by Jeff Eaton
First published in Mainsheet.
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Last spring, all was going pretty well for the crew of Revision. We had stored the boat outside with a new tarp arrangement over the cabin trunk and companionway. Our goal had been to make the 2008 launch as easy and early as possible. With mast and boom left up, the boat had slept on its cradle not more than 30 feet from the well at Nestegg Marina. A winter visit assured us that the set-up was successfully shedding snow and rain, and had withstood some nasty winds we had monitored via the Weather Channel and the Internet.
Once Revision was afloat, however, spring got testy. It blustered through May, delaying final chores such as getting the sails on. But we managed. Next thing we knew it was the first week of June and despite our hopes for an early start to the season, we had yet to take Revision out of her slip. A pleasant mid-week forecast held promise as we made the two-hour drive with a car full of gear and our trusty sheltie, Keksi. Our hearts were set on getting out onto Wisconsin's Green Bay for a nice shakedown cruise during which we could re-familiarize ourselves with boat systems and make sure we hadn't missed any problems arising from winter exposure.
With such a basic agenda, we didn't rush ourselves and pulled into the marina parking lot late in the morning of a beautiful day. A mix of sun and clouds, shirtsleeve temperatures, and a moderate breeze meant we could tackle our "chore" of going sailing that afternoon.
Now when we stepped up to a keelboat and bought our C26 in the fall of 2005, we were counseled that after a couple seasons on the bay we would get more adventurous in exploring its waters. We had made our first overnight foray to Fish Creek on the Door Peninsula the previous summer. We had plans for more of the same in 2008. But this day was just aimed at tuning up our winter-atrophied sea legs. Then we saw the note on the hatch boards.
"We've headed over to Egg Harbor. They still have a slip open. Why don't you join us?" It was signed by Connie, our pal from Waseekaa, a Gulf 32 that moors on the seawall at Nestegg.
Skipper Mary looked at me, looked at the dog, looked at the pile of gear on the dock and asked, "Well?" After some hemming and hawing, a check on the weather radio—which assured good weather until the following evening when we had to be back anyway—and a call to the kennel, we decided a shakedown sail didn't have to be limited to a couple hours on the bay. We called the Egg Harbor marina and reserved the slip. While Skipper Mary rushed Keksi to the Barking Spot, I hurried to stow gear and make departure preparations while congratulating myself that we had taken care of fuel and water systems a couple weeks prior.
Still, it was 1 p.m. when we finally backed Revision out of her slip, the little diesel running smoothly. It's about 14 miles from the mouth of the Menominee River to Egg Harbor, so we hoped the steady northerly breeze would hold its 12 knots, at which Revision can easily set a 4+ knot pace on the beam reach that was our course. As we drew away from the shore, we were a bit giddy at our newfound adventurousness. We also crossed our fingers and hoped that we hadn't neglected any significant detail.
At first the steady breeze did hold, but about halfway across the bay, marked by passing Green Island, and coming into the downwind effects of the much larger Chambers Island, things got interesting. Seas built from 1-2 feet to about 4 feet in a manner of moments, and were now coming nearly head-on from the east, while the wind increased to 16-18 knots, gusting higher, but out of the NE to ENE. The sky grew overcast, yet miles off on the Door, the sun still shown, and we could see one sailboat gently proceeding along the shore. To allow for leeway, we needed to be on a NE heading, but that wasn't going to happen. So we broke off to the SE and nearly south at times, to both deal with the waves and make some headway toward that sunny shore. At times we wondered if we would end up in Sturgeon Bay off to the south instead of Egg Harbor, and whether we would make it before sunset.
Well, it was a sail that we would not have persevered through back in the first season when we didn't know how to throw in a reef. Now, we did and eventually the wind shifted again, the waves dropped back a bit, and we were able to tack our way back up toward our destination. The final leg repaid the effort, for when we were directly west of Egg Harbor, the sun returned, the wind shifted back to its northerly origins, and it settled into a steady 12 knots. The last hour was a relaxed beam reach in glorious late afternoon light—at least until we couldn't raise the harbormaster.
The 14-mile sail, which we calculated had turned into a 21-mile sail with course changes, had taken an extra couple hours, and we arrived at our slip after the harbor office was closed. We were berthed right next to Waseekaa, but Connie and Ronn were not aboard. We couldn't blame them for not hanging around. Luckily, another party at the marina passed on the combination for the restrooms, so after a bit of tidying up, we climbed the short hill through the beautiful little park to heart of Egg Harbor.
On a weeknight early in the season, this tourist enclave was at a fairly low ebb. We found a classic old restaurant up the street a ways and decided to eat at the bar where we could enjoy a couple beers and watch the Brewers play while eating our sandwiches. Out the big back window we could see the sun getting lower and lower over our home shore. We were very satisfied with ourselves for taking up Connie's inviting challenge for our first sail the season, and the beers and barbeque tasted all the better for it.
A glorious sunset greeted us as we walked back down the hill. Connie and Ronn were back and we enjoyed a nice evening at the dock. A check of the forecast called for light winds and clear skies in the morning, with early afternoon bringing an increasing chance of thunderstorms. We made plans to depart first thing.
The morning dawned cloudless and still. By the time we cast off, there was still no one at the harbormaster's office to take our slip fee—but he had our cellphone number. Waseekaa led the way as we motored out of the harbor on glassy water. Ronn, though, really wanted to sail, and called over to us to turn off our motor once we reached the open bay. We put up sails in hopes of snagging even the faintest zephyr, but really we were adrift. For a few moments our C26 had the edge on the heavy Gulf 32 when a whisper of breeze slightly scuffed the bay and prodded Revision ahead. But that died quickly, so we furled the genny and fired up the diesel.
The rest of the morning was spent motorsailing across a sheet of glass, a brilliant June sun bathing us as we lolled in the cockpit and let the tiller-pilot do the thinking. It was one of the most relaxing morning I'd had in months, if not years. While the main was up, it was just for show. Once in a while Skipper Mary would insist that a breeze was just a few yards ahead, and eye the genoa sheets, but she finally conceded that it was a pretty fine way to cruise, all in all. The only interruption was the harbormaster's cordial phone call requesting our credit card info.
Back in our slip at Marinette, the skipper hopped off the boat and zipped out to the kennel to barely make the noon deadline. I secured sails, lines, and gear. It had been a very successful "shakedown." 