Arctic Solo Sail

May 21, 2009.  The wind has veered just enough to the west to give me progress toward the river.  I spend the day coaxing every drop in latitude change out of the wind I can and come to anchor for a while off a beach at Port Huron.  I rest, take a shower in the cockpit, watch the mussel boats outdo each other in aimless frantic burst of noise and wake.  The CAP’N LEM is fast under sail and dreadfully slow under motor.  As the sun drops so does the wind and off we go down the St. Clair River under the international bridge.  On both sides of the river Canadian and American flags are hoisted side by side in salute to friendship and free trade.  I love going to Canada.  Some of my best cruises have been in Canadian waters.  Living in a border town as I do, I always take visitors to Victoria, BC.  I’m not quite ready to cross the borders, though.  I still have to dress the CAP’N …for the ladies, of course.

The thought takes me back to the last days spent with Captain Lem.  The strongest man I ever knew had become weak so I took on the solemn and awesome privilege to be his final care giver.  The VA doctor told me he would die in my motor home.  I just said “I don’t care” then to Captain Lem sitting there in his wheelchair, ” What do you want to do, Cap, go into the hospital or keep on traveling?”  He looked up and said “Uh, I… I want to keep on traveling!” and that’s just what we did, oxygen bottles, wheelchairs, Depends and all.  We traveled by land together that last month, up and down the ICW to visit old time friends, always telling them,  “The Cap and I, we’re on our way to Alaska.  Cap has never sailed to Alaska.  We’re on our way to get the AVANTI and sail there,”  But it was not to be.  At his youngest daughter’s home in Michigan, we stopped.  “We’ll rest here, Cap, just ‘till you feel better, then off to Alaska!” In the end, even that idea had lost its ability to brighten his eyes, but he remained handsome to the last, with dignity and grace befitting a hero who had helped save the world.  I would set him up in his bed, wash his wrinkled face and hands, and gently comb that beautiful long white hair and beard, telling him all the while “Oh Cap, the ladies want to come in for a visit.  We have to get ready…for the ladies.”  His daughter and granddaughters would then be allowed in to read to him or sing him songs.  He always managed a few words of charm, especially when the nurse was along.  They were our days of remembrance.  “Cap, remember time Riley Davis, Donna and you and me…, remember Burt and Catherine, remember old Henry …” His last day, we rang a little ships bell eight times, the watch was done and all was well.  He wore out, and stopped, like a clock not wound.

So now I take care of his namesake, THE CAPTAIN LEMUEL R BRIGMAN III, the little boat on its way.  But first a stop for new bottom paint, a good bath and some re-stowing of the gear, and the all important placing of the name and a christening.

Into the river with a goodly current bound for the boat yard in Mt. Clemens MI.  Traveling a river at night is a world of its own, the shore lights twinkling for attention and masking the important lights, buoys, markers and other boats.  I stick close to the right hand side of the river staying out of the channel as much as practical.  The channel is the domain of the Lakers.  They don’t need yet another small craft to worry about.  When the glare of lights multiplied a hundred fold by the ripples on the water become too much to battle I find a shallow behind an island (don’t want to worry about being run over in my sleep), and anchor at Latitude 42° 42.150’N ~ Longitude 082° 29.037’N having traveled 60 nm to day, and 1167nm to date

Ready for a lift

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 23rd, 2009 at 10:21 am and is filed under Lake Huron. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.