Door County, WI
William T Boehm
January 2013
Sometimes things just
don’t work out. We were supposed to be
exploring the northern half of the Bay
of Green Bay including Upper Michigan’s Big and Little Bay de Noc. Instead, it was July 9th and I was
at home writing a trip update for family and friends. Nothing serious; no real
problems; it’s just that you can’t live aboard a boat on the Great Lakes without
a waste water holding tank. So, after
just 20 days on the water, we were at home waiting on a tank replacement.
Green Bay is
a large body of Lake Michigan water protected by Wisconsin’s Door Peninsula
(essentially, Wisconsin’s “thumb”). The
Bay itself is about 125 miles long and about 20 miles wide. Our home, south of
Kewaunee, WI, is on the Lake Michigan side of the Door Peninsula about 40 miles
southwest of Sturgeon Bay.
We moved aboard La Tasse on
June 16th and that afternoon attended the wedding celebration of
good friends and neighbors. The wedding party with some 500 guests in an
outdoor setting was greeted that evening with a steady and sometimes hard rain;
we had been without rain for about three weeks. No one complained. One young woman, with a huge smile on her
face, remarked that she actually “saw the corn grow” as she drove to the
party. I believe she did. Nature can be funny that way. We all want “good weather” until we live
without rain or, in Wisconsin, without snow and cold in the winter. I’ve learned to take the weather as it comes
and then adjust to accommodate natures’ annoyances. I feel good about that personal victory.
The next morning, with a mostly sunny sky and
a SW breeze, we left Manitowoc Marina and headed for Kewaunee Harbor, our
hometown, about 25 miles north. It was
our 40th wedding anniversary.
And what a day we had. The wind and weather conditions allowed us to
actually sail for nearly the entire trip. That’s very rare for coastal cruising
sailors despite the stories one hears. Bubbly, of course, upon arrival and then
dinner at The Cork! May there be forty
more!
Sturgeon Bay is the
official southern “entry” to Door County and the Bay. The city has about 10,000 year-round
residents. It’s the commercial center
for the county and lies about half way up the Door Peninsula between the city
of Green Bay (south) and Washington Island (north).
The 27nm trip from
Kewaunee on June 19th took about 4 hours. A line of thunder storms had passed north of
us earlier that morning so our departure from Kewaunee was delayed until about
9:30 am. It was hazy on the lake but visibility
was never less than about 2 miles. We
tried to sail but with little wind, we furled our sails and motored. It was our first trip along this coast so the
limited visibility was a disappointment. After about 10 nm we spotted Algoma
off our port bow. We continued northeast another 15nm and motored into the
Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal.
Historians dispute the
claim that the canal “created” an island of the northern half of the Door
Peninsula. They believe that by digging
the canal the European settlers actually removed silted soil that had clogged
the natural passage between the mainland and the island that we now consider
part of the Door Peninsula. Historical accounts of the work on the canal give
considerable credibility to their claim.
One early proposal was to dig about one-half mile north of the current
canal location. There, the diggers found
bedrock just below the soil surface; not an easy dig. While digging the softer sandy soil at the
present location, diggers found evidence of trees embedded in and buried by
sand. By canal digging standards, the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal was a short and
easy dig. I suspect the historians are
right. But since Europeans found the
island connected to the mainland, they assumed it was part of the Door
Peninsula and never gave it a name!
Construction on the canal
began in 1872 after a decade of discussion and debate. Articles of
incorporation were drawn up in 1864 and were signed by approximately thirty
influential business and political leaders from Lake Michigan’s coastal cities
and the U.S. east coast. But, real progress came slowly. The canal was finally completed in 1879. It was built initially as a business venture;
ships passing through paid a toll to the owners. Government assistance for the project
consisted of a land grant, range lights for the Dunlap Reef near the city and a
light and fog signal on the breakwater on the Lake Michigan end (the north
Pierhead Light). The original canal was
about 1.5 miles long, 125 feet wide and 6 feet deep. These days, the canal is dredged to about 20’
along its entire length making it deep enough for the large cargo vessels, the
“lakers,” that ply the Great Lakes waters in most years from April through
January. In the winter months, as many
as fifteen lakers will lay up in Sturgeon Bay for both repair and safekeeping.
The Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal
We passed the historic
North Pierhead light, looked up at the impressive light tower we’d been
watching through the haze for about 40 minutes and slowed to the required 3
knots as we passed the Coast Guard Station.
Once inside the canal, the haze was gone. We
cleared the Bay View Bridge and docked about 20 minutes later at Center Point
Marina. We were in Door County!
Door County Wisconsin
Door County is considered
by many to be the “Cape Cod of the Midwest.”
It’s a year-round playground for vacationers from Minnesota, Iowa,
Illinois, and Indiana and, of course, Wisconsin. The population of the county,
normally about 30,000, swells to 250,000 during the summer months. Most
tourists flock to the “bay side” of the Peninsula leaving the more rugged and
wild “Lake side” for the locals and the more adventuresome. Besides, spectacular
sunsets across the Bay regularly treat visitors in a way that is impossible
from Wisconsin’s Lake Michigan Shore (which faces east).
Europeans settled the Door
Peninsula relatively late, in the 1850s and 1860s mostly, but the waters of the
Bay have been traveled by them since the 1600s.
Jean Nicolet was sent west along Lake Michigan’s north coast by Samuel
de Champlain in 1634 to form alliances with Native Americans and advance French
fur trading interests in the area. After
leaving Mackinac Island by canoe he “coasted” through the Straits and
ultimately passed a string of islands (Summer, Poverty, St Martin, Rock and
Washington among them) that protected the entrance to the Bay of Green
Bay. He followed the Bay waters west and
south stopping several times at spots along the Door Peninsula. Eventually he
reached the Native American Winnebago stronghold at Red Banks just northeast of
the mouth of the Fox River. The palisaded Winnebago city had a population of
more than 15,000. Nicolet thought he had reached the China coast and so he
paraded in a colorful robe firing pistols into the air! Needless to say, he
made quite an impression on the locals.
After the dust settled, literally, I suppose, Nicolet established a
trading post near the town. Some say
that makes Green Bay, WI one of the oldest permanent settlements in America.
Keep in mind that his “permanent settlement,” a trading post, was positioned
nearby a rather permanent city of more than 15,000 Winnebago!
That chance discovery of
the Fox River by Nicolet played an important role in the ultimate settlement of
America’s “west” as it was the long traveled Native American route to the
Mississippi via the Wisconsin River with a portage from the Fox (at Portage,
WI). It also opened a water route for transporting the regions vast natural
resources (lumber, limestone, iron ore and grain) to the south and east. But
change came slowly to the area. It would
take 130 years before Charles de Langlade moved to Green Bay with his family
becoming the state’s first permanent white settlers. As late as 1820, Green Bay
and Prairie du Chien (at the mouth of the Wisconsin River) were Wisconsin’s
only important European population centers.
Door County’s western coast
We left Sturgeon Bay on
June 22nd and headed north and east along the ship channel and into
the Bay. The sun was shining and the
wind blew gently from the NW. The
coastline views along this route were spectacular. The site of roughly 50 white Pelicans
skimming the water surface just north of Sturgeon Bay made it all the more
enjoyable.
We reached Egg Harbor
about 1 pm and docked with a comfortable outside tie at their new village
marina. Egg Harbor is a deep water
harbor, one of the few along this coast.
The new marina makes it a comfortable and enjoyable stop for cruisers. We
spent two days exploring this wonderful harbor. We’ve been coming to Egg Harbor by car for
many years. We even rented a vacation
cottage there some 35 years ago.
Somehow, Egg Harbor seems to be more alive these days. That’s good, I think.
Fish Creek is just 5nm
northeast of Egg Harbor. It’s Tourist
Central for Door County. We sailed about
half the distance with a gentle NW breeze averaging only about 3 knots. But, what’s the rush? The sun was warm and we
didn’t have far to go. After navigating
into a tight slip at Alibi Marina, we had a nice brunch and enjoyed a lazy
afternoon. Next day, we were joined by
good friends and family, Julie and Lee Zebro.
Lee had a business trip so Julie, Deb and I enjoyed Fish Creek on our
own. The ladies went shopping and I
found a bar. Don’t laugh. I learned a great deal from an attractive,
30ish year-old bar tender who hunted bear with her husband and their Black
& Tan hounds! Now that’s the Door
County I love!
We left Fish Creek on June
27th and headed for Nicolet (Shanty) Bay anchorage. The wind was light but blowing from the
south. The forecast called for the southerly winds to strengthen so Nicolet
Bay, with protection from southerly winds, was the obvious choice for an
overnight anchorage. A few miles northeast of Fish Creek, we passed Eagle Bluff
light. What a site she was. Eagle Bluff
light was approved by Congress in July 1866.
However, it was not until October 1868 that the light was ready to
assist mariners navigate the narrow and dangerous Strawberry Channel.
Eagle Bluff Light
Indeed, Door County is a
lighthouse haven with more lights per mile of coastline than perhaps anywhere
in the U.S.
On a quiet summer day, the
waters of Green Bay present a deceivingly simple navigational challenge. Upon
closer inspection one finds that the Bay is crowded with islands and shoals and
is wide open to the cold northwesterly winds that frequently blow across her
shallow waters. Green Bay can be dangerous, particularly at her northern
entrance from Lake Michigan, Porte des Morts or “Death’s Door.” This confluence of forces (dangerous
passages and compelling commercial interests) ultimately made Door County home
for 13 separate light stations protecting navigation in four distinct areas
along the Peninsula’s rugged coast (the northern entrance, at Bailey’s Harbor
along the Lake Michigan coast, at Chambers Island in the Bay and through the
ship canal at Sturgeon Bay). Thirty
Detroit area Lake merchants and vessel owners petitioned Congress in 1832 to
build a light at the northern entrance to the Bay. The Pottawatomie Light on
Rock Island, the areas first, did not shine until 1837.
We entered the anchorage
about 11 am. There were about 10 boats
already anchored. The sandy beach was
busy as this coast is part of the Peninsula State Park property. What a pretty
place. Horseshoe Island was visible off
our stern, the village of Ephraim and Eagle Harbor off to the southeast and
sandstone bluffs all around. It was a classic Door County picture! We dropped our anchor in about 17’ of water,
let out 60’ of chain and found good holding in the sandy mud bottom. The wind picked up that afternoon and
eventually reached about 15 knots. We
never moved. Dinner was a grill special
with brats and cob corn. By 8 pm the
wind died and things generally calmed down.
We don’t anchor
enough. Goodness knows, we have the boat
for it. Our ground tackle was designed
to hold La Tasse in a hurricane. We have
more than ample battery power storage and, besides, we have a diesel generator
aboard. Even with all that, Deb prefers
terra firma; most of the time, so do I.
But, there’s something special about anchoring, I think. Besides the quiet and the natural beauty of a
protected anchorage, it feels natural.
Boats, particularly sailboats, are supposed to swing at anchor, don’t
you know…..
Next morning I was up at 6
am. I sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the
sunrise in this beautiful place. It’s not surprising that people still flock to
this spot, I thought. Archeological digs have found artifacts from a village in
this bay that existed about 400 BC. It is believed that the Door Peninsula has
been inhabited by humans for about 11,000 years. Indeed, Door County has the
most concentrated evidence of Native American community life of anywhere in the
entire state of Wisconsin. Artifacts
including tools, sketches, pottery, cemeteries, and corn fields have been found
in numerous places but particularly along the bay shore and on Washington
Island.
Sister Bay was our next
port of call. We left the anchorage
about 9:30 am and headed northeast about 6nm. Alas, no wind. So, once again, we motored. The bay was hazy
and the temperature an uncomfortable and humid 83 degrees.
Al Johnson's Restaurant
The land surrounding Sister Bay was a timbered
wilderness as late as 1880. Before then,
in the late 1860s, Swedish woodcutters from Marinette came to harvest the
native forests over the winter months.
They did not plan to stay. But,
the land was cheap, gently rolling, comparatively free of stone and fertile;
once the trees were gone, of course. So, as the trees were cleared, some of the
woodcutters stayed on as farmers. By 1870, Sister Bay had a pier, sawmill and
gristmill. Water accessibility and the mills brought more woodcutters and,
eventually, more Swedish settlers.
In the late 1870s a few
Swedish families organized a Baptist church in Sister Bay. Over the years, the congregation grew in both
size and influence. That’s not always a good thing. For many years, saloons
were barred from Sister Bay and nearby Liberty Grove. Things change, though, as
we enjoyed three fine dinners complete with “adult” beverages while in Sister
Bay.
June 29, 2012 is a day
that will “live in infamy” as far as I’m concerned. Early that day, we noticed an offensive odor
in the cabin. Initially, I thought it
was just stale bilge water. I cleaned
and pumped the bilge hoping that would solve the problem. It didn’t. I knew what it was. I’d been there before, about ten years
ago. The 40 gallon aluminum waste water
holding tank was leaking. There’s no way
to “fix” a problem like that while underway.
The tank, which is positioned below the cabin sole, needed to be removed
and replaced. We had no choice but to return home for the challenging and
expensive repair.
Despite the obvious
problem, however, we did spend two additional days in Sister Bay visiting the
area by car. There were many trips to the Boaters lounge at the marina. And we made extensive use of the restroom
facilities in every restaurant we visited. Probably too much information….
Washington Island
Washington Island lies off
the northern end of the Door Peninsula. At
about 24 square miles and nearly as wide as it is long, it’s the largest island
in the chain between the Wisconsin mainland and Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It’s the only one of those islands that today
has permanent residents. Approximately 700
hearty soles live there year-round. The
only access to the island is by boat. (Well, okay, they do have a small public
airport with two grass runways…). A car
ferry service runs to and from the Island year-round bringing mostly tourists
in the summer and mostly supplies to the island during the winter months. The Washington Island Ferry has been operated
continuously by the same family since 1940.
We boarded the ferry at
the Northport dock, at the end of Highway 42.
It was a beautiful summer day, about 80 degrees with a light breeze from
the west. I looked out across Death’s
Door and thought about the string of islands that would eventually lead to
Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. We were
supposed to be making this trip with La Tasse, I thought. Someday, we will. But on this day, we were
depending on someone else to take us across these historical waters. Death’s
Door, we were crossing Death’s Door, I thought.
For about 150 years, this
chain of islands was home to the Potawatomi and a number of other minor
tribes. The Potawatomi, an easy going
and welcoming people, had been driven from the Peninsula by the Winnebago in
the early part of the 17th century.
Their plan to dominate the area included driving the Potawatomi off the
islands as well. That plan failed when many Winnebago warriors were lost in a
battle with the Potawatomi in the water and along the mainland shore near
present day Deathdoor Bluff. The
Winnebago took the defeat as a sign from the Manitou that they were not to
cross “Death’s Door.” So, they didn’t.
When the French arrived, they learned the name from the Winnebago and the
name stuck.
Early Europeans settled on
Washington and nearby Rock Island to fish.
Historical accounts from the mid 1800s tell us that this waterway was
the best fishing ground in the region. Records of lake trout consistently as
big 50-70 pounds with fishermen catching more than 100 in a day rather
dramatically make the point. There’s an
interesting story about a fishing settlement on the Island’s west coast, at West
Harbor, in the early 1850s. The
fishermen were Black. The leader among
them was a man named Bennett. He was a bit
of an Evangelist, we’re told. But his
real claim to fame links him to Perry’s victory over the British on Lake Erie
in 1813. Bennett was Perry’s cabin boy
and accompanied him when he transferred from the badly damaged Lawrence to the Niagara. Next time, look closely at the famous
painting of that historic event and you’ll see Mr. Bennett, a Black boy, at
Perry’s side! Mr. Bennett died on Washington Island in 1854.
We passed Plum Island off
our starboard and shortly after entered the channel to Detroit Harbor. The entrance channel itself was surprisingly unremarkable. The entrance light stands just 25’ off the
water. It was all less than I had
expected. After all, this harbor
provided refuge for hundreds of schooners during the golden age of sail,
roughly 1850 – 1900. The harbor itself is formed by a crescent of Washington
Island that is oriented south and one off Detroit Island that is oriented
north. It’s a shallow harbor, averaging
just 8-10 feet in the center. The anchorage, though, is rather large, about 1
square nm. That day, a beautiful day
during the July 4th week, there were no boats in the anchorage. It
felt wrong.
The remoteness of
Washington Island, the same remoteness that saved the Potawatomi and a granted
a relatively easy life for the early European fisherman, is now the island’s
curse. In the 1860s, Settlers came here
from Denmark and Iceland with axes, to eke out a living by logging. In the process, they cleared the land and
began farming, using fish offal for fertilizer. They grew mostly potatoes in
the early years. By the early 1900s
Washington Island had 3 churches, 4 schools and one of the best co-op telephone
systems in America supporting a year-round white population of more than 1,000.
Even today, the island is home to one of the oldest Icelandic communities in
the United States and one of the largest outside Iceland itself. Not much happens on Washington Island these
days. But, maybe that’s not so bad. The natural beauty of this place is largely
unspoiled. Its parks and beaches are
clean and, typically, not crowded. There’s ample time on Washington Island to
just sit and think, particularly in the winter!
The trip Home
We headed for home on July 1 leaving Sister Bay
for Manitowoc with stops in Sturgeon Bay and Kewaunee. The weather on the trip
from Sturgeon Bay to Manitowoc was mostly nice, warm and sunny. It rained while we were in Kewaunee
Harbor. It always seems to rain when
we’re there by boat!
As we cleared the Sturgeon
Bay Ship Canal for the second time, it occurred to me that we were traveling
along the “Schooner Coast.” This coast,
from Sturgeon Bay to Manitowoc is really the cradle of the three masted
schooners, the water-based cargo haulers that supported European settlement
here for more than 60 years. The
schooners were unique. Their overall
design was borrowed from the highly successful coastal sailing vessels on the
Atlantic seaboard. But the challenge
here, along the Lake Michigan coast, was a bit different. The coastal waters and harbors were shallow
and sailing vessels needed to make consistent progress with the prevailing
westerly and southwesterly winds. There were few roads on the coast but nearly
every small settlement had a pier. Those
piers seldom extended more than 250’ from shore and had only 6-8’ of water at
their end. The remnants of such a pier, at Carlton town, are visible from my
deck. Kewaunee had the longest navigable natural harbor on Lake Michigan’s east
coast in the 1850s. Commercial vessels traveled six miles up-river to pick up
cargo and deliver supplies.
A boat builder in
Manitowoc, William Bates, attacked the problem head-on in 1851. He modified the design of the Baltimore
clipper, making it almost flat-bottomed, and adding a retractable centerboard. A triangular sail set high on the foremast
with a yardarm provided additional power downwind on the mostly sloop-rigged
vessel. The on-water performance of
Bates first schooner, the Challenge,
quickly established the model for the hundreds that would follow and support
settlement along the Lake Michigan shoreline.
My own schooner, a model of the Lucia
Simpson (She was 127’ long, with a 28’ beam and 8.7’ depth of hold and
built in Manitowoc in 1875 by Rand & Burger. She carried half an acre of
canvas!), sits proudly on our mantle reminding us daily of early European life
along this coast. She served in the lumber trade until about 1930 making her
one of the last of the full-rigged schooners to sail the Great Lakes. She burned to the waterline in a fire that
swept the Sturgeon Bay Ship Building Company dock in 1935.
Perhaps the best known of
the historic schooners was the Rouse
Simmons, the Christmas Tree Ship.
The Rouse Simmons went down
with all hands in a snowstorm off Two Rivers, WI on November 22, 1912, just 10
miles south of our home. Her Captain,
one Herman Schuenemann, grew up in Algoma, WI, just 10 miles north of Kewaunee.
(Algoma was home to a number of schooner captains.) In the early 1900s, the
schooners were being displaced along this coast by larger and more efficient
steam powered vessels. By the time fall
arrived, the schooners had completed their contracts for hauling lumber, stone
or grain. To earn a few extra dollars,
the daring among them would deliver Christmas trees from northern Wisconsin and
Upper Michigan to the cities to the south, Chicago, Milwaukee, etc. From
1876-1920, more than 60 sailing vessels engaged in the Christmas tree trade on
Lake Michigan. Captain Schuenemann
wasn’t just a sailor, he was also a merchant.
Instead of selling his trees to dealers in Chicago, he sold his trees to
the public right off the boat. He became
a Christmas tradition on the Chicago docks near the Clark Street bridge. When his ship went down, he became a legend. Today, the Coast Guard brings ceremonial
evergreen trees to Navy Pier every Christmas season.
I love living on this
coast. And, why not? It’s the Schooner Coast.
We arrived at our home
port on July 4th. It felt
good to see the Badger on the eastern
horizon as we rounded Rawley Point. Old
faithful, the last coal burning commercial vessel on the Great lakes, would
again welcome us home as she frequently does.
I had mixed emotions as we docked.
We were not supposed to be home.
We were supposed to be in Escanaba, MI for the July 4th
Holiday. But things don’t always work
out as planned. I was disappointed but
not distraught. Everyone is fine, I
thought. There is no damage to our boat
or anyone else’s. There is no big mechanical problem to fix. In the end, it’s a holding tank. Nothing more.
Money and time will fix the problem.
Luckily we have enough of both!
