Cruising Downtown 2012 GANNET is a leaf. A Moore 24, the first of the ultra light displacement production classes, she moves with the least breath of wind. We did not have even a least breath as the electric Torqeedo outboard almost silently whirred us from our slip in North Point Marina, 50 miles north of Chicago, onto Lake Michigan. Just outside the breakwater, I turned off the Torqeedo and we sat on glass in sunshine. A cigarette boat followed us out, roared into motion, abruptly stopped and limped at slow speed back inside. Good. After a while the first cats-paws of the predicted five to ten knots from the northeast reached us. They were enough to move the little sloop into quieter motion than the cigarette boat. The only sound a gurgle from her bow. That bow was pointed north. My destination was Fayette, a ghost town two hundred miles away on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, which looks pretty in cruising guide photographs, or perhaps Beaver Island, a similar distance. But I really had no destination, I just wanted to sail for longer than the day sails I had thus far made during the year I owned GANNET. Two hours later GANNET abruptly heeled before an unexpected gust. And kept on heeling. A leaf, but a seaworthy leaf with exactly half her 2050 pound displacement in her fin keel, she buried her lee rail before I could ease the mainsheet traveler and put more bend in the mast with the backstay, control lines for both conveniently at hand. As I slid from the starboard side of the cockpit, I noted that her deck is more ‘skid’ than ‘non’, something I will have to change before taking her to sea. The distance of slide cannot be far in a boat with a 7’ 2” beam and the direction of my skid was useful, bringing me to where the furling line for the jib was cleated. I took in a few wraps. GANNET came back up and we sailed on; but not for long. As the wind continued to build, it backed, forcing us onto a converging course with Racine, Wisconsin. With a northeast wind, I had expected us to be close-hauled that day. Close-hauled is a good point of sail in five to ten knots. Less so in what I estimated to be twenty and later learned was recorded with gusts of twenty-five ashore. Often during the past year, people have said to me, “But we’ve only sailed on the lake.” And I have always responded that In many ways I think lake sailing is more difficult than ocean sailing: weather changes more quickly with systems that move from land to water and back again; even on a lake as big as Michigan you are always only thirty or forty miles off a lee shore; ships and other boats can and do come at you from all directions and speeds; and in relatively shallow water, the wind creates shorter, steeper, choppier waves than in the open ocean. GANNET was now laboring into those square waves. She isn’t really heavy enough to pound; but she was trying. Our SOG had dropped to four knots. Water was washing spiders from the bow. With one elbow wrapped around a stanchion, I looked up at the sky. Sunny. A few scattered clouds. There was no clue as to where this wind was coming from. I don’t have the feel for inland skies that I do for those over oceans, but I sensed that this aberrant wind was going to last a while and that it was time to reef the main. When close-hauled, I fall off to a beam reach to reef. Often at sea I have appreciated the dramatic change that makes: an uncomfortable beat, waves constant jabs interspersed with body blows, hard on sailor and boat, smooths and what was an ordeal becomes a pleasure. It is like reaching the promised land. And I sigh when the reef is in and I have to harden up again. At the instant I decided to reef GANNET’s main, a light bulb went on in my mind: I realized I didn’t have to. I’d like to get to the north end of the lake, but I wanted good sailing more. I came about and eased the sheets. On a port close reach, the little sloop’s bow, now pointing east toward Holland, Michigan seventy miles away, slashed across three foot waves instead of slamming into them. Our SOG almost doubled. And I smiled. The change of wind angle had brought us to the promised land. Forget Fayette and Beaver Island. I would sail last year’s planned two hundred mile triangle cancelled by a detached retina: across to the eastern shore, southwest to downtown Chicago, and finally back north to our marina. GANNET seemed to approve. Like her namesake, she flew. After a dark blue hulled sloop, about the size of my last boat, the 37’ THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, diverted to come over to check us out around noon, we had the lake to ourselves. For a few hours, water, water, everywhere was wonderful. As the Autohelm tiller pilot steered at six and seven knots, I moved back and forth between deck and cabin. Deck was more pleasant with the cooling wind, but too much sun. To protect my skin, I changed from shorts and t-shirt to Levis and long sleeved shirt. Spray over the bow kept the forward hatch closed and the cabin hot, but I was in the shade, and one of the two most comfortable positions I found as we sailed was sitting in a Sportaseat on the cabin floor boards, facing aft. When I got too hot, I went back on deck. In the cockpit I found that two flotation cushions fill the sole. One alone continually slid down. I needed to buy a third as a back rest. Moore 24s have a lot of hard edges. I also spent time in the second most comfortable position, standing in what I suppose is the companionway, though GANNET has no ladder, only a big step down to one of the pipe berths or a bigger step to what I like to call her Great Cabin floor. Again, I’m not certain the two planks there qualify as a sole. At my height of 6’ 1”, the deck comes to just above my waist. Wedging a flotation cushion between hip and hatch coaming, I felt I was wearing the little boat. I could reach all control lines: main and jib sheets, halyards, boom vang, furling line. I could see the mainsail and, leaning over, the jib and the horizon to leeward. The new fully battened main and furling jib were setting well. The only mishap that afternoon came when I broke the Lewmar line clutch securing the main and spinnaker halyards by running the main halyard to the port side winch to try to get a little more tension on the luff--the jib sheet was on the starboard winch. A very dumb idea. The clutch was not designed for loads from that angle and the side pulled away. It continued to hold, but I also tied the halyard to a cleat. GANNET’s galley is a tiny JetBoil gas canister stove, similar to the French Camping Gaz stove I used during my voyage in the 18’ open yawl, CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, but more efficient. All I do is boil water--literally--so for my purposes the JetBoil is perfect, bringing two cups of water to a boil in about a minute, during which I hold it from sliding around the vast Great Cabin floor. Boiled water into the pouch of a freeze dried meal--beef stroganoff that night. Pouch sealed for ten minutes. And a culinary delight. Well, perhaps not. But no mess, no clean-up except a spoon, and good enough for me while underway. Mid-July sunset came at 8:30, and as the sky darkened and lights became visible ahead on the Michigan shore, our world became smaller. Too soon. That water was everywhere was an illusion. Land was. The fifth biggest lake in the world is still a lake. I let us reach on to the east for another hour, until in the very last twilight with the iNavX iPad app showing us to be twelve miles offshore I gybed onto the second side of our triangle toward Chicago, now fifty-five miles to the southwest. The iPad had proven to be a good chartplotter except that I could not read the screen in bright sunlight. This didn’t matter. It gets positions from within the cabin and is safer there. Settled on our new course, I reengaged the tiller pilot and leaned forward to turn on the night lighting on the mast mounted Velocitek ProStart whose internal GPS provides SOG and COG and found that the ProStart has none. This was my first night sail on GANNET. It had never occurred to me that the ProStart wouldn’t have internal lighting. While perhaps all races start during daylight, some do continue after dark. Greater fool, I. GANNET has a conventional compass mounted in the cockpit whose night lighting does work. And four handheld GPS units, three of them transferred from the recently sold THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, in addition to the iPad. And I could see the ProStart by flashlight. So we were in no immediate danger of losing direction. Although the starboard pipe berth proved unexpectedly comfortable, I got only a few hours of broken sleep that night, being more concerned about other boats and ships than I would have been at sea. On THE HAWKE OF TUONELA and my other boats of similar size, on passages I have slept on the leeward settee berth in the main cabin. On GANNET, even my slim body is significant weight, so I will usually end up on the windward pipe quarter berth. Although I had not yet installed lee cloths and the wind continued to blow around twenty knots, it was behind us and GANNET was not heeled much, so I had no trouble remaining in place. I found the berth easy to get in and out of, which was an advantage because I Jack-in-the-boxed up and down all night. I saw a blood red half moon rise before midnight; a starrier sky than in the city; and had to dodge two ships heading in the general direction of Gary, Indiana. The running lights of both were difficult to distinguish in long bands of white lights illuminating their decks. Near 3:00 a.m. I stood in the companionway for several minutes, trying to figure out which way one of those ships was heading. When I finally did see her red bow light, I realized that she was much closer than I had thought and we were on converging courses. GANNET’s running lights were on, but only two feet above the water and in three foot waves, I didn’t know if anyone on the ship could see them. A masthead tri-color is needed. The ship didn’t change course, so I did. Stepping up into the cockpit, tightening the mainsheet and swinging GANNET’s bow into the wind until the slab sided shadow passed. When I was below deck, sounds were louder than on my other boats. Bow wave roared; Autohelm groaned. Because of her size both were closer to me, but I think more likely they were louder because GANNET’s interior is a hollow drum that magnifies sound. The blood red moon rise was followed by a blood red sun rise and first light hitting the glass walls of Chicago skyscrapers. Sailing toward Chicago at dawn is magic. Not an Emerald City, but as I stood in the companionway sipping a cup of instant coffee, I felt I was sailing toward the Land of Oz. To delay our arrival until daylight, I had furled the jib and was sailing under main; but now, not wanting to discover at the last minute that I had a serious problem, I used a screwdriver to disengage the gripping mechanism of the broken main halyard clutch and lowered that sail, proceeding the last few miles under deeply furled jib. I had never sailed into Chicago before. A couple of miles off the outer breakwater, I passed a red and white striped structure that is one of the intakes for the city’s drinking water. My destination was a mooring at what is called Monroe Harbor, one of ten in the biggest municipal harbor system in the U.S. In what was another first for me, when they did not respond to VHF, I called their office on my cell phone for assignment. As I approached mooring H12 slowly under Torqeedo, I realized that I didn’t have a boat hook. GANNET has so little freeboard it didn’t matter. I simply powered forward until the mooring was alongside, reached over and grabbed it with one hand and threaded a line through with the other. Monroe Harbor is in the heart of downtown, surrounded by Chicago’s skyline, but even with rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive only a few yards away, I was surprised by how quiet it was. I was happy to be on a mooring again. Because of the work I needed to do on GANNET, I wanted her in a slip her first two summers, but with the completion of most projects and the installation of four 25 watt Aurinco solar panels, she was now self-sufficient. If I had kept her on Lake Michigan another year, I knew I would have done so at Monroe Harbor. Sitting on deck the two evenings I was there watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers ashore was as magical as the sunrise on my approach. Her public spaces are among Chicago’s greatest attributes, and contiguous Grant Park and Millennium Park just across Lake Shore Drive from Monroe Harbor open up views of the skyline that are magnificent from the water. With a cup of coffee on deck the next morning, I watched early joggers, dog walkers and bicyclists. Ten figures standing bolt upright, seemingly a moving line of fence posts, confused me until I realized they were on Segways. I used the tender service ($4.50 a ride for transients) to go ashore for lunch and wander around downtown. On a beautiful summery afternoon, happy crowds were everywhere, staring at their reflections in the sculpture known locally as “The Bean,” wading in the reflecting pool at the Crown Fountain, pausing to listen as I did to a symphony orchestra rehearsing in the Getty designed pavilion for that evening’s free concert. I walked the few blocks up Michigan Avenue to the Chicago River, once the reason for the city’s existence, now a canal deep in a canyon of tall buildings. Tour boats, a couple of private power boats, and even a few kayakers dotted its brown green surface. The river is still a way to the sea. All the bridges open at set intervals during the summer to enable boats with masts to pass through. A thousand miles of powering is too much for me and it would be the wrong ocean. GANNET will travel to the Pacific at 50 knots on her trailer. After lunch at one of the countless cafes along the way, I returned to GANNET. Carol and I had lived in the Chicago area for six years. I’d been in The Loop countless times. Yet being on a boat made it new. There are multiple breakwaters in Chicago Harbor. Dropping my mooring at 7:00 the next morning, I Torqeedoed through the half empty mooring field to the center channel, passing a young woman rowing an inflatable. There is no tender service that early, and from the way she was dressed I concluded she was on her way to work. A nice commute. Just beyond the breakwater protecting Monroe Harbor, I found light wind from the southeast, set sail, cut the Torqeedo, and hand steered GANNET for the main breakwater entrance, turning north when I was outside. The shore falls away north of downtown Chicago slightly to the NNW and to keep the sails full I had to sail slightly to the NNE. At 8:15 I gybed in order to sail close to Evanston, where we live a few blocks inland. Once on course, I experimented with sheet to tiller self-steering which I used successfully during my first two circumnavigations on EGREGIOUS, a 37‘ cutter, and CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, an 18‘ open yawl. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t get it to work on GANNET. Tiring of her swinging drunkenly, I decided to try again another day and reengaged the tiller pilot. We came back to the shore at Evanston’s South Beach, but trees blocked the view of our condo. Gybing again, I set the new asymmetrical for the first time. Unfortunately, this too, did not go well. With no point of attachment right at the bow, I hooked the Facnor gennaker furling drum into the forward slot in the toe rail, which wasn’t good enough. The sail remained blanketed by the main. However, the Facnor gear did furl it nicely. Asymmetrical furled and lowered, I considered setting the regular spinnaker. But the day had become sunny and I was hot and sweaty, some of which had run into my damaged right eye. And I had run out of ambition. So I unfurled the jib, let GANNET happily broad reach north at mostly six knots, and enjoyed the day. Even with time lost to failed experiments, we covered the forty miles to North Point Marina quickly and were off the breakwater just after 2:00 p.m. Ominously a Coast Guard inflatable followed us all the way to our slip, hovering just off the stern as I tied up. I assumed I was in for a routine inspection. GANNET is legal. All the required stuff is aboard and working. But an inspection was not the way I wanted to spend the next half hour. One of the three uniformed men aboard the patrol boat smiled and asked, “Is that a Torqeedo?” He was thinking of buying one for his own boat and wanted to know how I liked it. A few pleasant minutes talking electric outboards and they were gone. I straightened up GANNET. Then sat on deck with a warm Heineken and the last of a box of Cheese-Its. I’d put a couple of hundred miles on the little boat. Had some fine sailing. Loved being on the Monroe Harbor mooring, one of the great urban sailing experiences in the world. Learned a lot. Had some things to think about and some new problems to solve. A young duck swam over. I’d had enough Cheese-Its and broke my rule about not feeding begging birds. Ducks like Cheese-Its. ---------- For use by academics who like to compare manuscripts, here is the shortened version that appeared in print. GANNET is a leaf. A Moore 24, she moves with the least breath of wind. We did not have even a least breath as the electric outboard whirred us from our slip fifty miles north of Chicago onto Lake Michigan. Just outside the breakwater, I turned off the Torqeedo and we sat on glass in sunshine. A cigarette boat followed us out, roared into motion, abruptly stopped and limped at slow speed back inside. Good. After a while the first cats-paws of the predicted five to ten knots from the northeast reached us. They were enough to move the little sloop into quieter motion than the cigarette boat. The only sound a gurgle from her bow. That bow was pointed north. My destination was Fayette, a ghost town two hundred miles away on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. But I really had no destination. I just wanted to sail for longer than I had thus far during the year I owned GANNET. Two hours later the little sloop abruptly heeled before an unexpected gust. A leaf, but a seaworthy leaf with half her 2050 pound displacement in her fin keel, she buried her lee rail before I could ease the mainsheet traveler and put more bend in the mast. As I slid from the starboard side of the cockpit, I noted that her deck is more ‘skid’ than ‘non’. The distance of slide cannot be far in a boat with a 7’ 2” beam. I took in a few wraps in the furling jib. GANNET came back up and we sailed on; but not for long. As the wind continued to build to twenty knots, gusting twenty-five, it backed, forcing us onto a converging course with Racine, Wisconsin. Often during the past year, people have said to me, “But we’ve only sailed on the lake.” And I have always responded that In many ways I think lake sailing more difficult than ocean sailing: weather changes more quickly with systems that move from land to water and back again; even on a lake as big as Michigan you are always only thirty or forty miles off a lee shore; ships and other boats come at you from all directions; and in relatively shallow water, the wind creates shorter, steeper, choppier waves than in the open ocean. GANNET was now laboring into those square waves. She isn’t heavy enough to pound; but she was trying. Our SOG had dropped to four knots. Water was washing spiders from the bow. With one elbow wrapped around a stanchion, I looked up at the sky. Sunny. A few scattered clouds. I don’t have the feel for inland skies that I do for those over oceans, but I sensed that this wind was going to last a while and that it was time to reef the main. When close-hauled, I fall off to a beam reach to reef. I always appreciate the dramatic change that makes: an uncomfortable beat, hard on sailor and boat, smooths and what was an ordeal becomes a pleasure. It is like reaching a promised land. And I sigh when the reef is in and I have to harden up again. At the instant I decided to reef GANNET’s main, I realized I didn’t have to. More than seeing Fayette, I wanted good sailing. I came about and eased the sheets. On a port close reach, GANNET’s bow, now pointing east toward Holland, Michigan seventy miles away, slashed across three foot waves instead of slamming into them. Our SOG almost doubled. And I smiled. The change of wind angle had brought us to the promised land. Forget Fayette. I would sail last year’s planned two hundred mile triangle cancelled by a detached retina: across to the eastern shore, southwest to Chicago, back north to our marina. GANNET seemed to approve. Like her namesake, she flew. All afternoon we had the lake to ourselves. For a few hours, water, water, everywhere was wonderful. As the tiller pilot steered at six and seven knots, I moved between deck and cabin. Deck was more pleasant with a cooling wind, but too much sun. To protect my skin, I changed to Levis and long sleeved shirt. Spray over the bow kept the forward hatch closed and the cabin hot, but I was in the shade, and one of the two most comfortable positions I found as we sailed was sitting in a Sportaseat on the cabin floor, facing aft. When I got too hot, I went back on deck. In the cockpit I found that two flotation cushions fill the sole. I needed to buy a third as a back rest. Moore 24s have a lot of hard edges. I also spent time in the second most comfortable position, standing in the companionway, though GANNET has no ladder, only a big step down to the pipe berths. At my height of 6’ 1”, the deck comes to just above my waist. Wedging a flotation cushion between hip and hatch coaming, I felt I was wearing the little boat. I could reach all control lines. I could see the mainsail and, leaning over, the jib and the horizon to leeward. The new fully battened main and furling jib were setting well. GANNET’s galley is a JetBoil gas canister stove. All I do is boil water, so for my purposes the JetBoil is perfect, bringing two cups of water to a boil in about a minute, during which I hold it from sliding around GANNET’s vast Great Cabin floor. Boiled water into the pouch of a freeze dried meal--beef stroganoff that night. Pouch sealed for ten minutes. And a culinary delight. Well, perhaps not. But no mess, no clean-up except a spoon, and good enough while underway. Mid-July sunset came at 8:30, and as the sky darkened and lights became visible ahead on the Michigan shore, our world became smaller. Too soon. That water was everywhere was an illusion. Land was. The fifth biggest lake in the world is still a lake. I let us continue east for another hour, until in the very last twilight with the iNavX iPad app showing us twelve miles offshore, I gybed toward Chicago, now fifty-five miles to the southwest. Settled on our new course, I leaned forward to turn on the night lighting on the mast mounted Velocitek ProStart whose GPS provides SOG and COG, and found that it has none. This was my first night sail on GANNET. It had never occurred to me that the ProStart wouldn’t have internal lighting. GANNET has a conventional compass mounted in the cockpit whose night lighting does work. And several handheld GPS units in addition to the iPad as chartplotter. So we were in no immediate danger of losing direction. Although the starboard pipe berth proved comfortable, I got only a few hours of sleep that night, being more concerned about other craft than I would have been at sea. On past boats I have slept on the leeward settee berth. On GANNET, even my slim body is significant weight, so I will usually end up on the windward pipe quarter berth. Although I had not yet installed lee cloths, the wind was behind us and I had no trouble remaining in place. I found the berth easy to get in and out of, which was good because I Jack-in-the-boxed up and down all night. I saw a blood red half moon rise before midnight; a starrier sky than in the city; and had to dodge two ships. The running lights of both were difficult to distinguish. Near 3:00 a.m. I stood in the companionway for several minutes, trying to figure out which way one of those ships was heading. When I finally did see her red bow light, I realized that she was closer than I thought and we were on converging courses. GANNET’s running lights were on, but in three foot waves I didn’t know if anyone could see them. The ship didn’t change course, so I did, swinging GANNET’s bow into the wind until the slab sided shadow passed. When I was below deck, sounds were louder than on my other boats. Bow wave roared; Autohelm groaned. Because of her size both were closer to me, but I think more likely they were louder because GANNET’s interior is a hollow drum that magnifies sound. The blood red moon rise was followed by a blood red sun rise and first light hitting the glass walls of Chicago skyscrapers rising from flat land. Sailing toward Chicago at dawn is magic. As I stood in the companionway sipping a cup of instant coffee, I felt I was sailing toward the Land of Oz. My destination was a mooring at Monroe Harbor, one of ten in Chicago’s municipal harbor system. When they did not respond to VHF, I called their office on my cell phone for assignment, something I’ve never done before. As I approached mooring H12 slowly under Torqeedo, I realized that I didn’t have a boat hook. GANNET has so little freeboard it didn’t matter. I simply powered until the mooring was alongside, reached over and threaded a line through. Monroe Harbor is in the heart of downtown, surrounded by Chicago’s skyline; but even with rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive only a few yards away, I was surprised by how quiet it was. I was happy to be on a mooring again. With the installation of four Aurinco solar panels, GANNET was now self-sufficient. Sitting on deck the two evenings I was there watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers ashore was as magical as the sunrise on my approach. Her public spaces are among Chicago’s greatest attributes, and parks open up views of the skyline that are magnificent from Monroe Harbor. The next morning I watched early joggers, dog walkers and bicyclists. Ten figures standing bolt upright, seemingly a moving line of fence posts, confused me until I realized they were on Segways. I used the tender service to go ashore and wander around downtown. On a beautiful afternoon, happy crowds were everywhere, staring at their reflections in the sculpture known locally as “The Bean,” wading in the reflecting pool, pausing to listen as I did to an orchestra rehearsing in the Getty designed pavilion for that evening’s free concert. I walked up Michigan Avenue to the Chicago River, once the reason for the city’s existence, now a canal deep in a canyon of tall buildings. Tour boats, a couple of private power boats, and a few kayakers dotted its brown green surface. The river is still a way to the sea. All the bridges open at intervals during the summer to enable boats to pass through. A thousand miles of powering is too much for me. GANNET would travel to the Pacific on her trailer. Carol and I had lived in the Chicago area for six years. I’d been in The Loop countless times. Yet being on a boat made it new. There are multiple breakwaters in Chicago Harbor. Dropping my mooring at 7:00 the next morning, I Torqeedoed through the mooring field to the center channel, passing a young woman dressed for work rowing an inflatable. A nice commute. Just beyond the breakwater protecting Monroe Harbor, I found light wind from the southeast, set sail, and steered for the main breakwater entrance, turning north when I was outside. The shore falls away north of downtown Chicago slightly to the NNW and to keep the sails full I had to sail slightly to the NNE. At 8:15 I gybed to sail close to Evanston, where we live a few blocks inland. Once on course, I experimented with sheet to tiller self-steering which I used successfully during my first two circumnavigations. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t get it to work on GANNET. Tiring of her swinging drunkenly, I decided to try again another day and reengaged the tiller pilot. We came back to the shore at Evanston’s South Beach, but trees blocked the view of our condo. Gybing again, I set the new asymmetrical for the first time. Unfortunately, this too, did not go well. With no point of attachment at the bow, I hooked the gennaker furling drum into the forward slot in the toe rail, which wasn’t good enough. The sail remained blanketed by the main. However, the Facnor gear did furl it nicely. Asymmetrical furled and lowered, I considered setting the regular spinnaker. But the day had become sunny and I was hot and sweaty, some of which had run into my damaged right eye. And I had run out of ambition. So I unfurled the jib, let GANNET happily broad reach north at six knots, and enjoyed the day. Even with time lost to failed experiments, we covered the forty miles to North Point Marina quickly and were off the breakwater just after 2:00 p.m. Ominously a Coast Guard inflatable followed us all the way to our slip, hovering just off the stern as I tied up. I assumed I was in for a routine inspection. GANNET is legal. All the required stuff is aboard and working. But an inspection was not the way I wanted to spend the next half hour. One of the three uniformed men aboard the patrol boat smiled and asked, “Is that a Torqeedo?” He was thinking of buying one for his own boat and wanted to know how I liked it. A few pleasant minutes talking electric outboards and they were gone. I straightened up GANNET. Then sat on deck with a warm Heineken and the last of a box of Cheese-Its. I’d put a couple of hundred miles on the little boat. Had some fine sailing. Loved being on the Monroe Harbor mooring, one of the great urban sailing experiences in the world. Learned a lot. Had some things to think about and some new problems to solve. A young duck swam over. I’d had enough Cheese-Its and broke my rule about not feeding begging birds. Ducks like Cheese-Its.

Cruising Downtown

2012

GANNET is a leaf. A Moore 24, the first of the ultra light displacement production classes, she moves with the least breath of wind.

We did not have even a least breath as the electric Torqeedo outboard almost silently whirred us from our slip in North Point Marina, 50 miles north of Chicago, onto Lake Michigan. Just outside the breakwater, I turned off the Torqeedo and we sat on glass in sunshine. A cigarette boat followed us out, roared into motion, abruptly stopped and limped at slow speed back inside. Good.

After a while the first cats-paws of the predicted five to ten knots from the northeast reached us. They were enough to move the little sloop into quieter motion than the cigarette boat. The only sound a gurgle from her bow.

That bow was pointed north. My destination was Fayette, a ghost town two hundred miles away on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, which looks pretty in cruising guide photographs, or perhaps Beaver Island, a similar distance. But I really had no destination, I just wanted to sail for longer than the day sails I had thus far made during the year I owned GANNET.

Two hours later GANNET abruptly heeled before an unexpected gust. And kept on heeling. A leaf, but a seaworthy leaf with exactly half her 2050 pound displacement in her fin keel, she buried her lee rail before I could ease the mainsheet traveler and put more bend in the mast with the backstay, control lines for both conveniently at hand. As I slid from the starboard side of the cockpit, I noted that her deck is more ‘skid’ than ‘non’, something I will have to change before taking her to sea.

The distance of slide cannot be far in a boat with a 7’ 2” beam and the direction of my skid was useful, bringing me to where the furling line for the jib was cleated. I took in a few wraps. GANNET came back up and we sailed on; but not for long.

As the wind continued to build, it backed, forcing us onto a converging course with Racine, Wisconsin. With a northeast wind, I had expected us to be close-hauled that day. Close-hauled is a good point of sail in five to ten knots. Less so in what I estimated to be twenty and later learned was recorded with gusts of twenty-five ashore.

Often during the past year, people have said to me, “But we’ve only sailed on the lake.” And I have always responded that In many ways I think lake sailing is more difficult than ocean sailing: weather changes more quickly with systems that move from land to water and back again; even on a lake as big as Michigan you are always only thirty or forty miles off a lee shore; ships and other boats can and do come at you from all directions and speeds; and in relatively shallow water, the wind creates shorter, steeper, choppier waves than in the open ocean. GANNET was now laboring into those square waves. She isn’t really heavy enough to pound; but she was trying. Our SOG had dropped to four knots. Water was washing spiders from the bow.

With one elbow wrapped around a stanchion, I looked up at the sky. Sunny. A few scattered clouds. There was no clue as to where this wind was coming from. I don’t have the feel for inland skies that I do for those over oceans, but I sensed that this aberrant wind was going to last a while and that it was time to reef the main.

When close-hauled, I fall off to a beam reach to reef. Often at sea I have appreciated the dramatic change that makes: an uncomfortable beat, waves constant jabs interspersed with body blows, hard on sailor and boat, smooths and what was an ordeal becomes a pleasure. It is like reaching the promised land. And I sigh when the reef is in and I have to harden up again.

At the instant I decided to reef GANNET’s main, a light bulb went on in my mind: I realized I didn’t have to. I’d like to get to the north end of the lake, but I wanted good sailing more. I came about and eased the sheets.

On a port close reach, the little sloop’s bow, now pointing east toward Holland, Michigan seventy miles away, slashed across three foot waves instead of slamming into them. Our SOG almost doubled. And I smiled. The change of wind angle had brought us to the promised land. Forget Fayette and Beaver Island. I would sail last year’s planned two hundred mile triangle cancelled by a detached retina: across to the eastern shore, southwest to downtown Chicago, and finally back north to our marina.

GANNET seemed to approve. Like her namesake, she flew.

After a dark blue hulled sloop, about the size of my last boat, the 37’ THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, diverted to come over to check us out around noon, we had the lake to ourselves. For a few hours, water, water, everywhere was wonderful.

As the Autohelm tiller pilot steered at six and seven knots, I moved back and forth between deck and cabin. Deck was more pleasant with the cooling wind, but too much sun. To protect my skin, I changed from shorts and t-shirt to Levis and long sleeved shirt. Spray over the bow kept the forward hatch closed and the cabin hot, but I was in the shade, and one of the two most comfortable positions I found as we sailed was sitting in a Sportaseat on the cabin floor boards, facing aft. When I got too hot, I went back on deck.

In the cockpit I found that two flotation cushions fill the sole. One alone continually slid down. I needed to buy a third as a back rest. Moore 24s have a lot of hard edges.

I also spent time in the second most comfortable position, standing in what I suppose is the companionway, though GANNET has no ladder, only a big step down to one of the pipe berths or a bigger step to what I like to call her Great Cabin floor. Again, I’m not certain the two planks there qualify as a sole. At my height of 6’ 1”, the deck comes to just above my waist. Wedging a flotation cushion between hip and hatch coaming, I felt I was wearing the little boat. I could reach all control lines: main and jib sheets, halyards, boom vang, furling line. I could see the mainsail and, leaning over, the jib and the horizon to leeward. The new fully battened main and furling jib were setting well.

The only mishap that afternoon came when I broke the Lewmar line clutch securing the main and spinnaker halyards by running the main halyard to the port side winch to try to get a little more tension on the luff--the jib sheet was on the starboard winch. A very dumb idea. The clutch was not designed for loads from that angle and the side pulled away. It continued to hold, but I also tied the halyard to a cleat.

GANNET’s galley is a tiny JetBoil gas canister stove, similar to the French Camping Gaz stove I used during my voyage in the 18’ open yawl, CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, but more efficient. All I do is boil water--literally--so for my purposes the JetBoil is perfect, bringing two cups of water to a boil in about a minute, during which I hold it from sliding around the vast Great Cabin floor. Boiled water into the pouch of a freeze dried meal--beef stroganoff that night. Pouch sealed for ten minutes. And a culinary delight. Well, perhaps not. But no mess, no clean-up except a spoon, and good enough for me while underway.

Mid-July sunset came at 8:30, and as the sky darkened and lights became visible ahead on the Michigan shore, our world became smaller. Too soon. That water was everywhere was an illusion. Land was. The fifth biggest lake in the world is still a lake.

I let us reach on to the east for another hour, until in the very last twilight with the iNavX iPad app showing us to be twelve miles offshore I gybed onto the second side of our triangle toward Chicago, now fifty-five miles to the southwest. The iPad had proven to be a good chartplotter except that I could not read the screen in bright sunlight. This didn’t matter. It gets positions from within the cabin and is safer there.

Settled on our new course, I reengaged the tiller pilot and leaned forward to turn on the night lighting on the mast mounted Velocitek ProStart whose internal GPS provides SOG and COG and found that the ProStart has none. This was my first night sail on GANNET. It had never occurred to me that the ProStart wouldn’t have internal lighting. While perhaps all races start during daylight, some do continue after dark. Greater fool, I.

GANNET has a conventional compass mounted in the cockpit whose night lighting does work. And four handheld GPS units, three of them transferred from the recently sold THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, in addition to the iPad. And I could see the ProStart by flashlight. So we were in no immediate danger of losing direction.

Although the starboard pipe berth proved unexpectedly comfortable, I got only a few hours of broken sleep that night, being more concerned about other boats and ships than I would have been at sea.

On THE HAWKE OF TUONELA and my other boats of similar size, on passages I have slept on the leeward settee berth in the main cabin. On GANNET, even my slim body is significant weight, so I will usually end up on the windward pipe quarter berth. Although I had not yet installed lee cloths and the wind continued to blow around twenty knots, it was behind us and GANNET was not heeled much, so I had no trouble remaining in place.

I found the berth easy to get in and out of, which was an advantage because I Jack-in-the-boxed up and down all night.

I saw a blood red half moon rise before midnight; a starrier sky than in the city; and had to dodge two ships heading in the general direction of Gary, Indiana. The running lights of both were difficult to distinguish in long bands of white lights illuminating their decks. Near 3:00 a.m. I stood in the companionway for several minutes, trying to figure out which way one of those ships was heading. When I finally did see her red bow light, I realized that she was much closer than I had thought and we were on converging courses. GANNET’s running lights were on, but only two feet above the water and in three foot waves, I didn’t know if anyone on the ship could see them. A masthead tri-color is needed. The ship didn’t change course, so I did. Stepping up into the cockpit, tightening the mainsheet and swinging GANNET’s bow into the wind until the slab sided shadow passed.

When I was below deck, sounds were louder than on my other boats. Bow wave roared; Autohelm groaned. Because of her size both were closer to me, but I think more likely they were louder because GANNET’s interior is a hollow drum that magnifies sound.

The blood red moon rise was followed by a blood red sun rise and first light hitting the glass walls of Chicago skyscrapers. Sailing toward Chicago at dawn is magic. Not an Emerald City, but as I stood in the companionway sipping a cup of instant coffee, I felt I was sailing toward the Land of Oz.

To delay our arrival until daylight, I had furled the jib and was sailing under main; but now, not wanting to discover at the last minute that I had a serious problem, I used a screwdriver to disengage the gripping mechanism of the broken main halyard clutch and lowered that sail, proceeding the last few miles under deeply furled jib.

I had never sailed into Chicago before. A couple of miles off the outer breakwater, I passed a red and white striped structure that is one of the intakes for the city’s drinking water.

My destination was a mooring at what is called Monroe Harbor, one of ten in the biggest municipal harbor system in the U.S. In what was another first for me, when they did not respond to VHF, I called their office on my cell phone for assignment.

As I approached mooring H12 slowly under Torqeedo, I realized that I didn’t have a boat hook. GANNET has so little freeboard it didn’t matter. I simply powered forward until the mooring was alongside, reached over and grabbed it with one hand and threaded a line through with the other.

Monroe Harbor is in the heart of downtown, surrounded by Chicago’s skyline, but even with rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive only a few yards away, I was surprised by how quiet it was.

I was happy to be on a mooring again. Because of the work I needed to do on GANNET, I wanted her in a slip her first two summers, but with the completion of most projects and the installation of four 25 watt Aurinco solar panels, she was now self-sufficient. If I had kept her on Lake Michigan another year, I knew I would have done so at Monroe Harbor.

Sitting on deck the two evenings I was there watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers ashore was as magical as the sunrise on my approach. Her public spaces are among Chicago’s greatest attributes, and contiguous Grant Park and Millennium Park just across Lake Shore Drive from Monroe Harbor open up views of the skyline that are magnificent from the water.

With a cup of coffee on deck the next morning, I watched early joggers, dog walkers and bicyclists. Ten figures standing bolt upright, seemingly a moving line of fence posts, confused me until I realized they were on Segways.

I used the tender service ($4.50 a ride for transients) to go ashore for lunch and wander around downtown. On a beautiful summery afternoon, happy crowds were everywhere, staring at their reflections in the sculpture known locally as “The Bean,” wading in the reflecting pool at the Crown Fountain, pausing to listen as I did to a symphony orchestra rehearsing in the Getty designed pavilion for that evening’s free concert.

I walked the few blocks up Michigan Avenue to the Chicago River, once the reason for the city’s existence, now a canal deep in a canyon of tall buildings. Tour boats, a couple of private power boats, and even a few kayakers dotted its brown green surface.

The river is still a way to the sea. All the bridges open at set intervals during the summer to enable boats with masts to pass through. A thousand miles of powering is too much for me and it would be the wrong ocean. GANNET will travel to the Pacific at 50 knots on her trailer.

After lunch at one of the countless cafes along the way, I returned to GANNET. Carol and I had lived in the Chicago area for six years. I’d been in The Loop countless times. Yet being on a boat made it new.

There are multiple breakwaters in Chicago Harbor.

Dropping my mooring at 7:00 the next morning, I Torqeedoed through the half empty mooring field to the center channel, passing a young woman rowing an inflatable. There is no tender service that early, and from the way she was dressed I concluded she was on her way to work. A nice commute.

Just beyond the breakwater protecting Monroe Harbor, I found light wind from the southeast, set sail, cut the Torqeedo, and hand steered GANNET for the main breakwater entrance, turning north when I was outside.

The shore falls away north of downtown Chicago slightly to the NNW and to keep the sails full I had to sail slightly to the NNE. At 8:15 I gybed in order to sail close to Evanston, where we live a few blocks inland.

Once on course, I experimented with sheet to tiller self-steering which I used successfully during my first two circumnavigations on EGREGIOUS, a 37‘ cutter, and CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, an 18‘ open yawl. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t get it to work on GANNET. Tiring of her swinging drunkenly, I decided to try again another day and reengaged the tiller pilot.

We came back to the shore at Evanston’s South Beach, but trees blocked the view of our condo.

Gybing again, I set the new asymmetrical for the first time. Unfortunately, this too, did not go well.

With no point of attachment right at the bow, I hooked the Facnor gennaker furling drum into the forward slot in the toe rail, which wasn’t good enough. The sail remained blanketed by the main. However, the Facnor gear did furl it nicely.

Asymmetrical furled and lowered, I considered setting the regular spinnaker. But the day had become sunny and I was hot and sweaty, some of which had run into my damaged right eye. And I had run out of ambition. So I unfurled the jib, let GANNET happily broad reach north at mostly six knots, and enjoyed the day.

Even with time lost to failed experiments, we covered the forty miles to North Point Marina quickly and were off the breakwater just after 2:00 p.m.

Ominously a Coast Guard inflatable followed us all the way to our slip, hovering just off the stern as I tied up. I assumed I was in for a routine inspection. GANNET is legal. All the required stuff is aboard and working. But an inspection was not the way I wanted to spend the next half hour.

One of the three uniformed men aboard the patrol boat smiled and asked, “Is that a Torqeedo?” He was thinking of buying one for his own boat and wanted to know how I liked it.

A few pleasant minutes talking electric outboards and they were gone.

I straightened up GANNET. Then sat on deck with a warm Heineken and the last of a box of Cheese-Its. I’d put a couple of hundred miles on the little boat. Had some fine sailing. Loved being on the Monroe Harbor mooring, one of the great urban sailing experiences in the world. Learned a lot. Had some things to think about and some new problems to solve.

A young duck swam over. I’d had enough Cheese-Its and broke my rule about not feeding begging birds. Ducks like Cheese-Its.

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For use by academics who like to compare manuscripts, here is the shortened version that appeared in print.

GANNET is a leaf. A Moore 24, she moves with the least breath of wind.

We did not have even a least breath as the electric outboard whirred us from our slip fifty miles north of Chicago onto Lake Michigan. Just outside the breakwater, I turned off the Torqeedo and we sat on glass in sunshine. A cigarette boat followed us out, roared into motion, abruptly stopped and limped at slow speed back inside. Good.

That bow was pointed north. My destination was Fayette, a ghost town two hundred miles away on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. But I really had no destination. I just wanted to sail for longer than I had thus far during the year I owned GANNET.

Two hours later the little sloop abruptly heeled before an unexpected gust. A leaf, but a seaworthy leaf with half her 2050 pound displacement in her fin keel, she buried her lee rail before I could ease the mainsheet traveler and put more bend in the mast. As I slid from the starboard side of the cockpit, I noted that her deck is more ‘skid’ than ‘non’.

The distance of slide cannot be far in a boat with a 7’ 2” beam. I took in a few wraps in the furling jib. GANNET came back up and we sailed on; but not for long.

As the wind continued to build to twenty knots, gusting twenty-five, it backed, forcing us onto a converging course with Racine, Wisconsin.

Often during the past year, people have said to me, “But we’ve only sailed on the lake.” And I have always responded that In many ways I think lake sailing more difficult than ocean sailing: weather changes more quickly with systems that move from land to water and back again; even on a lake as big as Michigan you are always only thirty or forty miles off a lee shore; ships and other boats come at you from all directions; and in relatively shallow water, the wind creates shorter, steeper, choppier waves than in the open ocean. GANNET was now laboring into those square waves. She isn’t heavy enough to pound; but she was trying. Our SOG had dropped to four knots. Water was washing spiders from the bow.

With one elbow wrapped around a stanchion, I looked up at the sky. Sunny. A few scattered clouds. I don’t have the feel for inland skies that I do for those over oceans, but I sensed that this wind was going to last a while and that it was time to reef the main.

When close-hauled, I fall off to a beam reach to reef. I always appreciate the dramatic change that makes: an uncomfortable beat, hard on sailor and boat, smooths and what was an ordeal becomes a pleasure. It is like reaching a promised land. And I sigh when the reef is in and I have to harden up again.

At the instant I decided to reef GANNET’s main, I realized I didn’t have to. More than seeing Fayette, I wanted good sailing. I came about and eased the sheets.

On a port close reach, GANNET’s bow, now pointing east toward Holland, Michigan seventy miles away, slashed across three foot waves instead of slamming into them. Our SOG almost doubled. And I smiled. The change of wind angle had brought us to the promised land. Forget Fayette. I would sail last year’s planned two hundred mile triangle cancelled by a detached retina: across to the eastern shore, southwest to Chicago, back north to our marina.

GANNET seemed to approve. Like her namesake, she flew.

All afternoon we had the lake to ourselves. For a few hours, water, water, everywhere was wonderful.

As the tiller pilot steered at six and seven knots, I moved between deck and cabin. Deck was more pleasant with a cooling wind, but too much sun. To protect my skin, I changed to Levis and long sleeved shirt. Spray over the bow kept the forward hatch closed and the cabin hot, but I was in the shade, and one of the two most comfortable positions I found as we sailed was sitting in a Sportaseat on the cabin floor, facing aft. When I got too hot, I went back on deck.

In the cockpit I found that two flotation cushions fill the sole. I needed to buy a third as a back rest. Moore 24s have a lot of hard edges.

I also spent time in the second most comfortable position, standing in the companionway, though GANNET has no ladder, only a big step down to the pipe berths. At my height of 6’ 1”, the deck comes to just above my waist. Wedging a flotation cushion between hip and hatch coaming, I felt I was wearing the little boat. I could reach all control lines. I could see the mainsail and, leaning over, the jib and the horizon to leeward. The new fully battened main and furling jib were setting well.

GANNET’s galley is a JetBoil gas canister stove. All I do is boil water, so for my purposes the JetBoil is perfect, bringing two cups of water to a boil in about a minute, during which I hold it from sliding around GANNET’s vast Great Cabin floor. Boiled water into the pouch of a freeze dried meal--beef stroganoff that night. Pouch sealed for ten minutes. And a culinary delight. Well, perhaps not. But no mess, no clean-up except a spoon, and good enough while underway.

I let us continue east for another hour, until in the very last twilight with the iNavX iPad app showing us twelve miles offshore, I gybed toward Chicago, now fifty-five miles to the southwest.

Settled on our new course, I leaned forward to turn on the night lighting on the mast mounted Velocitek ProStart whose GPS provides SOG and COG, and found that it has none. This was my first night sail on GANNET. It had never occurred to me that the ProStart wouldn’t have internal lighting.

GANNET has a conventional compass mounted in the cockpit whose night lighting does work. And several handheld GPS units in addition to the iPad as chartplotter. So we were in no immediate danger of losing direction.

Although the starboard pipe berth proved comfortable, I got only a few hours of sleep that night, being more concerned about other craft than I would have been at sea.

On past boats I have slept on the leeward settee berth. On GANNET, even my slim body is significant weight, so I will usually end up on the windward pipe quarter berth. Although I had not yet installed lee cloths, the wind was behind us and I had no trouble remaining in place.

I found the berth easy to get in and out of, which was good because I Jack-in-the-boxed up and down all night.

I saw a blood red half moon rise before midnight; a starrier sky than in the city; and had to dodge two ships. The running lights of both were difficult to distinguish. Near 3:00 a.m. I stood in the companionway for several minutes, trying to figure out which way one of those ships was heading. When I finally did see her red bow light, I realized that she was closer than I thought and we were on converging courses. GANNET’s running lights were on, but in three foot waves I didn’t know if anyone could see them. The ship didn’t change course, so I did, swinging GANNET’s bow into the wind until the slab sided shadow passed.

The blood red moon rise was followed by a blood red sun rise and first light hitting the glass walls of Chicago skyscrapers rising from flat land. Sailing toward Chicago at dawn is magic. As I stood in the companionway sipping a cup of instant coffee, I felt I was sailing toward the Land of Oz.

My destination was a mooring at Monroe Harbor, one of ten in Chicago’s municipal harbor system. When they did not respond to VHF, I called their office on my cell phone for assignment, something I’ve never done before.

As I approached mooring H12 slowly under Torqeedo, I realized that I didn’t have a boat hook. GANNET has so little freeboard it didn’t matter. I simply powered until the mooring was alongside, reached over and threaded a line through.

Monroe Harbor is in the heart of downtown, surrounded by Chicago’s skyline; but even with rush hour traffic on Lake Shore Drive only a few yards away, I was surprised by how quiet it was.

I was happy to be on a mooring again. With the installation of four Aurinco solar panels, GANNET was now self-sufficient.

Sitting on deck the two evenings I was there watching the lights come on in the skyscrapers ashore was as magical as the sunrise on my approach. Her public spaces are among Chicago’s greatest attributes, and parks open up views of the skyline that are magnificent from Monroe Harbor.

The next morning I watched early joggers, dog walkers and bicyclists. Ten figures standing bolt upright, seemingly a moving line of fence posts, confused me until I realized they were on Segways.

I used the tender service to go ashore and wander around downtown. On a beautiful afternoon, happy crowds were everywhere, staring at their reflections in the sculpture known locally as “The Bean,” wading in the reflecting pool, pausing to listen as I did to an orchestra rehearsing in the Getty designed pavilion for that evening’s free concert.

I walked up Michigan Avenue to the Chicago River, once the reason for the city’s existence, now a canal deep in a canyon of tall buildings. Tour boats, a couple of private power boats, and a few kayakers dotted its brown green surface.

The river is still a way to the sea. All the bridges open at intervals during the summer to enable boats to pass through. A thousand miles of powering is too much for me. GANNET would travel to the Pacific on her trailer.

Carol and I had lived in the Chicago area for six years. I’d been in The Loop countless times. Yet being on a boat made it new.

There are multiple breakwaters in Chicago Harbor.

Dropping my mooring at 7:00 the next morning, I Torqeedoed through the mooring field to the center channel, passing a young woman dressed for work rowing an inflatable. A nice commute.

Just beyond the breakwater protecting Monroe Harbor, I found light wind from the southeast, set sail, and steered for the main breakwater entrance, turning north when I was outside.

The shore falls away north of downtown Chicago slightly to the NNW and to keep the sails full I had to sail slightly to the NNE. At 8:15 I gybed to sail close to Evanston, where we live a few blocks inland.

Once on course, I experimented with sheet to tiller self-steering which I used successfully during my first two circumnavigations. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t get it to work on GANNET. Tiring of her swinging drunkenly, I decided to try again another day and reengaged the tiller pilot.

We came back to the shore at Evanston’s South Beach, but trees blocked the view of our condo.

Gybing again, I set the new asymmetrical for the first time. Unfortunately, this too, did not go well.

With no point of attachment at the bow, I hooked the gennaker furling drum into the forward slot in the toe rail, which wasn’t good enough. The sail remained blanketed by the main. However, the Facnor gear did furl it nicely.

Even with time lost to failed experiments, we covered the forty miles to North Point Marina quickly and were off the breakwater just after 2:00 p.m.

One of the three uniformed men aboard the patrol boat smiled and asked, “Is that a Torqeedo?” He was thinking of buying one for his own boat and wanted to know how I liked it.

A few pleasant minutes talking electric outboards and they were gone.

A young duck swam over. I’d had enough Cheese-Its and broke my rule about not feeding begging birds. Ducks like Cheese-Its.