May 13-15 Erie, PA
We spent three days in Erie. The first day poured rain and blew hard out of the east. Big thunderstorms rolled in at night. Mark and I made the amazing discovery that if we opened our hatch just a crack, it barely dripped at us at all, either from condensation or leakage. Our wet nights dried out.
The second day was blustery in the morning. Cedar, who currently eschews all things associated with fresh air, dirt, wholesome exercise, or hiking, had her heart set on a day in the big city. Attempting to honor that, we pulled up the anchor in the morning to motor across the bay to the courtesy dock downtown. This was an involved process which included pulling up yards of seaweed and mud and pouring buckets of water on the anchor. Just as we left, a sweeping westerly wind blew in with heavy fog. As we turned towards the city we realized we couldn’t see a thing. And if we went any further we wouldn’t be able to see how to get back. We turned around. Cedar disappeared into her bunk, inconsolable. Half an hour later the fog blew out and the sun came out for the first time in days. We upped the anchor again and headed over again.
Turns out, Erie has a lot to offer. Prominently displayed was the massive maritime museum, which includes the brig “US Niagara,” restored from the famous flagship battleship in the war of 1812. We also visited a huge library. In the afternoon Ethan showed up from the airport. How amazing when it all works out as planned! We four Gordons left Tom and Ethan to get acquainted and took off on the city bus to get groceries. Erie has a definite inner city, and we were obvious newbies. I have yet to find a bus system navigable without being “in the know,” and this was no exception. Liberally asking for help, and running so many blocks we wondered why we were taking a bus, we finally found our stop and waited for ½ hour. It was looking like this long day was going to get a whole lot longer, but we managed to shop in 22 minutes and catch the bus home in time to motor away from the courtesy dock back to our anchorage and then eat a fresh chicken supper before bedtime.
The next day, with strong westerlies still keeping us from sailing due west, we headed into the city again and took a much closer look at the museum, including a tour of the battleship. Tom, who has crewed on a smaller traditional ship, had been regaling us with stories of life on the brig, and so it was awesome to see the messes, the fo’s’cle, the shrouds, everything. These traditional sea vessels and the culture that goes along with them are fascinating. It’s refreshing to know that there are still ways for young people to get out there and work themselves silly for a glorious cause, learning old-fashioned responsibility and humility (and losing a lot of innocence) along the way.
May 16-17 to Detroit, MI
With 36 hours of easterly winds predicted, we took off hoping to put the miles behind us. We had no wind, then a little wind, then no wind. We motored all morning, sailed all afternoon, and turned on the motor again at bedtime. It was Ethan’s first time underway with us, and he was busy learning the ropes. He is eager and enthusiastic. Tom, Cedar and Lamar spent much of the day playing hide-the-plastic-frog, cards, and whatever else they could persuade him to do. We also held a “family meeting” to establish some regular chores for all. Mark and I are so used to doing everything that we forget sometimes that there are others around to do stuff, including our own daughters! Neither Tom nor Ethan shirks from the dirty work, and inspired by their good example, the girls—at least once—cheerfully did their chores.
We settled for the night—Mark on watch til midnight, Tom and Ethan on 12-4, Mark on after that. I, supposedly, was allowed to sleep! Of course, it was a nice idea but I don’t sleep on overnights. But I did rest, and did some wild dreaming, in between checking on the boys. Mark and I were both feeling good about this first overnight on Amicus II—glad that it appeared to be relatively relaxed. At midnight it was dead calm but we knew that it probably wouldn’t stay that way, as 10-20 knots out of the NE or E were predicted. Mark wisely took down the main when he handed the watch to the boys, and they motorsailed in light winds and a jib until about 2:00. Then they turned off the motor and we sailed merrily at 4 knots—then 5—then 6—by 5:00 I was up and the boat was rolling and there were some pretty big waves rolling under us. Lake Erie with its shallow waters is famous for its steep choppy waves; we’d experienced the exact same thing 4 years before. All the waves pile up at the end of the lake. We put a set of islands behind us and expected to see the waves drop. They really didn’t at all that we could see, and pretty soon the wind was whistling at 25 knots or more and we were surfing on waves that frequently broke under us. We were in about 30 feet of water. Climbing up out of the hatch, I saw Mark at the wheel, his curly gray hair blowing under his red cap, concentration masking his face, wheel spinning in his hands, looking for all the world like the ultimate swarthy captain, ready for anything. He was masterful all morning, I have to say, and his calm directives helped me to stay calm and confident every time I looked over his shoulder or listened to the roaring and breaking, which was loud.
Tom was having a great time, squealing with glee when the big ones piled up behind us. Poor Ethan did a lot of vomiting, and lay comatose in the cockpit most of the day. He managed to maintain good spirits somehow; when he raised his head he muttered that he wished he could sit up so that he could appreciate the good sail. Both girls lay in their bunks for the entire ordeal, miserable at first, but better each hour. They are much more inclined to do that in Amicus II, where they can be as close to the action in the cockpit as possible and still be warm in their bunks. It’s the perfect set-up. I was remarkably un-seasick—due both to my own pro-activeness and the now-confirmed fact that this boat really is heavier, more stable, and less bouncy. I took bearings, I sang to the girls (lying down with my eyes closed), I stuck my head out the hatch and cooked oatmeal for the boys.
Amicus II, meanwhile, did all the work. Gracefully her stern rose with each wave and dipped into each trough. It was clear that she could handle these waves just fine as long as we kept heading downwind, and so as long as our stomachs and our hearts were up for it. The real concern was coming into land. Did we have a safe way to exit the lake? The shipping channel at the end of the lake was perpendicular to the waves and fully exposed for over five miles. Hugging the shoreline rather than taking the channel was not an option due to the shallow water. We would have to turn and sail along the channel, broadside to these presumably breaking waves, with no leeway to drift downwind. For this reason we briefly considered ducking into the lee of an island and waiting it out, perhaps for days. But almost instantly we decided to continue, trusting that we’d figure out it.
Mark decided to reef the jib and asked me to take the helm. I gulped. But my fears turned into my transformation, because once at the wheel I started to feel more in control, to enjoy the motion and the boat, and to appreciate that we were doing it, and doing it well. Plus, this meant we were well equipped to deal with anything; if I could take the wheel then Mark and Tom were both available. Three able-bodied sailors felt like an incredible luxury. The 30 miles we sailed that morning were a hidden blessing too; after a few hours we relaxed a bit. We flew along as close to shore as we dared, cut out half the shipping lane with careful navigating and an eagle eye on the depthsounder. Once when I was steering Mark called from the chart table, “You’re getting too shallow—turn out!” just as a HUGE wave broke behind us, pushing us hard up, then hard down. My hands were spinning the wheel and I gave up my preference for the tiller on that wave. This was much easier.
Best of all, the wind moderated towards the end and we began to feel the slight lee of the shore. The waves were getting smaller, not bigger, as we came into shallower and shallower water. Right before entering the channel we hit a few spots around 10 feet, but then it was over and we were in the channel. By now, sailing on the beam was just a great sail, in 4-5 foot non-breaking waves.
The girls poked their heads out the hatch and were encouraged that life was going to improve soon. Lamar was not seasick at all. Cedar, who had thrown up earlier, had little energy but began to think about making some of her own food—always a good sign. Slowly Ethan came to life. We motored into the Detroit River just as the rain started coming down—again it had held off for us. We motored out of the channel and dropped the anchor for a few minutes so Mark could examine the engine after it had taken such a pounding. It must have looked fine, because in a few minutes we were moving again and motored all day up the river against a 3 knot current. The girls and I stayed inside and baked cookies, read stories, did puzzles, and generally killed time til we could fall into bed. The boys stayed outside in the drizzle and received food installments, debriefed the day, and told seasick stories. By late afternoon we’d passed downtown Detroit and were pulling into a marina. What a journey! But we’d made it! 160 miles or so. By suppertime the winds were up again and a driving rain made even a trip to the bathroom miserable. By 8:30 the cabin was silent and dark, the six exhausted members of this crew deep in slumber.
May 18—Detroit
With a strong wind warning on Lake St. Clair and more driving rain, we were easily persuaded to stay put. In the morning we played cards; Cedar and Lamar were introduced to Hearts. They were thrilled to be playing grown-up games and caught on quickly to the concept of the trick. Then in the afternoon Mark and Ethan got a ride to get propane and groceries. Tom did laundry and took a walk out of the marina. He reported twice being offered drugs on the street. The girls and I stayed in the marina buildings, and a very nice woman gave them crackers and crafts to work on. In the afternoon Tom took the girls out to run around. They returned at suppertime with Noah in tow--6 years old, gregarious and friendly. He was the son of the marina guy. While a huge cruiser beside us filled their tanks (which took all of ½ hour) Noah and the girls raced around inside and out, begged chapstick and treats from Noah’s dad who ran the little store, and generally had a blast. A.J., old friend of Mark’s who is a doctor in Detroit and who visited us 4 years ago on our way through, came over with his girlfriend (? I’m embarrassed but I already forget her name) for supper. Altogether there was a LOT of action on Amicus II! And she fit us all just fine.
Tomorrow we plan to hightail it to Lake Huron, or as close as we can get. We are hopeful that the upcoming westerlies will allow us to sail north up Lake Huron for another long stretch, so you may not hear from us for awhile.
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