Treacherous Waters
I had intended to take a boat and a lot of my supplies to the northern reaches of Lake Superior. But like all plans in those times, worse today, I failed and only was able to bring what I had in that makeshift trailer to the sailboat.
Once cleaned out and the river rats euthanized by Rocky, the cabin on the boat was quite serviceable. But storage space for my supplies and vehicles was very limited. I had hoped to be able to take Grasshopper to the North Shore of Superior where it could take me as far as roads went north, but there was no way that I could put Grasshopper, or even the trailer, on this boat. Just supplies and basic memories on an old smart pad and laptop backed up by two memory sticks. A digital camera. My weapons. The drone. And what was left of my food. My tarps, some solar panels and batteries, and my perimeter electric fence. My bedroll. Basic camping and cooking supplies. I needed something else to carry stuff and found it nearby.
I cleaned out an aluminum rowboat that was small enough that I could manhandle it to water. Found a couple of good oars that hadn't been gnawed by rodents hanging on the wall. I threw in one more as a replacement in case I lost one. A couple of ratty old life vests. The sails had been wrapped up nicely in storage so they were in very good shape after I unwrapped them and took a look.
With much trepidation, I set sail the next morning with the lake very calm and a slight eastward breeze that would require me to tack if I sailed west toward Chicago. I got the boat moving in the general direction out of the slip and into the lake. The rowboat securely roped to the stern. I had no idea how to sail. I had only been on sailboats on Lake Minnehaha a couple of times with friends. I had taken the tiller and steered while my friends, expert sailors, managed the sails. I had to learn fast.
I raised the mainsail and it caught the wind. Taking hold of the tiller, I steered the boat at an angle toward the Chicago skyline faintly in the distance in the morning sun. The mainsail boom came around fast and I ducked it while grabbing the rope on the end of the boom. Quickly wrapping the rope around a cleat at an angle that seemed to propel the boat nicely in the direction I wanted, compensating with the tiller until I was moving nicely through the water, silently and swiftly. I was underway and moving much faster than I thought I would. It was a wonderful feeling. Rocky settled in on the front deck after dodging the boom with his eyes and ears wide open watching seagulls and smelling all the wonderful smells Lake Michigan had to offer.
Feeling comfortable at speed, I temporarily tied down the tiller and moved forward to the bow where I raised the jib. It caught the wind as well and the boat's speed seem to pick up even more. Gradually, I found myself drifting further from the shoreline. That was good because I was coming into the hot zone for the Braidwood Nuclear Generating Station, melted down. Still, I did not want to be far from the shore if a storm came up. And a storm was almost guaranteed this time of year after a hot day like this was becoming.
So, I brought the bow around aimed at an angle towards the shore and the boom for the mainsail switched sides again to Rocky's discontent, surprising him, but not me as it swung around. Growing at a predictable rate ahead, the ragged skyline of the Chicago Loop gradually emerged until it commanded the horizon ahead. The glass that was left reflected the bright morning sun on the water.
It wasn't long before I was both approaching the southern shoreline and Chicago dead ahead and had to tack in the other direction again, coming ever closer to the burned-out hulk that once represented a vibrant city, now vacant of any human activity. But I did see a lot of seagulls, pigeons and even hawks and eagles that had taken residence on some of the higher buildings still standing. Chicago was not nuked, but it might as well have been. I was glad that I was able to find this sailboat where I did. It was doubtful that any of the sailboats from the various Chicago yacht clubs survived.
It was lunch time, so I lowered the sails and dropped anchor just off Lakeshore Drive and Rocky and I had our lunch. I thought of using the drone, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to land it precisely on the boat, so I didn't. After eating, I took a couple of casts and immediately caught a very fine lake trout that I kept for dinner. Life was good. I was making good time already. Much better than I expected. I set sail with the wind still mild and in a direction that I could easily follow the coastline northward without resetting the sails all afternoon.
Not wanting to stay out on the water too long on that first day, I watched the shoreline carefully for a place that I might anchor the boat and go ashore for the night. I didn't feel safe on the boat if a storm came up. At least, not yet. Just past Waukegan there was a stretch of shoreline that had no burned outbuildings or even roads that I could see, so in late afternoon, I sailed close to that shore and lowered the sails. With my rifle, I carefully scoped the shoreline and saw nothing of any worry, so I dropped anchor and decided to camp there for the night.
It was a chore to get all of the camping materials in the rowboat, but I managed and Rocky and I rowed in to the shore that was a beach, making it easy to land. Beyond the beach was thick brush and young trees. I decided not to go there. There was lots of driftwood, so by pushing weathered branches in the sand, I quickly made a perimeter around our campsite that I wired as an electric fence. The campsite consisted of a tarp made into a tent where I placed my sleeping bag with an opening facing the water.
I built a fire and fried the fish. The wind died to almost nothing, so the smell of the fried fish lingered in the air. Slowly the sun set behind us and we settled in for a good night's sleep. It wasn't long before clouds of mosquitoes filled the air. I had prepared for that, too, and had enough mosquito netting to cover the opening to the tarp/tent. All was good. We slept.
I awoke to the sound of the electric fence zapping and the low howls of a pack of wolves testing the electric fence with painful results. I emerged from the tent with my head light shining on them and with one of my few remaining Roman candles, managed to scare them off. I was grateful for that electric fence, otherwise they would have been able to sneak up on us. Rocky's lake adventure that day must have tired him out.
The rest of the night was warm and mild. But, by morning the wind had picked up, still prevailing from the west. After a breakfast of some seagull eggs that I found when we explored the beach, I packed up our camp and rowed back out to the sailboat in a chop that was building from the wind. My experience the night before told me it was best to sleep on the boat and avoid confrontations with wild animals in the night. It was also just too onerous to have to carry all my camping supplies back and forth in the rowboat.
With a brisk wind, sailing that day was thrilling to say the least. We made fantastic time as Kenosha, Racine, and finally, Milwaukee, with its harbor and high shoreline overlooking the lake, passed rapidly by. Still, no sign of life among these communities that showed signs of long neglect and ruin. We stopped close to shore and anchored for lunch near Sheboygan. Once again, I took a cast and caught a coho salmon. The fish weighed in over 20 pounds and gave me quite a fight, pulling the sailboat around. We had dinner secure that night and I was eager to compare its taste with the salmon that I caught on the West Coast. The fish looked very healthy and I kept a bay alive so that he would be very fresh when eaten.
By late afternoon, the wind had died down again in the heat of the day. The coastline became ragged with little bays until, up ahead I saw the coastline end and nothing but open water beyond that. To supplement the lake maps that I had gathered long before the Internet went down on the smart pad, stored neatly in a leather case in the berth of the sailboat, were charts for all of the Great Lakes. I could see that I was on a peninsula very close to Sister Bay. I wanted to explore, so I pulled into a bay and anchored in sheltered waters. This time, all I took to shore was my fishing and cooking gear, my weapons and my drone. I started a bonfire on the beach and then, broke through the brush at the edge of the beach to take a look around.
The drone quickly found the little burg of Sister Bay, a resort town turned to rotting decay. There were a lot of boat slips and piers but no serviceable boats left after so many years of nature having its way. As I struggled through the brush with Rocky leading the way, I came upon cherry trees that were laden with fruit, but were not ripe enough to harvest. I wished that I could stay but that would put me late going north. I remembered fondly the cherries I picked in Oregon and returned to the beach. I knew that bears would be about. With all the wild berries ripe and the cherries starting to ripen. Glad I wasn't staying on the beach that night.
By the time we returned, the bonfire had settled into beautiful coals that I used to fry the coho salmon to both of our delights. Comparable with the West Coast salmon, there's nothing like fresh fried fish to set off an evening under the stars. But it was starting to get dark and the mosquitoes were starting to come out. I prepared to get back in the rowboat and out to the sailboat for the night.
As I rowed out to the boat, behind me I saw the flickers of lightning in the west. Heat lightning, I thought. Remembering that many times after a warm summer day, lightning could be seen far off but never amounted to anything. Something that my grandmother called, heat lightning.
We settled in for the night. I left the hatch partway open because it was uncomfortably warm in the berth. It wasn't long before I heard the rumble of thunder, crawled out of bed and looked to the west. What I saw was a forbidding storm wall revealed by sharp lightning rapidly coming our way. I made sure that everything was tied down well on the boat and crawled back into bed, expecting everything to ride out the storm well.
The storm front hit with ferocious winds and suddenly the boat was being tossed like a toy in a huge swell. It ripped the anchor from its grip on the bottom and set us adrift. I opened the hatch just as blinding rain, followed by mixed rain and hail pelted me while I tried to reach the anchor. I knew that I couldn't reset the anchor so I cranked it up so that it would not catch on anything and make things worse. I crawled back into the berth, soaking wet, and tried to sleep as the storm continued on for hours tossing us to and fro like chaff in the wind.
If a dog could get seasick, Rocky showed signs of it, whimpering and growling as the boat rocked in the huge waves. I was clearly seasick, but unable to go outside to relieve myself. I found a bag to barf in. At some point the storm passed and we both fell asleep. I woke to the boat gently rocking and sensed that we were now in calm waters. I opened the hatch and crawled out. There was no land in sight, but I wasn't afraid. I raised the sails to a quartering wind north of the sun coming up in the east. I knew that eventually, before very long, we would be ending our run up Lake Michigan.
