Lake Michigan
November 1, 2024
At the first glimmer of sunlight we weighed anchor and motored into the North Channel toward the United States. With higher winds forecast from the south, we planned to hug the large islands 20 miles away that separated Lake Huron from our position. This was a tactic to reduce “fetch”, or distance over water that allows larger waves to build. Once we were within 2 miles of Manitoulin Island, we turned and motor-sailed as close to upwind as possible. Each time we passed between two islands, the wave height increased to as high as 3 feet, only to subside once we entered the protection of the next island. It just so happened that this day we had a work deadline and also had to coordinate printing of the completed project back in Iowa. Taking turns at the tiller, one of us would go below to complete our tasks and make phone calls, while the boat heeled over and bashed into the waves. We laughed together at our working conditions and the things we accept to keep this lifestyle going. Back in Iowa, our client had no idea we were working from an office in motion, and the job made it to the printer on time.
Exhausted, we anchored inside Harbor Island, Michigan flanked on all sides by towering evergreens. We cleared US customs with a few clicks in a phone app and got settled in for bed. Moments later there was a knock on the hull — another sailor had dinghied over to make sure we were OK. It turns out we had turned on our SOS light instead of our anchor light. We assured him we were not in distress, only tired, and went back to bed.
The next day we made the short trip to DeTour, MI and enjoyed a cash-only dinner in a dive bar with prices we hadn’t seen since the start of the trip. There was no need to wait for a weather window and the next day we had a surprisingly pleasant downwind crossing to Mackinac Island, a favorite stop for Loopers.
We knew little else about Mackinac Island (pronounced “Mackinaw”), except that it can be difficult to get a reservation at the popular marina and that cars are not allowed on the island.
What we were most familiar with on Mackinac were two new friends we had met only once back in St. Augustine, Florida. We had made an instant connection with Emily and Lucas aboard Alaya, kindred spirits also with no children and in a parallel “let’s live an adventure” phase of life. They had sailed from Michigan all the way to Florida when our paths intersected. They had been Bahamas-bound when they received news that Emily’s longshot (so she thought) application to work on Mackinac Island had been accepted, forcing a tough decision to delay their adventure in pursuit of another long-held dream. They left their boat on the hard in Virginia and spent the summer working on Mackinac. By the time we arrived, they were experts in the hidden gems of the island and happily shared their knowledge with us.
The island itself is definitely worth a stop, as thousands of daily summer tourists will tell you. There are only a few ways to arrive on Mackinac, with the most popular being by ferry. Hordes of daytrippers wait hours in the hot sun for their chance to take the 15-minute ride. Otherwise, those in the 1% of wealth can zip over Lake Huron in their private jets before boarding a horse-drawn carriage to their summer homes. For two shoestring sailors, we felt we had the bargain of the century by staying on our own boat in the marina. At only $38 for our length, it is a fraction of the cost of the most popular lodging on the island, the 1887-constructed Grand Hotel, which fetches upwards of $800 per night for a standard room. While there are certainly more reasonable inns nearby, most tourists limit their stay to a single day, crowding Main Street’s numerous fudge and tee shirt shops before emptying the streets by 8:30pm when the last ferry departs.
While our patience for touristy towns has worn even more thin on the Loop, we often find hidden layers of interest just beneath the kitsch, and there is maybe no better place for this than on Mackinac. The majority of visitors don’t stray far from downtown, leaving 18 square miles of car-free nature and history to explore by bicycle or hike on foot. It’s a cyclist’s paradise. Besides the breathtaking trail that circles the rocky Carribean-blue coastline, a number of paths crisscross the wooded heights and cliffs of the island’s center. To break up our workday, we set off on morning, noon and evening rides, making this one of the most active stops on the Loop. One such ride could have put an end to our adventure. The captain spotted an unpaved nature trail and darted downhill through some exhilarating twists and turns. When it came time to rejoin the paved section, he did not notice a rut made by horse carriages, and was soon flying upside down over the handlebars before crashing onto the blacktop covered in dried and smashed horse manure pancakes. It was a nasty spill. Thankfully nothing was broken, just bruised limbs and ego.
We had planned to stay only two nights on the island, but the wind and waves through the Straights of Mackinac kept us delightfully stuck. The conditions were too much for most other boaters as well, which kept them from fulfilling their reservations. This allowed us to extend our stay time and time again. It was the universe’s way of reconnecting us with a number of friends made on the Loop. Soon the fearless Captain Ed and Amy aboard Crimson Jewel surfed into the marina on six foot waves. We hadn’t seen them since visiting their home near Oswego, NY and it was great to hear more of Ed’s wild and truly death-defying pilot tales while Amy smiled and shook her head. (Crimson Jewel would soon be disabled on Lake Michigan, meaning we sadly never saw them again on the water, but they have since completed their Loop in Henry, Illinois.) Also on Mackinac we ran into our sweetheart friends Jeff and Judy, who we first met in the Chesapeake Bay, aboard the appropriately-named Affection. Any time spent with them is filled with warm introspection and our shared love of reading. Judy always seems to know every book we bring up. Thankfully we would spend much of our trip down Lake Michigan enjoying time with the crew of Affection.
Before we left the island we studied British-American battles that took place there, visited Arch Rock and other geologic formations, and were inducted by Emily and Lucas into the local tradition of “Booty Night” where we stayed up way, way past bedtime, shaking our aforementioned bums on the dance floor.
Soon our luck with the marina ran out. It was Labor Day weekend and the nearby boaters were determined to enjoy the weekend come hell or literally high water. With the wind ripping through the Straights, we made a beeline for the nearest harbor of Mackinaw City (this one is spelled like it sounds for some reason). It was a wild five miles, sailing upwind into 4’ waves accentuated by converging ferry wakes.
On the coast of mainland Michigan, the wind howled as waves crashed into the rocky shore. We nervously studied a plaque dedicated to the numerous shipwrecks that have happened in the Straights. The geography of this area was the reason we had been pinned down here so long. It would be a long journey for us to find the next safe harbor- nearly 60 miles. If the weather turned on us, there would be absolutely nowhere to hide for hours on end. To complicate things, we would be exposed to two completely different bodies of water in one crossing, making it difficult to find a full day when both had agreeable conditions.
Finally a weather window opened. We would leave the next morning, but there was a problem. The annual bridge walk was to take place, and for security concerns the Coast Guard would close the area under the bridge to recreational marine traffic at 5:45am. We would have to leave in the pitch darkness. A handful of other Loopers had the same idea so we agreed to form a flotilla. As the slowest vessel, Novella would fall into place at the rear, reaping the benefit of the other boats’ expensive radar systems until they pulled away and the sun rose. It would be our earliest start ever. The wind was subsiding as we went to bed but it was still not calm.
At 5:00 am we motored out of the harbor and into a disorienting void. An unseen swell could be felt lifting and dropping us above the inky depths. As the boats of the flotilla passed us to find their places in the line, it was difficult to distinguish their navigation lights from the city lights astern and the bridge lights ahead. The lights of other boats emerged from the harbor and added to the confusion. We went slow and watched the AIS indicators on the chartplotter. If we went too slow, however, we wouldn’t make it under the bridge before curfew. As we approached the bridge, the first mate said, “What is THAT?!” Above, a line of orbs raced across the sky. An array of newly launched Starlink satellites were putting on quite the show.
Just a few minutes after we cleared the span, we counted more than a dozen vessels with flashing red and blue lights filling in underneath the bridge to stand guard. For the rest of the morning we heard many a vessel calling the Coast Guard with an excuse as to why they had to get through. “Captain, let me speak to our Commander with your request… OK, Captain. I spoke to the Commander. No exceptions. You will have to wait until after 1300 hours.” Repeat ad nauseum. Grateful for the Loopers who had alerted us to this rare closure, we motored ahead as the sunrise slowly spread its glory across the horizon.
We took safe harbor again in the gorgeous town of Charlevoix, Michigan. In this squeaky clean village famous for its Hobbit-esque “mushroom houses”, we waited out the fury of Lake Michigan as it churned up waves growing to twelve feet high. While we were enjoying our time, we began to become concerned we would never find our way off the Lake at this rate. During our daily walks to the jetty to marvel at the angry waves, we realized it was already the second week of September. Our goal was to be passing through Chicago before the end of the month.
On September 9th, waves were still up to six feet that morning but we were itching to make progress. We waited until 2pm before casting off, marking our latest departure ever. The waves had subsided to 3-4 feet and we sailed on a sporty beam reach, arriving in the tiny fishing village of Leland after dark. Exhausted, we crashed into bed only to wake up and leave before 6am to Frankfort.
At this point in the journey the furious lion of Lake Michigan calmed into a playful kitten, offering up the most enjoyable string of sailing on the entire Loop. Day after day, we sailed in near-perfect conditions from one Michigan beach town to the next. Frankfort. Manistee. Ludington. Muskegon. The details of each blurred into one amalgamation of what these towns consist of: a beach, an ice cream shop, a brewery or two, and a Glik’s clothing store. It was all enjoyable to us, but we were beginning to suffer from “new destination overload”. Our minds had little room to remember many details of new communities after the hundred or so we had visited in the past year.
It was in Muskegon where we first met the crew of the Canadian vessel Gup B. We haven’t seen many sailboats on the Loop, so when we encounter one we take notice. And these guys were on a small sailboat like ours! Rarest of all, they had a child onboard! The crew had brought their incredibly smart and hilarious nine-year-old along. From this point on we enjoyed “buddy boating” with Daphne, Joe and “Dekkie” down Lake Michigan. The glorious sailing continued to even more towns. Grand Haven. Saugatuck. South Haven.
Finally we reached another milestone on the Loop. St. Joseph, MI was where we had purchased Novella almost two years prior. We won the eBay auction for just $3,200 and the seller had tried to back out of the deal. The unpleasantness that followed was quickly erased the moment we were left alone with Novella. It was surreal thinking back to that time. Our excitement was through the roof. We knew why we were buying this boat, but not one other person in our lives knew our plans. Our first night we spent sleeping on Novella was filled with wonder. This could really be our home. But in 2022 we were terrified to exit the jetty onto Lake Michigan. That’s why we had found Chris. A tried old sailor who had spent time sailing the Pacific back in the 70’s, we had asked him to accompany us on our maiden voyage. He was amazed at Novella’s condition and donated his afternoon to teach us the ropes of our new boat. We wanted to find him while we were back in town and surprise him with news of the reckless adventure he had partly and unknowingly enabled. Unfortunately our texts had long been auto-erased. We surveilled the Facebook page of his local club of which we knew he was a member. No luck. Diving deeper, we found a photo of him. It was not of use by itself, but we recognized his friend who had “liked” it. His friend is a public official, so we contacted his office and left a message for him. Days later, he texted us Chris’s contact info. We left a message but heard nothing back. We left another message with the bartender at his club. Nothing. At risk of being stalkers, we decided the universe didn’t want us to reconnect. Out on Lake Michigan, thunderstorms and waterspouts were in the forecast, keeping us in port for days. To our surprise, one day the phone lit up with his name. “Sorry about that. I’m not good with checking voicemail.” It was the message left at the bar that finally found him. We met for dinner and explained how thankful we were for his lesson two years prior and exchanged stories of our sailing adventures.
Two days later a weather window opened, but it would last only one day, followed by the start of a days-long gale. We had intended to hop south to another town, but now we would be forced to cross all the way to Chicago. We left early. What was forecast to be a pleasant beam reach was instead a rough downwind sail. The seas were still up from the previous days, but the winds were too low to comfortably power us through. The following waves were not very wide or consistent, so we would slide off the edges askew. It was difficult to hold a course toward Chicago, and the first mate was as seasick as she’s ever been.
Finally to the city, we tied to a mooring ball in Monroe Harbor, with a fantastic skyline view. The mooring was as expensive as a slip in most places, but a bargain compared to the outrageous rates to dock nearby. For the first time ever we enjoyed a “tender service”. No, we were not looking for new partners after 10 months in tight quarters - this was a boat that transported us to shore since there was no place to land our dinghy.
The same night we arrived, we were alerted by the Gup B crew of a questionable sign on the restroom door of the marina. On plain printer paper it read:
“Welcome to Chicago
LOOPERS !
You're all invited to a welcome dinner tonight at
Columbia Yacht Club
Cocktails 5:30 in the bar
Dinner 6:30 main dining room
Text Mark by 4:30 pm
if you can join and the number in your party”
To two budget sailors this may as well have been a van with “free candy” scrawled along its side. We were skeptical, yet our mouths were already watering. We talked it out. The dinner is free?! At a yacht club?! It sounds expensive. Is this a ploy to kidnap us? If it’s not free we’ll order an appetizer then awkwardly excuse ourselves. Do they do this every night? But we already knew we’d be going.
The Columbia Yacht Club was adjacent to the mooring field, located in a 372-foot former ice-cutting Canadian ferry, the Q.S.M.V. Abegweit. We arrived in our best attire and saw a number of other loopers before being greeted by Mark. A bartender in a tuxedo vest came by to take our order. The cocktails were first class. Soon we all received a private tour of the impressive ship before being led to our group’s table overlooking an incredible view of the harbor. Mark explained that this was a once-only event he had planned on a whim the same day. A Chicago stockbroker, he knew some Loopers in town and decided to throw ALL of us a party so he could hear our stories. We just so happened to be in the right place at the right time to enjoy this generous gesture while making some new friends. More than 20 Loopers attended.
The drawback of the harbor’s tender service was that it stopped running at 9:30 each night. In Chicago this bedtime would just not do. Our good friends Jonny and Lauren came to the rescue by offering us a guest room at their comfy Logan Square apartment. Jonny and Lauren are passionate about Chicago’s restaurant scene, and spent nearly a week generously sharing some of their favorite spots, much to our delight. To show our appreciation, we took Jonny on a sunset sail, and then both of them on a cruise on the Chicago River through the heart of downtown.
Between our usual workload and the constant calorie consumption, we had neglected an important task. To get past Chicago, we would need to clear a 19 foot bridge. Once again our mast had to come down. We still hadn’t found the right place to do the job. A call to the most popular option made us gasp - they wanted $550, more than double the rate we were used to. On the way down the lake we had met Malte, a sailor and young father from Chicago. We called him for advice. Malte not only connected us with his local yacht club to unstep the mast for just $150, he also brought lumber and tools and helped us build a mast crutch on deck. When we offered to pay him for his help he sternly refused. Often we are helped on this adventure by caring people like Malte. It inspires us to be that person for others we have yet to meet.
At Malte’s yacht club, the local boats were being lifted out of the harbor for winter storage. For us, we had to get south. We motored onto Lake Michigan for the last time and made our way back to downtown Chicago. In the morning we would set off downriver toward where our Great Loop began.
