Put to the test

All was set for our epic voyage across the 64 mile expanse of water known as Lake Michigan.  After 12 hours of work I quickly darted over to Wal-Mart and spent a surprising amount of money on some last minute safety items and food.  I picked up some water and Mountain Dew (to keep myself awake), a few sandwiches, a flare gun, some heavy rope to use as jack lines, and some flashlights.  Adam and Gavin were waiting for me down at the marina with their duffel bags packed with the gear they anticipated using.  After transferring the stuff to my boat and putting my laundry baskets in the back of my Mom's van we were set to depart.  There was still no sign of Spencer.  I was really hoping he would be on time so we could get out of the harbor as soon as possible.  I couldn't imagine why he would be late since he only lives 2 blocks away from the water.  I called him as we walked down the dock.  "Where are you?" I asked, "Marshfield. Why?" was the reply.  Now my Wisconsin geography is not that good, but I could tell that he wasn't going to be there in the next 15 minutes.  "Don't worry, I'll be there by morning." he said.  Apparently he was not on the same wavelength that all the rest of us were.  At first I got mad cause he flaked out, but then I figured it was just his loss.  I didn't realize at the time how much it would have helped to have another helmsman aboard. 
I wrapped the sparkling grape juice bottle in a plastic bag to catch the debris and smacked it hard against the bow to finally christen Aequitas.  Yeah the bag split and shattered glass went all over.  Oops!
We untied the mooring lines, secured the dinghy to a short painter attached to the stern and headed out silently.  It took quite a few tacks to get out, but I had expected light winds for the first few hours of the trip anyway.  I fired up the GPS which proved indispensable in the pitch black night.  It was a very young moon, and a very cloudy night.  We had a hard time finding the angle of the wind because it was too dark to see my telltales.  I tried to steer by the GPS, but light winds make that difficult.  We slowly made our way East away from civilization.  I could still see the lights from Sheboygan hours after leaving, it was a bit frustrating.  Eventually we left it all behind and the only glow came from the solar powered stern light I had taped to the rail.  Adam and Gavin had no problem heading below and sleeping.  I downed a couple sodas and sat at my station steering from 9:30 till about 3:00 am.  Gavin took over while I tried to catch some sleep in the port quarter berth.  I found it difficult to sleep with all the caffeine in my system, and the rocking of the boat.  Everything sounds much more ominous when you're down below.  The mast reverberating through the hull, the sails slapping as as we pounded over waves.  Just the sound of water passing by the keel made it sound as though water was trickling into the engine compartment.  I got up to check it once with a flashlight only to find it bone dry.  I finally settled down resting my head against the rubber fenders we had stowed below.  I was just drifting off to sleep when we gybed accidentally.  I heard the commotion and tried to sit bolt upright in my bunk only to be reminded painfully of the metal radio bracket hanging down at exactly eye-brow height.  I was glad it wasn't my eye, but it hurt.....a lot.

We got back on course and I tried to sleep a bit more.  I think I dozed for half an hour, but didn't actually feel rested.  I took over at the helm again for quite some time.  According to the GPS we were only averaging 2.9 MPH.  The sky gradually got lighter and lighter.  Adam got up around 4:45 to keep me company.  It was nice to finally be able to see the boat around me, and to have a small point of reference.  There was a small patch in the cloudy sky that was lighter than the rest, so I took it to mean I was at least heading towards the sun.  I had a couple pop-tarts but they didn't agree with my stomache.  I didn't get sea sick at all the whole trip, but it made sleep nearly impossible.  I think it was just the fact that I had stayed up too late.  By now I had been awake for nearly 22 hours.  I went to the forward cabin to see if it was any easier to sleep there.  I noticed that the forward berth was subject to more of the boat's pitching as we crested over waves.  Not too comfy.  Adam took a turn steering along a GPS course through some of the stronger winds as I drifted in and out of consciousness.  I suppose I really should have kept better track of when our watches were.  I was up again by 7:00 to steer again.  We were nearing the center line of the lake.  It felt as though we were crawling west and we would never reach even the halfway point, let alone Michigan itself.  The wind kept dying as well, so we were not making the progress I had hoped.  I was still counting on the 19 MPH winds the forecast had promised me.
It was an interesting feeling to be completely out of sight of land.  We felt completely alone knowing that there was no one around for miles, and no solid point of reference.  I think this was when Gavin's seasickness really started to kick in. 

As we inched closer and closer to the halfway point, and I got more and more exhausted I came to realize we weren't going to make it.  I guess when you're cruising you really shouldn't have a tight schedule.  The reason I was so miserable was because I had pushed my body to stay awake and concentrate longer than I should have just so we could make it there and back in time for work.  The GPS would keep calculating how long it would take based on current speed and heading.  Even 30 miles out it was still allotting us 16-18 hours to reach Pentwater.  I informed my crew that we'd make it at least over the middle line then turn back.  There was no point in seeing how far we could go just to be stubborn.  Thus far I was proud of my little boat, but annoyed at the fickle and weak wind. 
We drifted here and there, tacked to try and find better wind, and eventually passed the center line without even knowing it.  A little over 32 miles out we turned and headed for home with what little wind there was coming across out port quarter.  Adam and Gavin donned wetsuits and life jackets and got dragged back to the Wisconsin side of the lake.  The 900 foot deep water was insanely clear and dark blue.  We dropped a few cans of soda into a bag and lowered it into the freezing depths to act as a refrigerator.  It wasn't until we let out about 30 feet of line that we finally lost sight of it. 

We played around, but my mood steadily deteriorated as I got more and more tired.  I was not having fun on my maiden voyage.  I'm supposed to be the one that loves sailing no matter what no matter when.  There are some things I've learned I don't actually like.  I hate being over tired, I hate not having wind, and I hate the little black horse flies that seemed to have an insatiable appetite for human ankles. 

At 28 miles out the wind and waves kicked up and blew us quickly along.  The speedometer quickly registered that we were regularly going 6.8-7.3 MPH which is pretty dang fast for my boat.  At one point I wasn't sure how much stress my jury rigged back stay could take so I called everyone up from their slumber to help reef in the main.  It was an exercise in futility.  We tried to head into the wind but kept falling off.  I guess I wasn't a pro at heaving to quite yet.

We went back to what we were doing before.  Adam: sleeping below.  Gavin: sleeping in the cockpit trying not to vomit, and me: gripping the tiller tight and keeping a wary eye on my fresh rigging and 40 year old boat.  The GPS recalculated that the return journey would only take 6 or 7 hours vs. the 13 it took us to get out. I was glad that we'd get in before sundown, and maybe still do something fun with the rest of the day.  We blasted along towards Sheboygan until about 10 miles out we got hit by random squalls of rain, and variable winds.  The waves remained, but the wind couldn't make up its mind.  I had never seen the wind go from so fast to completely dead before. 

After a bit of waiting and spinning in circles I was able to conjure up enough speed to get us to the harbor, then 2.75 miles out the wind was gone.  Completely gone and not showing any signs of returning.  The waves were still strong and snapped the sails back and forth so violently that I was sure any breath of air there may have been was instantly spilled out.  I think this is when it all became too much for Gavin and he lost his meager lunch over the side.  I got so frustrated at the lack of wind.  I was really kicking myself for not having the engine.  It wouldn't be bad, but we were so close, the weather was just mocking me now.  Thick fog rolled in and a thunderstorm passed over head.  I draped a shroud over the side so that if we did get struck by lightning hopefully we wouldn't all explode in a fireball.  In the end I got so fed up I hopped in the dinghy and began rowing the boat.  I could have radioed the Coast Guard, but then I thought about how much they might charge for their services and decided to just row and row and row.  My arms are a bit chafed from the repetitions sweeping across my life jacket (our mom's would be so happy, we wore them whenever we were out of the cabin).  According to the GPS I was moving us at 1.1 MPH for about a half mile.  A small breeze kicked up and I returned to Aequitas to try and sail in.  A few fishing boats motored past us, though we could hear them more than we could see them.
The sun set behind the fog bank as we gradually made our way in.  At one point I was relying wholly on the GPS just so we wouldn't hit the lighthouse cause I couldn't see through soup like air.  As luck would have it, as soon as we rounded the breakwater the wind picked up again and drove us straight for my dock.  In fact it was almost too strong and it took a lot of effort to slow us down as we put into the slip. 
As soon as we tied off the exhaustion made it hard to fight off apathy.  We got the sails folded properly, and most everything tidied up.  I said goodbye to Adam and Gavin and headed straight for the hot tub.  I was met there by my perpetually drunk German neighbor.  As I tried to relax he kept going on and on about how stupid my boating is.  He said he respected me for trying so hard, but I do it all in a very pigheaded way.  I go out when there's no wind and get bitten by black flies (how he knew about that I'll never know), saying that it's all well and good that I can sail engine less, but that I'm creating more of a headache for myself and a hazard for others boats than I should.  I could see his point and was definitely getting discouraged quickly.  I love sailing, but I had sold myself so much on this idea of long distance cruising being the life for me, but after just 75 miles I was beat.  I think a lot of the distress can be chalked up to the timetable I was under.  Next cruise I'm going to take a week off of work and just get there when I get there. 
On a side note, my phone had started roaming about 12 miles out and so the battery drained within a few hours.  I put on dry clothes and staggered like a zombie the 2 or so miles over to my mom's house to get my phone charger and check my facebook.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and hope I never am again.  I don't even want to think about how many hours I was actually awake for this whole venture, but next time I'll have people to take over.