I come from the North country. Growing up on the shores of Lake Superior I learned many things about living on the water. The “Big Lake" was always cold, always pristine, always crystal clear. Summers it was predictably refreshing. Winters yielded lake effect snows dumping feet at a time upon our Upper Peninsula. Storms were nasty for sailors of all vessels. Until a few months ago, that was the extent of my sailing knowledge.
About 5 years ago, my fiancé began taking me on “day sails” aboard his 33-foot Pearson Vanguard. This noble boat (built in ’66) sailed us on overnights to Grand Island and to idyllic, hidden beaches within a few hours’ time. No wonder I fell in love with sailing. When he suggested we take a year to sail the boat from Marquette, Michigan to the Bahamas, I readily agreed. Little did I realize all there was to learn! The trip from the shores of Lake Superior to the mighty Chesapeake Bay has been spectacular. For those novices considering a similar journey, I would like to share some of what I have learned so far.
Sailing across Lakes Superior, Huron and Erie presented us with a number of challenges. The first thing a novice sailor must undertake is the mastering of reading charts and plotting courses. This requires attention and precision and a bit of “faith”. On the day we were to make our crossing of Lake Huron, we encountered such thick fog that visibility was limited to about 10 feet. We had set our course upon casting off for the day, and sailed it faithfully. Miraculously our first sight of land was the lighthouse marking our port of destination! We used our GPS unit to make adjustments during the day, and had no trouble anchoring in a lovely, safe harbor for the evening.
Lake Huron also taught me the importance of remaining calm during heavy weather. Cassiopeia, our boat, is capable of handling a significant amount of wind and waves, and her captain is a mighty sailor. When the lake blew up a sudden squall just as we were approaching Port Huron, there was naught to do but take down the sails and hang on! We arrived cold and wet, but unscathed. We had unknowingly arrived the day before the Port Huron to Mackinac race and the many fabulous sailboats lining the harbor were a welcome sight.
Lake Erie taught me the importance of flexibility. When an unexpected headwind blew up with a good bit of force, the captain decided we would need to alter our destination to the closest safe harbor. This turned out to be a great decision, and we enjoyed the comfort of a serene anchorage behind an impressive breakwater.
Entering the Erie Canal from Lake Erie was a bit of a shock. The novice gets to experience all the “roadblocks” the Canal has to offer in rapid succession. Taking the Black Rock Canal to get to Black Rock Lock, one encounters a massive, ancient “swing bridge” which is miraculously still functioning. Soon afterwards there is a bascule bridge and then finally the lock itself. This trifecta was a powerful lesson in the need to be an excellent communicator.
The Erie Canal is divided into an eastern and a western half. The western half is sprinkled with lift bridges. It is important to learn how to use the VHF radio, so that the “communications officer” can call ahead to the bridge operator while the captain is steering. This becomes particularly important when the lift bridge operator is responsible for more than one bridge. Similarly it is important to contact the lock operators on the eastern half in an appropriate manner. It’s also critical to get your locking gear ready and your job well understood prior to entering the lock. Gloves, boat hook, dock lines and fenders should be out and ready. It is imperative to know what your job is and to communicate among crew members in a calm, efficient manner. The Erie Canal is an absolute delight, made even more pleasant when prepared for the obstacle course.
Coming out of the Erie Canal, we sailed down the Hudson River and into magnificent New York harbor. This is where the critical nature of attention to navigational aids hit my consciousness as we experienced our first grounding. We were traveling at low tide, and mistook a lighthouse (which was painted red) for a “red”. In fact, it was a “green”….et voila. The water Sheriff came by and explained that the entire boating community had begged for it to be painted green, but the historical society which had done the restoration work insisted it should be as it was originally, that is – red. We were able to come off at high tide, but not before the boat had heeled over significantly, allowing us to spend a couple of hours reading in the dinghy.
The importance of attention to navigational aids is magnified about 100 times when one reaches the Chesapeake. Here even our boat, which drafts only 4 ½ feet, is in frequent peril of running aground. The Captain and First Mate should research their destination the night before, carefully scan the water for navigational aids while underway, and agree that the occasional running aground is not such a tragedy. The wonders of the Chesapeake, where hundreds of charming communities are only a day-sail away, exceed the imagination.
In sum, in three short months I have learned to handle the tiller, the diesel engine, the lines, the dinghy, and the dinghy motor. I have learned to plot a course using charts and the parallel rules, sight that course with the hand-held compass, and sail the course using either the compass or the auto helm. I have learned the abbreviations for the various navigational aids, how to utilize that information, and how to utilize the GPS and VHF. I have learned how to lock through, handle obstacles, and not panic when running around. By the time we get to the Bahamas, I might be a sailor!
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