Boat Ramblings 6

So off I go again on my ramblings.... Les Cheneaux Islands where we were headed at the end of Boat Ramblings 5 .... they were pleasant enough, but definitely could not compete with the remoteness and serenity of previous anchorages. We were keen to visit Mackinac (pronounced Mackinaw) Island. It is a popular place with bookings for a slip at the marina taken well in advance. We were lucky to acquire a slip for one night on a cancellation, but had to hang around a few days (hence the visit to Les Cheneaux) until the appropriate date arrived. It was worth it. The island is only accessed via water or air and the only form of transportation on the island is bicycle, foot, horse or horse drawn carriage......a step back in time.....no cars allowed. The infrastructure of the small township dates back to the late eighteen hundreds and is extraordinarily well maintained while the rest of the island is a State Park. I suspect to be a resident, one must have, or very quickly acquire, a green thumb, as every garden, whether private or otherwise, was an artist's delight, the displays of flowers just amazing. The island is, however, very, very touristy....but not in a tacky sort of way. We unshipped our bikes, left Walker crashed out on board following a long walk earlier, and rode the 8 miles around the island A scenic ride beside azure blue, crystal clear waters reminding us very much of the tropics. We shared this bit of exercise with many other tourists tackling the gentle terrain on their rented bikes. We then went in search of the Grand Hotel, the largest summer hotel in the world which boasts the longest and widest verandah of any hotel. It was also the setting for that wonderful movie "Somewhere in Time" with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour. We sat in the deeply cushioned seats of the indoor parlor listening to the gentle sounds of the piano player caressing the ivories as afternoon tea was being served by waiters in dinner jackets. The price was, however, quite outrageous, so we elected to move on and settled for icecream on the porch after exploring the hotel.

The fort sitting above the town fire their cannons each night at 6pm followed by a single bugler which can be heard from afar. Then at 10pm the same lone buglar invites the town to retire for the evening with the playing of The Last Post or Taps as I believe it is called in the States.....might add the town did not then immediately go to sleep for the last ferry for the mainland would not leave until 11pm....bye bye.

In dense fog, we reluctantly said farewell to the island as we slipped our lines early the next morning (thank heavens for radar) for the long 7 hour run to Harbor Springs on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. The cold waters of the Great Lakes have a notorious reputation and have claimed many a ship and many lives over the years. To date the Lakes have been very lenient with us, so we are keeping our fingers crossed the water gods will continue to smile upon us.

We boaters are a strange lot I have decided. By my reckoning, the boats and boaters who inhabit the various marinas along the way seem to fall into four categories.
First are the smaller runabouts around 12ft in size. They seem to find their delight in high tailing it out of the marina come the end of the work week, usually in groups of 2 or 3 boats, heading for some quiet anchorage for the weekend. Once there, they tie their boats along a deserted, sandy/grassy shoreline, disgorge their tents, coolers (eskies) chairs, light a big fire and settle in for the weekend. Some even convert their open boats into a nightly cocoon by erecting specially designed canopies to keep them dry for the evening.....nice.

The next group own a slightly more expensive, larger boat, perhaps 20-25ft. These boats are also of the planing type (read that as fast) but have compact and comfortable galleys (kitchen), sleeping, eating and "comfort" areas below....all in a space one would be challenged to swing a cat in. The open deck is the main living area with comfy seating (liberally sprinkled with drink holders) and some elaborate canopies to protect from sun and rain. Now I would place these guys into two subcategories The first apparently, never leave the marina....the boat becomes the central place for a weekend gathering. Lounge chairs, gas BBQs, canopies complete with mosquito netting and indoor/outdoor carpeting are erected on the dock beside the boat and the weekend passes in congenial gatherings of friends and family.....some don't even bother with the canopy, just the gas BBQ and the chairs. Surprisingly, the marina managements do not seem to mind. It does make for getting to and from one's boat a bit of an obstacle course through the happy gatherings, especially with Walker in tow, who will very quickly, yet ever so discretely, steal any piece of food within reach, even if aforesaid food is in some one's hand on its way to their mouth. Fortunately for all concerned, I have managed to divert his intentions at such times... so far.

The second lot of boaters in this subcategory, do leave port, taking to the waters usually on Friday evening for the weekend.   Most, it would seem, make haste to a good swimming, water sports hole where they raft their boats together to make one big party boat, and have an aquatic and certainly merry time for the weekend.
The next category is the trawlers, like ourselves.....generally slower moving boats, although some can get along at a brisk pace on the semi plane. They start around 35ft and go up from there. Many of these people are "live aboards", perhaps only for the summer or perhaps journeying as we are.   This category tend to go about their business enjoying a quieter lifestyle, coming and going as the weather and their time schedules dictate.   The boats are usually more substantial, seaworthy and are comfortable for long term living without being too extravagant, with some exceptions.

Then you have the flashy, expensive, sleek. fast machines, up to 40ft+ in length with a running cost that sends shivers down my spine......and there is plenty of them up this way. One guy in a smaller size craft of this type said with a big grin that his boat burned through $150.00 of fuel an hour at full throttle, around 25-30mph. As far as I can tell, these machines seem to simply serve to impress and act as fast, luxurious transport between one port and the next. Upon arrival in port, all aboard take their leave for the best restaurant in town, then after some fine wining and dining, they return to their fun machine for the fast run home. The beautiful people, as Richard points out, for you never see unattractive, scrubby women aboard one of these craft.

.....and then for something completely different who also inhabit the marinas but in a class of their own, are the sailors, and there are plenty of them too up this way. Whether it is for an afternoon on the water or a lifestyle, they are mostly made up of folks who are intune with the water and winds along with their ability to skillfully (well most of the time) use a large or several large pieces of cloth to propel them. Some live aboard while others are weekend day sailors. (In another life, we were live aboard sailors, but the trawler is the tool for us at present. To safely work the tides and currents we have encountered in the rivers, lakes and canals, we felt needed and have been immensely thankful for the twin diesel engines which generate 270 hp, not a feature generally found on yachts).

Up this way, the marinas are very busy places during summer, understandable as everyone makes the most of the sun shine and the waters before the harsher temps of winter roll on in, which petty much freezes over all bodies of water. Come Fall, the marinas fall into quietness as most boats are "winterized" by either having them hauled and stored in a large storage building, some of which are heated, or hauled out of the water, shrink wrapped in a tomb of white plastic to protect them and stored in an open storage area on land. It is also at this time of year (golly, that is now) that, for those who can, the annual exodus southward to warmer climes begins, whether by boat, plane, car or RV. I think a popular term for them (us) is "the grey (haired) nomads"...and yep, we are heading south.

We fell in love with northern Michigan, the rolling hills, the vineyards, the crystal clear waters with their sandy beaches and again the spectacular displays of flowers in every town and so many of the private homes. Our days of being semi hermits took an immediate about turn from here. Richard and dog stayed in beautiful Charlyvoix, Michigan, while I returned home for a week to work (although I would not call it work, for the massage/therapy work is something I truly enjoy). Upon return, we had two friends join us on board for the days run from Charlyvoix to their summer home on the water's edge in Old Mission Bay. We had intended to anchor off their home for a few days, but the weather did not cooperate, so ended up leaving Halcyon in a nearby marina. With Halcyon secure, Richard was able to relax and he, I and dog kicked back at their beautiful home, even managing to get in a game or two of tennis on their court overlooking the waters, golly life can get tough! What made it even more special was the fact that other mutual friends had driven up from Tampa and were also staying, complete with their two dogs, making a total of 5 dogs and all of us...we all were smiling.

My brother, Ian and his long time partner, Anni, then joined us aboard for 9 days as they were on their way home to Australia having spent the summer in Europe. We were praying the weather would hold as the intent was to cruise with them down the east coast of Lake Michigan and have them in Chicago in time for their onward flight...and yeah, it all fell into place. We were underway most days and only ran into one quite nasty thunderstorm while on the lake. Mind you, it had our full attention while we were in the midst of it and we were just as happy to finally bid it farewell and continue on our way. The last day traveling, heading across the lake to Chicago was most unpleasant however. Although the weather was okay, the lake waters had the washing machine effect, a left over from the high winds of the previous day. I actually lost my breakfast, first time I have been seasick in many years, so the protective walls of the marina in Chicago, for me at least, were a welcome sight. Have to say it was great to spend some quality time with Ian and Anni as we so rarely get to see them.

We bade them farewell in Chicago and later that day a friend, who lives in Chicago, made her way down to the marina and we spent a relaxing afternoon on board together before our 6am departure the next morning, in dead calm waters (thankfully). We were now heading for the Chicago River which runs right through downtown Chicago and on into the river systems which will take us home. We had some concern Halcyon may not have enough clearance under the many low, low bridges in downtown, but with Ian and Anni's help prior to them leaving, we had dropped our mast again and managed to slip under each bridge with just a little room to spare. It had more the feel of passing through a canyon of skyscrapers rising from the banks, along with their riverside walks and restaurants, all seemingly an arms length away. The city river gave way to the industrialized banks of the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal connecting the Des Plaines and ultimately the Illinois Rivers to Lake Michigan. The river traffic increased dramatically in the form of barges, which seemed to be the major transportation for feeding the industrial areas along the river and onto other ports. This traffic comprised of many, many heavy duty tugs pushing barges of coal, scrap metal, rocks, grain, sand, benzine, petroleum, etc.. The massive barges are made up of 10 to 20 of them (sometimes more), lashed together, usually three abreast, some spanning a distance of up to a 1000ft ahead of a single tug, (or tow as they are called here). Not only are they looooooong but their cargo adds to their impressive size and weight. They run night and day, their powerful spotlights lighting the river ahead of them at night. These machines rule the rivers. Richard says, their Captains are his heroes, for the way they negotiate these massive pieces of floating metal through the twists and turns and narrower sections of the river, not to mention the locks along the way, are an awesome thing to witness.

We have negotiated our way through a number of locks since leaving Chicago, which is about 660ft above sea level. Most of the locks from Chicago slowly drop us down as we make our way southward towards the Gulf of Mexico. The barges have priority of course, not only on the river but also in the locks. It just happens that often a tow cannot fit all its barges into a lock at one time. This then entails the barge line being unlashed and split into two sections. The first section is then taken through the lock, pushed on out of the lock on the other side and "parked", the lock refilled with water to allow the second half to transit through the lock along with its tow. Once the lock gates are opened again, the two halves are reconnected as the tow and the second half of the barge sits in the lock, leaving the lock unavailable for anyone else. Such an exercise (which was repeated regularly) can take at least two hours, often more, to complete. Needless to say we spent quite a few hours milling around the locks watching the "busyness" while awaiting our turn to pass through.

Wow, arrive it did, with a vengeance. After a long 72 mile day, we anchored off to one side of the river for the night, noting the building dark clouds. When it hit, the winds reached 60 knots (according to the severe weather alert and I would agree) and the horizontal driving rain completely obliterated any sight of the nearby shoreline. If on land, this would not cause undue concern, but being a boat puts a very different perspective on it. Halcyon seems to have taken it in stride, the anchor not budging in her muddy bed, but the larger boat anchored just behind us (another Looper, from Boca Raton, Fl.) seems to have lost his sun roof. A tow with his barge which passed by just before the storm, I now notice is broadside across the river with the front of his leading barges face first into the banks, just a little down from us. Not sure if that is a "oh shit, best ram her into the banks until this passes" or "oh shit, I've lost control". Either way, just glad he was downstream of us. The storm has now moved on and serenity has returned to the river. Also a refreshing coolness after the heat of the last two days, the first true summer heat we have encountered along the way. The tow along with his barges also seems to have sorted himself out and has disappeared around the bend, heading south.

We really would love to make a recording of the conversations between the tow boat Captains. They all seem to be good ole boys hailing from the Deep South and when we can understand them, their exchanges are quite amusing. At times, however, Richard and I will look at each other in bewilderment, "did you get what he said?". The other would usually reply, "not a word". When we wish to overtake a tow and its barge, it is river courtesy to call the tow captain and ask when and which side he would prefer us to pass him on. Generally recognized river etiquette uses "one the one" or "on the one whistle" to pass to starboard or "on the two" or "one the two whistle" to pass to port. Failing radio contact, the ship's horns (or whistles) are used. Upon our inquiry, a lazy drawl crackles over the radio, "yeess can tarke me on tha'r one Cap'n when yeess ready" or the drawl could come back "now hold yeself back there Cap'n til I get meself roundin this 'ere bend, then yeeess can sidle on up and mosey on b'ar me on tha'r two" The longer the directions the more challenging for us to understand. This is then further complicated by Richard's reply in a broad Australian accent "wha didya say mate". Sometimes an instruction has simply been a curt "ontha'rwahusle". We finally figured this out to mean "on the one whistle" At one time we interpreted incorrectly. We approached to pass when the tow Captain barked over the radio "Now hol yeself back there boy, don't ya be crowdin me too close tha'r ya hear". Oops, sorry....miscommunication of tha'rwahusle.

We are now at the confluence of the mighty Mississippi and Illinois Rivers, just north of St. Louis, where I'll be leavin' ya. Last night we caught up with yachty friends from St. Louis, who we met while they were circumnavigating the globe on their sail boat, as we were, now many years ago. The "Loopers" who had become scattered across the northern waters, are beginning to converge again now we are in the confines of the rivers. We all truly fit the title of southward bound grey nomads. The word is that it is a pot luck dinner tonight on the dock, to share more war stories and discuss strategies for moving on down the rivers...guess our hermit days are definitely behind us, which really is not a bad thing as they are an interesting bunch of characters.

Grand Hotel Mackinac Island

Chicago Skyline on Approach

Chicago River Bridge

Chicago River

Shrink Wrapped Winterized Boat

Tow Entering a Lock

Meeting a Typical Tow

Signs of Higher Water