Haul-out here on Lake Michigan happens far too soon. Especially when a long winter of projects and fitting-out a recently acquired boat is rewarded with only one major sailing trip and a bit of daysailing.

Instead of whiling away the summer weeks and months cruising Lake Michigan—hopping from quaint harbor to quaint harbor—as my father and I had dreamed throughout the winter during almost daily hour-long phone calls between Ohio and Michigan, we were waylaid by a late launch date and numerous last-minute fitting-out details—painting lockers, sorting out freshwater tank draw problems, installing a battery charger, etc.

Once Ariel was in the water and prepped for sailing, there was yet another reality we had to face: my wife and I were expecting our first child around mid-August. Suddenly, with the arrival of summer vacation (I’m a high school teacher) I found myself immersed in extensive remodeling projects in preparation for the baby. Installing built-in shelving in the nursery eventually evolved into completely redoing the drywall, painting, and trimming out windows and the built-ins. Day by day the task grew larger, and the dream of escaping on Ariel—our Cape Dory 36—increasingly distant and elusive.

My father, desperate to get me out on the boat, worked day and night on the nursery, even recruiting my mother for a couple of days to finish the drywall and painting while my wife and I were in Pennsylvania for a wedding. Somehow, however, no matter how much work we got done there was always more—tile the adjoining hallway and bathroom, and “may as well drywall the bathroom while we’re at it.” With unequaled fury and fervor, my father and I mudded, sanded, troweled, and grouted, often working until two or three in the morning before calling it a day.

Then the day came.

Friends of ours had rented a house in northern Michigan on Grand Traverse Bay and invited us to join them—with Ariel—for a week of vacationing. Reluctantly—but with my wife’s blessing—my father and I dragged ourselves away from the nursery/bathroom project and began to concentrate on Ariel—finally.

We figured the trip from St. Joseph, MI, to Grand Traverse Bay would take roughly a week, provided we had favorable winds, so we budgeted our time accordingly, set our departure and arrival dates, and began taking care of necessaries.

On a sunny Wednesday afternoon, after a quick trip aloft to repair our Nexus wind instruments, we topped off water and diesel tanks, stowed groceries, plotted a course, and cast off the dock lines and our cares, the day bright before us. Motoring past the lighthouse on the northern pierhead, the wind fresh on our faces, the movement of the boat invigorating under our feet, we knew that this is what we (and Ariel) were made for. For a special few, there is a moment of realization when all of life suddenly makes sense, when a person recognizes that one pursuit that so completely renews the spirit it sends shivers up and down the spine and brings an uncontrollable smile to the face; an activity that, like a fountain of youth, rejuvenates the heart and makes a person cry out, “THIS! THIS! I want THIS!”

With a brisk 18-20 knot wind out of the north, 4-6 foot seas, and a course line of about due north, we began the first leg of our journey, the bow plunging into the face of the waves, spray showering over the cabin top, and a voice within us screaming, “This! This! I want this!”

We sailed through the night, the wind abating to roughly 15-18 knots by morning. With the arrival of dawn we noticed that one of the seams in the jib had come loose during the night, leaving a slit of about 18 inches. About an hour from Holland, we dropped the jib and made for Eldean Shipyard under main and staysail alone.

MORE TO COME...

Added 14 December 2003

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