Sailing Green Bay

by Skipper Mary

The Odgen Street Bridge opens on demand. The horn sounds, a bell clangs and then the road barriers swing down, traffic stops, and the bridge swings up. I was about 50’ from it and heard chunk. Looked back to see the prop had split a deadhead, a square piece of waterlogged timber maybe 12”x12”x 3”. I motored for awhile to see if the shaft was vibrating or the steering was screwed up. They weren't, so I killed the engine and sailed.

Ogden Street Bridge...Ogden Street Bridge...

PIGEON PROBLEM?

This time, again alone, I was proceeding through the bridge when a horrendous screeching scared the s*it out of me. Turned my head to the noise and saw they had installed a fake owl or hawk or something that was flapping and screaming that I guess is motion-activated. Golly.

BOAT FOOD

Revision has an alcohol burner stove we've never used. There's a propane grill mounted on the cockpit rail on which we've cooked chicken, hamburger, steak, fish, brats and vegetables, but most of the food prep is more basic. The kitchen gadget used most often is the electric teapot. It boils water for tea and coffee, the latter being at the bottom of my food pyramid. The press pot brews it good 'n strong and the icebox keeps the milk cold. 

Breakfast aboard: cheese, smoked fish, crackers, grapes & coffee

MR. HELSINKI'S NAME

This involves three cosmopolitan places: Helsinki, Beijing and Fish Creek. I've spent time in each location so this is rooted in first-hand experience and it centers on Fish Creek, where I was sitting with friends in Mr. Helsinki, chatting with the waiter. It was early in the shift and not yet busy so I asked him if he knew how the name Mr. Helsinki came to be. Ever since my first dinner there I've been trying to reconcile Mr. Helsinki's pan-Asian entrees, i.e., Bang Bang Chicken, with the Finnish fare I know, and cook. I understand that the City of Helsinki's dining options are vast and one can find pan-Asian there, but still. Maybe it's because the Finns are my ancestral people (Hei Hei) that this name rattled me a bit, even if it was a pleasant rattling as Mr. Helsinki's food is really good. But it’s like if a restaurant named Mr. Beijing served mojakka and reindeer, nisu, herring in sour cream and prune tarts. I think most people would say, What the Hey! Back to the story: Our waiter said legend has it the original owner had been sitting around discussing the concept with some friends and a few bottles of French wine and the rest is history. I said it should have been a bottle of Finlandia vodka to which the waiter replied, “Oh. That’s good. Can I use that?” I said, “Be my guest” and one of my dining companions explained, “She’s a writer.” Yes, and sometimes I take things too literally. But please, Mr. Helsinki, at least add Lapin Kulta to your Beer List.

BAYSIDE TAVERN'S NAPKINS
In April 2009 my 90-year-old Aunt Lil died. She was known for her cooking and bridge and wide circle of friends and all these activities required napkins and she had a closet full. In fact, when I was standing in front of that closet with one of her aides (Aunt Lil had been in a wheelchair for awhile) looking at all those packages of shapes and colors, I asked, “Is this to the point of fetish?” The aide nodded Yes. So when in the Bayside Tavern in Fish Creek Wisconsin I noticed the napkin with a drawing of a sailboat heeling and Bayside Tavern printed in nice blue ink that would be perfect for a card table. Jeff was already outside when I paid our beer tab, telling the bartender, “I’ve got this aunt who hosts bridge parties…” and he asked, “How many do you need?” I left with a stack of maybe 100. Jeff was impressed and asked how much I had tipped the bartender and when I said, “$1” he was shocked at my stinginess. I delivered the napkins to Aunt Lil and she appreciated them but, thereafter, every time one of those heeling blue sailboats appeared on the table I felt guilty. So last summer, Aunt Lil wasn't around to talk with or write to anymore, and I was back in the Bayside. My bartender was there, off duty, and I folded a $20 in a napkin on which I wrote: Thank you for the napkins. With gratitude, Aunt Lil’s niece Mary, and had our waiter deliver it to Teflon, and all was right.

SALUTATIONS

• On our first sail with Revision we were on the bay with Double-O-Seven, sailed by a couple who knew this was our debut. They radioed us saying, “You look beautiful.” So did they.

Double-O-Seven

• Motoring on the river we pass Marinette Marine and on this day there was a group of guys in hardhats standing on the pier. They were looking at me so I waved and one guy yelled, “Are you by yourself?” I thought for a moment, then looked down the companionway, pointed and yelled, “The dog's with me!” We all smiled, except for the dog who had once again already tipped over her water bowl.

• Motoring upriver I met a boat heading downriver. I think he was solo too as he had a big grin, and when we passed we saluted, casually.

• One bright afternoon Revision was parked at the fuel dock for a pump out. I also needed some ice and was told they were out so I asked if I could leave the boat there while I walked to Stateline Liquor to get some. I got the okay and was about to leave when a beautiful wooden Chris-Craft tied up behind Revision. A couple gentleman hopped off just as someone over at the well began ranting colorfully. This went on for a while and when it ended I turned to the bewildered boaters, smiled and said, "Welcome to Nestegg Marina. You guys need ice?"

The well

The fuel dock. Photo by Connie.

WATER

One afternoon the faces of waves were crinkled like elephant hide, and gray, too.

HEAT

In the springs and falls of 2006-2008 we had a little electric heater onboard, brought up from the basement. It had a safety feature that if its angle changed, even slightly, the heater would shut itself off. That works well in a child's bedroom but on a boat it's a different deal. Bleary eyed I’ve risen to the boat rocking gently in the slip, my semi-consciousness picking up on the movement and I'd get up and switch the button Off, then On for a reset. Sometimes I’d wake up to the night trollers and shake my fist at them and their wake. Then, in 2009, the little heater stopped working and night life improved greatly. When the new heater is turned on it doesn’t smell like something’s burning and it has no motion detector. It's even quieter—no buzzing, just a gentle whir.

RACE

The boats by the lower right corner of the flag are heading toward the camera/finish line. It's the M&M Yacht Club Bikini Race, meaning women crews, and Eagle, a 30-foot Catalina was in the lead. I was on it trying not to pee my pants while the woman at the helm and the woman at the mainsheet sailed the heck out of that boat. We won—beating #2 comfortably, if you can call it that, and #3 (that white speck at 9 o'clock), which had dropped out.

ROCK

Motoring upriver we were surprised at the sound waves headed our way from the USS Freedom, recently launched from Marinette Marine. Were they testing the PA? Gee it was loud. A couple engineer/inspector types peered out of the superstructure as we passed the ship vibrating with Zepplin and Jeff and I grinned at each other as Way down inside, woman, you need me washed over us. Keep on rockin' in the free world indeed—and turned up to 11 at that.

PARK

Took Cap'n Keksi to Stateline Liquor (Wis. booze tax is lower than Michigan’s and it’s a busy place) and tied her to a Bud Lite banner while I bought a paper. We then crossed US41 at the library/liquor store intersection—dicey—with a Walk light that beeps, and while approaching the Wisconsin Welcome Center saw a couple on bicycles. Took them to be visiting boaters as they were a bit disheveled but realized no. They were fishing for cans in the trash.

“Nice day to read the paper,” said the man with sunken eyes and patchy gray beard. The woman’s leg remained raised mid-air as she aimed for the crush. 

“Yes, and a nice day to be riding bikes,” I replied stupidly.

Walking away, I did the math of how my paper equaled 25 cans—in Michigan anyway, Wisconsin is by weight.

I wave and say Hello to frequenters of Stephenson Island Park such as the men who gather at the picnic table by the bandshell. Then there's the women and their dogs. The dogs crap and they don’t pick it up, and I've seen the women sitting on a park bench, sometimes late when I’m out with Keksi enjoying the night air. They are in the park late so often I wonder if they are homeless.

Then the younger woman showed up with a double-seated stroller. Over winter I fretted about this, then saw them again next summer, this time outside Stateline. The younger woman still had the stroller but tossed some bottles in it so I guess there’s no babies.

TEXT

The person at the tiller with the phone is the daughter of my friend seated to the right and mostly off-camera. Teenage Emma had just spent a week at camp where cellphones were BANNED, so while aboard Revision she had a lot of catching up to do. While on the bay, Emma's mom, Mary, asked about the state of the water, "Is it clean enough to drink?" This was a good question.

BUNGEE TAKES A RIDE—TWICE

Imagine it's another beautiful day on the bay and you are in the cockpit staring through binoculars at the top of the mast to see how badly the bungee is fouled. Bungees are not supposed to be there but there it is, its free metal hook clanging the aluminum, just aching to grab the topping lift. This is the bungee that, last night, had kept the halyard from slapping and today I raised the main without a care in the world and well, after I realized what was clanging overhead the Cap'n heard some choice words. I figured my best option was to drop sail—please!—so I got the halyard off the winch and let go the brake and LUCK OUT when the bungee falls with a clank in the cockpit as the sail slides down the track. Afterwards I believe I took a moment to give thanks. Then, at dinnertime I drove with a dock comrade and the bungee to the big dumpsters behind the mall. A man in a blue work uniform was standing there and my comrade rolled down his window, said, “Good man, would you please dispose of this for us?" and the guy walked over, took the bungee, raised the dumpster lid, and tossed it in, no questions asked.

4THS OF JULY

2008. Marinette. We like to sit in the cockpit and watch the fireworks sent up from the park. The darker it gets, the more boats show up to hang out on the river, many with families. It's cool. Noticed a Coastie boat hanging out at the end of the dock and they motored upstream and tied up in the empty slip next to us. The skipper was a woman; the crew looked so young. We were honored to have them here. Toward the end of the fireworks a powerboat came zipping downstream. The driver was looking aft, barking something at his passengers when he ran into the No Wake buoy. Whoops. The Coastie skipper gave a quiet signal, a gesture really, to her crew and they untied efficiently and quietly and before long, farther downstream, we saw bubblegums.

Coasties next to Revision and fireworks over the river

2009. Escanaba. Ah Esky. Always loved playing your high school tennis team in Ludington Park and now, to think I am here at the marina with my husband. Must say tennis was good but the yachting life also agrees with me. We had a good two-day sail up, stopping in Cedar River overnight. Our off-the-bow Esky dockmates were on a powerboat, the name of which doesn't matter. The crew was a mom and her sister with a beer funnel and Jello shots, and their significant others who pretty much stayed in their lawnchairs. The daughter of the mom showed up with a friend, and the mom and sister greeted them with a platter-full as they approached the boat while Michael Jackson, that king of pop who had just popped throbbed from their stereo. Don't get me wrong. These were not rude people, just partiers and when the mom volunteered to turn the music down I said it was okay. Jeff and I were fine. We sat in Revision's cockpit, where we'd brought the iPod dock, and played our 4x4 CD that he had made in celebration of our 16 years of marriage. Everyone a love song—from Gram Parsons to Aretha Franklin to Thrill Kill Cult to oh, Led Zepplin. Escanaba put on a fine fireworks show and the marina staff was friendly and helpful—another memorable 4th in so many ways.

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Escanaba Municipal Marina: Revision with bunting, and dingy wake

LAUNCH DOCKINGS 

2007—By the time the boat was ready to be moved to the slip, the sun was  still warm. I'd brought boat stuff over to The Island, which is what our dock is called since a channel of the Menominee River cuts us off from the marina proper (we get to the Captain's Quarters, store and shop via a footbridge). So I was standing on our dock and I heard the guys yell over, "Mary! Come dock your boat!" I yelled back, "I'm over here! You bring it over." So Jeff did and he motored over slow. The light was long and low and honey-colored, and I watched Revision moving for the first time from the vantage of not being aboard. I saw that her lines are lovely as her brightwork caught the sun.

2008—This spring there's a lot of water in the river and the night before I laid in the motel room thinking about that. So Mark rides over with me to Revision’s slip and I’ve got a lot of rev going to compensate for the current and whoa do we go in fast. First we hit the dock box then slam, not too hard, off the boat next door. It’s wild and Mark finally does an amazing leap and we get the boat tied up. 

2009—The boat splashes and Mark is again on board as I guide Revision to her slip where, apparently remembering Launch Docking 2008, Mark offers to jump off at the end of our dock. “No need,” I say while laying the C26 gently against the boards. Walking back to the well I punch him in the shoulder and say, “Jump off at the end. Yeah right.”