Part 1- Grand Traverse Bay Rendezvous

[mgoller]

Grand Traverse Bay in a Com-Pac 19 and 16
Part 1

This was the trip I had wanted to take for two years.  Sail on Grand Traverse Bay in the northern waters of Lower Michigan.  I considered my small lake sailing at home as practice in the meantime.
I was happy when Troy proposed the Com-Pac Rendezvous this summer and several sailors liked the itinerary. 
Thursday morning the 15th of June, I still had a fair amount of packing and prep left.  The trailer lights didn't work and the problem turned out to be a bad ground wire.  This was the first time I had left my wife and kids on a trip other than business and which held a certain degree of danger. 
The hugs and kisses and admonishments took a little longer than expected.
An hour and a half off schedule I watched my family disappear in the mirror.  The drive took four hours, which was no big deal except I didn't want my group to wait too long.  Driving the last bit past the beautiful cherry and apple orchards, grape vineyards and viewing the scenic bay under the afternoon sun revived me from the driving fatigue.
I called Troy's cell, and he had just arrived and had setup the mast and rigged by the time I pulled into the marina.  I could see Troy, his wife, Pam and young daughter, Courtney were a little surprised at the size of the Com-Pac 19 trailing behind.  We shook hands and introduced each other.  I couldn't have sailed with nicer people.  I joked with Troy that this was my first Internet blind date.  It took him a minute.

Elk Rapids harbor, as I had heard, is absolutely wonderful and immaculate.  I felt like I had arrived at my own private yacht club.  Troy helped me rig and launch and we would move the trailers in the morning to long term parking which was included in the $20 slip fee.
That evening we went out for a nice dinner at Pearls, a New Orleans style restaurant.  The mile and a half walk in the warm evening air was great to get rid of the memory of the four hour drive.  By the time we got back to the boats in the slips it was surprising to find that it was 10pm.  Time for bed.
I cooked up a hot chocolate on my galley stove and relaxed in the cockpit and just took in the scenery of the big marina full of millions of dollars of fiberglass, wood, and stainless.  Overhead I searched the darkening starlit sky for traces of northern lights.
In the morning I woke up at 6:30 and made some percolated coffee with warm milk and listened to some serenade from my CD player.  I must admit that I really didn't know what I was in for this day.  I had never single-handed 17 nautical miles over 600 feet of deep water. 
The task at hand replaced any of my nervousness.  My batteries were less than topped up with just 10.5 volts.  I went to the local hardware and got a new marine battery and threw out the old car battery.  The hardware had the alcohol and a little knife I needed.
The only things I had forgotten had been the apples and carrots my wife had bought for the trip.  They weren't on my list.  Nowhere in town had any fresh fruit or vegetables.  I would miss these as time went on.
Troy and I went over the charts and the weather report.  We made our radio check with the marina on channel 16, "Elk Rapids, Elk Rapids, this is sailboat Windy, requesting radio check"  "Sailboat Windy, Switch over to channel 73, over".  I then switched over to channel 73 and repeated my call.  The harbormaster told us we were "loud and clear, have a nice voyage."  There was peace of mind knowing they knew when we were leaving and where we were going.
I gave a two-way sideband radio to Courtney and showed her how to use it.  I figured this would give her something to be in charge of.  We did our radio check.  She had it. 
I asked Troy if he was ready, "yep" he replied.  So out we went under motor.  My old Johnson Seahorse 6 had been acting a little rough but a new pressure bulb, some tightening and cleaning of the fuel connection made things better.
We motored out of the channel and into the big bay under a full hot morning sun at 11:30.  Troy managed to hoist his sails while on a reach.  I had to turn into the wind to get my main up.  Maybe it was because he had two deck hands aboard or because the Com-Pac 16's sail is lighter.
I unfurled my jib and away we went on a course of 340 degrees which would land us right at our lunch spot, south of the Old Mission lighthouse on what we hoped would be a sandy beach.

My Com-Pac 19 charged from behind as I trimmed for the strengthening southerly wind.  At first the winds were about ten knots but they built as we moved away from land.
As I drew even with the 16 I reefed the jib in about half way, which created a lot of weather helm and an inefficient shape.  The winds picked up over the three-foot swells and created the occasional whitecap.  I kept easing out the main until the top half was laid over hard onto the shrouds.

The GPS that hung around my neck was reporting 5.5 knots.  I remembered reading in sailing literature about climbing up swells and surfing down.  So as a swell would approach I would steer windward and as it passed I would steer with the wind.  This eased the weather helm and the pressure from the wave a lot.

With about three nautical miles from Old Mission point the winds picked up more and were beginning to whistle through the shrouds.  The jib, which was feathered out with the wind, shuddered hard.  Occasionally the GPS would register 5.7 knots.  I wished that I could reef, but with single-handing if I had let go of the tiller I would come up really fast and with the swells the sails would have swung wildly in the straight-line winds.

I was relieved as we approached the land to the west to find a little wind shadowing.  I radioed Troy to let him know I wanted to stop for a minute to put in a reef.  We found a nice spot to anchor about 100 feet off shore just south of the shoals of the point. 
The water looked too shallow but it was just an illusion of the clear water.  My Danforth anchor was used more in soft mud and sand but here it found 12" –24" smooth stones.  Luckily it bit and held without a problem and I set about putting the reef in as snug as I could.  If these winds kept up I wanted the best shape I could get.  I tightened the downhaul and the outhaul to give a good flat mainsail.

We sat for a while and ate lunch and readied the boats for the longer leg of the day's sail.  It had only taken about an hour to cross from Elk Rapids to Old Mission.
I asked Troy and his crew if they wanted to hike the quarter mile to the old lighthouse.  I didn't really want to and they echoed the same.  It was a rather desolate place and we had no idea what was in store for the next 12 nautical miles.
I asked Troy if they were ready to go and to my surprise they were.  Barely time to reef and gobble a lunch down.  It was not a relaxed picnic.
Up came the anchors and the wind turned us hard to the north and toward the rocky shoals off the point.  The charts showed 10 foot deep water straight north and we could see the watercolor change from deep to forbidding.
As things go as soon as we turned westward north of the shoals the sky clouded up and the winds calmed.  Out came the reefs as we were down to 2 knots with a long way to go.
And as things go as soon as the reefs came out the winds picked up.  But on the northwesterly course of 300 degrees we were able to spill a lot of the winds.  My Com-Pac 19 wanted to go, but on this point of sail I was outpacing the 16.  I adjusted in the jib to about half and things settled in so I could pace the 16 without much attention.
Just north of the newer Lighthouse which is nothing more than a large buoy with a light on top ,Troy's GPS was showing Northport more to the west and I was convinced it was more northwest.  He continued on to the west and I moved northwest.
After an hour and more separation than I liked I did a little heave to and sat while I got him on the radio.  He asked for the coordinates for the Northport harbor, which I had.  Neither of us had adjusted our compasses for the area and so trying to coordinate a course using our compasses was proving to be hazardous.
We could see land to the west and our plan was to sail toward the jut of land to the north of Omena Bay and follow the coast up to Northport.  As we drew nearer we could see the curve of the land and see on the charts that Northport was to the Northwest.
By now the sun had come out again and we could see the foggy shroud hanging over the distant Lake Michigan.  Doing about 4 –5 knots without a care now I had somewhere along the passage settled in quite comfortably to this sail.  My only concerns were for the best course to get to Northport.
I listened to some Jimmy Buffet singing about Caribbean sailing, and downed some bottles of water.  I could even let go of the tiller and go below to get things.  I would head up but it wasn't sudden.
Troy and I settled on a course, which was basically the same course as we had been on since Old Mission but we sailed closer to each other.  Sometimes shouting distance, sometimes just comfortably in sight.  Once or twice I would get far ahead and notice.  I would just sail a little sloppy or spill most of the main to allow the 16 to catch up.
Sometimes I would be filming and sail so bad Troy would get ahead before I would notice.  I would trim the sails as best I could and see how fast I could catch back up.
A call over our two-way radio came.  "Hey, Marcus, what do you think that is?"  Ahead and just coming out of the haze on the horizon was something that did look strange.  It looked man-made, but wasn't moving like a tall ship.  I thought it was the tall ship Manitou with its dark red sails towering 60 feet in the air.  As we sailed on it looked like a couple of man-made towers like a power generating station.  I radioed for Troy's crew to check with binoculars.  They couldn't make it out.  There was nothing on the charts showing any towers on the coast.  It was where Bellow's island should be if we were on course, but it didn't look like an island.  I grabbed my binoculars and could see brick colored towers with what looked like a radio antennae tower next to it.
Bellows island or as I kept calling it 'Bird island' didn't have any towers marked on the chart.  We decided to sail towards it as we figured we were getting nearer to Northport on this course.  I still thought Northport was farther north but didn't want to be too pushy since my compass was wrong.  I also didn't believe my GPS even though it showed me directly on course for Northport.  Troy's GPS had been showing Northport farther south up until this point so we had split the difference.
Now we were in full hot sun and the winds instead of picking up had stayed steady at 15 knots from the south.  The towers ahead were clearer and through my binoculars I could see the towers were man made and jagged.  The antenna was actually a tall dead tree alone on an island void of any living vegetation.  The air cleared more and I could see the towers were old chimneys of the 1911-abandoned mansion.
Looking at the chart we were actually exactly on the planned course and passing just south of Bellows Island. 
About here we were plagued by biting flies that wouldn't go away.  For the next 2 miles I fought the flies off and took some footage of the island coming into closer view.  Finally I realized the only places the flies were leaving me alone was where I had put sunscreen.  So on went the sunscreen and the flies left me alone.

As we passed by to the south of the island the sound of thousands of aquatic birds all trying to share a small island was loud.  I could see sea gulls, swans, ducks, buzzards high in the dead tree and chimneys and smaller birds, which I couldn't make out.  The strange little island is covered in white and grey as you might expect, except for the chimneys and dilapidated remains of the structure, which must rinse in the rains.  I could see how the birds would win any attempt to civilize this island.
I joked with Troy over the radio "Troy, do you guys want to stop for a sandwich?"  He hadn't learned my sense of humor yet and would have obliged had I wanted to stop off for a picnic.  My other good one was while fighting the rollers out of Elk Rapids, they radioed to ask how I was doing, and my response was "swell".
According to the charts we had just three and a half miles to go.  Soon we could see some definition on the coast.  Through the binoculars I could see the tall masts of at least fifty big sailboats, and to the north a few more sailboat masts.
Just outside the harbor we dropped sails and motored in.  Pam, had radioed in earlier to let them know we were two hours out and to secure two slips for us.  Troy was first in and was met by the efficient dockhands dressed in red shirts.  By the time I motored in Troy was tied off and they were all waving at me.  I just about missed the turn as I was relieved to be in and was in awe at what was truly a sailor's port.  While there were many impressive motor yachts, this was by far the most impressive assemblage of beautiful sailboats I had ever seen.  I joked later that "compared to these boats ours were skateboards".

Once in and tied off I realized how hot it was.  Ninety degrees and windy.  The sun was still high and burned my skin and eyes.  It had taken just five hours from port to port.
We cleaned up the boats and set off to explore the cool beach to the south where we splashed and cooled in the two feet deep crystal clear water.  The sand was as nice as I have seen anywhere in the world.  I drank the 60-degree water as I splashed my face neck and arms.
I spent a fair amount of time photographing boats and talking with the locals.  One nice family of boat builders invited me aboard the all-wood 32-foot sloop "Lucy" launched in 2004 from their shop in Northport.  Everything was painted white.  The mix of old themes and new technology was impressive.  The decks were non-skid white and the below decks were lit by three hatches with prismatic panes of glass.  These dog house hatches would open letting the sun and air below.
I had dinner and a long nap aboard while Troy and family had dinner in the park with their stove.  I told them to wake me up when they were ready for an excursion to town for ice cream.
It was 9pm in the afternoon of the north when we set out for ice cream – nothing open.  We settled for dove bars from the grocery store.  Things taste better when you're tired and have earned it.
Back to the reality of sailing, now I told Troy about the change in the weather.  All I could remember from the NOAA radio report was that making Suttons the next day sounded hard, pointless, and then would be followed with a dangerous sail on Sunday. 
Troy asked me all the right questions and I couldn't remember anything in detail except that winds were from the southwest at 15 knots maybe gusting to 25.  And possible thunderstorms tomorrow afternoon and definitely on Sunday.
We decided to return to the boats for a listen to the weather report.  We all decided to return to Elk Rapids early the next morning to beat thunderstorms.  The original idea of touring around Northport and Suttons seemed a very remote idea.  The day's sail had sapped our energy and getting home Sunday seemed to dominate our new plans.

The plan was to get up early, and I only asked that I have my relaxed coffee moment, and my heart attack breakfast of corned beef and hash and eggs.  So after a hearty breakfast, which Troy and I shared, we were off by 7:30am. 
The only problem with this morning's plan was that in the excitement of getting up and out we forgot to go to the Water Wheel Bakery for the renowned cinnamon rolls.
The sail the day before seemed so harmless in retrospect that today's sail seemed routine and I must admit a little disappointing.  I had wanted to make the third stop to keep things interesting.  And by getting back to Elk Rapids a little after lunch I would just drive home a day early. 
None of this would turn out the way I expected. 

See part II.  Northport to Elk Rapids into the wind.

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