I have just returned from sailing as first mate on our local historical schooner, Madeline, in the Tall Ships Challenge series from Detroit to Bay City, MI.  We  had very hot weather in Detroit, doing tours at dockside, but our shower facilities were the Red Wings' locker room.  On Sunday, we joined the other vessels in a parade up the Detroit River past the city, firing our cannon until we ran out of powder, and then up to Lake Saint Clair.  At Detroit, we picked up a video cameraman working for ESPN who remained with us through Bay City. 

  We understand that there will be a 90-minute Tall Ship show in September, if you want to see our fine vessel and the other tall ships gathered in the Great Lakes.

  The Detroit River and Lake Saint Clair contained more boats--almost all power, and fiberglass--than I had ever seen.  Among them were one Cal 25 and one Cal 20.

  We spent the night at Algonac, original home of Chris-Craft in the wooden boat days.  It's a real boat town.  The crowd seemed to be 15 people deep along the pier, and they burst into applause as we tossed our lines ashore. 

  The next day we continued north up the Saint Clair River to Port Huron.  We were motor sailing as we approached the town, but a thunderstorm ahead with lots of lightning convinced us to slow down and avoid the excitement.  Of course, as we dropped our sails, the fore gaff throat decided not to obey gravity. Order was restored when I added my own weight by hanging on the mast hoops.

  We berthed at a gas dock in the Black River at Port Huron, where I saw several Cal 25s. 

  From Port Huron, we sailed (that is, powered, sailed, and motor-sailed) overnight to Bay City, with a dinner stop at Harbor Beach to drop off a hitch-hiking passenger.  On my first watch, we had a fresh breeze and big lake swells right on the nose, mostly.  It was a moonless night and it was hard steering the big boat without being able to see and anticipate the biggst seas.  Sailing with aluminum spars makes you forget what an impressive sight it is to see solid pine masts, topmasts, booms, and gaffs swaying around above your head when the bow is plunging into the troughs then rising to the crests of the waves.  It is always a time to reflect on how loose those topmast shrouds felt when I was up on the spreaders.  The cameraman, housed in the fo'csl, discovered that our foredeck leaks when we take seas over the bow (that's why the fo'csl was unoccupied).

Bay City was a treat. This is the town where I grew up, and keep my Seafarer, Baker's Dozen.  We were on the west side of the river, and looked across to see Bluenose II and Pride of Baltimore II on the other side.  This must be what heaven is like.  By donning my mate's nametag and official "crew" pass and adopting a longing expression, I managed to get a tour of Bluenose from her skipper after tourist hours. At this point, I knew I had been to heaven. Bluenose's main boom is bigger than Madeline's mast, which I figured was an advantage until the skipper described how unruly that huge Douglas Fir spar gets when luffing.

  Now, of course, I must return to the real world by heading for work tomorrow.  That is not fun at all, after a week of sailing and enjoying a congenial crew.

  Chris Campbell