We are in Gore Bay, ON. Been on the hook for a few days without telecommunications. I type this by the graciousness extended to us by the Gore Bay Library. Passage is a long story about a passage, which is what we have been doing a lot of. The weather has been fine as has our company: Sir Tugley Blue, Dolly and occasionally Jenny Jo. Connect again ASAP. Enjoy!
DeTour Passage
Crossing into Canada
Fun in Mackinaw City
The Nordic Tug Crowd
The Nordic Tugs
Long Point Cove
Passage
For the reader who has never piloted a small vessel from one point to another I thought you might want to spend the day with Charlotte and I as we make a passage from Governor Bay, MI to Harbor Island, MI on northern Lake Huron. Come along with us on Carrie Rose, our 32-foot Nordic Tug and two other tugs. I will say nothing of the years it took to obtain and prepare the boat (and crew) for this trip but only of the process itself. My first thought was to simply sketch the transit, but I am convinced that the fun is in the details, so here goes.
The process starts the day before the voyage. Once we are tucked away for the night—anchor set or tied to a dock—we begin to consider options for the next day’s cruise. Many factors influence this: weather, distance, safety, stores, fuel, our fellow boaters and location, location, location. Charts (paper and electronic), cruising guides, past log notes, recollections and scuttlebutt (a sailor’s word for gossip) are reviewed.
The first consideration is should we even go. If we are in a beautiful spot, why leave. If the weather is iffy, why leave. If we are tired, why leave. The prejudice is to keep moving. It is hard to ignore and on the Great Lakes it is often justified. We motored day after day, twenty-two in all, on our way to Lake Huron from Chicago. At first because the weather cooperated and then because we needed to stay ahead of ill weather that was to bring high winds and waves. In more hospitable climes we might have lingered a little longer in each port but this was not to be. When there is a window of opportunity dive, or rather drive, through it.
Government Bay, MI is a lovely anchorage in the Les Cheneaux Islands or as they are locally known, the Snows. Carrie Rose was anchored in the northwest corner of the bay to cushion herself from blustery NNW winds. Her big Bruce anchor was securely set into mud eighteen feet below the keel and with 70 feet of chain attached to the bow she wasn’t going anywhere.
Since the weather was fair we decided to head east towards De Tour Passage in the morning. The wind was forecast to be light and build to 10 to 15 knots from the west as the day progressed. This meant we would be traveling in a following sea. With the wind behind us we glide. It is definitely preferable to pounding into heavy seas as we did last year. So as far as the weather was concerned it was a go.
The first destination considered was a small cove in Whitney Bay on Drummond Island, MI. To get there we have to avoid several reefs, points of land and one very large lighthouse. As we were not traveling alone the consensus was to skip Whitney Bay in favor of Harbor Island, MI. This lengthened the trip by about 8 miles (for the purpose of our discussion distances stated are nautical miles). To reach Harbor Island we need to round the before mentioned lighthouse and travel north through De Tour Passage. But I get ahead of myself.
I have a night-before-cruising-ritual. I study the charts, and on the chart plotter and/or the MacBook Air’s navigational program create a route for the next day’s journey. It is how I familiarize myself with the path ahead. The route, while not automatic, keeps me engaged and though not cast in stone often takes me precisely where I am going. To do this I need to create waypoints. Waypoints are specific locations defined by their latitude and longitude. I follow them across the seascape. They are identified on the charts and represent turns, hazards, navigational aids, harbors, etc., etc. I have navigated this way since GPS became available. It has its good and bad points but overall I doubt many cruisers would go back to the not so distant pre-GPS times, so let’s keep those satellites flying!
In the morning I wake a little edgy. It is hard to enjoy breakfast. I have some tea or coffee, the usual toast with peanut butter and jelly but I am more focused on the day ahead. The first task, that is after I rid the boat of the overnight spider carnage, is to go into the engine room. This is a familiar space. It is not big but it is efficiently laid out. I look in the bilge to make sure no new fluids have appeared overnight. I scan the engine’s coolant level; check the oil and the fuel filter. Then I chill out and just look at the valves, hoses, pumps, and all the components that make us a viable boat. Once I am satisfied that the engine room is in order I move to the pilothouse.
Departure is usually 8 or 9 AM. Today we have 28 nautical miles to travel, so 9 o’clock is a reasonable time to leave. The boat is made ready. This means securing every object that might fly through the air or slide across the floor. Even on calm days experience has taught us that we never know what awaits us on the water. The fewer surprises the better.
Now in the pilothouse I take the covers off the instruments. The Furuno radar and the EchoPilot forward-sounding depth sounder occupy the space to my upper left. Directly in front of the wheel are the engine instruments, another depth sounder, the rudder angle indicator and various switches for windshield wipers, heat, anchor and running lights, and the bilge pump. To the right is the single handle topped with a maroon knob that controls the throttle along with forward and reverse. The next level forward has a portable VHF radio, two ancient Garmin GPS’s, a fan, and a small chawan (tea bowl) in which I store pens, pencils, a knife and the family band radio along with whatever insects that have manage to crawl in and die.
In front of this is an empty space where the computer resides and beyond that the regal Ritchie compass reigns over all the electronics. Directly above and a little to the right are two VHF radios and a defunct Loran-C. Despite the above there is still space for charts to the right and the left. There is more below. The bow thruster control, the generator’s gauges and start switch, DC and AC electrical panels, and an inverter to keep the computer charged. It is a lot of equipment to deal with and we have a simple boat compared to most.
But this must be getting boring. Let’s see if we can get Carrie Rose moving. To leave the anchor has to be raised. I go to the back of the boat and fetch the hose that attaches to the wash down pump. I use this to wash the mud and debris that collects on the chain and the anchor. They live down the little hole into the bowels of the boat. It is best to clean them to keep the boat from reeking. As 9 o’clock approaches I remember that I am not travelling alone and the other two boats are following a similar process. It is time to start the engine and energize the bow thruster. The gauges are scanned for any abnormalities and once the oil pressure alarm turns off we are ready to go.
Maybe I should stop here and explain what a bow thruster is. Whoever the person was to think it a good idea to drill a hole sideways through the front of the boat is on par with the person who realized that airports could be made into shopping malls. A bow thruster does just what it says; thrust the bow to the port or starboard. For a barely maneuverable boat like mine it was a revelation. It is used at idle to control the boat while docking or turning in tight channels. It also helps when in reverse. Without it the boat goes where it wants but with it I can put it where I want it, within reason that is. I do not want to sound too cocky should the marine deities or gremlins hear me and choose to put me in my place.
So, now it is finally time to raise the anchor. It should be firmly dug into the bottom after spending the night holding us in place. It should not want to come out. I take the supplemental line off. This line stretches and acts as a shock absorber to take the strain off the chain’s attachment to the bow. Then I make sure I am clear of the chain and the windlass, and start to shorten the chain. It is done in spurts. A little chain and the boat moves forward, a little more and a little more until the anchor is out of the water and stored on deck. Now the boat is free of its earthly attachment. I tidy up and we are on our way.
Today we head southeast between Government Island and Coryell Island into an area called Scammons Harbor. There are compelling stories associated with these names but that is for another time, another place. I think a primer on navigation is in order here. It will be short in case your eyes are beginning to glaze over.
The rule on the water is Red-Right-Returning. So when you are entering from the “sea” the red markers are on the right or starboard, and that is the side of the boat you keep them on. The green markers are on the left or port. Port and starboard are easily differentiated if you remember that port has four letters and so does left. Of course this would be way too simple a concept not to mess with, so sometimes there are black markers and sometimes the green is on the starboard. Eternal vigilance, or in a secular turn of phrase, situational awareness are the words to live by when on the water.
We make our way into the channel and pass red buoy “4” on our port and green can “3” on our starboard as we head out to the sea. Once in the lake we round Boot Island and point the bow east. Out in front of us are Surveyors Reef, Tobin Reef, Pomeroy Reef, and furthest south, the daddy of them all, Martin Reef. Martin Reef makes its presence felt with a 65-foot lighthouse. Do not think of these reefs in the contexts of the South Seas. Great Lakes reefs consist of rock not coral.
Our path is between Surveyors Reef and Tobin Reef. Tobin Reef is marked with green can “1”. For anyone who has done wilderness backpacking the buoy system, made up of green cans and red nuns, is similar to the cairns and tree marks you follow in clearings or in the forest. From one the next should be visible. This is not the case for the open lake but in any confining waters this is how it works. They are described on the chart but like any other system changes are made.
Before the Internet revisions were published in Notice To Mariners, in the Great Lake’s Pilot and of course on new charts. It was a cumbersome process to procure the data and transfer it to your charts. And as Murphy’s Law dictates the one buoy pivotal to the cruise is the one that had its number or location changed. With the advent of the web much of this hassle has been circumvented. If I could figure out how to use the computer the information would be updated automatically.
I forgot to tell you that the electronics are on, displaying our location on the small black and white chart plotter’s screen and in full color on the computer. The radar is making its customary whine as it spins above me. It has different settings depending on the distance, the wave conditions and the detail needed. Usually only one radio is on and it is on scan mode. It toggles through pertinent channels and stops when someone speaks on one of them. There are no private calls; we listen to what everyone is chatting about. Sometimes it is pure voyeurism but mostly it is instructive.
The autopilot keeps me on course within reason. I correct for the influence of the wind and waves. I could automate this function but I like keeping us on track. It reminds me of the constant futzing involved with sailing.
As I have been talking we have passed Martin Reef and are now headed towards St. Vital Point. Once around it we are only a few miles from the DeTour Lighthouse that marks the entrance to DeTour Passage. We have come up on a friend in a sailboat that left much earlier in the morning. While our boats are not fast with a cruising speed of around 7 to 8 knots we best most sailboats. We have the luxury of leaving later and arriving earlier, but then we also have to spend the day listening to the drone of the diesel rather than the wind in the sails.
While I have been whiling away the time the waves have built. This is brought to my attention as a particularly large one picks up the aft end of Carrie Rose and sends her surfing along the top of it. It passes under us with a hiss and I decide to pay closer attention. There are whitecaps behind us, so the predicted 15 knots of wind has arrived. The autopilot works well but as we close on the DeTour Passage Lighthouse I decide to take over the helm. I do a better job of anticipating the waves and keep us on a truer course.
One of our mates radios to inform us that a freighter is heading out of the passage into the lake and that there are two more following behind that one. The first is long gone by the time we reach the lighthouse and we do not see the others until we are well into DeTour Passage. DeTour Passage runs north and south, and is a favored course for large, often 1000 foot, freighters and bulk transports. They ferry coal, limestone, taconite and who knows what else up and down St. Mary’s River to the locks at Sault Ste. Marie and into Lake Superior or the reverse into Lake Huron.
If you remember I discussed riding the waves when they are behind us, well now we need to change course from easterly to the north and thus the waves are on our beam. This is uncomfortable and anything we failed to secure earlier in the day lets us know. We round the 74 foot lighthouse and head for red buoy “4” to steer clear of the oncoming ships which materialize before us. They are enormous. The first one, the James R. Barker, is one of the largest on the Great Lakes coming in at 1004 feet long, 105 feet wide and 50 feet deep with the Hon. James L. Oberstar, a diminutive 8oo feet, close behind. To make matters more interesting the DeTour Passage Ferry decides to cross in front of us. As my mother use to say, “Never a dull moment.”
At times like this I follow the rules of the road and stay out of the way. We pass Cab Island and Barbed Point, Frying Pan Island and DeTour Village, Black Rock Point and Pipe Island Shoal. Once through DeTour Passage we veer right to red nun “2” off of Sims Point.
Now we see the beginnings of the thousands of islands that we will encounter this summer spent in the archipelago known as The North Channel. I look out and see rocks and conifers. It is hard to tell where one island ends and the others begin until we are close upon them. Electronics while helpful can overload the senses. I take a deep breath and go back to the paper chart. We pick our way through the islands, checking them off as we pass until we reach the outer harbor of Harbor Island. To reach our anchorage for the night we took a sharp right through Bow and Surveyors Islands, passed above Gull Island and avoided the Harbor Island Reef.
Now a transition takes place. At one moment we are cruising and then suddenly we need to anchor. We try to anticipate this but it always comes as a surprise. Most anchorages are small spaces that may or may not be inhabited by boats that came before us. I slow and peruse the scene. Where to place the anchor presents us with a series of complicated equations. The major one is that the wind’s direction may change, so what could be an easy decision with the wind blowing in one direction gets dicey when you start to think about 360 degrees. We also need keep clear of the other boats and make sure we are in the proper depth of water.
I try not to hurry the process but I also do not want to over think it. I know if I get it wrong I can always lift the anchor and move to a safer location. Charlotte takes the helm once we have decided and I walk to the bow to prepare to drop the anchor. Carrie Rose is stopped and I, of course making sure I am clear of the chain and other rotating machinery, give the anchor some slack and a gentle nudge over the side.
The anchor and chain are oversized on Carrie Rose so I let out 4 feet of chain for every foot of depth. Most of the other boats let out more. The chain is painted red every ten feet for the first thirty feet and then changes to yellow until it reaches seventy feet. The rest of the connection is made up of several hundred feet of triple twisted nylon line or rode as it is known in the business. I use predetermined hand signals to have Charlotte reverse the boat to make sure the anchor is firmly set and will not break loose should the wind increase.
The passage is complete when the engine is turned off. Thanks for joining us. I left out few things, like the strong west wind and the confused seas that greeted us at Black Rock Point. No sense in getting queasy only a few miles from our destination. I log the time, distance and engine hours. Turn the electronics off and switch the boat’s batteries to the house setting. This is to prevent discharging the starter battery overnight and not being able to start the boat on another glorious cruise!
