Door County Wisconsin 2012

 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 9^th 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. 

The Door Peninsula

We moved aboard La Tasse on June 16^th 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 40^th 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

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 19^th 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. 

 The Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal is a manmade channel approximately 6 miles in length connecting Sturgeon Bay with Lake Michigan.  It was a heavily traveled portage by Native Americans long before the European settlers began digging in an effort to shorten the distance and increase the safety of the water passage from Chicago to Green Bay.  The canal is actually in two parts, a dredged portion of Sturgeon Bay (5 Miles) and a 1.3 mile section dug through the eastern side of the Door Peninsula. Using the canal shortens the Green Bay to Chicago passage by about 150 miles, or 20%, compared to the alternative of rounding the Peninsula at Porte des Morts, “Death’s Door.”

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.

 After the U.S. Government purchased the canal in 1893 Congress authorized construction of a more powerful and higher light for the canal entrance.  It was not until 1898 that a light was finally in place.  However, the original 78’ tower vibrated in the wind which interfered with the operation of the light’s clockwork.  It would be four years and several attempts before the problem was finally solved with a tower redesign that remains in place today.

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).

 Door County Sunset

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 22^nd 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!

 Tight fit in Fish Creek

We left Fish Creek on June 27^th 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.

 Nicolet Bay Anchorage

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.

Sister Bay’s downtown is smaller than Fish Creek and life is slower there than in Egg Harbor.  You can almost feel things slow down as you head north to the tip of the Peninsula.  The community “sells” itself today largely as a Swedish settlement.  Al Johnson’s Swedish restaurant, complete with live goats grazing on the roof, is the tourist attraction in town. 

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 17^th 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 4^th 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!

 Washington Harbor Beach

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.

 The Lucia Simpson

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 4^th.  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 4^th 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!

Door County, The County Beautiful!

Lake Champlain 2012

Lake Champlain

August 1-5, 2012

Charter with Sara and Al Johnson

 

I stood there on the dock in horror as the “captain” of a 45’ Beneteau sailboat backed east toward the mooring field packed with expensive boats.  On the way, he was scraping the stern of the docked boats in his path.  The 20 knot wind from the south was pushing his beam toward them and the docks.  He was out of control; clearly, out of control.  And, he was doing a lot of damage.  About a dozen of his friends were standing along the dock yelling at him.  They were all speaking French. This would be a weekend they would always remember.  I was sure of that.

 

It was about 5 pm on August 4; a Saturday.  We were in the Plattsburgh Boat Basin on Lake Champlain about 20 north and west of Burlington, VT. We had successfully docked Kokomo, our 37’ Beneteau Charter boat, in an 18 knot wind about an hour earlier. Of course, Deb was at the helm. It was yet another outstanding job from our wheelsman.  Being docked for the day was a comfort as the forecast was for worsening conditions.  The south wind was forecast to build overnight and into the next day, reaching 30 knots with higher gusts.  The guide books warned that Lake Champlain could have such moments, even in the middle of summer.

Lake Champlain

Lake Champlain is located on the border between New York and Vermont. Her waters extend roughly 100 miles along a north/south plane and then, via the Richelieu River in Canada, proceed north another 100 miles before reaching the St Lawrence River.

 

Lake Champlain

But that’s only half the story.  To her south, at Ticonderoga, you have a waterway choice.  You can take the 2 mile portage west to Lake George (Lake George, itself on a north to south plane, is roughly 30 miles long and a mile or so wide.)  or continue along the 20 mile Champlain Canal which was completed in 1823.  Either way, you connect to the Hudson River at Glenn Falls, NY.  The Hudson, of course, connects Lakes Champlain and George to New York harbor.  All totaled, this inland waterway extends north to south about 375 miles. For practical purposes, it makes New England an island!

 The Lake is seldom more the 10 miles wide, meandering between the Green Mountains on the East and the Adirondack Mountains to the west.  Three large islands, Isle La Motte, North Hero and South Hero (Grand Isle) and a number of smaller Islands create anchorages and bays that are magnets for recreational boaters from both Canada (Montreal) and the U.S.

 

This waterway has been used by humans for thousands of years. Until the advent of paved roads, it was after all, the easiest way to travel north to south in that mountainous part of the world.  Archeological digs confirm human activity in the area 8,000 years ago.  Semi-permanent villages and agricultural cultivation have been confirmed from about the time of Christ, long before any European “discoveries” were made in the area.

 

The lake gets its name from Samuel de Champlain who was, reportedly, the first European to see the Lake. (Actually, he named the lake after himself; a rare moment of modesty!) In the summer of 1609, the French explorer traveled up the St Lawrence and then turned south up the Richelieu and into the lake with a party of Native Americans; Algonquins and Hurons.  They intended a skirmish with their regional enemies, the Iroquois.  The battle, which reportedly took place near present-day Ticonderoga, ended swiftly when Champlain and one of his men killed several Iroquois with their arquebuses.  The Indians on both sides had never before seen such destructive weapons.  From that day forward, the Iroquois would hate the French.  Europeans, for their part, would use the waterway for the next 200 years in their struggles to dominate the continent.

 

 First came the roughly 75 year armed struggle (1689-1763) between the French and British (The French and Indian War).  In the end, the British, with help from the Iroquois, claimed Upper Canada from the French.  Both sides had built forts in that long river valley. Their existence almost guaranteed that Lake Champlain and her connecting waters would play an important role in deciding that outcome.

Then, during the Revolutionary War, the British again used the waterway from Canada in a failed attempt to isolate New England from the rest of the Colonies.  Perhaps the most famous Revolutionary War battle involved Ethan Allen, Benedict Arnold and Vermont’s Green Mountain Boys.  In 1775, they crossed the lake from Vermont and captured the British fort at Ticonderoga.  This victory hardly ended things for either side.  The Battle of Valcour Island in October 1776 was a defeat for Benedict Arnold’s fleet but sufficiently delayed the British from attacking Ticonderoga until 1777.  While the Brits were able to take the fort, the delay had given the Colonial forces the time they needed for an eventual victory just 60 miles south at Saratoga.  That victory persuaded the French to enter the war on the side of the Americans.  And that was it…

 

 When war again broke out between the U.S. and the British in 1812, the Lake and her environs again played a major role.  Early in the war, it was the British who prevailed as the Americans attempted to invade and capture Montreal via the Richelieu and the St Lawrence (via Lake Ontario) at Chateauguay (1813) and Locolle Mills (1814).  But on September 11, 1814, with troops at both Plattsburgh and Burlington, America’s Commodore Macdonough executed one of the world’s most successful naval battles.  With his fleet tucked behind Cumberland Head (due east of Plattsburgh), Macdonough engaged a superior British fleet and won the day.

Lake Champlain need not be remembered for her role in war, however.  She is much too beautiful for that as a legacy.  Besides, after things settled down, and the canals were built, she became the proving ground for vessels that supported commercial development, water transport and recreation.

The Charter

Lake Champlain had long been on our “bucket list.”  We had sailed our boat on all five of the Great Lakes but we’d never even seen this inland beauty.  The charter company we used, Navtours, was headquartered in Montreal but that didn’t really register until researching possible float plans.  Montreal is by far the largest metropolitan center in the area of Lake Champlain and less than 50 miles by car.  Where do you suppose most of the recreational boaters on the lake come from?  Dah….

The charter base was on the New York side of the lake, at historic Plattsburgh.  We arrived via the Burlington, VT airport (about 1 hour by car & ferry).  The ferry traversed the lake from South Hero Island to Cumberland Head, perhaps 2 miles.  From there, Plattsburgh Boat Basin was just 15-20 minutes. Our charter was scheduled to begin at noon on Wednesday August 1.  That didn’t happen.  Upon arrival we learned that our boat, Kokomo, was out on a charter and not due back until 3 pm.  It would be ready to board by 5 pm, we were told.  (In fact, things started out even worse.  All winter long, I had relied upon the Charter website and letterhead to conclude that the base was in Moody Bay, some 5-7 miles north of Plattsburgh.  My entire trip itinerary was based on the assumption we would leave from and return to Moody Bay.  Wrong!)

We’ve Chartered sailboats before so we knew the drill.  At least, we thought we did. The Charter crew gave us a reasonably detailed walk-through on Kokomo but, after that, we were on our own.  There was no “charter briefing,” no sharing of local knowledge.  Apparently, on a lake this size none was thought necessary.  In particular, the crew was mostly unwilling to offer cruising or dockage suggestions, even when asked. The hours spent with cruise and chart books the previous winter would now pay dividends! 

Kokomo was a 2012 37’ Beneteau.  She was a very good sailing boat and in reasonably good condition for a charter boat.  The living accommodations were quite good for four adults.  But, we quickly concluded that she wasn’t an Island Packet.  We’ve gotten so spoiled…

The weather was hot, in the low 90’s, and mostly sunny. The forecast was for much of the same.  After a nice lunch at the marina bar and grill (The Naked Turtle, no less), we headed out to find groceries and liquid refreshment for the cruise.  Along the way, we purchased a couple of inexpensive fans since Kokomo had none aboard. 

By 7:30 pm we were back on board. We got comfortable with the boat and her gear, rearranged the float plan, had a few drinks and turned in.

 

Thursday

 Thursday morning the sun was shining.  The wind was light, south @ 7mph.  It was a comfortable 66 degrees at 7:30 am.

We left the Plattsburgh Boat Basin at 10 am under full sail.  We headed east along Cumberland Head and then turned north.  As we did, I couldn’t help but think about how significant this headland was in the War of 1812.  As noted earlier, this was the place Commodore Macdonough made his stand.  I could easily envision the British fleet heading south with a northeast breeze behind them coming through the narrows formed by the Cumberland Head and South Hero Island (the ferry route).  Then, to their surprise, discovering the American fleet anchored behind the Head protecting the Plattsburgh harbor.  In order to engage the Americans the British fleet had to turn into the wind and then head west northwest along the south shore of the Cumberland Head which now was blanketing their wind. After a two hour and twenty minute bloody battle, Her Majesty’s guns fell silent.

 

Private Home at Cumberland Head

 

Once north of the Cumberland Head we sailed northeast approximately 5 nm to the entrance of the “Gut.”This narrow entrance to the “Inland Sea” was created by partially destroying an abandoned railroad fill between North Hero and South Hero (Grand Isle).  The Inland Sea is created by the east coast of South Hero and Vermont’s west coast.  It’s a large body of water, about 22 miles long and 5 miles wide. The Inland Sea is only accessible from the rest of the lake via the Gut. The waters south and east of South Hero are too shallow for boaters to enter, or leave, Mallets Bay.  The original plan had been to spend a night on Burton Island (a state park and marina) in the Inland Sea but with the unanticipated change in the location of the charter base, that was not to be.   We tacked and headed back northwest another 5 nm to the entrance of Deep Bay. Deep Bay itself is long and narrow, like a fjord. It’s a favorite overnight anchorage in Tredwell Bay.  It was now about 1 pm and we were getting hungry.  We tacked again and headed 5 nm southwest to the entrance channel for Tredwell Bay Marina, our destination for the night.

Tredwell Bay Marina was an enjoyable stop, despite the warm weather and light breeze.  Once docked, and with tummy’s full, we headed up the bank to the Marina pool.  The water and the exercise felt good on that warm August day.  The Marina property sports a first rate and busy restaurant. A great meal drinks in the cockpit and spirited conversation ended a wonderful day afloat.

 

Tredwell Bay Marina

Friday

 We awoke on Friday morning to a warm, mostly sunny 76 degrees.  The wind was again light, South @ 6 knots.

Unfortunately, a “low water” warning by the charter company precluded the planned trip to Mallets Bay, about 15 miles southeast.  Mallets Bay, which is just north of Burlington on the Vermont shore, is reportedly the recreational boater’s haven on Lake Champlain.  The narrow entrance, similar to that at The Gut, has been created by the removal of a portion of an abandoned railroad causeway.  We hated to miss Mallets Bay but weren’t about to test fate by ignoring the warning we’d been given.  The busy summer weekend prevented us from getting an overnight dock in Burlington, about 20 miles southeast of Tredwell Bay.  So, we agreed to day sail and spend the night in Plattsburgh.

 With a light south breeze we left Tredwell Bay Marina about 10:30 am and headed east back to the narrows at Cumberland Head.  We turned south and slowly, even agonizingly, tacked back into the largest open water of Lake Champlain.

One of the joys of sailing is to watch “new” sailors get the hang of things at the helm.  On this day, our good friend, Sara, took the helm.  It took only a brief time for her to understand the physics.  Even in the light wind and with all the tacking, she kept the sails full and pulling hard.  Well, okay, under the conditions, at least they were pulling most of the time!  Good job, Sara!







Sara & Al Johnson

 

This section of the lake (The Center) is about 30 miles long and 10 miles wide.  The Lakes largest cites, Burlington (southeast) and Plattsburgh (northwest) are located here. It’s here that the commercial battles for ferry and cruise dominance took place for over a century (roughly 1820-1930).  One year after John Fulton steamed into Albany via the Hudson on his 100 foot steamboat North River, a steamer was completed at Burlington by John Winans.  It was to be the first successful steamboat on any lake in the world!  Over the next century Lake Champlain would sport a long list of successful and memorable transports including the Congress, the Franklin, the Sarnac, the R.W. Sherman and, of course, the Ticonderoga.  Railroads, the automobile and the Great Depression changed things. Grand passenger boats no longer ply these waters. In their place are a couple of rather pedestrian ferry runs and tourist cruisers and the abandoned, but still largely intact, railroad causeway from the Vermont mainland to South and North Hero.  Not a good tradeoff, in my mind.

The coast along Cumberland Head just north of Plattsburgh proved to be a wonderful lunch and swimming spot.  We anchored in about 10 feet of water southeast of the State Park beach and enjoyed much of the afternoon.

 

We packed it in about 4 pm and headed back the roughly 3nm to Plattsburgh Boat Basin. The slip was complements of our charter company.  A harbor tour with Kokomo’s inflatable and beers seemed like the right thing to do.  After all, there were still boats to be seen and beer to be enjoyed.   An enjoyable dinner at the Naked Turtle was followed by drinks in the cockpit and a full moon.

 

 

Saturday

The weather forecast had turned ugly.  What started out as a promising weekend, weather wise, was being replaced by the likelihood of building south winds and the chance of rain and thunderstorms on Sunday.  Early Saturday, despite a sun-filled morning with mostly calm winds, the crew gathered to discuss the evolving forecast.  None of us liked the prospect of sailing back to Plattsburgh on Sunday morning (departure day) and then dealing with a charter boat check-in and a 30 knot south wind!  So, once again we adjusted our plan.  The slip reservation at Snug Harbor Marina (on the New York mainland due west of Valcour Island) was cancelled.  We’d day sail around Valcour Island, anchor off the island for lunch and then head back early evening for a pump-out and fuel before things got wild. 

The main was raised in a light south breeze as we sailed (motored, really) southeast from Plattsburg and past Crab Island toward the northeast side of Valcour, just 5 miles away.  The water was busy with boats that warm, sunny Saturday in August.

Valcour Island is about 2 miles long (north to south) and 1 mile wide. She is everything the cruise books say she is.  The Island has five wonderful anchorages, at least one for every wind direction.  On shore there are hiking trails but no cars or bikes.  There’s also a lighthouse on the island’s south west corner that is open to the public on Sunday’s during the summer.

 At the southeast end of the island we turned west and raised the jib.  We sailed nicely on a beam reach along the southern shore of the island.  The scenery was terrific.  As we reached the southwest corner of the island, the lighthouse on Bluff Point became visible.  The wind was now behind us and beginning to build.  It was about noon.

 

Lighthouse on Bluff Point, Valcour Island

We anchored in about 15 feet of water for lunch and a leisurely afternoon in the bay at Bluff Point North. This bay is well protected from southerly winds.  Still, we could feel the boat being pushed back as we dropped anchor and let out 65 feet of chain rode.  Were they wrong about the wind building overnight, I wondered?

The anchorage was teeming with boats, both power and sail.  Many seemed to be settling in for an overnight stay.  Despite the fact that this anchorage was protected from southerly winds, I was sure that it wasn’t going to be a restful night for them.

I sat in the cockpit reading and daydreamed about Benedict Arnold’s “Battle of Valcour.”  The upstart American’s had taken Ticonderoga in the spring of 1775.  They proceeded to build a lake-bound navy consisting of 15 large vessels and a number of smaller craft. Benedict Arnold was in command. The British fleet arrived from the Richelieu into the larger portion of the lake in the fall of 1776.  Arnold had his fleet anchored where we were, between Valcour Island and the New York mainland, hoping to surprise the Brits as they passed the island on their way to Ticonderoga.  The surprise didn’t work.  As the battle raged, Arnold’s fleet took a pounding.  He decided to withdraw south to the protection of Ticonderoga during the night.  He escaped Valcour but the Brits followed and, in a bay just 10 miles north of Crown Point, he grounded and set ablaze what was left of his fleet.  His men made it back to Ticonderoga on foot, hotly pursued by the British. Thus ended the Battle of Valcour!   

About 4 pm, we hauled anchor in the now-crowded anchorage and headed back to Plattsburgh along Valcour’s west coast.  We watched the charts carefully avoiding the same hazards that kept naval vessels from using this passage during the Revolution and the War of 1812. The wind was now blowing 12-15 knots from the south.  Deb was at the helm.  We flew back to Plattsburgh, averaging about 7knots for the roughly one hour sail!  What a way to end a sailing charter, I thought.









Our Helms(wo)man!

But now, back at the Plattsburgh Boat Basin, we had to accomplish a docking on the north side of an east to west oriented fuel dock.  There have been many occasions over the past 25 years of sailing that I’ve been thankful we started with Deb at the helm.  This was one of them!  It’s one thing to give directions (as I often do), it’s quite another to actually execute the maneuver without doing damage to either the vessel or a careless dockhand!  It took us two tries but with lots of encouragement from the crew and some help from the dockhand but Deb got it done.  And, when secure, we were pointed east toward the open lake to boot!

Pump-out and fueling complete, Deb started the engine and let the wind, which was now blowing 15-18 knots, push us away from the dock.  Her next challenge was a bow-in, port tie into a slip that was about four boats deep into an east to west oriented dock. The turn would not be easy.  It would be mostly into the wind, thank goodness, but it was clear the wind would push us into the dock, potentially damaging the boat.  And, there was a boat in the starboard tie slip along side.  Of course, there was…

A “once around” to come straight into the fairway, a sharp turn into the wind and, with some help from Al and a dockhand, we were safely docked.  Forget about the attractive young woman in a bikini that nearly went for a swim alongside while trying to help.  Just forget about her, Al.

Docking beers were dispensed for all while the wind howled.  We watched in amazement as other boaters were coming back into the harbor for the night, both docking and catching mooring balls.  A north to south oriented 50 foot sailboat secured on the end of our dock began to bob uncontrollably.  I’d never seen anything like that.  I was sure the boat would either break loose from the dock or become severely damaged.  I called the marina staff and asked them to investigate as the boat was unoccupied.  That was only the beginning.

I saw the 45 foot Beneteau round the east end of our dock apparently heading for a slip across but west of our position.  He was going very fast, I thought.  He had fenders and lines out. His wife, I assumed, was on the bow.  She looked nervous.  He made his turn with the wind at his stern pushing him into the vacant slip. He intended a port tie.  Yes, I thought, the wind will blow him in and away from the dock.  And do so aggressively.  It did.

 I worried about all the people who had gathered to help.  I’ve seen this before.  I was sure someone was going to get hurt.

 They got a bow line attached but no one was dealing with either a spring or a stern line.  Predictably, the stern of the boat was pushed east, to the starboard. Now, it was too far to simply toss a stern line. I ran to help, as did Al.  Unbelievably, the captain left the helm with the boat still in forward gear and the bow line attached.  Why he did so, I will never know.  They were all speaking, actually yelling, in French.  I have no idea what was being said. 

I was on the adjacent dock finger with another guy trying to keep the Beneteau’s stern from literally jumping the dock (these are not Great Lakes docks, my friends).  We were standing on the partially submerged dock finger in about 6 inches of water and pushing with all our might.  I suggested to the guy next to me that the captain might try putting the boat in reverse.  With the bow attached, I reasoned, doing so should help to swing the stern to port and toward the dock. At least, that might be enough to take it off the dock finger. He yelled something to the captain.

And then, it happened.

Someone let loose of the bow line!  The captain, back at the helm, had apparently decided that he was going to back out and try again. 

Initially, the boat backed nicely into the wind.  Then, after clearing the dock finger, the captain shut her down. Why he did that is a mystery. The wind pushed the stern north and the boat was now beam-on the end of the dock fingers and being pushed into the docked boats.  Without hesitating, or apparently thinking, the captain then put the boat back into reverse and forced his way backward hitting every boat along the way.  Needless to say, much damage was done.

When the captain finally worked his way to the end of the dock and free, the wind pushed his bow north.  With the boat once again oriented to a fairway, he sped out of site; like a scalded dog.  I wasn’t sure we’d ever see him again.

But, we did.

About 10 minutes later, he was back.  This time he was coming at a slower speed.  His friends and several marina dockhands were ready for him this time.  Bow and stern lines were thrown and cleated.  It was finally over!

The rest of the evening was quite calm by comparison.  We had dinner in the cockpit, drank as much of our “leftover” booze as we could and relived the experience.  With the wind at 30 knots (I checked) and boats still trying to get secure for the night, we finally went to bed at 10:30 pm.

What a day it had been.

Sunday

Sunday morning was nasty.  It was blowing 28 knots at 8 am and cloudy.  Boats were returning from their overnights. It was hard to believe.  But then, they had schedules to keep.  Bathroom stories suggested that some uncomfortable and dangerous experiences will be lasting memories of that boating “vacation” on Lake Champlain.  In the end, it’s not the lake’s fault.  It’s one thing to get caught when the weather changes dramatically from the forecast.  It’s quite another to ignore forecasts that put boats and boaters in peril.

We unloaded the boat, leaving lots of beer for the Navtours staff.  Check-out was 11 am.

The ferry was operating, even in these conditions.  Waves on the lake through the Cumberland narrows were 6 feet or more.  We arrived safely on the Vermont side.  It started to rain.  We said good bye to our sailing buddies, the Johnson’s, about 30 minutes later at the Burlington airport.

Lake Champlain could come off the “bucket list.”

 

Plattsburgh Boat Basin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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