Sailing Green Bay

by Skipper Mary

Golden Years, Gold Whop Whop Whop
Look at that sky, life's begun
nights are warm and the days are young
       —David Bowie

July 9-13, 2010
Marinette—Cedar River—Washington Island—Sister Bay—Fish Creek—Marinette
100 miles or so

While teenagers, Toast and I spent winters skiing the UP's hills and summers on Marquette High's tennis courts. We did a lot of boating too, but not together.

Toast learned to sail off Marquette's coast on her father's boat. Coach of Northern's swim team and a scuba instructor, Don had a fondness for challenging conditions and Mac racing.

My boating was up in the Keweenaw, mostly at the family camp on Small Traverse Bay. It was off that sandy shore where I trolled for coho having learned my chops from my farmer/ logger/iron miner father, Reino.

These respective boats are the foundation of two amazing 2010 reencounters—mine in an Escanaba church and Toast's in the Sister Bay Marina—with men from 30+ years ago.

Toast lives in the mid-South now, and I was looking forward to getting her back on fresh water. This was her first visit to these places and my first visit to Wash. Island and Sister Bay.

CEDAR RIVER STATE HARBOR OF REFUGE
Our first stop is so laid-back and cool. Heading northeast we gave the fishing grounds wide berth then caught sight of the green can a mile out. Sometimes we were able to wing and wing and in the video Toast was at the helm, sailing the boat beautifully.

Ate a dinner of smoked salmon, cheese, chips & salsa, and three salads pulled from the icebox,  all washed down with refreshments pulled from Toast's cooler. The Wild Rice & Cranberry salad was our favorite and you'll find the recipe as an addendum. It keeps well.

WASHINGTON ISLAND—KAP'S MARINA
Winds were light and in 100' of water Toast jumped off the swim ladder to cool off. I don't do that and think these habits go back to our youth. Her boating was for recreation and thrills while mine was utilitarian.

After the cannonball Toast yelled Yeehaw! then swam around, saying she wished the camera was waterproof because the boat looked so striking from that angle.

Kap's Marina was a trip. On the phone the woman kept calling Revision "Revenge". I could see from the chart it was 4' depth getting in, but since Toast had halved her gear from our last sail I figured the boat wasn't too much deeper from our draw of 3'5" and, although the depth alarm was in panic mode by the time we tied up, we were floating.

The town is 3 miles inland so on our scouting walk when we spotted the Cherry Train we headed for it. Toast is recovering from a skiing crash and her running isn't too hot so I took off to flag it down. 

Never a natural runner, I did my best to find a stride while weaving through the tourists. I could see the driver's puzzled reflection as he looked at me in his rearview mirror and when he finally came to a stop at the ferry dock, I said, panting slightly, "My friend's behind me. She has a bum knee. Will you wait for her?"

He informed me this had been the last run of the day. 

But we had options: Bikes or a car which we could rent but didn't want to; or, like the old days, hitching, which isn't popular anymore but probably still works.

Uh...

With a forecast of afternoon T storms we decided to stay put and book it first thing in the morning. Ate pizza with fresh mushrooms at the marina's tiki bar where a woman was playing acoustic guitar and singing sad songs.

In the morning we discovered an orphaned wedge of lime in the cockpit and left it there, using it as a talisman for good weather in our sail window. Then we headed out and I didn't fire up the electronics until on the bay which made for a stressless departure. We again enjoyed seeing the ferries running their courses.

SISTER BAY MUNICIPAL MARINA
Motored SW into the wind for about 4 hours, wearing rain jackets as there was some spray. As you can see, Toaster was enjoying this. Again keeping a lookout for fishing buoys we saw a cluster of strange multi-colored ones ahead to port. In the video you hear "WOW!" in response to no longer being bow-on and realizing what they were: seakayaks with people in them.

Pulling into Slip 31 it gets cosmic. The dockhands and the guy from the boat next to us caught our lines with the boater exclaiming, "Carol!"

At this point Toast looked at her shirt reflexively wondering if she had a name tag on. To further confuse it, the only people who call her by her real anymore are her parents so this meant this guy knew her from way back, like in 1974 when he went sailing with Toast and her father and as they were leaving the dock the harbormaster came running after them, waving his arms and screaming, "Don't go out! Don't go out!"

Toast said her father glanced at him and kept motoring then they raised sail. Thirty-three years after they carved it up the guy who was aboard recognized her immediately.

Guess it had made an impression.

As for my boating guy flashback, this spring I was sitting in the basement of St. Anne's with cousins after a memorial service. A guy stopped by and we were introduced, then the guy pointed at me and said, "You're Reino's daughter."

This threw me because, other than family, I don't know anyone in Escanaba and, I was in a bit of a daze from the funeral and, the deceased was on the maternal side of the family where I'm much more likely to be known as Sylvia's daughter.

When I nodded Yes, he said, slowly, "I remember when you went fishing." 

Ding! Ding! Ding! It was one bright afternoon on Small Traverse Bay when my dad, uncle, and this guy, apparently, were building a camp while I motored out with my rod and Rapalas.

The guy continued, "We were on top the A frame, looked out and the bay was white and like this," and he made his fingers into a crab-like things "and we couldn't see your boat."

Yup. The wind had strengthened and clocked offshore. My uncle and father stopped their work and headed out in my uncle's robust boat, Hesperus, to reel in my break for Canada. For some reason I'll never figure out, it didn't seem that rough out there although I do remember thinking it would be helpful to have more than 3 hp.

Late that afternoon Sister Bay got the forecasted T storm and I checked the chart for our course to Fish Creek: West then South.

For breakfast we walked to Al Johnson's Swedish Pancake House and afterwards when I sat in the cockpit the button on my capris popped off. We sat looking at it and I said, "It was the meatballs."

FISH CREEK TOWN DOCK
After taking a left we were headed downwind on the short sail to Fish Creek. It wasn't true enough for wing on wing so we dropped the main and let the headsail way out, threading the needle. Some people waved from shore and we waved back. We could see slivers of scenic highway between the trees, reminding us of the travel that moves faster. We wished the people in those cars could slow down and experience a sail.

Love being parked on the wall to see the boats coming and going in the expanse of blue, such as the daysailer that launched and headed out.

We walked to the end of the pier and found them struggling to raise the main with the wind at 90º and, it looked, the topping lift unattached as the boom appeared to be laying atop the cabin. Then they floated out of view.

Toast has taught sailing and was queasy about this, and I was wondering about it myself, so after a while we took a walk to Sunset Point to see how they were doing. Lo and behold, the main was up along with some jib and they were sailing south, looking good, and making really good time.

Back at the boat after our daysailer check and stroll around town we discovered something had pecked out the lime's pulp.

Then a red trolley rolled by the boat ramp and Toast asked, "Why don't you run after it?"

For our final night aboard we splurged at Mr. Helsinki. Toast had the Grilled Shrimp with Coconut Ginger Noodles and I had the Asparagus and Salmon Crepe with Dill Sauce. Holy Wah was it good—although the menu is still missing Lapin Kulta. 

After dinner we stopped at the Bayside Tavern for a beer and Toast kept her heeling sailboat napkin for a souvenir. Nice!

This was the first time my outdoor adventurer friend had been to the Door north of Sturgeon Bay—and now she's a convert, blown away by the water, the land, and the harbor towns. It's amazing to me how many Yoopers don't know about the Door and how many Cheeseheads don't know about the Keweenaw. Go there! Go there!