| Travels of Dursmirg Vol. 1 Chapter 6 |
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CHAPTER 6 BEYOND LAKE SUPERIOR
September 3rd, 1972 we cast off our dock lines at 9:10 AM and began our trip down the Saint Mary’s River and
past Sugar Island, Neebish Island and Drummond Island before arriving at a place called Detour Passage. The river
area was definitely beautiful and winding but we were several times shocked to come around a corner and
encounter one of those enormous lake freighters bearing down on us that somehow looked like they just were too
big for the river let alone to allow us to pass.
had extensive welding done to it, which created its own magnetic field that in turn deflects the compass. The biggest
had extensive welding done to it, which created its own magnetic field that in turn deflects the compass. The biggest
problem was that this hull magnetism was gradually diminishing and changing over time and therefore we needed to
continuously up grade a special little chart that we made called a “deviation chart”, which then enabled us to make a
Napier Diagram. From our deviation chart we were able to calculate by incorporating the magnetic variation from the
navigational chart our true heading, magnetic heading and compass heading which were all necessary in order to
plot our courses.
plot our courses.
(From Nathaniel Bowditch)
Napier diagram; A diagram on which compass deviation is plotted for
various headings, and the points connected by a smooth curve, permitting
deviation problems to be solved quickly without interpolation.
It consists of a vertical line, usually in two parts, each part
being graduated for 180° of heading, and two additional sets of lines
at an angle of 60° to each other and to the vertical lines. See also
DEVIATION TABLE.
Oh, by the way!
Consider this: at the time we were venturing out with our boat to see the world navigation was still done by dead
reckoning and celestial navigation. Our radio was VHF with only four working channels, one of which was used only
for calling the Coast Guard. That channel also broadcast the weather in code several times a day that covered the
entire Great Lakes. There was no Loran or Global Positioning System and we navigated much like mariners had
done for many centuries.
Back to the boat:
At 2:25 PM we ventured out onto Lake Huron and watched the land slowly disappear off our stern. The day was
partly cloudy and pleasant with a light westerly breeze.
At 4:25 that afternoon we caught our first glimpse of shore ahead and by 7:30 that evening we were docked at a
commercial dock at Rogers City, Michigan, (Calcite was the name of the docking area), which is in the lower
peninsula of Michigan.
The world’s largest limestone quarry is located here and that product is shipped out making this one of the major
Great Lakes ports.
The dock was deserted and tremendously big. We had our dinner and went to sleep only to be awakened a short
time later by the roar of engines and as we peered out we were amazed at the sight we were seeing.
One of the large lake freighters had pulled in and as soon as it arrived a tugboat came out to meet it and began
pushing and pulling until the freighter was turned one hundred and eighty degrees and backed into an awaiting slip
where it was promptly filled with rock. The whole process appeared to be well practiced and neatly done. The
loading of the freighter was very noisy and that end of the harbor was ablaze with floodlights for the whole loading
process that was completed in several hours. When the freighter was filled it cranked up and left on its own as it was
already pointed in the proper direction to go straight out into the lake. Then there was silence for the remainder of
the night. The harbor was not completely sheltered from the lakes wave action and we had a good-sized surge that
wouldn’t be noticed by one of those lake freighters but we rocked noticeably.
Oh, by the way!
One thing that we were very surprised at was the fact that all of the way from the Apostle Islands in the western part
of Lake Superior to where we were now docked we hadn’t encountered a single other cruising boat of any kind. This
just wasn’t the place for pleasure boating. Small outboard boats would venture out to fish near the shore but few
people ever made extended voyages in these northern reaches of the Great Lakes mostly because of the
horrendous weather conditions that seem to unpredictably change in seconds.
September 4th, 1972: This day was my 32nd birthday and I was on my way to an adventure that would turn out to
be the second best thing I had ever done, second only to my marriage to my “sweet Jane”, now 28 years old.
We had sold everything we owned back in our old hometown of Superior, Wisconsin. We were now free to go at our
own pace, to the places we wanted and when we wanted. The nicest thing of all was we were also free to stay as
long as we pleased and soon would have time to pursue our own self-indulgences that included the reading of
books we would now have the time to enjoy. My hobbies and make-it-myself projects could be done with out a rush
and our only time constraint now would be to beat the fall weather to the sunny south country…hopefully ahead of
those Canadian geese that would soon be overhead and on the wing.
This day our trip would take us south to the town of Alpena, Michigan, situated in a bay named “Thunder Bay”. At 5:
20 PM we were headed into the ship canal and we were surprised to see several small open fishing boats blocking
the channel. We wondered if these were the same kind of people that stood in front of elevators and escalators to
block access. The channel was big enough for a ship to enter but if a big ship had been coming it wouldn’t have had
maneuvering space and some kind of disaster surely would have happened.
We tied to a vacant coal loading dock adjacent to the downtown shopping center. The location was a good one
because we wanted fuel oil for our engine and as there was no marina facility there we could at least get the local
fuel company to deliver our diesel fuel directly to our boat. These are the same trucks that delivered home heating
fuel, so getting service in this part of the world was no problem because most homes here used that type of fuel.
We had some shopping to do and the grocery store was close-by. I also had contracted a tooth infection that
needed care and we were very fortunate to find a dentist that took me in early the next morning.
September 5th, 1972 we were up early to take care of all of the items we had planned for the day.
We were fortunate with all we had planned including our appointments with the dentist and the fuel truck driver and
by 1:25 PM that afternoon we were cranked up and cast off on our way to our next port.
By 5:30 that afternoon we were in a tiny little harbor of Harrisville, Michigan. This wasn’t a long day of boating but it
had been very active from early morning and we were eager to tie up the vessel and take it easy for a while.
Jane and I took a swim to freshen up and we were surprised that the water was bone chilling cold. I believe that a
person with a weak heart might have expired in the shockingly cold water but we had been accustomed to the frigid
waters of Lake Superior and knew that the time spent in this cold water had to be limited. We later learned that a
bathhouse with a hot shower was available but the manager of this marina hadn’t expected any customers this time
of year and locked the facilities up early.
Just as we were beginning to prepare our dinner we received a visitor that insisted that we come to his home for
dinner.
Bill Farrow and his wife had just retired to this little lakeside town and were getting used to the quiet and slow pace
of a small town. Their lovely new home overlooked the lake and was directly up the hill from where our boat was tied
in the marina. Bill and his wife had watched as Jane and I had pulled into the harbor and when we went up to their
home we too could see the fantastic view that made it look like we had parked directly in their front yard.
We didn’t leave this lovely little harbor town until the 8th of September because we couldn’t say no to the wonderful
hospitality. Between Bill Farrow and his wife plus their neighbors from across the street, Bill and Ann Akers, we had
a most fabulous time. We all had stories to tell and they took us in and had to show all that they had for local
attractions. These people were enjoying their retirement to the fullest but we got the feeling that they would have
loved to come along and sailed away with us on our upcoming adventure.
(A letter Jane sent to her parents.)
1972 Sept 7
Dear Mom and Dad, Joel and John;
We are in Harrisville, Michigan. We got in Tuesday evening and have been here since. We had a real bad
windstorm yesterday and last night so we decided not to leave. Our next stop is Harbor Beach, Michigan and then
Port Huron, Michigan. We only have 150 more miles to travel on Lake Huron. Then down the Saint Clair and Detroit
Rivers to Lake Erie. We are going to stop at an Island called Put-in Bay for a couple of days in Lake Erie and from
there we really have no plans.
We kind of drift with the nice weather. We sure met a lot of nice people along the way. We met a retired couple here
in Harrisville who had us to their house for supper last night. Everything that we had to eat they had raised in their
garden. They just moved her from Detroit when they retired in May.
The picture I’m sending you was taken in Alpena, Michigan which is 35 miles from here. We were there on the 5th.
We are really enjoying ourselves. It’s hard to get used to the idea that we don’t have to rush all of the time. We are
working on the boat every day however. Today I have to go to the top of the mast to install our radio antenna. I’m
not really anxious to go up but it’s got to be done.
We went out to eat at Sault Ste Marie to celebrate my birthday. The day before a bartender checked my
identification card which made me feel good as you only have to be 18 to drink in Michigan.
I better get my work done.
Love Jane
Oh, by the way!
We stayed in touch with these fine people from Harrisville, Michigan for many years and we even returned ten years
later by land to visit, but then we were saddened by the fact that our old friends had passed on.
This little incident gave us even more impetus to pursue our lives ambitions to the fullest and make sure our dreams
became reality.
September 8th, 1972 we left Harrisville, Michigan at 8:21 AM and felt good to have encountered such warm and
hospitable people that made our time at this little stopover into a cherished memory.
As we ventured out into Lake Huron and headed south we encountered some rough seas and as the day went on
we watched the seas build even further. Our logbook had several interesting notations regarding the sea conditions.
Jane wrote; “extremely rough seas”, followed by; “Rough seas”, “Rough seas!” and finally; “EXTREMELY ROUGH
SEAS!” I was being challenged close to the limits of my abilities to maintain course and by the time we approached
our port of destination which was Harbor Beach, Michigan the sails had to come down and Jane went forward on that
pitching deck to do the job. It was a good thing that we had plenty of training and schooling plus the fact that Jane
had the presence of mind to have on her safety harness clipped on to the lifeline because of what happened next.
As Jane was lowering the jib, (that is the triangular sail that attaches to a stay wire at the bow of the boat), and had it
more than half way down, the sail became inflated by the strong wind and literally pitched her skyward. Her safety
harness attached to a lifeline kept her onboard. Though she was badly bruised and battered she managed to
remain aboard. She then completed the retrieval of that flapping piece of canvas and I had to make a quick
judgment call as we bounded over those mounting mountainous waves. The harbor entrance looked like the eye of
a needle we would have to thread at high speed and we would only have one chance at it. Well, in we went!
Of course, I am still here to write this story; so dear reader you could easily guess that we made it in.
Once we were within the protection of the breakwater the sensation was of throwing a switch and shutting off the
waves. We definitely had enough of sailing for that day and picked the first available place to tie our vessel, which
was just inside the breakwater.
The waves were crashing upon the breakwater and many were spraying over with drenching mist that occasionally
turned to a torrent of icy water.
We were tied to the break-wall by 4:45 PM and decided to take a walk over to the Coast Guard Station that was on
the landside of the harbor entrance to see if we could get some good weather information.
We entered the station and introduced ourselves and told of our wild ride into the harbor entrance. We wanted to
take a look at their weather equipment and see just what the wind conditions were. We were surprised when we
spotted their anemometer that was registering a wind speed of about fifteen miles an hour. We couldn’t believe our
eyes and knew that there had to be some mistake. We then questioned the crew and we were told that their
anemometer was situated behind a large coal pile and that when the wind was from the north that their equipment
never registered high wind speeds. Sure enough we looked out their window and there sat their weather station
tower directly behind a huge coal pile and well protected from the northerly winds. There could be a lesson to be
learned from this incident and that is many times you need to be your own weatherman. I am sure that we weren’t
the only poor souls that had a perilous voyage because of this weather station’s report.
September 10th, 1972 we left Harbor Beach, Michigan at 8:25 AM and ventured out into rough seas heading
south. Our destination this day would be Port Huron, Michigan at the southern end of this big lake and across the
river from Sarnia, Ontario, Canada.
We were headed into these seas that were checking our forward speed and by 10:30 that morning we were
disappointed that our forward speed was only 4.7 knots, but we were headed toward the lee shore so that as we
were approaching the wind and sea conditions would be diminishing…a small consolation.
We had been warned of treacherous conditions within the Saint Clair River and especially beneath the “Blue Water
Bridge”. There two lake freighters had recently collided and one of them had sunk in a minute directly within the
shipping channel. Commercial shipping traffic was now restricted to one-way traffic.
Even without this impediment to the river, transiting the area is very difficult as there are no locks and the river water
is free to flow making the downstream trip like being washed down a sewer drain. At the same time making a return
upstream trip was almost impossible for a vessel with our speed capabilities. Yes, this would be a one-way trip for us.
Sure enough as we approached Port Huron the seas eventually diminished and our forward speed improved.
At 5:07 that afternoon we were passing under the “Blue Water Bridge” and as we had been instructed we clung to
the eastern, Canadian, shore and well away from the swift midstream currents and the sunken ship there.
We were ready to quit for the day and we were looking hard for a dock to tie to. We found one and pulled into the
“Port Terminal”. This was no prize as dockage went but we were tired and it would suffice for the night. Several
fishermen were fishing there and they looked like “down-and-outers” so we didn’t feel like we could rest well with out
constant vigilance.
Next we were paid a strange visit and that was by the border patrol. We were asked what our business was here and
how long we planned to stay, where we had come from and where we were going from here.
The officer informed us that we were actually tied to a private dock and that if the owner happened to arrive we were
sure to be billed $500.00 even if it was a brief stop. Then he suggested that we follow him to a marina upstream a
short distance where we would be safe and secure for the night. We agreed, but he was traveling by car and we
were in the boat. Well, we set out and low and behold the border patrolman led us along the river Saint Clair north to
the “Black River” by flashing his lights so we could follow him. As we pulled into the Black River we immediately
noticed that the river current diminished to the point that it almost felt slack. So, true to his word, the marina, Steven’
s Marina, proved to be a good choice and we certainly would have pulled in there if we had only known of its
existence as we passed by the first time.
We invited the border patrolman aboard to be friendly and thanked him for his advice and assistance. He signed our
guest book and then gave us a religious interrogation and even asked where our Bible was located. It turned out
that his name was Kenneth Harris and he was a Southern Baptist that had just recently been transferred to the area
from the “Heart of Dixie”.
Jane and I spent the next day on our bicycles touring over the “Blue Water Bridge”, to Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. This
proved to be a very interesting place and we couldn’t figure out why we hadn’t heard of it previously because it is
known as Canada’s “Chemical Valley!”
This place was Canada’s answer to Houston, Texas where every type of petrochemical known to man is formulated
and manufactured. Yes, it did stink but then we didn’t have to linger here and we were free to move on, which we did.
But first we had to search out a fellow “Ferro-cement” boat builder. On our bicycles we found the large steel
structure that was the construction site of this enormous boat under construction. Under the boat in a director’s
chair we found the owner who was giving instructions to several young workers.
The owners; Chuck and Sue Burden of Sarnia, Ontario were in the process of building this 55 foot trawler-style hull
that they planned to fit out with such creature comforts as their electric organ. Jane and I were absolutely amazed at
the approach these people were taking to the construction of their new boat.
Chuck and Sue were owners of several beauty salons and obviously had made sufficient money to afford the things
that they liked best in life. They also had a novel approach to boat building, and that was to hire several college
students that needed work in order to get through school and then put them to work doing the physical work
involved in the boat construction. When Chuck wasn’t pouring over the plans and giving instructions from his
director’s chair he was busy reading a large stack of books and newspapers. There was definitely something to be
said about this approach to boat building and Jane and I both thought it made perfectly good sense.
Chuck and his wife Sue came to visit our boat and we were able to exchange lots of good ideas about fitting out
boats and travels.
September 12th, 1972 we departed from Port Huron, Michigan at 11:15 AM and as we reached the Saint Clair
River and headed south our speed picked up noticeably. I don’t think that our vessel ever has traveled at such a
speed over the bottom as we did this day. We had our full speed plus the added shove of the strong downstream
river current to assist us on our way. (There are two kinds of boat speed; over the bottom, which is the speed from
point to point, and speed through the water, which is exactly that. For example; if you are going 6 knots through the
water but have a 10 knot current with you, you are actually going at 16 knots.)
We seemed to be flying along as we headed almost directly south from Saint Clair River into Saint Clair Lake. The
lake is huge but not too deep and there is a designated ships channel marked by buoys along the way. The reason I
mention the buoys here is that out upon the “Great Lakes” there are no such designated channels and no buoys
except at or near major ports.
This morning the fog was light and we paid close attention to our compass course out on Lake Saint Clair. Here we
were very surprised to find people old enough to know better, anchored in mid-channel fishing and paying
absolutely no attention whatsoever to the shipping traffic. Jane and I could only conclude that these people must
have had a death wish.
As we exited Saint Clair Lake, we then entered the Detroit River, which would then carry us south to the City of
Detroit, Michigan. In the Detroit River, north of downtown Detroit, we passed the neighborhood of the rich auto
industry people’s homes where money was obviously of no concern.
At 5:30 that afternoon we docked at Kean’s Marina, which was near downtown Detroit. Several things about the
place surprised us. First, we were situated north of Canada. Yes, to the south of us and across the river was
situated the city of Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
The next surprise was the amount of really big and extravagantly luxurious pleasure vessels that seemed to be just
joy riding up and down the river.
The big surprise was the security system at the marina. The marina was continuously locked up and guarded with
armed guards. To keep surveillance both day and night they employed a system after dark where an armed guard
had to personally walk each and every dock to its end and ring an electronic alarm. In the event that the guard did
not make his rounds and ring the alarm by the designated time, the city police would be automatically called.
September 13th, 1972 Jane and I contacted our friends that lived in Detroit. Wilson Moin and his family were from
Superior, Wisconsin and had moved to Detroit because of Wilson’s job as a research chemist at Parke-Davis Drug
Company, which was headquartered there.
Emmanuel Khoubesser, “Manny”, was another friend we looked up. He was the owner and manager of the Malaga
Pipe Company that manufactured and sold smoking pipes. He had called on my father’s drugstore and also the
drugstore of Wilson Moin’s father back in Superior as Manny’s father had done before him.
Well, we were astonished at the response and all of the activities that we became involved in the next four days.
Before we knew what was happening Wilson was to our boat to welcome us and right behind him came the
newspaper reporter and television people to do a special report on us and our adventures.
The flow of visitors was non-stop aboard our boat and we got to meet lots of interesting people. We went to the
home of Wilson Moin and his wife Tammy several times for dinner. Wilson even found a buyer for our canoe that we
hated to part with but our travels definitely became nicer without that impediment.
Wilson insisted that we take a day to visit the Ford Museum at “Greenfield”. He couldn’t come along but lent us his
car to use.
That side trip was far more than we had expected it to be in size, quality and variety. We definitely recommend the
place to anyone that is interested in America Industrial History and think that if you are anywhere nearby it is a “must-
see”.
Manny Khoubesser took us on a guided tour of his “Malaga Pipe Factory”, where he had manufacturing and also
pipe repair facilities.
We got to see a lot of the Detroit area in those four days including where the race riots took place and the bullet
riddled police station and downtown.
From early morning until late evening each day we were kept 100% occupied and finally had to leave town just to
get rested up. We were in top condition at that time so the activities had to be extra intense to wear us down …but
they did. We will be forever thankful to our friends for all their incredibly warm and wonderful hospitality.
September 16th, 1972 We left Kean’s Marina in Detroit at 8:35AM and we just needed to have some sleep…we
were completely partied out. We just had the most intense four days of activities we could ever remember and they
were worth the fatigue but we had to capitulate at this point and recuperate.
At 9:45 AM that morning we pulled into a Corp of Engineer dock and tied up and went directly to sleep. I told the
officer there what we were going to do first and that was no problem with them. In fact the crew there was all very
nice to us and gave us an armload of navigational charts that they thought we might need in our travels.
By 3 PM we had gotten enough rest to go on but we didn’t feel like we had too many more miles left in us that day.
The Corp of Engineer people told us of a nice dock downstream we might like, so we were off to try it out and by 3:
50 were tied to “Pier 500”, a nice marina, where we spent the remainder of the night and charged up our bodily
batteries some more.
This was a first for us; leaving town just to get rested up but over the years we would have to resort to this same
trick again.
September 17th, 1972 we were under way by 9:15 AM and continuing down the Detroit River headed for our next
“Great Lake”.
The river broadens out and eventually we would change from a southerly course to more easterly as we entered
Lake Erie.
Oh, by the way!
Lake Erie is the southern most lake of all of the Great Lakes. It is also the shallowest with a maximum depth of fifty
feet. When I was younger back in the 1940s and 1950s the news about the lake was that it had been completely
poisoned and polluted to the point that it didn’t support any forms of life, in other words the “dead inland sea”. In
those years the pollution was so bad that several of the major rivers in the industrial Mid-West, including the Illinois
River that runs right through downtown Chicago would burst into flame and burn in the heat of summer. There was
a little jingle that I remember from those years that went like this: “Lake Michigan water used to taste like Sherry wine
but now that Lake Michigan water tastes like turpentine!”
In recent years a big effort to clean the lakes has had some success. It wasn’t just the ‘American Robber Barons”
that indiscriminately fouled the waters and atmosphere. The Canadians were at it in a big way and still were. Some
years earlier and a few miles north at Sudbury, Ontario Jane and I witnessed the ecologic devastation caused by
International Nickel Company whose ghastly discharges completely blackened and killed all vegetation for a twenty-
five mile radius of their plant.
Back to our travels: By 12:54 we were abeam “Middle Sister Island”. This was one of the many Lake Erie Islands
located in western Lake Erie. Our course had taken us into international waters and we were following along the
border with Canada as we picked up our easterly course.
We had been told that we should visit at Middle Bass Island because they had a small harbor there and that we
might also enjoy visiting the winery.
At 3:30 PM that afternoon Jane and I had sailed around Middle Bass Island from the north side to the east side and
then to the south side before we spotted the winery dock and pulled in.
It was a beautiful day, the kind that sailors dream about and we were in good spirits and finally well rested. We
decided to do a little exploring and went up the hill to Lonz Winery to see what they had to offer and tell them we
were then tied to their dock plus see if it was OK to spend the night.
Chester Penn, the manager, greeted us and we seemed to hit it off with him right from the start. We were happy that
we had arrived here in the off-season and while the weather was still delightful.
Chester served us some of their best selections of wine to sample plus a cheese plate with crackers. Jane and I
were certain from that moment on that we had made the right choice in stopping here. We wound up staying for five
heavenly days but our first night was going to prove one of the most miserable of our entire trip and we were at least
happy that we had the protection of the little harbor there.
Jane and I returned to our boat at suppertime and we were surprised to find that we had company. At the dock was
a little “Morgan” twenty-five foot sailboat named, “Moriah”. The reason why I say “little” is because the owner of the
sailboat, George Swan was so big. George had to weigh close to 400 pounds and could have even weighed more.
When he walked on deck to the bow of the boat his little boat literally stood on its nose. This was the very first
cruising boat we had met on our entire trip so far. We got to be friends with George and we were traveling
companions all of the way to the Hudson River. George was from Chicago and was taking a new job in New Haven,
New Jersey where he was headed all alone aboard his sailboat.
Just about suppertime a Coast Guard boat came to inform us that a treacherous storm was imminently bearing down
on us and that it would be life threatening to venture out of port at that time. They told us to make ready for the
impending storm by securing all hatches and redoubling our dock lines. Wow! Were they right!
The sky blackened and the wind piped up. We were in for a real storm and it would be unrelenting the entire night.
There was to be no sleep this night and as I stood watch throughout that unmerciful storm I was indeed thankful for
the fact that we were at least tucked away in this little harbor. Even though the seas were crashing over the dock
and sending our twenty ton vessel charging off to the ends of its dock lines like a berserk horse thrashing insanely, I
was still in charge of the situation. We managed to partially wear through several dock lines because we didn’t have
sufficient chafing gear to protect the lines. Yes this was to be another lesson in our ongoing sailing experiences. I
was happy to see the sun coming up and the winds subside. Breakfast and a siesta and I was ready to pick up the
adventure anew.
A letter that Jane wrote
1972 Sept 18
Dear Mom, dad and Joel;
We are at Middle Bass Island, Ohio tied up in front of Lonz Winery on Lake Erie. We got here yesterday afternoon
from Detroit. We spent 4 days in Detroit, went to Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum, which were very
interesting. Jon Moin’s brother, Wilson took us all over the city and had us to his home 2 nights for dinner. Channel
4 TV in Detroit did a story on us and the newspaper wrote an article.
It looks like we will be tied up for a while because we are having a terrible storm. At least 50 knot winds, can hardly
stand up outside. We were lucky, we got in two hours before the storm hit. I may have already mentioned it but we
saw another Ferro cement boat under construction in Sarnia, Ontario. We’ve sure met a lot of interesting people
along the way.
I suppose John will have left for the Army by the time you get this. Send me his address when you get it. When are
Jim and Penn heading south? Let me know what is going on.
We sure have had warm weather- between 70 and 80 degrees.
Write and keep me posted.
Love Jane and Bing
Jane and I had our bikes out to explore and in our travels found time to chat with Chester Penn, the manager of
Lonz Winery. We told him our story and we were surprised to find out that he had been born in Superior, Wisconsin.
His dad had a monument business in Duluth Minnesota. We were far enough away from our hometown, of Superior,
Wisconsin now so that most people we told of our homeport didn’t even know where it was located.
Chester was very interesting, giving us much of the history and points of interest in the area.
A few things he told of were that this small island was the home of two wineries, and that the loud gun shots we
heard really weren’t guns at all, but LP gas fired noisemakers that only sounded like small cannons blowing off
intermittently to scare the birds away from the grape vines.
Another interesting fact was the fact that the island was serviced by the shortest commercial airline in the country
and was still was using old Ford Tri-motors. Sure enough just as he was speaking one of those relics of the past
came overhead. The airline existed primarily to transport students from the island to Sandusky, Ohio to go to school
daily.
We were told of the large monument that resembled the Washington Monument that stood on an adjacent island
called, Put-In-Bay. The monument was “Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial National Monument”. We
were told that it would be worth the trip over and we must visit it before we left the area, which we did. We used our
dingy and ten horsepower motor to get there and it was still a long haul but worth the effort. The view from the top
was spectacular, taking in all of the Lake Erie Islands, a view of Michigan, Ohio and Canada to the north.
Admiral Perry had done a spectacular thing by building his own fleet of war vessels on the Ohio shore and the
setting sail to decisively defeat the British. His flagship still existed and was in a waterfront memorial park at Erie,
Pennsylvania where we would soon be visiting on our voyage.
Chester wanted Jane and I to come to his house for dinner that night and he wanted us to meet his associate Lorito
Lazarony, “Lorry”, who happened to be the winery chemist and had a degree in his profession from Italy.
Jane and I were given many bags of ripe apples by the natives because this was the apple season and this year
there was a bumper crop. Jane had no problem with all the apples and had a steady production of fresh apple pie
coming out of her shipboard kitchen, “galley”. Of course we had ten times more than we could consume ourselves
but the pies were a huge hit everywhere we visited.
We met Chester Penn that afternoon at the winery where Lorry Lazarony had his laboratory and all of this test
equipment. We were happy to meet this enthusiastic and colorful character who really knew his business and
described many of the processes and much of the equipment to us in his heavily accented and broken English.
Chester told us that Lorry’s favorite drink was Champagne and that they had a overabundance of it and that we
should please be so kind as to help them in diminishing that inventory. What a dinner and party we had!
We got together every night we were on the island and discovered that we too had developed a liking for
Champagne.
Afternoons a couple, Joe and Ann Braddock, came down to the little harbor to fish. Ann was an especially colorful
character; she, in her younger years, had been on the swimming team with Johnny Wiessmueller, (Tarzan). Now
they were content to come to their summer cabin here on Middle Bass Island for the peace and quiet of the off-
season and do some fishing. They told how the fish were just now returning to the lake that had been completely
dead and devoid of marine life.
Joe and Ann Braddock were friendly people that we shared many a story with and they invited us to visit them when
we stopped at Cleveland, Ohio, which we did with George Swan, our newly acquired traveling companion. Ann put
on a special Polish dinner in the traditional way. We spent a day with them and it made our trip even more
meaningful to be able to have time to mingle with the locals and see just how different these areas are.
Oh, by the way!
We found that now we were seeing a completely different world that isn’t visible to the rushed traveler. All my old
associates back in Superior, Wisconsin unanimously told us that we would never be able to slow down because we
were perceived as, “workaholics”. It took more than six months of conscious effort to adapt to this new life style but
the new way of life has been the best change we together have ever done and no, we have no regrets but only wish
that we could have left sooner.
Below; Lonz Winery at Middle Bass Island, Ohio.
Lonz Winery, Middle Bass Island, Ohio. Wine ageing barrels.
View from the top of the Perry’s Monument at Put-In-Bay. Looking north is first Middle Bass Island, North
Bass Island and Canada beyond in western Lake Erie.
Dursmirg tied to the dock in front of Lonz Winery at Middle Bass Island, Ohio
September 22nd, 1972 Jane and I reluctantly left Middle Bass Island at 9:27 AM on an easterly course headed for
Cleveland, Ohio. Chester Penn came down to the dock that morning to see us off and bid us his good–bys. As a
parting gesture he presented us with a case of their finest Champagne.
We cherish these memories of this once in a lifetime encounter with these special people at a special time in our
lives when we all had the time to share and the place to do it that was exactly right in this special season of our lives.
Leaving Middle Bass Island we passed to the north of Kelley’s Island and then took a direct course to the harbor
entrance at Cleveland. We had a light northerly breeze and the day was the kind of day that sailors dream about. A
beam wind and easygoing seas made for a delightful passage. By 3 PM we were docked in downtown Cleveland at
the municipal dock.
We were told that a hurricane had just struck there in June. It completely devastated the marina and only two boats
remained after the storm passed, ironically those two boats had been sunk before the storm had struck.
In the harbor the military was demonstrating some new boat that they had just put into service…apparently for the
Vietnam War effort. We were invited aboard the boat. It had a revolutionary new type of diesel engine with 30
cylinders and only fifteen combustion chambers with three crankshafts and ten cylinders attached to each. The
principal of this engine was that into each combustion chamber two pistons would top out simultaneously thus
achieving the high compression needed for diesel combustion but with only half the piston travel. This made a very
high-speed engine that was comparatively light in weight. I didn’t think it would ever be too practical because of the
extreme amount of noise that it generated. Nobody could enter the engine compartment while the engine was in
operation and a glassed in soundproof control room was needed.
Aboard Dursmirg at Cleveland, Ohio) From left; Joe Braddock, George Swan from the boat “Moriah”, and
Ann Braddock. September 22nd, 1972
In Cleveland we had visitors in the night; this was our first time to have rats. They only got as far as the deck
because we had the boat closed.
Oh, by the way!
The next time we paid a visit to Cleveland by boat was in 2001 shortly after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. We were
just returning from Europe aboard the freighter, Irma.
September 15th, 2001 arriving in Cleveland, Ohio aboard the 600 foot freighter Irma from Europe. We had just
spent 17 days aboard and the aircraft in the photo was the first one we saw after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The
downtown stadium had a large illuminated sign that read: “God Bless America”
Note* Jane and I, in our boating adventures, have now sailed all of the Great Lakes, been through all of the
connecting rivers and canals, plus each and every lock including the entire Erie Canal
System.
Back to our travels:
September 23rd, 1972 we left the dock at Cleveland at 12:40 PM heading east and exited the harbor by the
eastern harbor entrance on our way to Grand River, Ohio. That afternoon it clouded over and we had a cold
rainstorm. At 4:30 that afternoon we docked while a light rain was coming down.
Grand River, Ohio is well known to boaters because it is the home of Merriman Holbrook, a company that specializes
in marine hardware and especially items for sailboats. We had several items that came from this very factory
installed on our boat and we were anxious to tour their facilities because we had many questions and also wanted to
see the latest that they had to offer. The bronze sail track, down haul track, pulleys, blocks and even our roller
furling gear to mention a few items all came from Merriman Holbrook. We spent an extra day here just to visit
Merriman Holbrook.
The next day, besides visiting Merriman Holbrook, we discovered that a young couple there was building a Ferro-
cement boat and we just had to investigate.
They had gotten their plans from the same company that published the book that had been our inspiration to build
our boat. They had their hull about 90% finished and I don’t think that they had any idea just how much more time,
effort and money that they would be sinking into their boat before it would sail away. We were very happy that our
boat, though not completely finished, at least was sufficiently together to move under its own power and was indeed
heading to a more salubrious climate.
September 25th, we left Grand River heading east along the coast on a very overcast day. At 4:20 that afternoon
we pulled into the small harbor at Ashtabula, Ohio for the night. This was the most drab and uninviting little place we
had visited on our entire trip so far. The little harbor was devoted solely to an industrialized waterfront where civic
pride wasn’t enough to spring for a little paint.
We turned around and docked at a vacant coal loading dock for the night and thought we might take a walk to see
this forlorn little town. We thought that the place might have some redeeming graces. The only person we found to
talk to was the bridge tender who told us a story about the previous bridge tender that dropped dead when a ship
was coming. That seemed to be the only claim to fame the town had.
September 26th, 1972 we departed the dingy little town of Ashtabula at 9:45 AM headed for Erie, Pennsylvania.
The day was bleak with fog, and then rain. Finally the rain and fog let up by early afternoon. We docked at the
public dock at Erie, Pennsylvania at 3:25 PM.
This was going to be one of our finest stops of our entire trip and we made friends for a lifetime here…so read on!
Erie, Pennsylvania was a one of a kind town that had a wide-awake atmosphere that was only made better by the
fine people we had the pleasure of meeting there.
Where we tied our boat was to a pier that was part of the city memorial park of Admiral Perry and his victorious 123-
foot ship the U.S. Brig Niagara. The main street extension came right down to this park and loped around it on its
way back downtown. The setting was picturesque.
No sooner did we tie our vessel than we were paid a visit by the owner and operator of a snack bar from across the
road there on the pier. Tom Callahan introduced himself and told us to pull our boat a little closer to his snack bar
so that we could plug in our electric cord. Well, this was the start of a fascinating friendship that goes on to this day.
Oh, by the way! A short description of Tom Callahan and his lovely family; Tom was a retired police officer from Erie
when we met him. This guy had a heart bigger than just about anybody and was just a compulsive do-gooder.
Tom also was an excessive smoker and paid the price when he had an operation to have his voice box removed.
Tom told us that after that operation several times he put a gun to his head and seriously contemplated suicide.
Well, this very determined man went on to train himself to speak with no voice box. With each word he had to exhale.
His speech was distinctive but he could speak perfectly and the doctors all told him that in all of their experience
they had never seen such a thing as a person speaking without a voice box. The only sad thing was that poor Tom
continued to puff his cigarettes…something that ultimately killed this fine person.
Sophie Callahan, Tom’s wife, was never seen without a big and infectious smile that instantly made you want to give
her a big hug. The two were a real team. Tom’s Irish ancestry came out in his glib tongue and quick wit. Sophie’s big
smile and sparkle of her eye told of her spunk that always was ready for fun times. Those two were just fun to be
around.
There were three children; a daughter and two sons named Tom and Pat. Tom was the one we got to know the very
best and he later came sailing with us. His brother Pat was a paratrooper instructor, age 19 at that time. To this day
we are in close contact with Tom Jr.
Back to Erie, Pennsylvania: Our five day stay in Erie turned out to be as much fun as we could stand. Our first
night in town Tom Callahan insisted that we all go to his favorite restaurant named “Nunzi’s” for their famous
antipasto salad for $1.75 per serving. It was fabulous and over the course of our visit to Erie we made several return
visits. Their pizza was memorable and the local beer was a big hit.
That local beer was called Koehler and we all paid that fine brewery a visit to sample their beer fresh from the barrel.
We also replenished our 16-gallon keg that we kept hooked up in our bilge with a spigot in the galley.
We were invited out to the Callahan home for dinner and as always there was a never-ending flow of jokes and good
humor.
During our stay the seas built in the harbor and our traveling companion George Swan had to move his boat across
the harbor to escape the bouncing he received at the municipal dock. Our big “stone boat” hardly moved.
George Swan had the Callahan’s plus Jane and I out for a harbor cruise in an attempt to entice Tom Jr. into coming
along with him on his boat as crew.
George persuaded Tom Callahan Jr. to come sailing with him, which turned out to be another adventure story you
will read about later on.
Several of the people that paid us visits brought us gifts. One was a loan of the complete set of charts for the entire
Erie Barge Canal…that was very nice. Others brought reading material like the National Geographic.
I should mention here that this was the place that the Stewart J. Cort, the 1000-foot Great Lakes freighter, was
lengthened from 182 feet to 1000 feet.
The snack bar on the pier at Erie, Pennsylvania. From left; Sophie, Tom Sr.,
A customer and Tom Jr. Callahan.1972
Dursmirg tied to the pier at Erie, Pennsylvania and Jane feeding ducks.
Erie Brewing Co., founded in 1899 and was in full production with over 100 employees and distribution
from New York to Chicago at the time we visited there.
Admiral Perry’s ship Niagara in downtown Erie, Pennsylvania,
Our boat Dursmirg tied to the municipal pier at Erie, Pennsylvania. 1972
October 1st, 1972 we sailed away from Erie, Pennsylvania at 9:34 AM. This time, “the we” included Jane and I plus
George Swan on his 25 foot “Morgan” with his new crewmember, Tom Callahan. Our destination was Dunkirk, New
York.
Our cold day finally warmed up by 3 PM when we docked at Dunkirk. Our average sailing speed that day had been 7
knots which was a lot better than what our diesel engine could do for us.
The harbor area was overrun with small boats and we had to settle for a pier that hardly accommodated our boat.
We had water enough under our keel and just enough pier to lie to.
October 2nd, 1972 we left Dunkirk, New York at 9:10 AM on a northeasterly course headed directly for Buffalo,
New York. The wind was brisk and dead astern coming out of the southwest. That is usually a sign that a frontal
system is on its way and a weather change is close at hand.
At 10:00AM that morning Jane made an entry in our logbook noting that we then had huge seas. Well, that was
right. This was a very difficult point of sailing and it makes steerage difficult at best. The seas had built to the point
that they were exactly the wrong size and steepness for our vessel. It is said that every vessel has a particular size
and shape of wave that is bad for it. Well, this was our vessels nemesis and I had an extra challenging task keeping
our vessel from broaching. As the port of Buffalo appeared on the horizon we did some estimations and it was
determined from many miles out that our options were limited as to the course we could make good in these near
impossible seas.
Buffalo has two entries connected by a seawall and breakwater. We had originally planned to enter by the north
entrance but as we approached we could see that it would be nearly impossible and we settled for the south
entrance. We had several prominent landmarks to take our position bearings from and they were all steel mills,
clearly marked on our navigational charts.
The feeling of relief upon entering the protection of the harbor where the waters were calm and tranquil is hard to
describe. It isn’t always so nice but after the extreme intensity of steering each and every wave with white knuckles
on the helm, it feels good to have those seas that had just tried their very best to send you and your vessel into a
tail spin safely beyond the protection of the breakwater.
By 2:30 PM we were tied to the dock at the Buffalo Yacht Club. We were surprised to find that the yacht club was the
oldest in the Unites States.
We inquired about facilities for taking down our mast and we were told that if we wanted to we could use their
facilities for free. (We had to have our mast taken down in order to transit the Erie Barge Canal.)
After dinner that night George Swan and Tom Callahan took George’s sailboat around to where the boom crane was
located. The crane was an old lifeboat davit with a double purchase block and tackle. As I have always said, “down
is easy”. We attached the becket of the boom crane block to a sling that we hoisted up the mast to just under the
spreaders and secured it. It was now just a matter of releasing all of the shrouds and stay turnbuckles. With a tailing
line as a preventer, George only had to guide the mast to the deck as Jane and I operating the boom crane gently
lowered the mast to deck level. We were slightly nervous because of the multi-million dollar racing yachts docked
adjacent to us.
Next it was our turn to remove our mast. This was a project completely in a different league than George’s little boat
with its aluminum mast weighing less than 100 pounds.
I was confident about our abilities but a little anxious about the size of the boom crane in relation to our vessel. I
thought that 400 pound George with Tom’s assistance would have no problem just lowering our 500 pound mast to
the deck. Jane and I would have all of the engineering and straining associated with bringing it down into place.
With all preparations put in place we began the process of lowering the mast. All that George and Tom had to do
was to pay out the boom crane line that was made fast with several turns around a cleat…easy enough.
Because of the fact that our mast was so heavy and the manual crane was so small we couldn’t lift the mast off of its
mast step. (The mast step is the deck fitting that secures the foot of the mast on deck.) The only solution then was
to move the boat out from under the then suspended mast. We then had a very unwieldy situation because the mast
had a tendency to want to up-end itself because of the balance point we had the mast suspended from. Jane and I
had a real fight on our hands at that point; securing our boat, subduing the then swinging mast and steering it down
to deck level. As we began our lowering process George informed us that he could no longer hold the mast. I told
him he had to!
He did hold the mast and with sweating palms and straining bodies Jane and I maneuvered this cumbersome giant
down to deck level. By the time we had this job completed, I finally had jangled nerves…but it was done.
We asked the manager of the yacht club the directions to the entry of the Erie Canal. His description was priceless.
He told us to stay to the right and follow the Niagara River to the first lock. We would know if we made the wrong turn
because we would then go over the Niagara Falls!
next chapter
September 3rd, 1972 we cast off our dock lines at 9:10 AM and began our trip down the Saint Mary’s River and
past Sugar Island, Neebish Island and Drummond Island before arriving at a place called Detour Passage. The river
area was definitely beautiful and winding but we were several times shocked to come around a corner and
encounter one of those enormous lake freighters bearing down on us that somehow looked like they just were too
big for the river let alone to allow us to pass.
had extensive welding done to it, which created its own magnetic field that in turn deflects the compass. The biggest
had extensive welding done to it, which created its own magnetic field that in turn deflects the compass. The biggest
problem was that this hull magnetism was gradually diminishing and changing over time and therefore we needed to
continuously up grade a special little chart that we made called a “deviation chart”, which then enabled us to make a
Napier Diagram. From our deviation chart we were able to calculate by incorporating the magnetic variation from the
navigational chart our true heading, magnetic heading and compass heading which were all necessary in order to
plot our courses.
plot our courses.
(From Nathaniel Bowditch)
Napier diagram; A diagram on which compass deviation is plotted for
various headings, and the points connected by a smooth curve, permitting
deviation problems to be solved quickly without interpolation.
It consists of a vertical line, usually in two parts, each part
being graduated for 180° of heading, and two additional sets of lines
at an angle of 60° to each other and to the vertical lines. See also
DEVIATION TABLE.
Oh, by the way!
Consider this: at the time we were venturing out with our boat to see the world navigation was still done by dead
reckoning and celestial navigation. Our radio was VHF with only four working channels, one of which was used only
for calling the Coast Guard. That channel also broadcast the weather in code several times a day that covered the
entire Great Lakes. There was no Loran or Global Positioning System and we navigated much like mariners had
done for many centuries.
Back to the boat:
At 2:25 PM we ventured out onto Lake Huron and watched the land slowly disappear off our stern. The day was
partly cloudy and pleasant with a light westerly breeze.
At 4:25 that afternoon we caught our first glimpse of shore ahead and by 7:30 that evening we were docked at a
commercial dock at Rogers City, Michigan, (Calcite was the name of the docking area), which is in the lower
peninsula of Michigan.
The world’s largest limestone quarry is located here and that product is shipped out making this one of the major
Great Lakes ports.
The dock was deserted and tremendously big. We had our dinner and went to sleep only to be awakened a short
time later by the roar of engines and as we peered out we were amazed at the sight we were seeing.
One of the large lake freighters had pulled in and as soon as it arrived a tugboat came out to meet it and began
pushing and pulling until the freighter was turned one hundred and eighty degrees and backed into an awaiting slip
where it was promptly filled with rock. The whole process appeared to be well practiced and neatly done. The
loading of the freighter was very noisy and that end of the harbor was ablaze with floodlights for the whole loading
process that was completed in several hours. When the freighter was filled it cranked up and left on its own as it was
already pointed in the proper direction to go straight out into the lake. Then there was silence for the remainder of
the night. The harbor was not completely sheltered from the lakes wave action and we had a good-sized surge that
wouldn’t be noticed by one of those lake freighters but we rocked noticeably.
Oh, by the way!
One thing that we were very surprised at was the fact that all of the way from the Apostle Islands in the western part
of Lake Superior to where we were now docked we hadn’t encountered a single other cruising boat of any kind. This
just wasn’t the place for pleasure boating. Small outboard boats would venture out to fish near the shore but few
people ever made extended voyages in these northern reaches of the Great Lakes mostly because of the
horrendous weather conditions that seem to unpredictably change in seconds.
September 4th, 1972: This day was my 32nd birthday and I was on my way to an adventure that would turn out to
be the second best thing I had ever done, second only to my marriage to my “sweet Jane”, now 28 years old.
We had sold everything we owned back in our old hometown of Superior, Wisconsin. We were now free to go at our
own pace, to the places we wanted and when we wanted. The nicest thing of all was we were also free to stay as
long as we pleased and soon would have time to pursue our own self-indulgences that included the reading of
books we would now have the time to enjoy. My hobbies and make-it-myself projects could be done with out a rush
and our only time constraint now would be to beat the fall weather to the sunny south country…hopefully ahead of
those Canadian geese that would soon be overhead and on the wing.
This day our trip would take us south to the town of Alpena, Michigan, situated in a bay named “Thunder Bay”. At 5:
20 PM we were headed into the ship canal and we were surprised to see several small open fishing boats blocking
the channel. We wondered if these were the same kind of people that stood in front of elevators and escalators to
block access. The channel was big enough for a ship to enter but if a big ship had been coming it wouldn’t have had
maneuvering space and some kind of disaster surely would have happened.
We tied to a vacant coal loading dock adjacent to the downtown shopping center. The location was a good one
because we wanted fuel oil for our engine and as there was no marina facility there we could at least get the local
fuel company to deliver our diesel fuel directly to our boat. These are the same trucks that delivered home heating
fuel, so getting service in this part of the world was no problem because most homes here used that type of fuel.
We had some shopping to do and the grocery store was close-by. I also had contracted a tooth infection that
needed care and we were very fortunate to find a dentist that took me in early the next morning.
September 5th, 1972 we were up early to take care of all of the items we had planned for the day.
We were fortunate with all we had planned including our appointments with the dentist and the fuel truck driver and
by 1:25 PM that afternoon we were cranked up and cast off on our way to our next port.
By 5:30 that afternoon we were in a tiny little harbor of Harrisville, Michigan. This wasn’t a long day of boating but it
had been very active from early morning and we were eager to tie up the vessel and take it easy for a while.
Jane and I took a swim to freshen up and we were surprised that the water was bone chilling cold. I believe that a
person with a weak heart might have expired in the shockingly cold water but we had been accustomed to the frigid
waters of Lake Superior and knew that the time spent in this cold water had to be limited. We later learned that a
bathhouse with a hot shower was available but the manager of this marina hadn’t expected any customers this time
of year and locked the facilities up early.
Just as we were beginning to prepare our dinner we received a visitor that insisted that we come to his home for
dinner.
Bill Farrow and his wife had just retired to this little lakeside town and were getting used to the quiet and slow pace
of a small town. Their lovely new home overlooked the lake and was directly up the hill from where our boat was tied
in the marina. Bill and his wife had watched as Jane and I had pulled into the harbor and when we went up to their
home we too could see the fantastic view that made it look like we had parked directly in their front yard.
We didn’t leave this lovely little harbor town until the 8th of September because we couldn’t say no to the wonderful
hospitality. Between Bill Farrow and his wife plus their neighbors from across the street, Bill and Ann Akers, we had
a most fabulous time. We all had stories to tell and they took us in and had to show all that they had for local
attractions. These people were enjoying their retirement to the fullest but we got the feeling that they would have
loved to come along and sailed away with us on our upcoming adventure.
(A letter Jane sent to her parents.)
1972 Sept 7
Dear Mom and Dad, Joel and John;
We are in Harrisville, Michigan. We got in Tuesday evening and have been here since. We had a real bad
windstorm yesterday and last night so we decided not to leave. Our next stop is Harbor Beach, Michigan and then
Port Huron, Michigan. We only have 150 more miles to travel on Lake Huron. Then down the Saint Clair and Detroit
Rivers to Lake Erie. We are going to stop at an Island called Put-in Bay for a couple of days in Lake Erie and from
there we really have no plans.
We kind of drift with the nice weather. We sure met a lot of nice people along the way. We met a retired couple here
in Harrisville who had us to their house for supper last night. Everything that we had to eat they had raised in their
garden. They just moved her from Detroit when they retired in May.
The picture I’m sending you was taken in Alpena, Michigan which is 35 miles from here. We were there on the 5th.
We are really enjoying ourselves. It’s hard to get used to the idea that we don’t have to rush all of the time. We are
working on the boat every day however. Today I have to go to the top of the mast to install our radio antenna. I’m
not really anxious to go up but it’s got to be done.
We went out to eat at Sault Ste Marie to celebrate my birthday. The day before a bartender checked my
identification card which made me feel good as you only have to be 18 to drink in Michigan.
I better get my work done.
Love Jane
Oh, by the way!
We stayed in touch with these fine people from Harrisville, Michigan for many years and we even returned ten years
later by land to visit, but then we were saddened by the fact that our old friends had passed on.
This little incident gave us even more impetus to pursue our lives ambitions to the fullest and make sure our dreams
became reality.
September 8th, 1972 we left Harrisville, Michigan at 8:21 AM and felt good to have encountered such warm and
hospitable people that made our time at this little stopover into a cherished memory.
As we ventured out into Lake Huron and headed south we encountered some rough seas and as the day went on
we watched the seas build even further. Our logbook had several interesting notations regarding the sea conditions.
Jane wrote; “extremely rough seas”, followed by; “Rough seas”, “Rough seas!” and finally; “EXTREMELY ROUGH
SEAS!” I was being challenged close to the limits of my abilities to maintain course and by the time we approached
our port of destination which was Harbor Beach, Michigan the sails had to come down and Jane went forward on that
pitching deck to do the job. It was a good thing that we had plenty of training and schooling plus the fact that Jane
had the presence of mind to have on her safety harness clipped on to the lifeline because of what happened next.
As Jane was lowering the jib, (that is the triangular sail that attaches to a stay wire at the bow of the boat), and had it
more than half way down, the sail became inflated by the strong wind and literally pitched her skyward. Her safety
harness attached to a lifeline kept her onboard. Though she was badly bruised and battered she managed to
remain aboard. She then completed the retrieval of that flapping piece of canvas and I had to make a quick
judgment call as we bounded over those mounting mountainous waves. The harbor entrance looked like the eye of
a needle we would have to thread at high speed and we would only have one chance at it. Well, in we went!
Of course, I am still here to write this story; so dear reader you could easily guess that we made it in.
Once we were within the protection of the breakwater the sensation was of throwing a switch and shutting off the
waves. We definitely had enough of sailing for that day and picked the first available place to tie our vessel, which
was just inside the breakwater.
The waves were crashing upon the breakwater and many were spraying over with drenching mist that occasionally
turned to a torrent of icy water.
We were tied to the break-wall by 4:45 PM and decided to take a walk over to the Coast Guard Station that was on
the landside of the harbor entrance to see if we could get some good weather information.
We entered the station and introduced ourselves and told of our wild ride into the harbor entrance. We wanted to
take a look at their weather equipment and see just what the wind conditions were. We were surprised when we
spotted their anemometer that was registering a wind speed of about fifteen miles an hour. We couldn’t believe our
eyes and knew that there had to be some mistake. We then questioned the crew and we were told that their
anemometer was situated behind a large coal pile and that when the wind was from the north that their equipment
never registered high wind speeds. Sure enough we looked out their window and there sat their weather station
tower directly behind a huge coal pile and well protected from the northerly winds. There could be a lesson to be
learned from this incident and that is many times you need to be your own weatherman. I am sure that we weren’t
the only poor souls that had a perilous voyage because of this weather station’s report.
September 10th, 1972 we left Harbor Beach, Michigan at 8:25 AM and ventured out into rough seas heading
south. Our destination this day would be Port Huron, Michigan at the southern end of this big lake and across the
river from Sarnia, Ontario, Canada.
We were headed into these seas that were checking our forward speed and by 10:30 that morning we were
disappointed that our forward speed was only 4.7 knots, but we were headed toward the lee shore so that as we
were approaching the wind and sea conditions would be diminishing…a small consolation.
We had been warned of treacherous conditions within the Saint Clair River and especially beneath the “Blue Water
Bridge”. There two lake freighters had recently collided and one of them had sunk in a minute directly within the
shipping channel. Commercial shipping traffic was now restricted to one-way traffic.
Even without this impediment to the river, transiting the area is very difficult as there are no locks and the river water
is free to flow making the downstream trip like being washed down a sewer drain. At the same time making a return
upstream trip was almost impossible for a vessel with our speed capabilities. Yes, this would be a one-way trip for us.
Sure enough as we approached Port Huron the seas eventually diminished and our forward speed improved.
At 5:07 that afternoon we were passing under the “Blue Water Bridge” and as we had been instructed we clung to
the eastern, Canadian, shore and well away from the swift midstream currents and the sunken ship there.
We were ready to quit for the day and we were looking hard for a dock to tie to. We found one and pulled into the
“Port Terminal”. This was no prize as dockage went but we were tired and it would suffice for the night. Several
fishermen were fishing there and they looked like “down-and-outers” so we didn’t feel like we could rest well with out
constant vigilance.
Next we were paid a strange visit and that was by the border patrol. We were asked what our business was here and
how long we planned to stay, where we had come from and where we were going from here.
The officer informed us that we were actually tied to a private dock and that if the owner happened to arrive we were
sure to be billed $500.00 even if it was a brief stop. Then he suggested that we follow him to a marina upstream a
short distance where we would be safe and secure for the night. We agreed, but he was traveling by car and we
were in the boat. Well, we set out and low and behold the border patrolman led us along the river Saint Clair north to
the “Black River” by flashing his lights so we could follow him. As we pulled into the Black River we immediately
noticed that the river current diminished to the point that it almost felt slack. So, true to his word, the marina, Steven’
s Marina, proved to be a good choice and we certainly would have pulled in there if we had only known of its
existence as we passed by the first time.
We invited the border patrolman aboard to be friendly and thanked him for his advice and assistance. He signed our
guest book and then gave us a religious interrogation and even asked where our Bible was located. It turned out
that his name was Kenneth Harris and he was a Southern Baptist that had just recently been transferred to the area
from the “Heart of Dixie”.
Jane and I spent the next day on our bicycles touring over the “Blue Water Bridge”, to Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. This
proved to be a very interesting place and we couldn’t figure out why we hadn’t heard of it previously because it is
known as Canada’s “Chemical Valley!”
This place was Canada’s answer to Houston, Texas where every type of petrochemical known to man is formulated
and manufactured. Yes, it did stink but then we didn’t have to linger here and we were free to move on, which we did.
But first we had to search out a fellow “Ferro-cement” boat builder. On our bicycles we found the large steel
structure that was the construction site of this enormous boat under construction. Under the boat in a director’s
chair we found the owner who was giving instructions to several young workers.
The owners; Chuck and Sue Burden of Sarnia, Ontario were in the process of building this 55 foot trawler-style hull
that they planned to fit out with such creature comforts as their electric organ. Jane and I were absolutely amazed at
the approach these people were taking to the construction of their new boat.
Chuck and Sue were owners of several beauty salons and obviously had made sufficient money to afford the things
that they liked best in life. They also had a novel approach to boat building, and that was to hire several college
students that needed work in order to get through school and then put them to work doing the physical work
involved in the boat construction. When Chuck wasn’t pouring over the plans and giving instructions from his
director’s chair he was busy reading a large stack of books and newspapers. There was definitely something to be
said about this approach to boat building and Jane and I both thought it made perfectly good sense.
Chuck and his wife Sue came to visit our boat and we were able to exchange lots of good ideas about fitting out
boats and travels.
September 12th, 1972 we departed from Port Huron, Michigan at 11:15 AM and as we reached the Saint Clair
River and headed south our speed picked up noticeably. I don’t think that our vessel ever has traveled at such a
speed over the bottom as we did this day. We had our full speed plus the added shove of the strong downstream
river current to assist us on our way. (There are two kinds of boat speed; over the bottom, which is the speed from
point to point, and speed through the water, which is exactly that. For example; if you are going 6 knots through the
water but have a 10 knot current with you, you are actually going at 16 knots.)
We seemed to be flying along as we headed almost directly south from Saint Clair River into Saint Clair Lake. The
lake is huge but not too deep and there is a designated ships channel marked by buoys along the way. The reason I
mention the buoys here is that out upon the “Great Lakes” there are no such designated channels and no buoys
except at or near major ports.
This morning the fog was light and we paid close attention to our compass course out on Lake Saint Clair. Here we
were very surprised to find people old enough to know better, anchored in mid-channel fishing and paying
absolutely no attention whatsoever to the shipping traffic. Jane and I could only conclude that these people must
have had a death wish.
As we exited Saint Clair Lake, we then entered the Detroit River, which would then carry us south to the City of
Detroit, Michigan. In the Detroit River, north of downtown Detroit, we passed the neighborhood of the rich auto
industry people’s homes where money was obviously of no concern.
At 5:30 that afternoon we docked at Kean’s Marina, which was near downtown Detroit. Several things about the
place surprised us. First, we were situated north of Canada. Yes, to the south of us and across the river was
situated the city of Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
The next surprise was the amount of really big and extravagantly luxurious pleasure vessels that seemed to be just
joy riding up and down the river.
The big surprise was the security system at the marina. The marina was continuously locked up and guarded with
armed guards. To keep surveillance both day and night they employed a system after dark where an armed guard
had to personally walk each and every dock to its end and ring an electronic alarm. In the event that the guard did
not make his rounds and ring the alarm by the designated time, the city police would be automatically called.
September 13th, 1972 Jane and I contacted our friends that lived in Detroit. Wilson Moin and his family were from
Superior, Wisconsin and had moved to Detroit because of Wilson’s job as a research chemist at Parke-Davis Drug
Company, which was headquartered there.
Emmanuel Khoubesser, “Manny”, was another friend we looked up. He was the owner and manager of the Malaga
Pipe Company that manufactured and sold smoking pipes. He had called on my father’s drugstore and also the
drugstore of Wilson Moin’s father back in Superior as Manny’s father had done before him.
Well, we were astonished at the response and all of the activities that we became involved in the next four days.
Before we knew what was happening Wilson was to our boat to welcome us and right behind him came the
newspaper reporter and television people to do a special report on us and our adventures.
The flow of visitors was non-stop aboard our boat and we got to meet lots of interesting people. We went to the
home of Wilson Moin and his wife Tammy several times for dinner. Wilson even found a buyer for our canoe that we
hated to part with but our travels definitely became nicer without that impediment.
Wilson insisted that we take a day to visit the Ford Museum at “Greenfield”. He couldn’t come along but lent us his
car to use.
That side trip was far more than we had expected it to be in size, quality and variety. We definitely recommend the
place to anyone that is interested in America Industrial History and think that if you are anywhere nearby it is a “must-
see”.
Manny Khoubesser took us on a guided tour of his “Malaga Pipe Factory”, where he had manufacturing and also
pipe repair facilities.
We got to see a lot of the Detroit area in those four days including where the race riots took place and the bullet
riddled police station and downtown.
From early morning until late evening each day we were kept 100% occupied and finally had to leave town just to
get rested up. We were in top condition at that time so the activities had to be extra intense to wear us down …but
they did. We will be forever thankful to our friends for all their incredibly warm and wonderful hospitality.
September 16th, 1972 We left Kean’s Marina in Detroit at 8:35AM and we just needed to have some sleep…we
were completely partied out. We just had the most intense four days of activities we could ever remember and they
were worth the fatigue but we had to capitulate at this point and recuperate.
At 9:45 AM that morning we pulled into a Corp of Engineer dock and tied up and went directly to sleep. I told the
officer there what we were going to do first and that was no problem with them. In fact the crew there was all very
nice to us and gave us an armload of navigational charts that they thought we might need in our travels.
By 3 PM we had gotten enough rest to go on but we didn’t feel like we had too many more miles left in us that day.
The Corp of Engineer people told us of a nice dock downstream we might like, so we were off to try it out and by 3:
50 were tied to “Pier 500”, a nice marina, where we spent the remainder of the night and charged up our bodily
batteries some more.
This was a first for us; leaving town just to get rested up but over the years we would have to resort to this same
trick again.
September 17th, 1972 we were under way by 9:15 AM and continuing down the Detroit River headed for our next
“Great Lake”.
The river broadens out and eventually we would change from a southerly course to more easterly as we entered
Lake Erie.
Oh, by the way!
Lake Erie is the southern most lake of all of the Great Lakes. It is also the shallowest with a maximum depth of fifty
feet. When I was younger back in the 1940s and 1950s the news about the lake was that it had been completely
poisoned and polluted to the point that it didn’t support any forms of life, in other words the “dead inland sea”. In
those years the pollution was so bad that several of the major rivers in the industrial Mid-West, including the Illinois
River that runs right through downtown Chicago would burst into flame and burn in the heat of summer. There was
a little jingle that I remember from those years that went like this: “Lake Michigan water used to taste like Sherry wine
but now that Lake Michigan water tastes like turpentine!”
In recent years a big effort to clean the lakes has had some success. It wasn’t just the ‘American Robber Barons”
that indiscriminately fouled the waters and atmosphere. The Canadians were at it in a big way and still were. Some
years earlier and a few miles north at Sudbury, Ontario Jane and I witnessed the ecologic devastation caused by
International Nickel Company whose ghastly discharges completely blackened and killed all vegetation for a twenty-
five mile radius of their plant.
Back to our travels: By 12:54 we were abeam “Middle Sister Island”. This was one of the many Lake Erie Islands
located in western Lake Erie. Our course had taken us into international waters and we were following along the
border with Canada as we picked up our easterly course.
We had been told that we should visit at Middle Bass Island because they had a small harbor there and that we
might also enjoy visiting the winery.
At 3:30 PM that afternoon Jane and I had sailed around Middle Bass Island from the north side to the east side and
then to the south side before we spotted the winery dock and pulled in.
It was a beautiful day, the kind that sailors dream about and we were in good spirits and finally well rested. We
decided to do a little exploring and went up the hill to Lonz Winery to see what they had to offer and tell them we
were then tied to their dock plus see if it was OK to spend the night.
Chester Penn, the manager, greeted us and we seemed to hit it off with him right from the start. We were happy that
we had arrived here in the off-season and while the weather was still delightful.
Chester served us some of their best selections of wine to sample plus a cheese plate with crackers. Jane and I
were certain from that moment on that we had made the right choice in stopping here. We wound up staying for five
heavenly days but our first night was going to prove one of the most miserable of our entire trip and we were at least
happy that we had the protection of the little harbor there.
Jane and I returned to our boat at suppertime and we were surprised to find that we had company. At the dock was
a little “Morgan” twenty-five foot sailboat named, “Moriah”. The reason why I say “little” is because the owner of the
sailboat, George Swan was so big. George had to weigh close to 400 pounds and could have even weighed more.
When he walked on deck to the bow of the boat his little boat literally stood on its nose. This was the very first
cruising boat we had met on our entire trip so far. We got to be friends with George and we were traveling
companions all of the way to the Hudson River. George was from Chicago and was taking a new job in New Haven,
New Jersey where he was headed all alone aboard his sailboat.
Just about suppertime a Coast Guard boat came to inform us that a treacherous storm was imminently bearing down
on us and that it would be life threatening to venture out of port at that time. They told us to make ready for the
impending storm by securing all hatches and redoubling our dock lines. Wow! Were they right!
The sky blackened and the wind piped up. We were in for a real storm and it would be unrelenting the entire night.
There was to be no sleep this night and as I stood watch throughout that unmerciful storm I was indeed thankful for
the fact that we were at least tucked away in this little harbor. Even though the seas were crashing over the dock
and sending our twenty ton vessel charging off to the ends of its dock lines like a berserk horse thrashing insanely, I
was still in charge of the situation. We managed to partially wear through several dock lines because we didn’t have
sufficient chafing gear to protect the lines. Yes this was to be another lesson in our ongoing sailing experiences. I
was happy to see the sun coming up and the winds subside. Breakfast and a siesta and I was ready to pick up the
adventure anew.
A letter that Jane wrote
1972 Sept 18
Dear Mom, dad and Joel;
We are at Middle Bass Island, Ohio tied up in front of Lonz Winery on Lake Erie. We got here yesterday afternoon
from Detroit. We spent 4 days in Detroit, went to Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum, which were very
interesting. Jon Moin’s brother, Wilson took us all over the city and had us to his home 2 nights for dinner. Channel
4 TV in Detroit did a story on us and the newspaper wrote an article.
It looks like we will be tied up for a while because we are having a terrible storm. At least 50 knot winds, can hardly
stand up outside. We were lucky, we got in two hours before the storm hit. I may have already mentioned it but we
saw another Ferro cement boat under construction in Sarnia, Ontario. We’ve sure met a lot of interesting people
along the way.
I suppose John will have left for the Army by the time you get this. Send me his address when you get it. When are
Jim and Penn heading south? Let me know what is going on.
We sure have had warm weather- between 70 and 80 degrees.
Write and keep me posted.
Love Jane and Bing
Jane and I had our bikes out to explore and in our travels found time to chat with Chester Penn, the manager of
Lonz Winery. We told him our story and we were surprised to find out that he had been born in Superior, Wisconsin.
His dad had a monument business in Duluth Minnesota. We were far enough away from our hometown, of Superior,
Wisconsin now so that most people we told of our homeport didn’t even know where it was located.
Chester was very interesting, giving us much of the history and points of interest in the area.
A few things he told of were that this small island was the home of two wineries, and that the loud gun shots we
heard really weren’t guns at all, but LP gas fired noisemakers that only sounded like small cannons blowing off
intermittently to scare the birds away from the grape vines.
Another interesting fact was the fact that the island was serviced by the shortest commercial airline in the country
and was still was using old Ford Tri-motors. Sure enough just as he was speaking one of those relics of the past
came overhead. The airline existed primarily to transport students from the island to Sandusky, Ohio to go to school
daily.
We were told of the large monument that resembled the Washington Monument that stood on an adjacent island
called, Put-In-Bay. The monument was “Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial National Monument”. We
were told that it would be worth the trip over and we must visit it before we left the area, which we did. We used our
dingy and ten horsepower motor to get there and it was still a long haul but worth the effort. The view from the top
was spectacular, taking in all of the Lake Erie Islands, a view of Michigan, Ohio and Canada to the north.
Admiral Perry had done a spectacular thing by building his own fleet of war vessels on the Ohio shore and the
setting sail to decisively defeat the British. His flagship still existed and was in a waterfront memorial park at Erie,
Pennsylvania where we would soon be visiting on our voyage.
Chester wanted Jane and I to come to his house for dinner that night and he wanted us to meet his associate Lorito
Lazarony, “Lorry”, who happened to be the winery chemist and had a degree in his profession from Italy.
Jane and I were given many bags of ripe apples by the natives because this was the apple season and this year
there was a bumper crop. Jane had no problem with all the apples and had a steady production of fresh apple pie
coming out of her shipboard kitchen, “galley”. Of course we had ten times more than we could consume ourselves
but the pies were a huge hit everywhere we visited.
We met Chester Penn that afternoon at the winery where Lorry Lazarony had his laboratory and all of this test
equipment. We were happy to meet this enthusiastic and colorful character who really knew his business and
described many of the processes and much of the equipment to us in his heavily accented and broken English.
Chester told us that Lorry’s favorite drink was Champagne and that they had a overabundance of it and that we
should please be so kind as to help them in diminishing that inventory. What a dinner and party we had!
We got together every night we were on the island and discovered that we too had developed a liking for
Champagne.
Afternoons a couple, Joe and Ann Braddock, came down to the little harbor to fish. Ann was an especially colorful
character; she, in her younger years, had been on the swimming team with Johnny Wiessmueller, (Tarzan). Now
they were content to come to their summer cabin here on Middle Bass Island for the peace and quiet of the off-
season and do some fishing. They told how the fish were just now returning to the lake that had been completely
dead and devoid of marine life.
Joe and Ann Braddock were friendly people that we shared many a story with and they invited us to visit them when
we stopped at Cleveland, Ohio, which we did with George Swan, our newly acquired traveling companion. Ann put
on a special Polish dinner in the traditional way. We spent a day with them and it made our trip even more
meaningful to be able to have time to mingle with the locals and see just how different these areas are.
Oh, by the way!
We found that now we were seeing a completely different world that isn’t visible to the rushed traveler. All my old
associates back in Superior, Wisconsin unanimously told us that we would never be able to slow down because we
were perceived as, “workaholics”. It took more than six months of conscious effort to adapt to this new life style but
the new way of life has been the best change we together have ever done and no, we have no regrets but only wish
that we could have left sooner.
Below; Lonz Winery at Middle Bass Island, Ohio.
Lonz Winery, Middle Bass Island, Ohio. Wine ageing barrels.
View from the top of the Perry’s Monument at Put-In-Bay. Looking north is first Middle Bass Island, North
Bass Island and Canada beyond in western Lake Erie.
Dursmirg tied to the dock in front of Lonz Winery at Middle Bass Island, Ohio
September 22nd, 1972 Jane and I reluctantly left Middle Bass Island at 9:27 AM on an easterly course headed for
Cleveland, Ohio. Chester Penn came down to the dock that morning to see us off and bid us his good–bys. As a
parting gesture he presented us with a case of their finest Champagne.
We cherish these memories of this once in a lifetime encounter with these special people at a special time in our
lives when we all had the time to share and the place to do it that was exactly right in this special season of our lives.
Leaving Middle Bass Island we passed to the north of Kelley’s Island and then took a direct course to the harbor
entrance at Cleveland. We had a light northerly breeze and the day was the kind of day that sailors dream about. A
beam wind and easygoing seas made for a delightful passage. By 3 PM we were docked in downtown Cleveland at
the municipal dock.
We were told that a hurricane had just struck there in June. It completely devastated the marina and only two boats
remained after the storm passed, ironically those two boats had been sunk before the storm had struck.
In the harbor the military was demonstrating some new boat that they had just put into service…apparently for the
Vietnam War effort. We were invited aboard the boat. It had a revolutionary new type of diesel engine with 30
cylinders and only fifteen combustion chambers with three crankshafts and ten cylinders attached to each. The
principal of this engine was that into each combustion chamber two pistons would top out simultaneously thus
achieving the high compression needed for diesel combustion but with only half the piston travel. This made a very
high-speed engine that was comparatively light in weight. I didn’t think it would ever be too practical because of the
extreme amount of noise that it generated. Nobody could enter the engine compartment while the engine was in
operation and a glassed in soundproof control room was needed.
Aboard Dursmirg at Cleveland, Ohio) From left; Joe Braddock, George Swan from the boat “Moriah”, and
Ann Braddock. September 22nd, 1972
In Cleveland we had visitors in the night; this was our first time to have rats. They only got as far as the deck
because we had the boat closed.
Oh, by the way!
The next time we paid a visit to Cleveland by boat was in 2001 shortly after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. We were
just returning from Europe aboard the freighter, Irma.
September 15th, 2001 arriving in Cleveland, Ohio aboard the 600 foot freighter Irma from Europe. We had just
spent 17 days aboard and the aircraft in the photo was the first one we saw after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The
downtown stadium had a large illuminated sign that read: “God Bless America”
Note* Jane and I, in our boating adventures, have now sailed all of the Great Lakes, been through all of the
connecting rivers and canals, plus each and every lock including the entire Erie Canal
System.
Back to our travels:
September 23rd, 1972 we left the dock at Cleveland at 12:40 PM heading east and exited the harbor by the
eastern harbor entrance on our way to Grand River, Ohio. That afternoon it clouded over and we had a cold
rainstorm. At 4:30 that afternoon we docked while a light rain was coming down.
Grand River, Ohio is well known to boaters because it is the home of Merriman Holbrook, a company that specializes
in marine hardware and especially items for sailboats. We had several items that came from this very factory
installed on our boat and we were anxious to tour their facilities because we had many questions and also wanted to
see the latest that they had to offer. The bronze sail track, down haul track, pulleys, blocks and even our roller
furling gear to mention a few items all came from Merriman Holbrook. We spent an extra day here just to visit
Merriman Holbrook.
The next day, besides visiting Merriman Holbrook, we discovered that a young couple there was building a Ferro-
cement boat and we just had to investigate.
They had gotten their plans from the same company that published the book that had been our inspiration to build
our boat. They had their hull about 90% finished and I don’t think that they had any idea just how much more time,
effort and money that they would be sinking into their boat before it would sail away. We were very happy that our
boat, though not completely finished, at least was sufficiently together to move under its own power and was indeed
heading to a more salubrious climate.
September 25th, we left Grand River heading east along the coast on a very overcast day. At 4:20 that afternoon
we pulled into the small harbor at Ashtabula, Ohio for the night. This was the most drab and uninviting little place we
had visited on our entire trip so far. The little harbor was devoted solely to an industrialized waterfront where civic
pride wasn’t enough to spring for a little paint.
We turned around and docked at a vacant coal loading dock for the night and thought we might take a walk to see
this forlorn little town. We thought that the place might have some redeeming graces. The only person we found to
talk to was the bridge tender who told us a story about the previous bridge tender that dropped dead when a ship
was coming. That seemed to be the only claim to fame the town had.
September 26th, 1972 we departed the dingy little town of Ashtabula at 9:45 AM headed for Erie, Pennsylvania.
The day was bleak with fog, and then rain. Finally the rain and fog let up by early afternoon. We docked at the
public dock at Erie, Pennsylvania at 3:25 PM.
This was going to be one of our finest stops of our entire trip and we made friends for a lifetime here…so read on!
Erie, Pennsylvania was a one of a kind town that had a wide-awake atmosphere that was only made better by the
fine people we had the pleasure of meeting there.
Where we tied our boat was to a pier that was part of the city memorial park of Admiral Perry and his victorious 123-
foot ship the U.S. Brig Niagara. The main street extension came right down to this park and loped around it on its
way back downtown. The setting was picturesque.
No sooner did we tie our vessel than we were paid a visit by the owner and operator of a snack bar from across the
road there on the pier. Tom Callahan introduced himself and told us to pull our boat a little closer to his snack bar
so that we could plug in our electric cord. Well, this was the start of a fascinating friendship that goes on to this day.
Oh, by the way! A short description of Tom Callahan and his lovely family; Tom was a retired police officer from Erie
when we met him. This guy had a heart bigger than just about anybody and was just a compulsive do-gooder.
Tom also was an excessive smoker and paid the price when he had an operation to have his voice box removed.
Tom told us that after that operation several times he put a gun to his head and seriously contemplated suicide.
Well, this very determined man went on to train himself to speak with no voice box. With each word he had to exhale.
His speech was distinctive but he could speak perfectly and the doctors all told him that in all of their experience
they had never seen such a thing as a person speaking without a voice box. The only sad thing was that poor Tom
continued to puff his cigarettes…something that ultimately killed this fine person.
Sophie Callahan, Tom’s wife, was never seen without a big and infectious smile that instantly made you want to give
her a big hug. The two were a real team. Tom’s Irish ancestry came out in his glib tongue and quick wit. Sophie’s big
smile and sparkle of her eye told of her spunk that always was ready for fun times. Those two were just fun to be
around.
There were three children; a daughter and two sons named Tom and Pat. Tom was the one we got to know the very
best and he later came sailing with us. His brother Pat was a paratrooper instructor, age 19 at that time. To this day
we are in close contact with Tom Jr.
Back to Erie, Pennsylvania: Our five day stay in Erie turned out to be as much fun as we could stand. Our first
night in town Tom Callahan insisted that we all go to his favorite restaurant named “Nunzi’s” for their famous
antipasto salad for $1.75 per serving. It was fabulous and over the course of our visit to Erie we made several return
visits. Their pizza was memorable and the local beer was a big hit.
That local beer was called Koehler and we all paid that fine brewery a visit to sample their beer fresh from the barrel.
We also replenished our 16-gallon keg that we kept hooked up in our bilge with a spigot in the galley.
We were invited out to the Callahan home for dinner and as always there was a never-ending flow of jokes and good
humor.
During our stay the seas built in the harbor and our traveling companion George Swan had to move his boat across
the harbor to escape the bouncing he received at the municipal dock. Our big “stone boat” hardly moved.
George Swan had the Callahan’s plus Jane and I out for a harbor cruise in an attempt to entice Tom Jr. into coming
along with him on his boat as crew.
George persuaded Tom Callahan Jr. to come sailing with him, which turned out to be another adventure story you
will read about later on.
Several of the people that paid us visits brought us gifts. One was a loan of the complete set of charts for the entire
Erie Barge Canal…that was very nice. Others brought reading material like the National Geographic.
I should mention here that this was the place that the Stewart J. Cort, the 1000-foot Great Lakes freighter, was
lengthened from 182 feet to 1000 feet.
The snack bar on the pier at Erie, Pennsylvania. From left; Sophie, Tom Sr.,
A customer and Tom Jr. Callahan.1972
Dursmirg tied to the pier at Erie, Pennsylvania and Jane feeding ducks.
Erie Brewing Co., founded in 1899 and was in full production with over 100 employees and distribution
from New York to Chicago at the time we visited there.
Admiral Perry’s ship Niagara in downtown Erie, Pennsylvania,
Our boat Dursmirg tied to the municipal pier at Erie, Pennsylvania. 1972
October 1st, 1972 we sailed away from Erie, Pennsylvania at 9:34 AM. This time, “the we” included Jane and I plus
George Swan on his 25 foot “Morgan” with his new crewmember, Tom Callahan. Our destination was Dunkirk, New
York.
Our cold day finally warmed up by 3 PM when we docked at Dunkirk. Our average sailing speed that day had been 7
knots which was a lot better than what our diesel engine could do for us.
The harbor area was overrun with small boats and we had to settle for a pier that hardly accommodated our boat.
We had water enough under our keel and just enough pier to lie to.
October 2nd, 1972 we left Dunkirk, New York at 9:10 AM on a northeasterly course headed directly for Buffalo,
New York. The wind was brisk and dead astern coming out of the southwest. That is usually a sign that a frontal
system is on its way and a weather change is close at hand.
At 10:00AM that morning Jane made an entry in our logbook noting that we then had huge seas. Well, that was
right. This was a very difficult point of sailing and it makes steerage difficult at best. The seas had built to the point
that they were exactly the wrong size and steepness for our vessel. It is said that every vessel has a particular size
and shape of wave that is bad for it. Well, this was our vessels nemesis and I had an extra challenging task keeping
our vessel from broaching. As the port of Buffalo appeared on the horizon we did some estimations and it was
determined from many miles out that our options were limited as to the course we could make good in these near
impossible seas.
Buffalo has two entries connected by a seawall and breakwater. We had originally planned to enter by the north
entrance but as we approached we could see that it would be nearly impossible and we settled for the south
entrance. We had several prominent landmarks to take our position bearings from and they were all steel mills,
clearly marked on our navigational charts.
The feeling of relief upon entering the protection of the harbor where the waters were calm and tranquil is hard to
describe. It isn’t always so nice but after the extreme intensity of steering each and every wave with white knuckles
on the helm, it feels good to have those seas that had just tried their very best to send you and your vessel into a
tail spin safely beyond the protection of the breakwater.
By 2:30 PM we were tied to the dock at the Buffalo Yacht Club. We were surprised to find that the yacht club was the
oldest in the Unites States.
We inquired about facilities for taking down our mast and we were told that if we wanted to we could use their
facilities for free. (We had to have our mast taken down in order to transit the Erie Barge Canal.)
After dinner that night George Swan and Tom Callahan took George’s sailboat around to where the boom crane was
located. The crane was an old lifeboat davit with a double purchase block and tackle. As I have always said, “down
is easy”. We attached the becket of the boom crane block to a sling that we hoisted up the mast to just under the
spreaders and secured it. It was now just a matter of releasing all of the shrouds and stay turnbuckles. With a tailing
line as a preventer, George only had to guide the mast to the deck as Jane and I operating the boom crane gently
lowered the mast to deck level. We were slightly nervous because of the multi-million dollar racing yachts docked
adjacent to us.
Next it was our turn to remove our mast. This was a project completely in a different league than George’s little boat
with its aluminum mast weighing less than 100 pounds.
I was confident about our abilities but a little anxious about the size of the boom crane in relation to our vessel. I
thought that 400 pound George with Tom’s assistance would have no problem just lowering our 500 pound mast to
the deck. Jane and I would have all of the engineering and straining associated with bringing it down into place.
With all preparations put in place we began the process of lowering the mast. All that George and Tom had to do
was to pay out the boom crane line that was made fast with several turns around a cleat…easy enough.
Because of the fact that our mast was so heavy and the manual crane was so small we couldn’t lift the mast off of its
mast step. (The mast step is the deck fitting that secures the foot of the mast on deck.) The only solution then was
to move the boat out from under the then suspended mast. We then had a very unwieldy situation because the mast
had a tendency to want to up-end itself because of the balance point we had the mast suspended from. Jane and I
had a real fight on our hands at that point; securing our boat, subduing the then swinging mast and steering it down
to deck level. As we began our lowering process George informed us that he could no longer hold the mast. I told
him he had to!
He did hold the mast and with sweating palms and straining bodies Jane and I maneuvered this cumbersome giant
down to deck level. By the time we had this job completed, I finally had jangled nerves…but it was done.
We asked the manager of the yacht club the directions to the entry of the Erie Canal. His description was priceless.
He told us to stay to the right and follow the Niagara River to the first lock. We would know if we made the wrong turn
because we would then go over the Niagara Falls!
next chapter
