Sailing, Motoring & Motorsailing

Sailors have long looked down upon powerboaters for many and varied reasons. One of the reasons, perhaps, is that we envy the motor powered vessels ability to go where it wants at great rates of speed. And magazines devoted to powerboating always feature the most glamorous of women lounging about on deck as the captain drives his steed forward, leaving we poor sailors wallowing in his wake.

Such was the case upon exiting Detroit to flow down the Detroit River. Aided by a 2 - 3 kt current Whisper made good time for a slow, old sailboat. Whisper covered nearly 40 miles in 5 hours anchoring in the late afternoon while Sunday afternoon revelers sped about creating chaotic seas and shattering the natural calm. But we must be tolerant, I muttered to Whisper as she creaked and groaned in protest, not feeling very tolerant myself.

Afternoon morphed into evening and with it the Motor City boating public took their loud, expensive toys and went home to prepare for the work week. With smug satisfaction, I claimed the anchorage all to myself.

It was an admittedly nervous anchorage as, drawing 6 feet, Whisper could not drop the hook in spots more protected from wind and current. But we were well out of the channel and away from traffic......or so I thought.

I had set my alarm clock to wake me hourly to ensure the anchor wasn't dragging. We did NOT want a repeat of our earlier going aground. And, because there were fishermen about, I kept Whisper lit up like a Christmas tree. Prudence abounded.

Suddenly, during my fitful 2 a.m. sleep, I became aware of a jet fighter screaming overhead. Banging my head as it exited the forward hatch, I was greeted by the sight of a powerboat, easily doing 50 kts, passing within less than 10 feet. Was her skipper drunk? Did he not see Whisper? My tolerance for powerboaters hit a new low. Profanity and a stiff belt of Glenfiddich (supplied by a sailing friend with a similarly slow, old boat) ensued.

So, on less sleep than I would normally enjoy, Whisper made an early escape from Hole in the Wall. I think to myself: River current, out into the lake, piece of cake. WRONG.

The wind had been blowing out of the SE for two days creating a counter current. When the Lake Erie current met the Detroit River current a square wave pattern known as a seiche (French for square, I think) set up. Whisper, with her tiny little diesel engine, barely clawed her way out the channel. As soon as the water outside the channel was deep enough we bore off on a reach, sail and engine = motorsailing.

Thus we exited U.S. waters for the southernmost port in Canada, Pelee Island, Ontario and my ensuing wrangle with U.S. Customs.