South Manitou Island Lighthouse, owned by the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.
Story and photos by Stewart McFerran
The increasing wind and the setting sun concerned her as she sailed into the middle of the Manitou Passage. When her balance was tipped and her small boat capsized, Gale was shocked by the cold water, and she watched as her carefully placed equipment floated away. She found her cell phone, which was in a plastic bag, and was able to make an emergency call while her dog Ruffian barked. However, she did not know her location and could not tell the 911 dispatcher where in the Manitou Passage to look for her and her soggy dog.
The Manitou Passage is a big area that stretches from Point Betsie to Leland. With daylight waning, high wind and big waves, she was in trouble. Her craft had no running lights, and, though it did have flotation, it sat low in the troughs of Lake Michigan’s waves.
She described the feeling of watching the search boats pass her by as I poured water on the sauna rocks and hot steam filled the small room.
I had previously made the acquaintance of Gale, a sailor, and her little dog with scruffy fur and a high-pitched bark. We communicated by text and talked about sailing. I told her about my adventures sailing in the Manitou Passage. She enthusiastically described her boat, an 18-foot fiberglass vessel that could be rowed or sailed.
I received a text indicating she would be launching her narrow boat at Glen Arbor. I told her I would meet her and Ruffian to help them launch. Ruffian went everywhere with her and had his own life jacket.
As I considered signing on as crew, I recalled the time I launched my 12-foot sloop into Lake Michigan on a sunny day. The little boat was subject to large waves, and the pounding the boat took that day caused the mast to fall. It was a big high-school adventure for me, as I pulled the broken hull and tangle of sails, stays and aluminum boom onto the Lake Michigan beach. In contrast, there was the memorable time I launched my little O’Day Javelin into Lake Michigan at Glen Arbor and sailed to South Manitou in two hours. I’ve made many crossings to North Manitou and South Manitou islands to camp and explore these national park lands. I always started early and checked the weather forecast.
Small boats react quickly to changes, and those at the helm need to respond instantly to gusts of wind. Often, I feel a balance when my body is hiked over the water to correct the boat’s lean, and the breeze bears down on the sail. The keel lifts, forcing the boat forward. I can attest to the beauty of sailing a small boat in a fine wind.
It was already late morning when Gale was ready to back the boat down the launch ramp. Sleeping Bear Bay was quiet, and I held her light craft while she got Ruffian situated among the gear. She was feeling excited and confident to be off on a voyage on the big water with her furry mutt. There was clearly no room for me.
Later in the day, I noticed the wind had increased. I tried to text her to see how they were fairing. That evening, I did get a response saying only that she could not talk, and then nothing ⸺ no contact for months.
She finally did get in touch and told me a harrowing tale of her near drowning in the dark, cold waters of Lake Michigan and the rescue of Ruffian ⸺ all while my stove roared and the heat of the sauna enveloped us like a warm blanket.
After rowing for some time in the light wind of Sleeping Bear Bay, the wind increased. She shipped the oars and set the sail. With a fine wind, they crossed all the way to South Manitou Island. They passed through the surf and only stayed on the island for a brief time before turning the craft around. It took all her strength to row her boat back through the surf.
It was getting late. Gale’s light boat was narrow and had no keel. It was a solo balancing act at the helm, with one hand on the sheet and the other for the tiller. She was a good sailor and was able to hold the heading that the wind allowed until the wind increased and she became exhausted. A gust knocked the little boat down and it filled with water.
Thankfully, the sheriff found her and Ruffian before it was too late. Gale was treated for hypothermia and released. She had only lost one oar during the trip to South Manitou and her subsequent rescue. Ruffian was just fine when I saw him months later.
The Manitou islands lie on the horizon and dare boaters to make the passage. Every summer, people do cross in their own small boats to the islands, part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. I would encourage a sailboat ride to the Manitous, as long as you check the weather, get an early start and wear a lifejacket, like Ruffian.
Stewart McFerran illuminates current environmental issues in a historic context. He hopes readers will gain an understanding and insight into ways people interact with their environment.
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