Sailing a Real Lake

by

Those of us who sail the lower Great Lakes regard Lake Superior with a mixture of awe, respect and, frankly, a little fear. Tales of biting cold and impenetrable fog shrouds, traitorous rock and towering seas keep most of us from exploring the Big Lake’s waters. At the Duluth Yacht Club, a bumper sticker says it plainly: Sail a Real Lake.

But despite its fearsome reputation, Lake Superior remains a powerful call for those who sail – a call I answered for a summer cruise aboard my 32-foot sailboat bound to Isle Royale from Detroit. Yes, there was fog and wind, but with patience to wait in protected harbors, my time exploring the Big Lake was safe and happy – and an adventure I’ll long remember.

A Typical Sail Away Day

I make a pre-dawn start, getting well away from land by sunrise, the sails pulling strong in the fresh morning breeze. The land drops astern until it fades from sight. Then it’s just me, the boat, the open sky and the vast Lake. I nap a little, check my course, make lunch and plot the distance to my next landfall, a day and night away. Mid-afternoon, a freighter appears like a smudge on the horizon, then fades from sight. I heat a can of stew for dinner, plot my position on the chart and check the horizon for traffic. I’m as alone as if I were in the South Atlantic. With nightfall, the winds ease and I set full sail, the red compass light casts a warm glow across the cockpit. Above, a million stars appear, and I greet my old friend Polaris, the North Star. The hissing wake and creak of straining rigging fills the darkness. I nap again, but wake often during the night to check for traffic and adjust the sails. By dawn, I see land ahead and ready the anchor. This afternoon, I’ll explore ashore.

Most Anxious Moments

I’d left Isle Royale headed 180 miles southeast for Whitefish Point. Under reduced sails in strong winds, the boat surged down steep faces of ocean-like swells. Suddenly, Antares rounded into the wind. A line from the wind vane self-steering device to the tiller had broken. My choice: hand steer 60 miles to Marquette or repair it. Hanging on by my toenails (I always wear a life harness), I removed the vane’s little pulleys and began to run a new line. The wind whistled through the rigging and the boat rolled wildly. Fighting to hang on and reassemble the parts, it occurred to me that Lake Superior is for mature audiences only. Out here, things can go really wrong, really fast. Fixing the vane without any of the parts (or me) going overboard took all my years of sailing experience. I was mighty pleased to get back into the cockpit, safely on my way.

A Warm Welcome, Really

Lake Superior’s reputation is one of cold and damp. All the sailing guides advise packing winter coats, wool hats, gloves and warm socks. A cabin heater is strongly recommended. I came to Lake Superior prepared for Arctic conditions, but was delighted to find mostly warm winds, sunshine and clear skies. True, fog and chill rain filled some days, but mostly the mid-July conditions on the Big Lake echoed those of the lower lakes. In fact, I don’t recall ever firing up the cabin heater.

A lifelong boater, Charles Scott has crewed aboard ocean sailing yachts all over the world. He’s been a globetrotting freelance cameraman/photographer for 32 years and looks forward to continued travel and worldwide wandering.