Sailing

As most adventures do, last Sunday started out with a half-baked plan, poor attention to details, and a little more confidence than warranted.

My friend Sasha and I decided to go for a sail. We checked the weather well in advance, and the only day that we had available with wind over 5kts was going to be Sunday. The forecast was calling for 14kts out of the west. As long as we could get to the lake side of Park Point, we should be in the clear for some excellent, semi-sheltered clear-water sailing in the shallows of Lake Superior.

Upon arriving to the harbor in Duluth, we walked over to the lake side. I wanted to see what the lake looked like. I don’t like to sail into the lake on a small sailboat unless I am pretty confident that the conditions will be doable. There were some whitecaps a ways out, but the area near the shore looked great! I didn’t notice that the wind was probably closer to a NW wind, which should have been red flag number one.

Back on the harbor side, we stepped up the mast and admired the size of the waves that were forming from within the harbor. This should have been red flag number 2.

We hoisted the sail, and cruised out into the tall waves. We were instantly wet. Sailing a Hobie Cat is not a sport for anybody who wishes to stay dry, but these waves were exceptionally prone to crashing over the hulls, over the trampoline, and onto the bottom section of the sail. After struggling to make our first tack, we finally got pointed across the wind. Red flag number three.

It was all down wind to the Superior canal. I usually like to start out sailing into the wind, mostly for the same reason that whenever I come to a fork on a new trail, I almost always take the trail that looks like a steeper uphill climb. If something goes amiss, I want to still make it home with minimal effort. We ignored this old wisdom and flew off downwind, moving our weight around the boat to prevent it from pitch-pulling. That essentially means that the wind pushes so hard on the top of the sail that it forces the bow under the surface of the water, causing the boat to stop and flip over forwards. Great for swimming, not great for sailing.

As we approached the Superior entrance, we made a sketchy jibe and shot straight through the canal into the Gitche Gumee. In my experience, the waves are always the worst in the canal because they bounce off the break walls and back into the chaos of the channel. It became apparent that I was mistaken as soon as we passed the end of the canal.

Superior is not particularly forgiving, and since the waves had switched to NNW, the wind was coming perfectly down the shore of Park Point. With a decent fetch, the waves were pushing 3 feet tall. Not too big of a deal in most boats designed for the lake, but on a 14 foot catamaran designed for flat water, we were not making much headway, and were getting tossed about like a rubber duck in the tub with a toddler having a tantrum.

Uncomfortable with the situation, we would have liked to have turned around and headed right back into the harbor, but we were not confident enough to make that maneuver without capsizing. We headed into the wind, and then turned in to get to the shore. It was when sailing across the waves that I realized how much we were getting tossed about.

Safely on the beach, we took a break and ate the food we brought with. I checked my phone. The wind had been upgraded to 17kts gusting to 26kts. Not great Hobie Cat conditions. I hoped to sail up the shore and get closer to people so that if something went wrong, we could at least signal for help, but even with staying close to shore, the wind was gusty enough that it was no easy task to sail the boat anywhere.

After calling for help, we decided to meet my parents at the beach house and reassess from there. The options were to leave the boat on the beach overnight or try to carry it over the sand dune. We stowed the sail and walked the boat in shallow water the 2 miles on the beach to the beach house. This article will not give justice to how long and frustrating of a process that was.

My mom and dad came walking over the hill and before long, my dad provided a third option. “Nate, you and I are both experienced sailors, I think we can sail it back.” Classic dad. “It’s wavier out there than you think,” I told him. “At least lets head straight out from shore a ways so you can see what it is like in deeper water, and then if that’s something you want to get yourself into, we can buzz the shore and give them a thumbs-up to let them know that we are going to try it.”

We left Sasha and mom on the shore with skeptical faces, and headed straight out into the tall waves. With dad at the tiller, he gave me some tips for how to position the sail differently. With his sailing wisdom, and both of our experience sailing in bigger waves, the situation suddenly seemed less scary. Here I was, sailing with my dad, something I have always wished to do more often, no less in some very adrenaline-inducing conditions. We made a clumsy tack back to shore, gave them a thumbs-up, and then shot off down wind towards the superior entrance again.

We covered the distance in incredible time. The distance which Sasha and I had walked during the last 2 hours was whisked away in about 8 minutes. We were both hanging off the back of the boat to help keep the bows of the catamaran from stuffing into a wave and capsizing. We were mostly successful at this, although we did have to whip the boat around one time. We were hanging off the back of a boat several feet above the water looking down at the bows submerged about a foot and a half in the lake when Dad finally pulled the tillers around to level the boat. I probably wouldn’t try that maneuver again, but I’m glad I got to do it once with my dad!

After recovering from that we continued the surf the growing waves back to the canal. By the time we turned into the harbor, it felt as if the waves were pushing 4 feet. We made it through the canal, once again hoping for smaller waves in the harbor. They were probably a little smaller, but still formidable. In the murky harbor water, I would frequently lose sight of the bows as they plunged into the steep walls of the oncoming waves.

To add to our uncertainty, the boat started handling slowly and really struggled to get around the tacks. We had one successful tack, but mostly we spent a bit of time in reverse every time we tried to change direction. It was only upon pulling up to the dock, that we realized just how much water the boat had taken on!

This was the first time I have seen my dad sailing in poor conditions. It was exhilarating to be in a place where we were both being challenged, and were ready to meet the challenge. Somehow, perhaps through all the discussions about sailing growing up, I became a sailer, parallel to Dad. I learned a lot from him, but usually from shore. It was thrilling to finally bring our experiences together, like a master and apprentice.