West Meets East

The Rally and Beyond

August 2011

Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Lake Superior

ApostleIslands.locator.png

Twenty-two jewels strung out into Lake Superior, right off the north end of Wisconsin's Bayfield Peninsula. These gems' northern shores tend to be steep cliffs, some of which are cut into wonderful sea caves, and seamounts. Their southern tips are often graced by sandy spits. Both of these shoal out -sometimes a mile or more. The mainland shore is dotted with nine marinas providing access or a safe harbor as needed. The Apostles themselves provide many good anchorages, though none of these are fully protected. A major wind shift can turn a protected anchorage into a dangerous lee shore. So be ready to up anchor even at night. Fortunately this usually means a short move to a new protected shore, either around to the lee of the island, or upwind to the next island. So chart out your options and route before turning in.

 

For our 2011 West Meets East Wayfarer Rally, we looked to a local tribe, the Red Cliff Band of Chippewas. They own and personally run their Legendary Waters casino, hotel, campground, and marina. Our small boats could be drawn up on shore, or anchor off for free. Proper marina berths are also available. The Red Cliff Band has provided a central location for rallies of small catamarans and pocket cruisers for years. Recently the Red Cliff Tribe has developed a new swimming area limiting beaching and anchoring off. When planning to go, you will be wise to check on what services are currently available.


 


In 2011, I arrived on an overcast and very quiet Friday afternoon at the Red Cliff Campground. Being there alone gave me plenty of time to sort things out and get ready for my crew, John Kolstoe and his son, Alex, who were due the next day. After setting up my boat and camp, I happily went to bed after the day’s long drive from East Lansing, Michigan. The next morning I awoke to the sun rising in the west which seemed rather odd, until I checked the compass. John and Alex arrived Saturday morning, and we set off soon afterwards, aiming to sail clockwise around Basswood Island.

  



I gave the island good clearance, and thereby kept its north end a secret for us to enjoy the next day. We turned to starboard, down the west shore of Madeline Island, which is the only Apostle not part of the National Lakeshore. The NW breeze held nicely as we checked out the vacation homes from a distance, before rounding up under Basswood to head west towards home. The rest of the Wayfarers came later that Saturday settling in before a supper party and campfire. Sailing in the day, campfires and partying at night became the routine.


 

Sunday we sailed from Red Cliff for the north end of Bassswood in perfect sunshine and light NW winds. Rounding Basswood, we skirted its north end, ducking behind Honeymoon Sea Stack (above) that we had missed the first day. A lone pine tree crowns its lovely undercut sides, and you could see large slabs of rock through six feet of crystal clear water.


  


  

 

For lunch we pulled up on a small sand and gravel beach on Hermit Island’s south end. The small pebbles and sand lodged themselves into a couple centerboard cases creating a nasty challenge to get the centerboard down again. My centerboard gaskets protected me very nicely. The sail back was in diminishing winds. As we were rounding the southern tip of Hermit Island, the wind died leading to mile-long rowing race. Alex being young and strong, tried to row fast and hard, but soon left the task to this slow old man who just kept us moving along at a steady pace toward the front of the parade. Then a soft wind brought the slow boats right back into Red Cliff Harbor. After dinner and a nice group meet and greet, the Kolstoes left me to visit family in Minnesota.


                                                                              


 

 

Monday brought my new crew, Andy Ivancic, and decent winds that died as we were making our way SE to Madeline Island (above left). The wind came back, keeping us company as we headed to the small settlement of La Pointe, on Madeline's SW end. For about a mile, we sailed alongside a commercial fisherman returning with the day’s catch and a great following of sea gulls. We pulled up on a little beach with lots of interesting cottages, boats, and a seaplane (above right) that proceeded to take off. Up the main street we found food, ice cream, and a museum. Don't miss a drink at the Burned Down Bar (below right), which is not just its name, but a description of this unique establishment! The sailing was just right both ways.

 
                                                                              


                          


                                                                 


                                                     

 

Tuesday we were off to Oak Island with stiff winds to keep things moving. We visited the south end sand spit where another centerboard got stuck with sand. Once again I was glad my boat, Ält Bäd, had a centerboard gasket. They do work. That evening we went to a local member's spacious rented house for a genteel party. It sure beat huddling in our tents in what turned out to be a cool and rainy evening.

 
                                                            


                                


                                          

 

For the next day, Wednesday, half the fleet planned on an overnight trip, and the rest would head to town for some tourism. In the morning we woke to find 12 to 15 knots of SW wind, so everyone started out reefed. The wind picked up to 20 knots and soon four-foot waves were rolling us downwind toward Stockton Island. As the wind increased and our nerves settled, joyous surfing took us over nine knots, about double our hull speed. We even had some sunshine. Ält Bäd was the designated shepherd boat, we took a couple of broad reaches to slow our forward progress and stay to the back of the fleet. This gave us more confidence in handling the waves, when previously anything but straight downwind had looked like it might be too much for us. Andy and I were working well together which added to the fun.

 

With our increasing confidence, Andy and I started tacking upwind, then sailing any point that seemed fun and kept us near the back of the fleet. This helped as we had gotten too far downwind to be useful if anything were to happen with the last boat, Orange Top. Having installed a makeshift reefing system, Orange Top could not easily gybe, and they were having to tack if they wanted to change tacks. This was a bit slow.




                                               


On Stockton, the dock and south shore collected a few of us while the rest rounded Presque Isle Point, an island that a tombolo (sandbar/dune) now connects to Stockton, making it a peninsula. There we went inside the larger cruisers anchored off the mile-long beach, the islands’ longest.

 

 

By anchoring out, we avoided booking a camp site, fees and bears. But note that the Lakeshore rules require an anchor light regardless of boat size or distance from shore. Despite the large number of boats there was plenty of room for quiet, meditative walks in nature. Both groups walked across the tombolo to socialize and check out the other half of the fleet.

 



 

The following day’s return trip was a pleasant sightseeing excursion along faceted sandstone cliffs. Think Chicago brownstones; they were all quarried out of the center of these islands. The islands have provided food, shelter, and work to Chippewas, fur traders, loggers, quarrymen, and fisherman. Today you can visit staffed historic fish camps, quarries, and lighthouses. If you apply early enough, you might score a week or a month of being island-bound as a docent/caretaker of a lighthouse. Soon our pleasant trip turned into a slow drift with boats taking largely divergent courses. In the end, the wind filled in enough so we did not have to row miles and miles home.


                                              

 

That evening we had our Black Tie Party, a Wayfarer tradition. Our idea of black tie varies and brings out our creative nature as we enjoy this evening of pleasant talk and bonding.

 


Downtown Bayfield, Wisconsin

 

Bayfield, the best Midwest Town, anchors the area providing most supplies you'll need from beer to a haul-out. The restaurants run the gamut and you should enjoy them all. A member of our group had access to a nice condo on the waterfront where we could gather and enjoy each other's company. That Friday afternoon we ate fresh whitefish. Wow! There is nothing like it, unless it's fresh wild blueberry pie from The Candy Shoppe. Just call a day ahead to order your pie. I stuck Andy with the bill for that pie. After I found out how much it was, I felt a bit bad.

 
                                    

 

The sail home was delightful. In the evening we emptied our coolers and had our traditional Left Over Supper Party.  The end of a perfect day, and a perfect week with fellow Wayfarers. You can find another report on the our week at  http://www.wayfarer-canada.org/nostalgia/events/event.nostalgia_M-Z/Rally.reports/2011Apostle/2011Apostles_reportAAb.html

Sailing and Cruising Solo August 20 through 28.




After the first week, the other Wayfarers left, and I headed out on my own. But not till I got a call from my 97-year-old mom. She said she was in the hospital with an irregular heart beat, but it wasn't that bad, and I should go sailing. (She lived to be 102.) The lovely day soon turned gray with winds pushing over twenty knots. Near Madeline Island, I hove to and reefed as the wind became brisker. While reefing, I stayed to the windward side to keep the boat from heeling uncomfortably in the short sharp waves. A Capri 16 altered course to sail close by and asked if I needed help. My response was friendly and negative. The top portion of the Capri's main sail was pumping back and forth threatening a gibe. Made me wonder who was going to need help first.





Once reefed, I headed on to Long Island or was it Long Peninsula? It's one or the other depending on water levels. Here the shores are protected bird nesting areas, so care must be taken. With the strong northerly wind, my planned anchorage looked uncomfortable for a boat with a tent up and was perhaps in the birds' area. So I rounded up and repassed the Chequamegon Point Light (it was moving quite slowly!). A southerly direction would have taken me into Chequamegon Bay and several all weather marinas. But north took me to a large cove off Madeline Island State Park, very much like Stockton’s. It protected me perfectly.

 

In the morning a 30-plus-footer offered me hot coffee, such a nice group to be part of. Rowing north parallel to the beach I stopped to see the little creek and lagoon (below), but the creek was too shallow for my Wayfarer to make it up into the lagoon.





Once all these Islands were named after states, but today only Michigan Island has a state name, and that's not the one it started out with. The Lighthouse on Michigan gives a good excuse to dock, walk up and enjoy a tour with the docent. Fresnel lenses ((below right) are always a delight to view, better than any diamond.


 

I cast off from Michigan and sailed away to another uneventful night on Stockton. The Island is a lot more fun than I make it sound. It's just that sunny pleasant days do not stick in my head as well as the more challenging parts of the trip. This time I was anchored very close to the SE end of the long beach, very Bahamas like, or what I think the Bahamas are like. This time I got the outer and inner anchor system going perfectly, so that I could pull myself into the beach or back out. I had a lovely walk along that very long sandy shore, and a perfect night's sleep.




Monday morning, one of the least visited Islands beckoned me, the aptly named Outer Island. The short curved beach on the north end (an exception to the usual pattern) offers protection just from the southerly winds. But that's where I spent the night, and this was a high risk choice, so think long and hard before you follow my wake. Upon arriving at the north end I set up my three pulley system with my stretchy anchor rode to pull Ält Bäd up the beach and questionable safety. Outer Island is considered a bit crowded with even just one person around, but surprisingly, someone else was already there. It was Craig Blacklock, known locally as Mr. Superior for his photographic work and public defense of the waters. He has kayaked a mere 3,000 miles along Superior shores. When Craig saw me he come down to the beach jumped to, grabbed the rode and gave some mighty heaves. He soon gave up. I went back to leaning my weight into the line and inching her up the beach. Speed just gets sucked into my systems stretch. Long steady pulls work well if slowly. That beach was a lot steeper than I had planned on.






It's a nice walk up the stairs to the top of the bluff. In the center of the stairway are the old iron rails for the lighthouse supply cart. Don't know if it is still used. There I joined Craig who was taking pictures of the Lighthouse every 15 minutes, all day long. He had two or three spots and he would walk a circuit taking pictures from each on a schedule. A “you-hoo?” sounded from the forest, which Craig answered. A young lady asked if she could come out, or would they be interfering with the picture? Craig (above) said “No problem” and two college girls walked out of the woods. They had spent two weeks surveying the fauna of the island. The leader was very quiet and the other seemed glad to have someone to talk to, and she did not stop. Next the park boat showed up and now we had 3 boats and 5 people, it was a mob scene! They left and it was back to Craig and me. We were soon joined by thousands of dragonflies, and as the sun set the air became thick with fireflies. What a lovely day!

 

Made the mistake of sleeping in the boat. The angle up the beach made it rather uncomfortable, a tent on land would have been nicer. That night anchoring out would also have worked, with the lack of wind. Thursday morning I took a slow walk past the Lighthouse outhouse, and on to the creek. Turned around there as I was barefoot and wearing shorts, and the woods on the other side could have been full of Lyme ticks, or not.

 

The sand flies hatched out that morning, they and lime ticks run in cycles. We were lucky to have missed the flies during the Rally week. You need to have protective clothing as they will win the long war. Except for the biting flies, the morning started blissfully enough. After starting out with full sail I quickly turned back for shelter from the wind while putting in a reef. As the wind picked up and the waves rolled I saw a large rock that looked to be eight feet down at most, yet at this spot the water is 200 feet deep! That optical illusion was truly amazing! While the boat was moving smartly along I did not seem to make much progress, between tacking and killing flies. Good thing Uncle Al suggested having a fly swatter aboard. A thunderstorm slid from the SW over the land, then came out over the islands. This is unusual and the storm was not forecast to be over the islands. I was soon counting seconds between lighting strikes and thunder claps which did not get closer than about eight miles. The worst of the storm stayed about a mile away on the south end of Outer and Cat Islands. This is why “Mother Superior” must be respected and NOAA listened to regularly. Not all storms give long warning, and can be unpredictable in their course as I found out! The water is deep and cold. The surface water warms up to 50°F plus in August, but a strong wind can quickly mix up the water layers putting an end to that. Drysuits are a good idea for small boats and solo sailors. I wished I had one. Count on quick response only from yourself and crew. People do die in these waters and quickly. Yet this is the most protected area in the tricky waters of Superior and with proper caution you will enjoy these glorious cruising grounds. You can also read my article published in Small Craft Adviser here:

http://www.wayfarer-international.org/WIC/Cruise.Logs/2011Passage_in_a_Storm/2011Passage.html

 

Much later, by email, Craig informed me that the wind and waves were so wild seven miles south that he could not safely land on the sandy southern tip of Outer Island (below). He paddled back north a bit along the eastern and protected side of Outer Island. There he climbed up on a rocky shelf and pulled his kayak up after himself. Craig got under an overhanging rock just in time to avoid the rain.






It's a nice walk up the stairs to the top of the bluff. In the center of the stairway are the old iron rails for the lighthouse supply cart. Don't know if it is still used. There I joined Craig who was taking pictures of the Lighthouse every 15 minutes, all day long. He had two or three spots and he would walk a circuit taking pictures from each on a schedule. A “you-hoo?” sounded from the forest, which Craig answered. A young lady asked if she could come out, or would they be interfering with the picture? Craig (left) said “No problem” and two college girls walked out of the woods. They had spent two weeks surveying the fauna of the island. The leader was very quiet and the other seemed glad to have someone to talk to, and she did not stop. Next the park boat showed up and now we had 3 boats and 5 people, it was a mob scene! They left and it was back to Craig and me. We were soon joined by thousands of dragonflies, and as the sun set the air became thick with fireflies. What a lovely day!

 

Made the mistake of sleeping in the boat. The angle up the beach made it rather uncomfortable, a tent on land would have been nicer. That night anchoring out would also have worked, with the lack of wind. Thursday morning I took a slow walk past the Lighthouse outhouse, and on to the creek. Turned around there as I was barefoot and wearing shorts, and the woods on the other side could have been full of Lyme ticks, or not.

 

The sand flies hatched out that morning, they and lime ticks run in cycles. We were lucky to have missed the flies during the Rally week. You need to have protective clothing as they will win the long war. Except for the biting flies, the morning started blissfully enough. After starting out with full sail I quickly turned back for shelter from the wind while putting in a reef. As the wind picked up and the waves rolled I saw a large rock that looked to be eight feet down at most, yet at this spot the water is 200 feet deep! That optical illusion was truly amazing! While the boat was moving smartly along I did not seem to make much progress, between tacking and killing flies. Good thing Uncle Al suggested having a fly swatter aboard. A thunderstorm slid from the SW over the land, then came out over the islands. This is unusual and the storm was not forecast to be over the islands. I was soon counting seconds between lighting strikes and thunder claps which did not get closer than about eight miles. The worst of the storm stayed about a mile away on the south end of Outer and Cat Islands. This is why “Mother Superior” must be respected and NOAA listened to regularly. Not all storms give long warning, and can be unpredictable in their course as I found out! The water is deep and cold. The surface water warms up to 50°F plus in August, but a strong wind can quickly mix up the water layers putting an end to that. Dry suits are a good idea for small boats and solo sailors. I wished I had one. Count on quick response only from yourself and crew. People do die in these waters and quickly. Yet this is the most protected area in the tricky waters of Superior and with proper caution you will enjoy these glorious cruising grounds. You can also read my article published in Small Craft Adviser here:

http://www.wayfarer-international.org/WIC/Cruise.Logs/2011Passage_in_a_Storm/2011Passage.html

 

Much later, by email, Craig informed me that the wind and waves were so wild seven miles south that he could not safely land on the sandy southern tip of Outer Island (below). He paddled back north a bit along the eastern and protected side of Outer Island. There he climbed up on a rocky shelf and pulled his kayak up after himself. Craig got under an overhanging rock just in time to avoid the rain.




Thursday brought an end to flies and the sail was easy and relaxed. So much so I only recall arriving at Rocky Island's east dock which held a park boat and a 30-ft power yacht with a friendly captain. The gentle south wind gave me a beam reach around the 30-footer, and I slipped right between the two boats and just kissed the dock. The captain's name was Anderson and he grabbed my line and complimented me on my docking skills, which really did look good. He had a large campfire ready to go in the evening. The park boat pilot came back and before he cast off, we chatted about the weirdness of the last thunderstorm and how far it had come out.

 

After eating and getting ready for the night, I joined Capt. Anderson who burned way too much wood in that bonfire and we talked. Turned out he had taught and worked with Craig Blacklock whom I had just meet on Outer Island. Anderson's wife was extremely shy and I never even saw her. Her husband said she knew every orchid patch in the Islands.

 

Thursday morning, a life-long resident dropped by, offering a guided tour of the island. He had been born two miles east on South Twin Island, and moved across the ice one winter's day carried in his mother arms. He was proud of the fishing tradition of the islands, and the old sandstone quarry in the center of the Rocky Island.




Devils Island was saved for last. The winds were forecast to be up to 20 mph in the morning and lowering in the afternoon. First I tried going around the north end of Rocky Island but away from the lee of the land the water looked like the inside of a washing machine and a little scary. If only I had checked my proper chart instead of the National Geographic waterproof map, the reason would have been clear, shallow water! The waves had been happily rolling over Lake Superior's 200 feet deep bottom and now were getting all lumpy about having only twenty - sixteen feet to play in. Sailing straight out into Lake Superior away from all land and shallow bottoms, would have given me normal rolling waves and the same wind. But in my ignorance and uncertainty, I turned around and had a quick romp clockwise around Rocky. In fact, on the sheltered east side, the wind was good with regular waves, and soon I was hiking out and up on a plane. I swear the waves would explode half-way up to the spreaders when I hit them just right. Good thing I had my dry-top on. It was crazy sailing this way on Lake Superior. My euphoria and amazement were intense. Coming around the south end of Rocky, I dropped down towards Otter Island to take a look, but rules to protect the Otters who live there kept me from getting too close. The wind had dropped a little and with deep water under me the waves were quite regular. My run north to Devils Island was brisk but very controlled.

 

Devils' Harbor is only suitable for smaller shallow draft cruisers, larger boats must anchor out for the day. The entrance is guarded by a large flat wandering rock, which the winter ice leaves where it wants come spring. My usual practice of pulling out or anchoring in the shallows was stopped by evenly distributed rocks along the shore. So I resorted to the harbor wall which can only hold a couple boats and does not give great protection from strong waves in my opinion. A 20-footer, captained by Wayne, soon joined me, amazed at my having come in under sail. We ate supper together by the old boathouse.




Saturday morning an early walk up the mile-long abandoned tramway used by small hand push carts was rewarded by another lighthouse and guided tour. Near the lighthouse there are blow holes a hundred feet back from the cliff edge. Huge waves pressurize the caves shooting water sky high, only to suck some leaves back down. But not today. Looking over the edge I saw only Craig Blacklock kayaking amongst the caves catching the early morning light with his camera. I had not seen him since the storm and he was too far down to talk to. There were no other boats in sight.




Once I had walked back to the harbor, it was time to pack up. In total calm I rowed to the north end of the island. Wayne and crew used kayaks they had brought on their sailboat, to access the shallow water surrounding the island. They soon passed Ält Bäd and me. The whole west coast of Devils Island is littered with beautiful small sea caves, pools, moss, and flowers. As I rounding the north end of Devils, a dozen or more boats came into view. All out enjoying the unusual calm and the flat water which allowed people to kayak and wade in the big sea caves. Looking north eight miles out you could see large ore carriers going about their business.




By 3:00 PM it was time to head home. It was my birthday, and time to indulge myself. I was going to sail 22 miles back to Red Cliff. My course lay SE between Rocky and Otter Island and down to Manitou Island. What little wind there was, died at sunset just as Oak Island come into view. Slowly lights became visible from the boats anchored off the NW end of Oak. I “just” kept sailing SE at less than a knot parallel and close to Manitou Island's west side. I actually spotted the reef on its SW corner, it had a small marker and weak battery operated light, and my course was outside the reef area anyway. I was trying to avoid using the GPS on my first night sail. Had not been sure I could navigate with just starlight, but with big black islands for markers it wasn't too hard. By 1:55 AM Sunday, I pulled up onto the beach below the Casino, dragged the sail over myself and went to sleep till sun-up. As I crawled out in the morning, there was this lovely older lady, who peppered me with questions and treated me like some kind of hero. Turned out she once owned a Cape Dory Typhoon, and was now sailing a Laser in these waters which takes a special toughness.

 

Looking back, my two weeks of sailing covered a lot interesting places, yet left a lot to go back for. After retrieving the car and trailer from the off-site parking, I packed up. Before heading home, I stopped by the National Lakeshore Service Office and paid for my unplanned camping on land.


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