Day 75: Port Huron to Harrisville

27 June. 130 miles. 12.5 hrs. A lengthy voyage today as we seek out a good stop for the night and to get some distance behind us, as it's now just a matter, really, of putting the 'sea-miles' behind as we head for Traverse City. Apart from a down-bound tug and freighter, there's no discernible traffic on Lake Huron as we head out.

We light the fires at 0530, untie, slip away down the Black River, calling the bridge tenders for the two drawbridges, and are out in the Ste Clair River 20 min later. By 0630 we're pushing out into Lake Huron with numerous recreational fishers already out seeking whatever it is that lives around here; possibly walleye, trout, sturgeon, whitefish, or something called alewife. Nebo has picked us up, though, so there should be a map available later this afternoon. or lhis evening.

We plough on. I stand a pilothouse watch and Preston goes below for a nap. The wind is behind us and although this assists our speed, the 1 to 2-ft swell swinging in on our stern means the boat is constantly turning left and right as the auto-pilot works constantly to maintain our course. I'm glad I don't have to do this manually.

Graeme relieves me in the pilothouse, and I go back to find a snack in the fridge. We plough on. 10 mph. The wind is on our port quarter and Otto is working hard to maintain our course (as are the hydraulics down in the Lazarette).

Preston is busy with phone calls and computer work and I'm busy in the salon with this blog and with reading global news. We plough on.

I go below for a nap and the crew find they have to turn on the a/c in an attempt to deter the damn flies that have suddenly descended upon us. They look to us like domestic houseflies and we're utterly mystified as to why they're even able to be out here on the lake, with no sight of land.

We plough on. Lorraine does some guitar practice on the cockpit and she and Graeme make some delicious cheese/tomato/meat savouries for lunch. We plough on.

At around 1200 we're abeam Harbor Beach and are thus halfway to our destination. Soon, we turn a few points to west and commence to cross the wide opening of Saginaw Bay, about 32 miles across. Once again we feel we're in the wide ocean. The house flies descend upon us and we close all doors, turn on the a/c, and start lustily swatting with the plastic weapons previously purchased away back down in the Carolinas. There are fly corpses everywhere. We use the Dustbuster as a weapon, and many flies are sucked up... we hope their necks are broken by the centrifugal force.

We plough on. Lorraine is getting her crochet done, Graeme comes to relieve me in the pilothouse again. Preston is looking at the arrival procedures for Harrisville; he's not been here before.

We plough on. Soon, we see seagulls and Preston has a chat with the marina manager. "Bow-in, starboard lines, " he says. Turns out when we arrive, that the dockie help is cool if we go stern-in and port-side lines. It's easier for Preston to back us in, and Graeme and I move the lines to the port side and get ready to meet the kids on the dock. This has been our record-breaking voyage (for sailing time).

We're fast in our slip by 1630, and get the hot oil from the kids, about what-is-what in Harrisville. It turns out there's a concert up on the bank outside the marina, so Graeme and Lorraine choose that, to watch a trio perform music from their latest CD (and get rained on). I choose the marina invitation to use their shuttle van to visit the nearby pub/brewery. Preston joins me later for dinner.

So ends our longest day (voluntarily chosen), and we're for a shorter one tomorrow.Читать далее