Goodbye To A Dear Friend

Chicago Skyline, Friday evening sail, 2008

There is a whimsical tune from the musical, “Camelot,” which talks about the “merry month of May.” With the oil spill in the Gulf, the floods in Tennessee, and the severe storms in Oklahoma, May doesn’t seem that merry.

May in Chicago means it’s time to sail. The season opened officially on May 1 as the first boats made their way into a favored mooring spot in one of the harbors along the lakefront. Those who know me well, realize that sailing is like breathing for me. So you would think I would be ecstatically merry.

Not so much it seems.

Sadly, near the end of last season – back in October – I lost a very good friend in a storm in late October. My wonderful Pearson sailboat, “Sea Esta,” was the victim of another boat which broke mooring during high winds on the morning of October 23. While the other sailboat wound up on the bottom of the lake, Sea Esta sustained such serious damage that she was deemed a total loss.

It was difficult to watch her being towed up the Chicago River for her last voyage. A broken beauty. So many memories.

While I will be sailing a great Beneteau this season, I will miss my good friend. I will miss the comfort of a beautifully constructed boat and one that was a joy to sail. I cannot count the number of times that I shouted above the sounds of a stiff wind, “I am truly fortunate to be alive at this moment.”

I first met Sea Esta on a trip to Milwaukee where she was being offered for sale. It was love at first sight. I knew we would have an affair. So the association began. Then, of course, there was the necessary trip down the lake – a 90-mile journey – to her new home in Monroe Harbor.

For those who sail, you know that the best plans for any voyage are always subject to the realities of nature. For the trip down the lake, I decided it would best be accomplished in two segments: Milwaukee to Waukegan – 60 miles – then Waukegan to Chicago for the remaining 30.

I sealed the deal on the purchase in the last week of June. I planned to make the first leg of the journey (Milwaukee to Waukegan) on Saturday, July 1. I would move her through the three bridges of the Milwaukee River at 9 a.m. and head out into Lake Michigan by 9:30 or so.

For the trip I asked two younger friends who were both athletic and seemed “sea worthy.” On the trip on the Milwaukee river everyone was smiling, even when the second bridge was greatly delayed in opening and we kept having to dodge a group of kayakers who seemed oblivious to my vessel.

However, before we left the Milwaukee lakefront headed toward Chicago, my two stalwart helpers had become seasick. (So much for athletic types.)

In the course of raising sails, I discovered that one crew member had trauma from childhood sailing with his family and would freeze up at the hint of any urgency. The second was just clumsy. At one point a line was dropped over the bow and subsequently made its way, still attached to the bow, and became entangled in the propeller of the engine – rendering any use of auxiliary power impossible.

So, it was sailing!!!

The wind was stiff and my wonderful new vessel handled it well. We were quite heeled over with water coming close to entering the cockpit from the list of the boat in such a heavy wind. However, my two helpers were bent double in the bottom of the cockpit moaning, “Am I going to die?”

I had to fight it alone. No one could help lower the sails because both were lowered over the side tossing their cookies.

I fought it alone until 6 p.m. when I radioed the Coast Guard for help. We had made it only 30 miles toward Chicago and about 13 miles offshore. So much for the plans.
With a trip of 60 miles left, and with being unable to begin the journey until after church on Sunday, the plan was scuttled. Sea Esta would remain at a very “toney” mooring at a private harbor costing me a mint each 24 hours. We would have to make the final leg on July 4.

For that, I traded my “sickies” for a member of my choir whose wife could drive us to Racine and pick us up when we arrived in Chicago. With the propeller untangled (another costly project) we would motor down – not sail! Since it was now July 4, we could leave Racine at 8 a.m. and make it to Chicago around dusk.

The best laid plans………

To our dismay, Racine has the largest and longest 4th of July parade in the USA. When we arrived at 8 the parade had begun and blocked every possible entry to the marina where the boat was moored. I attempted bribing the police in charge of traffic control to no avail. They just looked at me and laughed at the situation.

And the bands played on and on and on until 12:30 p.m.

We finally got to the harbor and moved Sea Esta back into open waters by about 1:15. Five hours later than I had planned. It was a great ride down the lake. We stayed about a mile offshore. Towards dusk, the fireworks began. Village after village, pyrotechnics spiraled into the air. About 10:30 we finally pulled into Monroe Harbor and safe into our mooring.

It was the first of many adventures with my wonderful boat. She served us well. Now she exists as a great memory: a place for fresh air, great conversation, some really good food, the best view of a beautiful city, and yes, fantastic sailing.

Of course, there were moments of madness. Most involved the move up and down the Chicago river and its 23 bridges which had to be raised to accommodate the mast.

Once, when heading upriver for the close of the season, we were in an armada of about 20 boats. When we were in the “canyon” - that area of the river where it is most narrow and the buildings allow no sunlight to reach you at river level – a large two-master schooner lost its engine. It happens to the best of us. So, in the spirit of good seamanship, the vessel was tied alongside a similar sized boat for the remainder of the trip.

A well-meaning crew member on the disabled boat went below to work on the engine. In the course of doing so, he got the engine started and inadvertently put it in reverse. The result, with the towing vessel moving forward and the boat tied to her moving in the opposite direction, they were spinning around in the middle of the river with the rest of us fearing a major collision as we attempted to elude the madness. Of course, the Chicago Marine Police were going bananas screaming expletives that would make Mike Ditka sound like an altar boy. Something about being on the water brings out the Captain Bligh in the best of us.

Even with all the madness, those of us who love it come back again and again. John Masefield understood the lure:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

When Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney was asked, “what is it like to sail?”

According to legend, he responded, “you can get the same sensation that you get from sailing if you will stand, fully clothed, in the shower tearing up $100 bills.”

Very true, but believe me, the memories are worth it.

Good bye, Sea Esta, you will be missed this sailing season and I promise that the Beneteau will not eclipse your memory.