Big Bay: Lesson Learned
The only time-keeping device aboard woke us to a remarkable glassy sunrise on the morning of the 25th. We stumbled out of bed and geared up with coffee and dry-suits ready to face the chilly May morning. The day had finally arrived after nine months of juggling our excitement and boat tasks with the tedious school kind that would just always somehow take priority. We exchanged plenty of goodbye's and thumbs-up with Corey's dad who came to see us off from the break-wall. With that, we were off into the grandeur of Lake Superior.
Flat as glass. We raised the jib and main with high hopes of capturing a bit of the north wind, however not much luck followed. When our speed and the wind speed reached a whopping 0 Knots, we decided it was time for the engine. For the rest of the day, we motor-sailed along the shore at a steady 5 knots. When the smoke-stacks of Marquette finally disappeared, the dream began. Something a bit like absolute freedom I'd say.
No hurry. No worry. We completely killed the engine and just floated along taking in the views of hidden bays and empty beaches. At times, we'd laugh in absolute astonishment, that in all actuality we could go wherever we want, for as long as we want. A feeling neither of us have ever experienced in such a real sense. Life became so free and so beautiful. To confirm any doubt, the sun was definitely soaked this day.
The eastern end of Big Bay eventually came into view and we started getting as serious as one needs to be when entering into any sort of bay. We looped well out and around a green buoy off the eastern point marking a mile long shallow shoal that extends from the peninsula before we entered into the bay. Finally our destination was no longer a place existing only on a map. We were forewarned of shallow depths at the entrance of the harbor and carefully navigated or way through. When we suddenly lurched forward and our depth hit 4.7 feet (we need 5 to be safe) we realized that the sandy bottom had snuck out of nowhere and collided with our keel. Corey quickly threw the boat into reverse and we were off. Whew. Can't say my legs weren't shaky, but we were safe.
We threw the anchor down. Hiked into town, explored the elementary school and soaked in the friendly neighborhood with it's yelping chihuahuas. Wonderful evening with guitars, harmonicas and delicious sandwiches. All was good. The sun warm and lake calm. We tucked ourselves in with good books feeling absolutely satisfied.
1:30 am.
I woke up feeling extremely uneasy. Something was just not right. I threw on warm clothes and headed up on deck into the hollowing winds. The boat was doing funny things. Grabbing a headlamp, I went up to the bow to check on the anchor. Only to realize, that when I shined the light down, I could see sand in what appeared to be a foot or two of water.
My stomach dropped.
"Corey, get up. We're like 10 feet from shore."
Everything became a flurry of calm panic and severe dry-mouthed adrenaline rushes. The anchor had drug in the 15-20 mph north winds and we were most definitely aground. The depth sounder said we were in 2.4 feet of water. We started up the engine and tried to reverse out of there. No luck. No movement. We tried freeing up the keel by rocking back and fourth. I threw my body as hard as I could sprinting back and fourth from each side of the boat. The boat was rocking, we were moving, but the wind pushed us even harder into the sand. Each technique we tried wasn't seeming to work. We kept calm but the fear burned through every pore in our bodies. Finally Corey grabbed the 8 foot long spinnaker pole and literally "hulked" us out of there backwards. It was as if we were on some sort of obscurely shaped gondola.
Somewhere in the multiple trials of trying to get out of there, our rudder hit hard on what we suspect to be a log under the water. Our steering abilities were halved and we could only control the boat in one direction. Fortune was on our side, as that direction just happened to be towards the only safe place in the harbor to tie up.
The wind hollowed like a hurricane the rest of the night. I probably got up 10 times before settling down. Every bang, squeal, splash and bump jolted me up from bed. We entered into the quiet period after the intensity was gone. Emotionally wrecked for a while, we felt like our summer had came to an end. Is everything we've planned for just one big failure? How are we going to fix this? What will we do? Endless questions bubbled in our minds as we entered into a restless sleep.
A quiet morning and the blues. We spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what to do before calling anybody. A man in the harbor offered help and a bit of hope to our situation. However, his idea would involve pulling the boat on its side (and on shore) to inspect and fix the situation below. After internet time in the library of an elementary school, and in the local cafe our situation started to become something more tangible and fixable.
The eastern end of Big Bay eventually came into view and we started getting as serious as one needs to be when entering into any sort of bay. We looped well out and around a green buoy off the eastern point marking a mile long shallow shoal that extends from the peninsula before we entered into the bay. Finally our destination was no longer a place existing only on a map. We were forewarned of shallow depths at the entrance of the harbor and carefully navigated or way through. When we suddenly lurched forward and our depth hit 4.7 feet (we need 5 to be safe) we realized that the sandy bottom had snuck out of nowhere and collided with our keel. Corey quickly threw the boat into reverse and we were off. Whew. Can't say my legs weren't shaky, but we were safe.
We threw the anchor down. Hiked into town, explored the elementary school and soaked in the friendly neighborhood with it's yelping chihuahuas. Wonderful evening with guitars, harmonicas and delicious sandwiches. All was good. The sun warm and lake calm. We tucked ourselves in with good books feeling absolutely satisfied.
1:30 am.
I woke up feeling extremely uneasy. Something was just not right. I threw on warm clothes and headed up on deck into the hollowing winds. The boat was doing funny things. Grabbing a headlamp, I went up to the bow to check on the anchor. Only to realize, that when I shined the light down, I could see sand in what appeared to be a foot or two of water.
My stomach dropped.
"Corey, get up. We're like 10 feet from shore."
Everything became a flurry of calm panic and severe dry-mouthed adrenaline rushes. The anchor had drug in the 15-20 mph north winds and we were most definitely aground. The depth sounder said we were in 2.4 feet of water. We started up the engine and tried to reverse out of there. No luck. No movement. We tried freeing up the keel by rocking back and fourth. I threw my body as hard as I could sprinting back and fourth from each side of the boat. The boat was rocking, we were moving, but the wind pushed us even harder into the sand. Each technique we tried wasn't seeming to work. We kept calm but the fear burned through every pore in our bodies. Finally Corey grabbed the 8 foot long spinnaker pole and literally "hulked" us out of there backwards. It was as if we were on some sort of obscurely shaped gondola.
The wind hollowed like a hurricane the rest of the night. I probably got up 10 times before settling down. Every bang, squeal, splash and bump jolted me up from bed. We entered into the quiet period after the intensity was gone. Emotionally wrecked for a while, we felt like our summer had came to an end. Is everything we've planned for just one big failure? How are we going to fix this? What will we do? Endless questions bubbled in our minds as we entered into a restless sleep.
A quiet morning and the blues. We spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what to do before calling anybody. A man in the harbor offered help and a bit of hope to our situation. However, his idea would involve pulling the boat on its side (and on shore) to inspect and fix the situation below. After internet time in the library of an elementary school, and in the local cafe our situation started to become something more tangible and fixable.
We dove into the Superior ice water with our dry suits, to realize that the rudder had bent back, and was unable to cross the centerline of the boat. After talking with my dad, we learned that this problem was not actually detrimental and we wouldn't have to end our summer after all! We borrowed a metal file and hack saw from the friendly man offering help and the work began.
took a few handfuls of filing and sawing sessions to finally get back movement in the rudder. The task would have been impossible without dry suits however. Corey found a technique of wrapping his legs around the rudder and stabilizing his body with his face on the side of the boat in order to get at it and grind it down. It was quite a process, but all ends well. We have rudder action again! (And he did a pretty darn good job on it too!)
So its not always simple in Superior. However our story ends in victory. We take from this experience more caution and awareness of the potentials of high winds on the lake. For now, we're tucked away in our page-turners enjoying the mist that's covering this small town. (Although I'm not particularly enjoying this severe country music blaring out the speaker above my head in the laundry mat.)
We'll leave (very carefully out the harbor entrance of course) on Monday and head towards Pequaming or Baraga. Forecast looks warm and promising, as does the summer that lies ahead.
Until then,
Megan
Comments
Love, Mom
afan