The pictures you see here suggest a perfect day on the water. And it was. Until it wasn’t. That’s how it is with boating. Expect the unexpected — in this case, a injury emergency and then a mechanical one. The injury required a visit to ER, 50 miles away. (Keep in mind we have no cars with us.) The mechanical one required some underwater trouble-shooting.
I have no pictures of these because we were too busy responding.
As of this writing, more than 24 hours later, both have been resolved and I have time to blog. I’m typing from a fish cleaning station in the Grand Marais marina as flies buzz around. It’s the only WiFi I can find in this town of under 300 and a good spot to hold my laptop. We are anchored out, and the Internet is usually not available on the water. (Yes, I may need to get a hotspot if I plan to continue this.) I brought my laptop ashore via the dingy, which I judged to be safer than bringing it in via paddle board! I’ll do it via paddle board once I find a large enough waterproof bag.
Both the dingy and paddle board proved essential the past 2 days, as we “commuted” over water between our trawler and our companion boat. The sailboat is where the issues occurred. Our trawler, and its two occupants, are chugging along so far without mishap.
Yesterday seems weeks ago given all that has transpired in this lovely harbor town. On a trip like this, images and memories — and lessons-learned — can pile up so quickly that they start to fall off the edge. I resolve to remember what it’s like to motor close to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and the Grand Sable Dunes – at 300 feet high, much lower than Sleeping Bear Dunes in the Lower Peninsula but still impressive. I resolve to remember that a dab of peppermint oil under the nose seems to stave off nausea, and a dash of apple cider vinegar in our drinking water keeps our innards happy, and chicken wraps work great as under-way lunches and an easy way to use leftovers.
In my next blog, I’ll share what it’s like to dive under a boat, worry about a cat, and rely on strangers.
For Many Moons 