The Great Escape

Last night's weather check suggested that today just might be a travel day. We set the alarm for 0600 but I woke up around 0530 because the boat had stopped moving. We rolled out of the berth and started prepping for departure before the first light was lighting up First Light. Up and down the dock others of our group-of-stranded-loopers were similarly engaged, with one already gone.

Before the sun broached the horizon, First Light's engines rumbled to life, as did the engine of our friend's boat in the slip next to us. (Another wall surviver.) Another refugee boat a couple of slips from them was already moving. First Light backed out, our friends followed us, and another friend followed them. The four of us hit the channel in a regular parade of escapees trying to get under the wire before the guards noticed. Clearing the channel the boats all turned south and fanned out a bit as each captain found their boat engine's “happy place”. Everyone seemed to settle down between six and seven knots with (much to my surprise) First Light being the fastest by a hair.

All of us started out heading for the same place. But not too far into the trip Deb suggested we continue on to an alternate that was half again the miles, getting us even further south. Lake Michigan had quieted down much more and much faster than I had thought it would, so I was all for going on. After all, the weather suggested that the further south we went, the better it would get. Why waste daylight?

Of course, the weather wasn't exactly accurate. For a while, the further south we got the lumpier it got. The autopilot was relieved of duty. But it wasn't that lumpy so we continued on, eventually reaching our destination. And what a destination it turned out to be.

It has a free wall but, like the one we endured earlier this week, it was completely exposed to swell coming off of the lake. There was zero chance we were going to risk that again. However, there was the West Basin Marina. Deb called to see if they had room. They had a slip around two corners and behind sea walls that was also modestly priced. About eight hours after our breaking out of the rolling prison, and even coming off of a lumpy lake, we pulled into a slip where, after tying off, ALL OF OUR LINES ARE BASICALLY HANGING LIMP! There is barely a ripple in the water. The restrooms and showers are about 100 feet away and are clean and fresh. Off the boat are picnic tables and benches. Had we been holed up here for five days I suspect my opinion of Lake Michigan might have been slightly less harsh.

The plan is to be here one night, making more miles tomorrow. We are two full travel days from the rivers, with day three being the day we the leave the lake, hit the rivers, and start the last part of this journey. Truth be told, both Deb and I are about done with this trip. It isn't that we wish we hadn't come this way at all, but it is getting late in the year and the fires of home are close enough to smell the smoke. But for tonight we are secured, comfortable, and pleased to be further south than we were.

Bye Bye Grand Haven and the dock from hell

We really did enjoy the boardwalk walks to the end of this pier, though.

Our friends on Number 99 leaving the inlet

Our friends on Aurora

Grand Haven is a pretty cool town. We might have to come back in the car some time.

This is Central Park in Grand Haven

I walked past this guitar store on the way back from the laundromat. Himself the Ukulele player didn't make it to this store which is a good thing because we couldn't really afford any of them! They had a bunch of cool antique guitars though. Guitar Haven

In good company

The boat is safe from being bashed against the wall, but it is still rocking and rolling. This is the first time we have experienced a place like this. We walked out to the inlet yesterday afternoon. There we watched what we estimated as a four foot swell running at a two second period churn up the inlet and sweeping down the breakwaters. The few boats braving the channel were rolling and pitching, some surfing as the swell lifted the stern, others digging in and throwing sheets of spray as they plunged in bow first, still others turning around and heading back the way they came after seeing the wave height.

Salt Nest, Number 99, and First Light

First Light in in a slip a half mile and around a corner from the inlet to the big lake. But the boat is still moving like we're sitting in an open anchorage with miles of fetch and 20 knot winds. Not as uncomfortable as it was on the wall, and certainly not as bad as it would be out on the lake in this mess. But it is still far from comfortable. Sleep is shallow and troubled while appetites are lacking and the enthusiasm level for doing much of anything fades to near zero. Last night at 0400 we were up adding lines in an attempt to keep the boat from banging against the finger pier. Both of the pilings off the starboard side of the boat are working loose from the bottom, rocking every time the swell throws the boat against the lines. The dock lines are taking such a beating, being stretched and chafed  on the poles, that we will likely have to replace them all. 

The earliest escape is still 24 hours away at least, and even that is looking a bit optimistic at the moment. Lake Michigan is a bathtub of confused waves that will likely take at least a day to settle down. But that day is the only day for the next week that has winds forecast at less than 15. If this isn't the longest we have ever been pinned in place with no good options since we first moved onto a boat, it is certainly in the top (bottom?) five. Keeping my head on an "even keel" (couldn't resist the pun) is getting to be a challenge. I am rapidly developing a deep dislike in regards to this part of the trip. If I am ever on Lake Michigan again (not that that is ever going to happen) avoiding this particular stop would be at the very top of my "things that must be done" list. All in all, I am starting to think that "doing the loop" is barely breaking even on the "fun to suck" and risk + cost/reward scales. 

We did get a bit of boost as a couple who ran across a copy of our book on “How NOT To Buy a Cruising Boat”, learned that we were in town, gathered up their three young boys, and dropped by for a visit. Trevor, Alexis, Jax, Luca and Milo greeted us at the dock along with a loaf of the absolute best sourdough bread we've ever eaten. (Seriously. Anywhere.) They got a tour of the boat and then we headed off for ice cream and a walk to a nearby playground for the kids. They had many questions about looking for the right boat for the kind of traveling they are thinking about doing. (Their Catalina 34 is too small for the family.) We answered them as honestly as we could. We didn't recommend doing the Loop over going to the Islands and shared our opinions of of how to make the cruising life work.

After they left, we got together with others of the Stranded Looper Gang for snacks and drinks. In the group was the life long mariner who had tried to warn us off the wall. He carries both a Master's and Engineer's ratings, unlimited tonnage, and put them to use during a career that, literally, covered the planet—touching the shores of more than 130 countries, and involving some of the biggest ships to ever take to the seas. Being pinned by the same weather in the same place with a person of that level of experience? As trying as this has been, at least it seems clear that we are in good company and doing the only sensible thing. 

A boat that pulled into the dock the night before last.

600-ft ships come up this river. In fact, this one interrupted the musical fountain show that they have

on weekends here because he was blocking the view.

The musical fountain show. Each night they have themed music - this night was country (which is

definitely not our favorite). Honestly, Mother Nature's moon display was more impressive.

Another one of the boardwalk sculptures.

Early this morning - the buoy report for the buoy at Holland, MI, just south of us.

And as if that isn't enough...we have a tropical depression headed our way.

Uncle!

This morning's weather check suggested that today, tonight, and tomorrow would be an ugly ride on the wall. The wind is forecast to blow out of the west at 15 to 25, pushing the surge directly up the channel. With the broken cleat in mind, that was enough to convince the crews of the three boats on the wall that staying on the wall might not be the best idea. All three took advantage of a lull in the wind this morning, bailing out and are now in adjacent slips in the marina a few hundred yards up the river. It is amazing how different the ride can be between two places that close together. But we are now tucked around a corner, facing nearly ninety degrees off of where we were, tied up between pilings, and with a line of boats between us and any surge that makes it this far.

The three crews plus the lifetime mariner who bailed off the wall a couple of days ago (and had suggested we do the same) helped get the boats safely away from the concrete and in the slips. It was a painless exercise orchestrated by a life long expert sailor. I am a bit embarrassed that I let my wallet override his opinion a couple of days ago. He is way too much the professional to have rubbed it in, but I think I caught a bit of a wry smile when he heard of our plans this morning and offered his help. He also invited us aboard and out of the cold wind while we waited for the gaggle of sailboats to head out for the second day of their planned race. For them, 20 knots worth of wind is magic, five foot waves are kind of fun.

It would be a pretty good bet that I am one of the happiest boat drivers on the planet right now. Two days with little sleep and food can put a damper on one's opinion of life. Throw in a broken boat and (yet another) near miss on this trip? I'm nothing but smiles right now. The boat is doing its normal slow nodding and swinging when in a slip. It is not trying to climb over or bounce off anything with fenders and lines moaning and grinding in protest.

As the saying goes, hindsight is always 20/20. I'm not sure that staying on the wall trying to save some hard earned $$ was a bad idea on its face. We just didn't know what we didn't know. At least we should be pretty secure until we can start making some more miles.

The next time the forecasts have the wind at less than 20 knots is Tuesday. In the meantime we will catch up on sleep and food, relax for the first time in days, maybe change the wash down pump with a new one Deb found not too far away in a West Marine, and see what it will take to replace the broken cleat. That is "relaxing" in boat speak. 

A long couple of days

It looks like it is going to be a long couple of days. The wall we are tied to is every bit as uncomfortable as was claimed. It is really kind of weird. Looking out across the water it does't look like much is going on, just small ripples and wavelets with no noticeable rollers and no whitecaps. But the boat is pitching and rolling, squishing fenders and tugging its lines until they stretch, then recoiling back against the wall. It seems that the river is subjected to lake-generated surging that flows up the river, bouncing off the breakwaters, walls, and shoreline. The surging water is far more powerful than the wind. Where 25 knots of wind isn't really that big of a challenge, surging water is an entirely different animal. We are constantly readjusting lines and fenders (two of which have already been nearly destroyed) to protect the boat, but it is an uphill struggle.

I was hoping we would get through this without damaging the boat. And we might have if I hadn't asked too much of the starboard side cleat. But it couldn't take the load of both a fore and aft spring line working to hold the boat against the surge. Fortunately, we discovered that it had sheared 3 of the 4 mount bolts just before sunset when we went out to tighten the lines again. We re-ran a fore and aft spring lines off the the bow and stern cleats which are much heftier. If they don't hold, well, that's what insurance companies are for. To add to the fun, the constant motion of the boat added to the concern that something else will fail, making getting any kind of rest near impossible. We are both feeling the effects, which is why there are only two pictures with this post. I'm not sure how long I can go without sleep. I have had about 6 hours worth in the last 36. It has been a long time since I've had to work those kinds of shifts.

Would it have been worth the half a boat buck to be at a dock? It sure looks that way. The docks are far better protected from the surge, something we simply didn't know enough about to make the right call to get off this wall. But hindsight is always 20/20 and it doesn't matter now. We either get out of here without breaking anything else, in which case this will be just another story of how much fun it is to live on a boat. Or we will not. It which case it will be a different kind of story. We toyed with the idea of getting into a slip this afternoon. But one thing that seems pretty clear is that it would be near impossible to get off the wall in these conditions. Getting into a slip would be just as much of a challenge. Such an attempt would almost insure damaging something else. So there is nothing to do but keep adjusting the lines, resetting the fenders, and wait it out.

Yep, a long couple of days...

Patience

We woke to blue skies and gentle winds which begged the question, should we be moving? It seemed that we could have made some miles yesterday and maybe some more today. Were we being too cautious with our weather decisions? After the morning routines we decided to take the 3 mile round trip walk out to the end of the breakwater to see what we could see.

Bird sculptures on the boardwalk to the lake...

And real birds...

There was a nice breeze blowing but no real wind. Yet the water looked a little lumpy and, at the end of the breakwater, breaking waves were throwing spray up onto the walkway. After watching for a few minutes we could pick out a rolling swell of about two feet on a two second period. Nothing to write home about be it would have been a bumpy ride.

Later in the day a few more boats came in. The crew's report was that it was “pretty lumpy.” So far as we know no one is planning on moving for the next few days at least. The current weather has winds 15-25 for the next two days, 10-20 the next day, and 10-15 on day four. Day five has 5-10 but it is anyone's guess as to how long it will take the lake to settle after nearly 100 hours of those kinds of winds.

Fellow Looper boat Aurora

One of the running debates has been if staying on the wall is a good idea or if moving to a marina was the wise call. In may ways this is the worst wall we have been on. The face wall is uneven with pillars and gaps, making fender placement dicy. It has a lip at the top to catch rub rails and fenders should the boat roll with any kind of enthusiasm, which would likely lead to more than a little damage. There are odd hooks welded in place and some kind of well rusted connections that go no where jutting out to gouge fiberglass and fenders. Word has it that it can get pretty bumpy if the winds blow the rollers between the break waters and into the river, which they are forecasted to do to start, later veering around to a much better heading that should calm the waters at the wall.

There is no water, power, or security. Last night walking back to the boat, I passed within 100 feet or so of what sure looked like a drug deal going down. The cost for the privilege? Thirty dollars a night. It feels like a bit of a rip-off. 

The marina has all of the amenities the wall is missing but at roughly one hundred dollars a night. We are going to be here at least five nights. Half a boat buck here, half a boat buck there, and pretty soon you are talking about a noticeable hit to the old bank account. Three of us elected to stay on the wall. Everyone else headed for one of the several marinas nearby.

The three wall crews spent a good part of the afternoon getting the boats secured. We moved them as far up the wall and as far from the inlet breakwaters as we could.  Then pretty much every fender and fender board aboard was deployed. Lines were doubled up with chafe guards secured. First Light is tied starboard side to with eight lines. The other two boats were similarly secured. The hope is we all went overboard with our preparations.

Do we have any more fenders?

It wasn't all work today. With the boats secured, the three wall crews as well as several more on boats in the marina met for “docktails”. We also watched a big red tug move a dredging barge and pipe load around the bend in the river and into the inlet. They were clearly headed out to the lake, weather apparently no concern. A tiny little RC barge was keeping an eye on the proceedings.

Now we just wait to see how bad it will get.

The structure at the end of the pier. It's shaped like the bow of a ship to break up the waves.

Clouds starting to roll in

About last night...

I was dragged out of sleep but not sure why. A fuzzy glance showed it was 0225. The wind was howling, lines were creaking, waves were breaking over the breakwater...but none of those was the culprit. What was it? Wait, what is that noise? The fuzz cleared a little. It was an alarm of some sort. It didn't sound like any we have on First Light, but it was definitely an alarm. I got up and got dressed. Off of the back of the boat and across the water to the fuel dock was a red flashing light. Deb wasn't thrilled with the idea of me getting off the boat in the middle of the night in those kinds of conditions. For that matter, neither was I. But there was no way I was going to be able to ignore that alarm. We talked about dialing 911 and letting whoever that dragged out of bed take care of it, but that seemed a bit of an over reaction. It was a single beeping noise and a single flashing red light after all.

The wind was enough to make walking down the dock feel a bit precarious. Half way across the dock, I realized that the light was on top of a dock pedestal that was also the source of the alarm. The pedestal held a life ring behind a door. The wind had blown hard enough to undo that over-center latch and push the door open. The open door set off the alarm and red light. I closed and latched the door. The alarm quit beeping and the light went out. The logic escapes me. If a person falls off the dock they can't reach the door to get the life ring to set off the alarm. If someone sees them, opens the door, throws the life ring, and pulls them in, crisis is over and there is no need for an alarm and a flashing red light. Maybe it is a belt and suspenders kind of thing, just letting the world know something is going on in case of...whatever. Anyway, I walked back to the boat and actually fell back asleep amid all the creaking, howling, and waves crashing over the breakwater.

Come daylight, it seemed like the wind was blowing even harder. More waves were topping the breakwater. We doubled up the bow and stern lines and added a spring line. We are in the end finger pier with nothing but the breakwater between us and the wind. The boat wind-O-meter showed a gust of 27 mph / 23.5 knots. 

When we looked out over the water we saw sails. Not sailboat sails. Kite surfing sails. Once upon a time I had a reputation for being a risk-taker, with a long list of things I have done that most (normal) people wouldn't try. And my first thought was these guys were crazy.  But whoever these guys are, they are real pros. One actually sailed into the marina, cutting across the main fairway and jumping (flying?) out over the breakwater. If I was 40 years younger? 

In addition, the water around the beach was filled with surfers. For them and the kite surfers, the weather is perfect. It is not so perfect for us.

I don't know how long it is going to take the lake to settle down. It will depend on just how long the wind blows this hard. Though tomorrow is our scheduled get-out-of-town day for a 7 hour run, the lake may still be stirred up enough to make it a let's-not-go-out-there day. Just have to see.

Options?

Most of this morning my mind chafed at the thought that we should be moving. Calm winds, blue sky, and a look out at the lake showed little to no wave action. Several boats departed though it must be admitted that most of those were considerably larger than First Light. Moreover, all of the Looper boats that are nearer our size, but still slightly bigger, are securely tied to the docks. Still, calm winds and blue sky...

The urge to be underway is the driving force right now. As such, it needs to be carefully considered when making a “It looks like the forecasts are wrong again, let's go!” decision. I want to be going, but is that really an option for today? 

I did mention the weather to Deb in a most offhand way possible just to test the waters (pardon the pun). But she had already checked the weather and reminded me that today wasn't really the problem even with the beam winds. Tonight and tomorrow at anchor are the real concerns. The most recent forecasts have backed off from tonight's winds at 30 to winds at 25. Tomorrow is still 10 to 20.

I can't say anything much about tomorrow's winds. But tonight's winds are making themselves known even though it is barely noon. The flags are standing straight out and would be pointing directly at our beam if we were underway. The tops of the trees are dancing around. Look at the lake and one sees a bunch of white. First Light is tugging at her lines in pretty much every direction and has a nice little roll going.

So, all in all, not staying put was never really an option. I should be cleaning up the boat a little but the wind and chill takes all the fun out of spraying water around. It will be a slow, but safe, day. And that makes it a pretty good day...even if we aren't covering some miles.

Plan to make a plan

This was our fourth day, third full day, in the anchorage at Shawanaga Island. Though relatively quiet here for most of the day, there were some thick clouds and heavy rain out over the inlet earlier. The waterspout warning is still in effect and the heavy cloud out past the inlet had some ominous looking trail clouds hanging out. The radar suggested that we would be getting some pretty heavy rain falling on us before the day was out. It never really showed. First Light is still swinging back and forth like a giant wind vane on a stormy day. Come to think of it that is exactly what she is and, if I am honest, the motion is getting a bit tiresome. Still, it was a good day to be riding to a well-set anchor in a protected inlet.

Tomorrow was looking like the day to be on the move again. But the latest weather reports are looking less promising with the winds not fading as much as first thought. Right now, as the sun is setting, the wind is still blowing and cold enough to make it feel much closer to winter than it actually is. So at the moment our plan to deviate from is to not have a plan. We will see what we see in the morning.

Go or not go, this has been a good, if forced, stop. When living as close to the weather as all full-time boaters do, the weather makes the plans.

Incoming...

We started the day with a long walk along a path that follows the river. For the first time in all of our travels we came across a “hospital dock”. That seemed an odd name for a dock until I realized that is exactly what it was. There were even “Emergency” buttons to push to get help. Which makes perfect sense. Many of the homes around here sit on islands. Get sick or injured and the quickest way to medical care is to jump in a boat and head for the Hospital's dock. A bit further along and we ended up in a really nice marina talking to a couple who had just finished their own great loop. This is their home base and thus where they crossed their wake ten and a half months after leaving. We chatted for quite a while but, eventually, had to head back to prep for the incoming weather.

Not long after we got back, the Radar and forecast was looking a bit ugly. The big red splotches were still about 20 miles away when the thunder stared to rumble in the distance. The RADAR returns reported possible circulation in the south west corner of some of the storms, right where one would expect tornadoes to form. One of the returns showed a long tail of heavy weather trailing several miles behind the main body in a classic "hook" echo. That one looked to be heading right for us. We are not anywhere near “tornado ally” but Mother Earth appears to be a bit cross these days. If she can conjure up a Cat 5 hurricane in early July she can spin up a tornado on the US & Canadian border.

The floating dock we are tied to isn't the most substantial looking thing around and is exposed to some pretty good fetch in the direction from which the storms were approaching. So Deb and I went into our normal “prep for the worst mode”. Lines were added to the boat and pulled tight. Anything that looked like it might get blown around in a good gust was secured. Our American flag was tucked away and the VHF antenna was dropped horizontal rather than vertical.  The sky darkened and the rain started to fall. Thunder rumbled ever closer with a few lightning bolts actually stroking the ground a few miles away. Others flashed from cloud to cloud. The air took on that uneasy quiet that suggests the sky might actually be falling. And...you guessed it...that was it. Not a single healthy gust. Just enough rain to force us to close up the windows.

From the looks of the RADAR the worst of the storms flowed around us, both North and South of the river. So, two days of forecast severe weather that kept us stationary were two travel days missed. And we don't care. Our storm prep was overdone by factors of ten. And we don't care. Where we are the weather was a non-event. What was it like 10 or 20 NM East or West? No clue and don't care. Prepare for the worst and hope it doesn't get that bad. Because “the worst” can ruin your day regardless of any amount of preparation. And if “the worst' turns out to be mostly a false alarm? We see that as a very good day. This has been a good stop. We have ice cream, had some good walks, and some even better talks with people who are new friends. 

Tomorrow the plan is to fuel up, pump out, and head for Canada.

Old, but not so bold...

In spite of the forecast, we woke up this morning to dead calm winds and near glassy water. Conditions outside of the inlet were not being reported as that good, but we did have a brief discussion about heading out. Deb put the nix on that idea by reminding me that pretty much every time we make a hurried, last minute departure we end up regretting it. Fair enough. We loafed through the next part of the day with me checking fluid levels in the engine room and then the two of us doing a minor mod to the cabinet in the head to add a little more storage space. That done, we had a serious, in-depth, look at the weather. I did not like what I was seeing.

The NWC discussion for Atlantic City for the next 48 hours included phrases like “strong storms” and “wind gusts to 60 knots” along with “damaging hail.” A look at the prog charts supported that forecast with a big split in the isobars between a low NE of us, a high SW, along with an associated cold front closing in from the NW. That the current weather was far from the forecast spooked me as well. Clearly someone, somewhere, had missed something. Maybe they missed it on the good side, and maybe they missed it on the bad side. Adding to my discomfort was that the other weather sources were all over the map. All added together? I was not at all comfortable with where we were sitting.

Deb was quite content to ride out whatever was coming in the anchorage. The hook was solid. We had been sitting through 20 knot winds plus higher gusts for a couple of days with no problem. And we are no strangers to riding out ugly weather on anchor or a mooring ball. But for reasons I don't understand myself, the idea of riding out such a convoluted tangle of forecasts in that spot had my skin crawling.

Deb and I have a long-standing agreement when it comes to nearly everything we do. If either one of us is really uncomfortable with a potential decision, we make a different decision. She was a bit puzzled by my case of the heebie-jeebies but she called a nearby marina and found us a dock. I had already done the engine checks, so we closed the hatches, stored some loose stuff, and cranked up the engines. It took a bit of effort to get the hook out of the mud, but it came up with some grass on it as well. It was near high tide and we followed our inbound track back out through the narrow channel, across the inlet, and over to the dock. It was an easy entry and, though the wind was starting to pick up, we landed without fuss. Once again we found the marina folks to be competent and friendly. (Florida Marina owners should head this way, hang around, and learn a thing or two about customer service.) Also, these docks are new, floating, and fixed to the stoutest pilings I have ever seen. In fact they are so new that they are not even finished yet.

Yes, it is expensive and no, we don't know how many days we will be here. But we are here and I am a much happier camper. It will be a little bit of an embarrassment if, for the wad of cash it is costing, we end up riding out a minor bit of wind and rain that amounts to nothing much. But for the first time in a few days I am actually relaxed. We are surrounded by boats, buildings, sea walls, and docks. A few hundred feet is the longest fetch. I've got us tied to the dock with a web of lines and a row of fenders. And, even as I type this (2042 local time) the trees are bending and the flags are standing straight out. It may still work out that we moved here for no good reason. And if that is the case? I can live with having been spooked by a nasty forecast and making the call to be somewhere else when, and if, it arrives.

There is an old saying. There are bold pilots, and there are old pilots. But there are no old, bold, pilots. I happen to know that is not entirely true since I am, in fact, and old, bold, pilot. However, I don't guess I can make the claim of being and old, bold, sailor. And I am okay with that.

This one is for my grandson who also happens to be named Michael, Jr

Lots and lots of casinos on the boardwalk at Atlantic City

No swimming allowed today due to the rip currents

Even the Ferris wheel was stopped because of the wind

Even more casinos across from our dock