We wondered what Joshua Slocum would have replied to the questions put to us by Great Lakes Cruising Club member Jim Wooll on the dock in Little Current, Ontario: “Where are you headed?” (Somewhere in northern Georgian Bay was our plan.)

“Have you ever been into West Desjardin Bay?” he asked. (We’d never heard of it.)

“It’s a white area; no soundings on the chart. Want to join us?” (Hmm …)

Now my wife, Jennifer, and I have had our share of encounters with Georgian Bay rock; bits and pieces of the keel on Catamount, our Caliber 38, still decorate the bottom here and there. And those were in charted areas. Jim was inviting us to follow him into Lake Huron’s unknown.

Would Joshua have gone? Having just finished rereading Sailing Alone Around the World, I found his answer on the final page: “To find one’s way to lands already discovered is a good thing.” That was good enough for us. We told Jim we’d follow him.

Northern Georgian Bay consists of 4-billion-year-old granite that was shoved vertically by tectonic forces, then eroded by glaciers into hundreds of parallel ridges that run for miles out into the bay itself. Find a way into their sheltered waters, and you’re in paradise. Get lost as you try, and you will need a new keel, rudder or worse.

The first European to visit the area was Samuel de Champlain, who paddled down what is now called the French River in 1615; he knew where he was only because he had Indian guides. He was followed by the French voyageurs as they headed west looking for beaver pelts; they knew where they were because Champlain had an astrolabe and made passable maps. Generations of fishermen and steamer captains knew where they were because the British Navy mapped the Bay in the 1820s using sextants, chronometers and lead lines.

The Canadian Hydrographic Service has improved on the old British charts over the years, using sonar, aerial surveys and most recently satellite images, but a large part of northern Georgian Bay has never been sounded. The water in dozens of inlets and bays, some of them very large, is simply colored white or blue on the charts based on the cartographer’s interpretation of those aerial photos. White water might be safe and blue water probably isn’t, but no soundings have ever been done. These are Georgian Bay’s white areas, the only uncharted water in the entire Great Lakes system.

But Jim’s been there, armed with his handheld depth finder and a GPS-enabled iPad loaded with CHS charts. He and his wife, Bobbie, have sounded many if not all of the Bay’s white areas over the years for the cruising club, sharing their data with GLCC members like ourselves.

Sailing east from Little Current, we followed Jim and Bobbie on their Island Packet 36, Reverie, as they dodged shoals and islets on the charted areas of the northern bay. Then we said a silent prayer as we followed them into our first uncharted white area. The west wind pushed us faster than was comfortable for us, so we took in our main, but they marched ahead wing and wing. Reverie disappeared behind a maze of identical-looking islands to drop anchor in unsounded West Desjardin Bay as we circled warily offshore, waiting for Jim to come out in his dinghy to guide us in.

We were hooked. The next day we met up with Ron Dwelle, the longtime editor of the GLCC’s cruising guide for club members. He and his wife, Jo, have also explored the white areas on their Niagara 35, Annwfn. (Their boat name is Welsh, pronounced en-NU-ven, which we suspect means skinny water).

We followed Ron farther east for 20 miles, reaching leisurely in light westerlies, then rounded up into the sounded channel of the French River. Then Ron took a right into another white area. Gulp. Hard on Annwfn‘s stern, we turned to starboard past a rocky islet, then starboard again past an unseen ledge, then back to port past two tiny islets the aerial survey photos had missed, then past two more unseen rocks and voilà, we were back on the chart soundings.

Even then we weren’t home free. Chart errors persist in the sounded areas in spite of the best efforts of the CHS. Our chart plotter, which knew exactly where we were on the Earth’s surface, frequently showed us sailing through a peninsula or sitting in the middle of an island.

After a series of hairpin turns we followed Annwfn into Beacon Rock Bay. Ron had never been there, so with Jo as his bow watch and Catamount trailing behind like a meek child, he meandered back and forth, tried one potential anchorage, passed up another and finally declared the water was too rough to proceed farther.

We sailed out to a safe anchorage and joined Ron and Jo for dinner. Ron whipped out his iPad and then, zooming in and out, scrolling north and south, he showed how he had taken CHS charts and plugged in Jim Wooll’s soundings for the GLCC. Ron also gave us a DVD with the latest GLCC information for our computer.

Since they were planning to go up into vast and uncharted Fox Bay, we assumed they had been there before. Indeed they had — only once, 20 years ago. And they had left more than paint on a rock; they tore off the rudder of a previous boat when they grounded. Then they announced they had to head farther east for provisions. “You go on ahead,” Ron said airily between bites. “Just follow Jim’s soundings on the GLCC chart,” he said, “you’ll be fine” — this from a man who lost his rudder there.

We scribbled down all the notes we could and rowed back to Catamount after dinner to compare the CHS chart white area with the GLCC notes from Ron. We were as ready to go on our own as we would ever be.

The next day was flat calm as a midsummer high settled overhead. It was crummy weather for sailing but perfect for exploring. We followed the CHS soundings to the entrance of 4-mile-long Fox Bay and turned north. With the CHS chart in one hand and the GLCC notes in another, I stood on the bow and navigated for Jennifer at the helm, taking us into our first white area.

It was a good day for water clarity, maybe three feet visibility since Fox Bay does not have as big a watershed as some other areas. We crept up the east shore of the bay, noting several rocks and islets that the CHS aerial survey had missed. We held our breath as the depth meter went from 44 feet to 12 and back to 26. So many islands! Where was Jim’s channel? We turned cautiously into a small indent 2 miles up the east shore and dropped the hook in 18 feet of water.

In an hour of sounding the anchorage from our dinghy we found a 5-foot-deep area too close for comfort, though the water was too dark for us to see the bottom. Rock? Muck? We couldn’t tell. The forecast was for thunderstorms so we re-anchored, then strung lines off our stern to shore, spider-webbing ourselves into place.

Our only visitors that night were two canoeists exploring the old voyageur routes and a black bear swimming across the cove. Loons warbled at sunset, followed after dark by whippoorwills. At dawn, a sandhill crane bugled a coarse rendition of reveille. Otherwise, nothing. Just silence. Paradise redux.

The next day we explored the rest of Fox Bay by dinghy. There are dozens of steep-sided islands (so many they have numbers, not names) and hundreds of rocky islets. No houses, no motorboats, no people and, oh yes, no soundings.

Ron and Jo joined us for the second night, inching their way into our anchorage. They congratulated us, and maybe felt just a bit better themselves as they displaced the memory of that damaged rudder from their previous excursion into the bay. Ron brought a fresh supply of worms and helped me land a 4-pound smallmouth bass off Catamount‘s stern.

As we shared a fish dinner and a chilled bottle of Ontario chardonnay, we toasted the white areas. Our adventure here wound down much as our trip had begun: with questions. Had the CHS done us a favor by not sounding all of northern Georgian Bay? Should Jim and Ron even share their data with other GLCC members? Should we explore nearby uncharted Sandy Bay? Or uncharted Whistler Bay? Should there still be uncharted areas you have to explore by yourself, even if your keel or rudder is at risk?

Every cruising sailor will have his and her own answer. Joshua Slocum’s answer was to carry detailed British Admiralty charts for his circumnavigation. We weren’t taking Catamount around the world; our cruise into Georgian Bay’s white area was decidedly more modest. Call us chicken, call us soft, but we were glad Jim and Ron, armed with their depth finders and GPS-enabled iPads, had been there first.

Vermont sailor Fred Bagley and his wife, Jennifer, are frequent visitors to the Great Lakes’ wide array of cruising grounds.

The post Uncharted on the Great Lakes appeared first on Cruising World.

Superior Magic

“You have a job,” said Steve Frischmann. We barely looked up from our trout sandwiches and fries, our Millers and our Leinenkugels, the fare du jour at Maggie’s, a popular lakeside joint in Bayfield, Wisconsin.

Pausing momentarily for emphasis, the captain of Windwalker, a spanking new Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 509, and a trim, fit man with many watery miles in his wake, went on.

“One, relax,” he began. “Two, have a lot of fun.”

Seemed sensible enough, as captain’s orders go. Our crew—newly retired Robin Groszko; her husband, athletic Mick Groszko; their niece, photographer Marianne G. Lee, on a brief sabbatical from motherhood; and yours truly—didn’t overthink it. We dutifully returned to the business at hand, eagerly downing dinner and drink.

Between mouthfuls, I suddenly wondered, what was the captain’s scheme? How does a newly retired career dynamo like Robin relax? Having met her but a few hours earlier, I sensed that for her, the notion of relaxation might require, well, a little work.

| |The swift Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 509 Windwalker makes a quick tack in front of the quaint skyline of Bayfield Wisconsin. |

Could Captain Steve have meant that this magically happens by taking early morning beach walks and tracing fresh bear tracks? By strolling into whispering hardwood forests to explore the diverse plant communities spawned by the formation of a tombolo? Or how about by hopping on a bike and clocking miles that Robin’s packed work schedule and the dual roles of devoted wife and mother left too little room for over the years?

Maybe the captain meant that relaxation mysteriously comes about by tucking comfortably into a seat in a spacious cockpit aboard a speedy chine-hulled masthead sloop during bracing runs to and from the countless anchorages of the glorious Apostle Islands of mighty Lake Superior.

Or that it seeps in while a two-person crew does all the deck work and waits on you hand and foot, serving up scrumptious fresh food and drink? Or that it comes quietly, while you slumber on a firm mattress in a stateroom that’s spacious and full of storage yet cozy and comfortable?

Only a few days later, in all these ways and more, that very sensible set of captain’s orders from Steve—relax and have fun—had been carried out, and to a T.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!” he jubilantly cried from one of the dual helm stations while we counted up all the fresh memories of a too-brief trip and let Windwalker strut her stuff one final time, unfurling the UK-Halsey Mylar-laminate sails with taffeta and embarking on a series of tacking romps off Bayfield harbor so Marianne could trail us in a chase boat and add more shots to the scrapbook.

New Beginnings

| |Charter guests Robin and Mick Groszko enjoy late-afternoon drinks on the foredeck of Windwalker.|

The intersection of Robin Groszko’s farewell from her job at a women’s health clinic with the dress rehearsal of Sail Nouveau, a crewed chartering service that Superior Charters of Bayfield (www.superiorcharters.com) officially kicks off in June 2013, seemed foretold in the stars. Or maybe it was divined by Mick. Since retiring as the manager of the Chrysler quality institute in 2007, Robin’s lanky spouse has developed a yen for cycling (clocking 6,000 miles a year), helicopter skiing, and astroimagery, the photography of galaxies and other interstellar objects.

Then again, forget the night sky and all its secrets—maybe Mick is just a master of the obvious. One afternoon, when Robin started to describe her career, saying “I’m a social worker with a master’s degree—,” Mick cut her off.

“You’re a was,” he reminded her as Windwalker slipped along in the breeze and we guests chatted away, oblivious to Captain Steve’s seamless helming. And as a was, deciding whether to come with us for a few days in late September, albeit after having just downsized to a new house, was really a no-brainer. “The only thing I’m missing is the book club,” Robin said, balancing her outstretched arms like scales. “Let’s see: Sailing? Book Club? Sailing?”
Her smile said it all.

The Groszkos each had experience sailing Hobie Cats and other small boats, and Mick’s father had owned a 43-foot powerboat for Great Lakes cruising. Together, they had one crewed charter in the British Virgin Islands on their sailing résumé. “Best vacation—ever,” Robin said. “We’re not newbies, but we don’t do this every week.”
**

The Lap of Luxury**

From Windwalker’s sexy teak deck with flush hatches and aft fold-down swim platform to the clean, spacious styling and rich wood interior below—just a few of

| |Meals like this lunch of marinated pork and field greens, prepared fresh in the galley, are part of the crewed-vacation experience with Superior Charters.|

the touches associated with renowned designer Philippe Briand—to say we were impressed with our temporary home was an understatement.

Robin dubbed the forward stateroom that she and Mick shared the “fantasy suite.” It wasn’t a stretch, given the cabin’s double hanging lockers, overhead storage that ran the length of the hull on each side, and desk/vanity, not to mention the en suite head and separate shower stall. And the Groszkos themselves, who each stand more than six feet tall, pointed out that any boat whose headroom meets their height requirements is a winner.

As we whiled away the hours gawking, mate and cook Alec Kalow kept reminding us, “Your wish is my command.”

But we couldn’t possibly know that we were in want of anything, ever, from the moment we set foot aboard, to our departure.

From a welcome basket bursting with down-home goodies like Wisconsin maple syrup and locally harvested apples to a full menu of meals, hors d’oeuvres, cocktails and wines, and dessert, we stayed overwhelmed, not to mention well fed, from fare whose ingredients were local and sustainably sourced.
**

Off the Beaten Track**

| |Windwalker’s crew mate and chef Alee Kalow (raising the main) and captain Steve Frischmanm (at the helm), ready the boat for sail while Mick Groszko looks ahead.|

What with Lake Superior’s reputation for producing sudden, wicked, and deadly storms, particularly in the spring and the fall, we felt fortunate to be in the relative protection of the Apostles, which are situated to the west in the lake, close to Bayfield on the mainland.

And we felt lucky to miss peak bug-biting season by sailing in September. Of the archipelago’s 22 islands, which cover more than 720 square miles, 21 are within the boundaries of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore and offer many outdoor recreational options, from hiking and paddling to cruising and camping. Madeline Island, the only populated island, has about 220 year-round residents and as many as 2,500 in summer.

Madeline’s population doesn’t detract from its beauty; for that matter, you’d be hard pressed to complain at all about the scenery anywhere here, from the forests of pine and birch rimmed by red sandstone cliffs and shores to clear waters that appear emerald from a distance. As for the black bears, indeed, there are plenty, and I came as close to them as I cared to, often on beach walks encountering their fresh tracks and scat in the sand.

Our three-night sojourn, alas, came during a week when frequent storms were forecast. With Steve’s help, we studied the charts and came up with a loose sailing itinerary that allowed us to visit Madeline, Stockton, and Michigan islands, truly a stone’s throw from each other, and be well tucked in at anchor or dockside overnight.

So I can’t say the guest crew of Windwalker sailed far, but we sailed well and explored often. We wandered the beaches and trails of Stockton Island, marveling at the diversity of its coniferous-hardwood forest and the pine savannah of the tombolo, a geologic feature that occurs when a bridge of sand connects two pieces of land. Upon our return to the dock, we met up with the crew of a Midship 25, Jim and Mike. Having been “beat up by the cold,” as Jim said, they were headed back to the mainland, to Saxon Harbor. For the record, they didn’t catch any fish, and that, combined with the weather, determined for the pair that enough was enough. We bid our farewells as they cast off their lines, and while we waited for Steve to pick us up in the dinghy, we considered the plush accommodations and, more to the point, the hot showers and heat that awaited us back aboard.
**

A Pair of Lighthouses**

| |The tale of how Michigan Island came to have to lighthouses is well documented.|

From Stockton, we motored to nearby Michigan Island. After anchoring, Steve took Marianne and me ashore in the dinghy; we triumphed over the swells that slammed into the dock, scrambling up one of its sides. The next challenge, ascending a large staircase and tramway that lead to a pair of lighthouses, was easy by comparison.

An incredible story accompanies the lights, a 19th-century tale that can make any 21st-century taxpayer wince about how Uncle Sam spends our money. The short form is that the first light was supposed to be built for a different Apostle Island, a government official changed plans at the last minute, and so the first light was erected on Michigan. The second, taller light came years later but wasn’t erected until it sat on the island’s beach, awaiting assembly, for a decade. For more juicy details, read the complete story at the lakeshore website.

Reluctantly, we heeded storm warnings and agreed with Steve and Alec’s suggestion to hightail it from Michigan and park Windwalker in a marina at Madeline. This was more fun than we first thought it’d be, for the island and main town of La Pointe offer plenty for tourists. We marveled over chainsaw art at Island Carvers and paid admission for a complete tour of the Madeline Island Museum. Skies were still blue and the sun shone brightly, so we figured that renting bikes from Motion to Go would be good exercise and fun.

That great ride, including another beach stroll, hinted that fall was upon us. Red, green, and gold leaves rustled in the wind; the air felt crisp. And it let Lake Superior remind us that Mother Nature remains firmly in charge. We saw sun but heard thunderheads, and we barely made it back to the shop before suddenly black-purple skies let loose hefty sheets of slanted rain. Taking pity on us, a kind islander offered us rides in two shifts to the marina, barely a few hundred feet away.

“Do you know who that was?” Marianne asked once we were all below and dry aboard Windwalker.

“No,” I answered. “Who was he?”

“Dick Coleman,” she said. “He’s another skipper for Superior Charters, and he lives on Madeline.”

How cool is that? Everywhere you go, there’s crew on your boat, and crew on land, ready and waiting to assist you. Now that’s a level of superior service.

Great Lakes chartering companies include Superior Charters. For other chartering options, consult the CW 2012 Charter Address Book.

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Arizona’s Havasu Pocket-Cruiser Convention

Owners of the largest fleet of mixed-design trailerable pocket cruisers ever assembled voyaged over mountains, reached across broad deserts, and dug their boats out of huge snowdrifts to participate in the 2011 version of the rapidly growing Havasu Pocket-Cruiser Convention.

A total of 139 trailerable boats, from 16 states and Canada and representing 34 past and present manufacturers, enjoyed balmy, mid-February sunshine as their crews partied and sailed under the original, fully restored London Bridge, at Lake Havasu City, Arizona.

Now in its fourth year, this winter rendezvous is a remarkable example of nautical social networking. The event has grown from a few dozen U.S. West Coast Montgomery and West Wight Potter sailors spending a weekend together to an eight-day festival of fun at which everyone’s welcome.

When Sean Mulligan, the originator and driving force behind the event, logged on to the website six months before the rendezvous, he found the message board exploding with activity. Past participants offered a wealth of creative ideas and volunteered to assist him to expand the event, and many sponsors from the marine industry came on board.

The excitement and momentum grew; by November 2010, registration flew past Mulligan’s goal of 100 boats. As the volume of messages increased daily, friendships blossomed among sailors who usually have few marina or yacht-club affiliations. Finally meeting people face-to-face after you’d communicated with them only through the message board generated a unique level of camaraderie and proved to be one of the true highlights of the event.

Better known as a seasonal destination for spring break and a summer spot for bikini babes and powerboaters, Lake Havasu in the off-season is beautiful, rugged, and tranquil.

Crystal waters, crisp air, majestic mountains, and 45 miles of gunkholing shoreline provide a perfect environment for winter-sailing adventure. Among the keys to the event’s success are the specially priced hotel suites, with boat slips, that go for $99 a night and keep crews warm and happy. The 2011 event included daily low-key races, an overnight cruise and barbecue, seminars, evening parties, and the spectacular fleet parade under London Bridge.

Since the rendezvous, the message board stays active as sailors share photos and make plans for the 2012 convention, planned for February 13 to 20. Among them are these three participants who are very active in the pocket-cruiser community.

Beginnings: Sean Mulligan
Sean Mulligan grew up in the once sail-friendly town of Lake Havasu City. Over the years, the exhilarating windsurfing, fast cats, and weekly beer-can races of his youth were scuttled in favor of more power, more noise, and less clothes. Sean, a firefighter, and his wife, Jo, a school principal, found themselves without sailing companions. They began nautically networking, and on the web they discovered the Southern California West Wight Potter Association. Joining a fun group of owners of pocket cruisers, they took their first cruise aboard their refurbished Montgomery 23, Dauntless, to Anacapa Island, one of California’s Channel Islands.

Enjoying the freedom of a quickly rigged trailer-sailer while expanding their circle of friends, Sean and Jo sailed up and down the California coast with Potter and Montgomery owners groups. Eventually, after having another great time cruising among the beautiful San Juan Islands of Washington in the company of friends—it was their second trip there—Sean decided to stage an event to bring sailing back to Lake Havasu. “Now I have 400 sailing buddies and many great friends all over the country, and we know that there are so many great places to explore,” he says.

Besides building a social event around sailing, Sean has accomplished another important personal goal. “I really wanted to find a way to help out my town,” he says of his community, which was hit hard in the U.S. recession. The convention is now the town’s largest water event, generates revenue for the city, and has become a great source of pride.

Networking Pioneer: Judy Blumhorst
Growing up in a Massachusetts sailing family, Judy Blumhorst was solo sailing prams and dinghies by the time she was 8 years old. She gained her knowledge of sailboats and sail plans by crewing on a variety of boats in Boston Harbor. Her interest in sail efficiency helped her advance to amateur windsurfing’s highest levels.

When she moved to San Francisco 20 years ago, Blumhorst became involved with the Northern California West Wight Potter Association, and she served as commodore for three years. She initiated one of the first electronic newsletters for sailors. Enthusiastic participation in monthly weekend events led her to organize the Monterey Cruiser Challenge, a weekend of low-key racing and sailing camaraderie that continues to thrive.

Today, Blumhorst and her family sail Redwing, a West Wight Potter 19, and Bijou, a Catalina 27. She maintains a technical and social website for both. Each boat makes a distinct contribution to her family’s coastal cruising.

“You can go more places in the Potter because it’s trailerable,” Blumhorst says. “It’s a tough little boat that can squeeze in anywhere.” When it comes to maximizing sailing time, “the smallest boat that gets the job done is the right boat,” she says. Her family’s tall-rigged Bijou allows them to sail on San Francisco Bay, where the stiff winds offer a real challenge and plenty of opportunities for her to hone her skills.

Blumhorst has also promoted cruising spinnakers for pocket cruisers for years. “Cruising chutes are perfect for downwind sailing on pocket cruisers,” she says. “They’re small, and they’re easily launched and doused from the safety of the cockpit.”

The expertise serves her well in her role as a small-boat specialist for Hyde Sails USA. She enjoys providing “a custom sail-building experience to pocket-sailer clients,” whom she feels are underrepresented.

Singlehander: Larry Yake
Larry Yake, a relative newcomer to sailing, is another pocket cruiser who’s used nautical networking to maximize his enjoyment of the sport. Whitewater rafting and kayaking occupied his recreational time while he grew up in the eastern part of Washington state. When he turned 40, he combined his interests in water activities and weather patterns to teach himself to sail.

At first, escaping alone to the wilderness on Corndog, his Montgomery 19, he enjoyed exploring two of Idaho’s gems, Priest and Pend Oreille lakes. “I liked sailing alone and anchoring at night to watch the stars and northern lights,” says Yake, but eventually his desire to sail with—and learn from—others led him to various small-craft websites and flotilla cruising.

Before long, Yake was leading his own cruises to the San Juan Islands for Montgomery owners. He does this every other year, and he’s now organizing his seventh event. “I’m always thrilled by people’s first reactions to the absolute beauty of the San Juan Islands,” he says. “It’s always fun to go in a group, and I always learn something new from other sailors.” His latest two-week event was set to include more than 25 boats.

One of Yake’s joys remains sailing and exploring solo. “Last June, I trailered my boat farther north into Canada, took a ferry across to Vancouver Island, then drove another 100 miles north to Desolation Sound,” he says. “Wow! Rugged mountains, waterfalls, wildlife, great anchorages, huge, 20-foot tide swings, and, best of all, no crowds in June!” Yake has completed extensive modifications to Corndog and is happy to share his ideas. Future plans include a cruise following the Inside Passage through Canadian and Alaskan waters.

Pocket-Cruiser Convention fan Mark Wilson sails Triggerfish, his Catalina 18, out of Huntington Lake, California.

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NOOD

As a new addition to the Chicago NOOD Regatta (June 10-12, 2011), we’re pleased to announce the addition of the Chicago NOOD Distance Race, which will occur one day only on Saturday June 11, 2011. It’s open to all boats 25 feet LOA or greater, and we encourage all ORR, “Mac Cruising”, and “Jib and Main” boats to enter.

The Chicago Yacht Club Race Committee expects that the course will be no longer than 30 miles. This new NOOD Distance Race and its fleet will be a great addition to the Chicago NOOD Regatta and promises to be a great time for all who enter. It will also be a great warm up for all those planning to participate in the Chicago to Mac Race. For the Chicago NOOD Distance Race Notice of Race and more information go to Long Distance NOR which can be found on the Chicago NOOD website at www.sailingworld.com/nood.

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