Hammond Bay the Hard Way Mackinac Island to Hammond Bay After a day or two on the island lounging in the sunshine, the marine report shifted calling for smaller wave heights and a change in wind direction that may help me get out of paradise and down the coast. I was fired up to be heading off to personally unexplored lands. I had never had the boat above “the thumb” of Michigan before this. The first two weeks or so would be all new waters and extra exciting to me. The winds were blowing out of the north and there were small craft warnings for the open waters of Lake Huron. I studied my chart and decided to run under Bois Blanc Island in the lee of the land hiding from the wind and waves. I would then pop out on the other side of Cheboygan before hitting the brunt of the wind as I turned south down the coast. This would put me into a following sea and I could surf right down to Hammond Bay. I didn’t mind moderate seas in the small boat as long as it was from behind. Running ten footers down wind had become old hat in the little 22 footer. It wasn’t a lot of fun but if I needed to I could do it. My thinking was that if the open water looked too rough I could retreat back to Cheboygan for the night. I was fired up looking forward to the adventure. Doing it alone made it even more magical. A man has got to know his limitations, and the best way to find them is to get in over your head all by yourself with no backup. Most people never push themselves far enough to find out what they are truly capable of when everything goes to hell because they're too afraid to be afraid… I was looking at 20-30 knot winds and 10 foot waves according to the Coast Guard. I sailed out of Mackinac Island ready to tackle whatever I came across. The sails were brand new heavy sails from UK Sails. I had them made the year before after the old sails were shredded apart in a bad storm sailing off of Harbor Beach while on vacation. I swung around under Bois Blanc Island and set my course with the autopilot. I relaxed enjoying some lunch and marveling at the great speed I was getting out of the old tub. As I lulled myself into complacency a gust of wind came up and forced me into a broach! The boat was knocked over on its side and she spun around before I could release the jib or autopilot dumping everything inside the cabin and more importantly dumping my freshly opened beer. I composed myself and reefed the jib about halfway in. This slowed me down some but I didn’t want a repeat of that near disaster. I still made good time and before long was dodging the ferry running to the island from Cheboygan. I studied the chart as I cleared the shelter of the island. There is a light tower in the middle of the channel there. It’s miles off shore if I remember right. One side of the light is over a hundred feet deep and the other side is shallow enough to run aground. I double checked the charts several times to make sure I had it right before rolling out into the mess and having no chance to roll out the chart in the wind. One thing you learn sailing is that paper and wind don't mix well. I cautiously sailed out into the raw North wind. The waves built slowly as the winds increased the more I rounded the island. Before long I was in too deep with the waves breaking at 10 and 15 feet and the wind howling across the white-capped water. I couldn’t get back to plan B with the wind and waves that violent. Oh I desperately wanted to go back! But the little ten-horse outboard was not going to fight that wind and drive up those waves both. I decided to drop the sails and run on the motor under a bare pole because of the crazy ass wind. The jib rolled up like a top but when it came time to climb up on deck to drop the main the trouble started. The autopilot couldn't keep up with the following seas long enough to let me go forward on the deck and the wind off the stern wouldn’t let the sail slide down in the tracks of the mast. I had no choice but to let her fly and ride it out. I hung on to the tiller for dear life and surfed from one waypoint to the next on my handheld GPS. For hours the boat shot forward as the next wave pushed past my transom. The bow would dig in as the stern was thrust upwards till the wave would crest under the boat and I would fall off the backside bow pointed to the sky. When in a wind storm like that you have to keep a hold of the tiller at all times. It took two hands and all my might to keep the boat from breaching sideways when each wave lifted the stern high in the air. I tried running the motor at the same time hoping the added push would make navigation easier. That didn’t work because the propeller came out of the water as each wave crested under me letting the engine over rev wildly. With just the main up pushing me to previously unheard of speeds for that boat I spent the rest of the day living life one wave at a time watching the tiny little screen on the GPS seem like it The secret to truly rigging a boat for running single-handed is to put anything you might need in reach of the cockpit. The dock lines are hung on the lifelines where they are accessible. Any urinals and buckets, coolers or foul weather gear are nearby. As I blasted down the coast in a state of constant near panic I could not under any circumstance release the tiller. If I needed to go to the bathroom I had to do it right there with tiller in hand fighting me. I couldn’t justify trying to eat or even dig up a drink from the cooler. I was just hanging on and hoping the boat didn't break up before I made it to Hammond Bay. The old thing was not designed for the big water and was making some sickening noises as the stresses of the wind and waves twisted the old hull. As the sun started to hang low over the horizon the little dot of a marina came into sight when I was on top of the waves. At the bottom I was surrounded by water like I was at the bottom of a giant bowl. At the top of the waves I was on a perch high above looking out across the water for a few seconds before falling like a roller coaster into the bottom again. I could see the entrance through the binoculars for a couple of hours every time I spy hopped like a whale from wave to wave. I was lined up perfectly with the small break wall and was hoping the waves would let up when I got in close to shore so I could swing around and drop the main before getting to the harbor entrance. That plan never worked out and I had to make the decision to sail her right through the gate at full speed and swing her around to nose her up to the backside of the sea wall out of the waves to drop the sail. I grabbed the pull start and with one good pull the motor came to life and I left it idling in neutral. With one last peek at the chart to get an idea on the layout of the marina I planed my attack, I shot through the opening in the break wall surfing one last good wave before swinging her around to the left and diving for the mast. If I didn’t get the sail down fast enough the wind would shove me into the docks in no time. The sail crashed to the deck and as the wind pushed the bow around I dropped the engine into gear and like a charm I spun her around and chugged over to the docks and asked the dumbfounded harbormaster, who had been watching me for the last mile, where to dock like nothing had happened. He told me he had never seen anyone do that there before and questioned my sanity for sailing in such weather in any size boat, he had a point. He gave me my choice of docks. I decided to loop back around to the shore side so I would be bow to the wind. The waves were chewing through the mouth of the harbor and making for a pretty healthy surge wave at the docks. I tied her up adding a couple of spring lines to allow room for any water level changes with the surging waters. I learned upon registering that I was the last boater of the year as the marina was closing for the season the next day. The closest human inhabitants on earth that late in the season were at an Italian restaurant five miles up the road and they were closing for the night in an hour. I was all alone at the marina and the wind and waves were expected to get really ugly overnight. This was going to be a cool night, I could feel the intensity of the weather building as the few seasonal boats at the marina were beginning to slam against the docks. I waved goodbye to the nice man and the night got more bizarre as it went. It became the weirdest night I ever spent tied to a dock. I burnt up hours of video tape in amazement! But that’s the next chapter…. Next Page: Howling at Hammond Bay
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When cruising the great Lakes you always have to have a plan B. Things change quickly on the big lakes.
was moving in slow motion.