We checked the weather from several different sources both last night and this morning, as I'm sure most of the other dozen or so boats did that we were watching on our traffic app (with whom several of which we keep crossing wakes) . The five we normally check, all agreed that today would be an acceptable day to put in some miles. So we pulled in the lines just as the sun was breaking the horizon and headed out. Turning into the channel that leads to the lake we were fourth in line. Ahead where two trawlers and a sailboat. Behind was another sailboat and trawler. South of us, along the lake, other lines of boats were leaving their overnight stops, moving into the lake, and heading south.
I'm pretty sure we all regretted that decision. (Well, maybe not the sailboats.)
It would be easy to wax melodramatic about today. The weather (as you have likely already guessed) was dramatically worse than forecasted. The expected weather was winds 10 to 15 with seas of 1 to 2 feet on a 2 to 4 second period. Which is pretty close to the limit of the weather forecast that will have us heading out into big water in First Light.
The discovered weather a couple of hours into the trip was winds well in excess of 15 knots with waves closer to 2 to 4 feet on a 2 second period. How do I know the four feet? With our bow buried in the trough, the crest of the wave was even with the deck seam. That is 5 feet. Climbing up the wave the bow covered the horizon half way back to the pilot house. My guess? Ten to 15 degrees pitch up. When the bow fell off the back of the wave the anchor was covered with spray that reached back to the windshield. The impact echoed throughout the boat. Everything in drawers and boxes crashed about with each landing. Depending on the angle the wave hit the bow, the boat would also lurch and corkscrew one way or the other, having me cranking on the wheel as hard as I could. And that went on, nonstop for nearly eight hours.
It wasn't that bad to start with of course. Otherwise, we would would have turned around and coasted back to the dock we had just left. But it wasn't as smooth as the weather suggested even when first entering the lake. Which should have had me more concerned. Since the forecast was for the conditions to improve heading south and the ride wasn't that bad (we were still in the fly bridge) we kept going.
The conditions deteriorated rather dramatically and pretty rapidly. We abandoned the upper helm about two hours in. At one point, in what turned out to be the worst of the conditions for the day, we considered bailing out. But the bailout point we were looking at did not appear to be particularly tenable, nor was there much support should we end up stranded for a couple days. We pressed on, looking for the next available bailout point. But the weather settled just enough that the decision to continue on to the original destination didn't seem like complete lunacy. Near the very end, with the entry into Grand River in sight, the waves and wind picked up again. Getting through and between the breakwaters required a turn that put the waves on the beam. It took a pretty good wrestling match with the helm to keep the boat anywhere near the center of the channel. Once inside, things settled down and I could finally relax a little.
The best thing about today is that it is over. We are tied to a town wall in Grand Haven, MI. There are no services here but they still charge an overnight fee. At least it is much less than a dock fee and we don't need any dock support at the moment.
So far as we know, all the boats out in the lake made it in to somewhere safe. Several are here and those we have talked to all admit that it was not a good day to be boating.
There are a few other good things to take from the day. First Light bashed her way through without a hiccup. The engines never missed a beat. No water made it into the bilge, though the forward berth ports did leak a little. I'm pretty sure all of the spiders that have taken up residence on the outside screens of those ports got washed away. I am a bit surprised the screens are still with us.
Another really good thing is that very good friends of ours, who helped so much last year as we struggled though our medical issues, had bashed their way though the same weather and were safely docked a couple of hundred yards from us. They were waiting for us at the town wall and help secure First Light. We haven't seen them since they left Oriental last year to start their loop. It was hugs, fist bumps, and smiles all around.
And it was kind of a good thing to learn that, at 69 years old with a pacemaker, a wrist and ankle supported by braces, two once upon a time dislocated shoulders complaining about the stress, and hands cramping from holding onto the wheel, I can still just tough it out and get done what has to be done. Not, mind you, that I ever want to do a repeat performance. Then again, when it was all said and done?
I was just driving the boat. What other choice was there?
(Ed Note: what he didn't mention is that I spent the day stretched out on the sofa and was no help at all the entire day. I don't get pukey when I get seasick, just a bad headache, but still useless. He understated his contribution today for sure.)
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