock in Pentwater. It was the last and the best spot in town to watch the fireworks held on July 3rd in this quaint coastal village.

With the rising sun we maneuver between trolling fishing boats and once around Little Sable Point, head straight for Holland, MI. In Holland we sleep the extra hour we will gain by crossing the lake to Chicago. We venture out on a beautiful flat blue surface and are interrupted by only a few miles of fog and one equally lonely powerboat crossing our path in eight hours.

Two weeks on the water. Sixty-one hours on the diesel. A new radio won for being the boat that came the farthest to the Nordic Tug rendezvous in Charlevoix and five days marooned in Northport due to weather.

A cruise is made up of emotions: joy, mania, camaraderie, frustration, accomplishment, doubt and confidence, and for good measure throw in a little superstition. Success depends on consultation and debate. It depends on flexibility and on engineering. It did not need to be exaggerated by the counter clockwise rotation of the stationary front to be memorable, but there it is.