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

Just driving the boat

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.

First Light bashing through the waves. Photo courtesy of Erin Jaehnig on MV Knot Again

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.)

Leaving the harbor. The water was calm inside the breakwater.

MV Knot Again

78.9 / 10+34

We pulled in the lines just before 0800 to start a planned travel day of about 6 hours covering 30 miles and ending at an anchorage for the night. A couple of hours in and we decided to continue on to what would have been the destination for tomorrow. Some may wonder why we would do that, 10.5 hours and nearly 80 miles? Simple, for the first time in days the weather didn't suck lemons.

There was a bit of a roll starting out, enough to keep the autopilot in standby mode. But after a couple of hours and with the leftover swells dead on our stern and going nearly our exact same speed? It was just too good of a day to not make more miles if we could. So we did. There was a second reason as well. Today was basically two travel days in one. Tomorrow will be a full day as well. If the weather allows we will put in two more days, squeezing five travel days distance into four. The reason for that is, of course, the weather. There is more lemon sucking stuff inbound that will likely pin us in place, someplace, for a day or two almost for sure and maybe as many as four. We are about half way down the Lake and it is now September. Getting off the lake as soon as we can is the driving force.

I will so miss the blue water. I saw a photo today of a Looper boat on the Illinois River and the

water was muddy brown.

As for today's unexpectedly long day? Truth to tell it was more comfortable on the boat under way than it had been for the last two days pitching and rolling at the dock. There was a downside to two days on a rolling pitching boat and then 10 plus hours underway. We got off First Light to take a little walk only to find that the sidewalk was doing the pitching and the rolling. Stopping by the bathroom (“head” to a sailor) meant leaning against the stall wall to keep from falling in.The boat is sitting perfectly still in this slip so, hopefully, that and a good night's sleep (which have also been in short supply these last couple of days) will convince the inner ear that up is actually up and not sideways. And that was probably more information than you were expecting.

Our walk was prompted by the arrival of The Badger to the port, an antique car carrier that still burns coal—surprising, that, given the environmentally conscious people of Michigan. It's an interesting story that I'll let the historical sign tell for you. Thankfully, we'll be gone in the morning before he blows the 5 departure whistles which are loud enough to shake the boat. Well...that's if the weather decides to cooperate.

The Badger

Fellow Loopers on MV Escapade

The entire day was spent looking at the dunes that are all part of the

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Seashore

Oh the blue water...