Traverse, Northern Michigan’s Magazine | JUL ’19 59L
ake Michigan is to be
respected. Her waters can
churn up at a moment’s
notice, giving sailors a
healthy dose of fear, the
ride of a lifetime, and in many cases,
a bit of both. As racers, we are guests
on the lake’s surface and while Lake
Michigan is regarded as a “lake” by
name, it’s most certainly a small ocean.
The Chicago to Mackinac race, referred
to as The Mac, is the pinnacle of the
summer yacht racing season. The Mac,
a distance race of 333 miles, is the oldest
freshwater race in the world. It attracts
many of the best sailors, top teams and
boats from all over our nation, and in
some years, the world. Boats ranging
from 26 to almost 100 feet long slip
north each year from the Windy City
to the Straits of Mackinac to win their
class or the entire race. From storms and
heavy seas, to calm waters, moonrises,
northern lights and sunsets, each race
north is different. It’s impressive.
I competed in my first Mac race
in 2004 as captain of my own boat,
subsequently competing for six more
years as captain, and another seven
years as crew for others. I’ve never
missed a single Mac race in 14 years.
Year 15, the summer of 2018, sees me
crewing for Bob Mampe, the owner of
Gotta Wanta, a ‘J-122’ that measures 40
feet and sailed out of Traverse City. It’s
a very capable boat, and Bob meticu-
lously prepared Gotta Wanta for this
specific race. The weather forecast for
this race is conflicted. One forecast
calls for moderate-to-light winds that
are fairly typical of previous Mackinac
races. But another forecast calls for the
near opposite: a significant low pres-
sure pattern that will create “sporty”
conditions—meaning a strong north-
erly breeze and steep seas. During the
skippers’ briefing prior to the race, the
second forecast—heavy wind from an
unforgiving direction—seemed the most
likely. “Know your limits,” the race
coordinator announced multiple times.
The week prior to the race I had
packed my backpack with only the bare
necessities to save weight. Foul weather
gear, base layers, waterproof socks, a
winter hat and gloves, my rigging knife
and my sailing shoes. On race morning
I re-pack everything just to make sure
all is in its place. This race, like all
others, starts with another check of the
weather—confirming the heavy wind
and seas that we had expected. Next, a
morning prayer that my friends, crew
and other competitors arrive safely and
without injury.
Prior to leaving the dock, we do a
short run-through of our man-over-
board procedure. While we’ve all been
sailing for a number of years, each boat
is different in terms of the systems and
safety equipment used in an overboard
situation. “The first thing is to yell ‘man
overboard,’ and never take your eyes off
the person in the water,” Bob advises.
With the weather forecast as significant
as it is, safety must trump competition.
For novice spectators, the race start
is the most confusing aspect to sailboat
racing. Competitors want to be a few
feet below the starting line going full
speed when the gun sounds—which
results in a frenzy of milling boats, each
attempting to gain advantage. Sailboats
don’t have brakes; collisions happen.
Eyes are wide open. There is plenty
of yelling between boats, “Stay clear!”
The air boils with tension, passion and
competition.
We deftly negotiate the mayhem and
sail cleanly on the favored end of the
line until the gun goes off. Tacking the
boat toward the Michigan shore, we are
starting with a nice lead in front of the
majority of our fleet. In moments, we
settle into our routine, putting as many
crew on the high side as we can and
racing the next 15 to 20 minutes like
it was a short-term buoy race around
Grand Traverse Bay. We assess our
boat speed with the other boats in our
fleet, and are pleased with our ability to
keep the boat under control in the high
winds while moving nicely among the
six-to-eight-foot seas. The waves slap the
hull, drenching our crew in the warm
surface water that has blown down the
lake from the north during the past 24
hours. The weather forecast is simple.
A low-pressure center is moving from
Wisconsin, over Chicago, and slowly to
the east-southeast. Low pressure cen-
ters spin counterclockwise, and as the
backside of the low pressure center is
moving across southern Lake Michigan,it funnels high winds and significant
waves down Lake Michigan with ease.
Our goal is to sail to the Michigan shore
as the low-pressure center begins to
move south and east. With the winds
shifting to a more easterly flow, we
can tack to begin moving in a more
northerly fashion up the lake.
As we sail into the middle of the
lake, the winds are consistently picking
up speed, topping 28 knots—almost
34 miles per hour—causing all boats,
including our own, to put a reef in the
mainsail. This provides crews with a
way to shorten the height of a main-
sail, ultimately reducing sail area and
increasing control. We do this without
complication, and the boat immediately
feels like it’s progressing more efficiently
through the waves with less heel angle
and better performance.
But the wind and waves have made
one crewmember seasick. No one has
an appetite. We reassess the crew watch
system, placing navigators on opposite
watches and schedule a rotation of driv-
ers to keep them fresh in the difficult
conditions.
The significant seas make rest almost
impossible. Most of us resort to sleeping
on the deck, huddled over a padded
lifeline that we hold like a football
player grasping a ball during a play.
We all have tethers that permit us to
clip ourselves onto safety lines running
the length of the boat so that if we fall
overboard we will remain within six
feet of the vessel.
We all realize that given the weather
forecast, this is our long-term reality.
That first evening I have an eerie image
cross my mind—of falling overboard,
my lifejacket failing to inflate. With my
foul weather gear and safety equipment
weighing me down, I wouldn’t last 30
seconds. When this thought haunts
me, I am completely oblivious of the
tragedy that had happened on another
boat earlier in the day.
As we close in on the Michigan
shore and gain Wifi, we receive the
news that the yacht Imedi, a 52-foot
high performance racing yacht, lost a
crew member overboard shortly after
the start of the race. Six miles into the
race a big wave hit the boat, causing
the crew member, who was making a