This 1926 article from Motor Boating is much better written than their last trip! I guess they were assigned an editor this time. I posted a full page ad for the Super Elto at the end of this story.
After the completion of our 600 mile cruise in an 18 foot open boat last year, Mrs. Bailey and I considered that we had finished the most wonderful vacation trip of our lives. Many friends who enquired regarding the adventure seemed to question gravely the statement that we would like to repeat it the following season. They remarked on how fortunate we were not to have met with serious accident. So successful were we in portraying the beauty and pleasure of a vacation trip, that finally a few of our friends with a bit of sporting blood began to sit up and pay attention to our promise of a second similar excursion.
We had decided this year to have a greater and grander trip than before, if one is allowed to borrow from the time worn advertising of the circus. Our proposed trip was to include a run to the Soo, and through the locks into Lake Superior. Again, as before, we were told strange and weird tales of the dangers and discomforts to be encountered. However, by the middle of the summer, we were quite prepared to start, and had persuaded another couple to try the cruise with us.
We had decided this year to have a greater and grander trip than before, if one is allowed to borrow from the time worn advertising of the circus. Our proposed trip was to include a run to the Soo, and through the locks into Lake Superior. Again, as before, we were told strange and weird tales of the dangers and discomforts to be encountered. However, by the middle of the summer, we were quite prepared to start, and had persuaded another couple to try the cruise with us.
Inez Mae, which had carried Mrs. Bailey and myself on our previous trip, was repainted and varnished so her 18 foot length looked very fine. The earlier three horse power Elto engine had been replaced with a pair of the new four horse power Super Eltos. These were arranged with right and left screws, so that it was quite a businesslike looking craft. A load of approximately 1,600 pounds was carried, which included a nine by 12 foot tent, two 48 inch kapok mattresses, blankets, clothing, anchor, grocery store, ice box, life preservers, and all the usual and necessary camping equipment.
We were to be independent of the rest of the world for several days at a time. Our boat had been registered early in the spring, and now carried the number A 1792, showing that a proper and respectable craft of American registry, she was entitled to all considerations and courtesy. We certainly received more than our share of both.
A camp was set up, and a fine meal prepared on the fried chicken which the Talbot family had supplied for the first meal. After all the baggage had been carried to the tent, we wondered where it had been stowed. The same question had been raised before, as we looked it all over in the boat house. Mrs. Bailey was voted a wonder in the art of packing equipment into a small space, for we had everything we needed.
An election was held with the result that Mrs. Bailey was elected Commodore, Norman the navigator, Mary the second engineer and general adviser, while I filled the post of engineer and cook. Norman's occupation is that of trap-net fisherman, so he is familiar with small craft. Turning the work of handling the boat over to him was a great help. The work of engineer was reduced to that necessary to keeping the engines supplied with fuel.
The only other worry on my mind was the problem of providing sufficient food for a hungry crew. What appetites they developed before the trip was over. A very large box containing provisions had been stowed in the after end of the boat, and covered with a heavy canvas. This was called the grocery store, and I selected it as my seat. The wisdom of my action was proven several times when the crew threatened to raid the gallery. A board running between the two rear seats furnished a place for the second engineer, and we were in the engine room. Just ahead of us sat the Commodore and navigator in what they pleased to call the pilot house, and from which we of the after end were strictly barred.
We left Sturgeon Point before before dark, and while the seas were still rolling freely, the wind had died down and it looked reasonably safe to me. It must have looked differently to the captain of the station, since he ordered the surf boat to be ready to come to our rescue if necessary. We were entirely unaware of the anxiety we were causing as we ran up the lake.
At ten o'clock in the evening we decided to run ashore, at what appeared to be a well wooded island just south of Thunder Bay. It proved to be a stony reef without the least bit of shubbery on it! It was quiet and not too cold so we decided to stay for the night and build a campfire without erecting a tent. About the time we turned in, fully dressed except for boots, the wind began to blow from the north, and by morning it was decidedly cold. The driftwood burned like tinder, making a great deal of heat for a few minutes. It did not last long, and our end of the reef was well cleaned up before sunrise.
We did not stop to make breakfast, and ran on to south point as soon as it was light. Here we cooked a hot meal, making a mental note of Stony Island, with a sincere determination to eliminate it from our list of future stops.
We crossed Thunder Bay which is twelve miles across under one engine slowed down to half speed. The strong wind which was blowing out of the north made this necessary. As it took nearly three hours to work our way across, we ate our luncheon on the way, and already te crew were asking to be fed five times a day. On reaching the station at Thunder Bay Island, the life saving crew reported back to Sturgeon Point that we had crossed safely. We knew nothing of these precautions until we were on our way home.
Monday we left Hilton after filling our gas tank and headed up the old channel for the Soo.
It was a beautiful day, and we erected a big umbrella we carried for a sun-shade, similar to those used on the huckster wagon in the old days.
This boasted that we use Patton;s Sun-Proof Paint, and as we met the steamers we were causing a good deal of amusement and speculation.
We cooked dinner at Forty Mile Point, and ran down to Presque Isle Harbor, arriving in a fog. Refilled our gasoline tank, and started out, but the fog was too dense. The horn at the Light boomed its warning, and out in the Lake we could hear the big boats talking to one another, and deciding the need was not as great as the risk, we turned back and again spent a night in the fishery.
Monday morning came bright, and the sun and wind whipped away the fog. We stopped at the Old Light to take some pictures, and here the third accident happened.
Where ever it had been impossible to beach the boat on account of rocks or shallow water, the navigator and I had carried the girls ashore on our backs. Since the rocks were covered with moss, and washed by the waves until they were smooth as glass, and slippery as an eel, we had several narrow escapes from dropping our loads.
And here it happened, for when in about fifteen inches of water I stumbled and fell backwards with the second engineer riding packback. No one was hurt, and we all enjoyed a laugh over the affair, but an attempt to note in the log that Mary fell overboard, with an account of the gallant rescue I made was ruled out.
We reached Thunder Bay at noon, and as it was blowing rather brisk from the northwest we ran into the Bay for a distance of several miles before attempting to cross. Again had luncheon enroute and reached Harrisville, and were told of the narrow escape on our way north, as portrayed by the crew at Sturgeon Point. Left Harrisville, and when we finally rounded the point, and crossed Tawas Bay, it was rough and choppy. We were glad to get ashore at 1:00A.M. We slept in the open with the aid of a big campfire, and dozed for three or four hours for at 5:15 we were aboard and headed out into the Lake. The sun was shining beautifully, and I dug out the Coleman and, setting it up on the stern seat, cooked breakfast. With a frying pan in one hand, and the tiller ropes in the other, the cook was busy. Landed at Pt. Lookout and re-docked Inez Mae, to the surprise of everybody who could hardly believe the time we had made in our run down the Lake.
After the completion of our 600 mile cruise in an 18 foot open boat last year, Mrs. Bailey and I considered that we had finished the most wonderful vacation trip of our lives. Many friends who enquired regarding the adventure seemed to question gravely the statement that we would like to repeat it the following season. They remarked on how fortunate we were not to have met with serious accident. So successful were we in portraying the beauty and pleasure of a vacation trip, that finally a few of our friends with a bit of sporting blood began to sit up and pay attention to our promise of a second similar excursion. We had decided this year to have a greater and grander trip than before, if one is allowed to borrow from the time worn advertising of the circus. Our proposed trip was to include a run to the Soo, and through the locks into Lake Superior. Again, as before, we were told strange and weird tales of the dangers and discomforts to be encountered. However, by the middle of the summer, we were quite prepared to start, and had persuaded another couple to try the cruise with us.
We had decided this year to have a greater and grander trip than before, if one is allowed to borrow from the time worn advertising of the circus. Our proposed trip was to include a run to the Soo, and through the locks into Lake Superior. Again, as before, we were told strange and weird tales of the dangers and discomforts to be encountered. However, by the middle of the summer, we were quite prepared to start, and had persuaded another couple to try the cruise with us.
We embarked early in August, and left our dock at Bay City, with Norman Talbot and his sister Mary, completing the crew of four. Just a word regarding these two new adventurers. Born and raised in a family of fishermen, they were used to the outdoors. Neither had ever gone on a camping trip, yet the winds and sun held no terrors for them, while a bit of sea did not upset their stomachs or temperaments.
Inez Mae, which had carried Mrs. Bailey and myself on our previous trip, was repainted and varnished so her 18 foot length looked very fine. The earlier three horse power Elto engine had been replaced with a pair of the new four horse power Super Eltos. These were arranged with right and left screws, so that it was quite a businesslike looking craft. A load of approximately 1,600 pounds was carried, which included a nine by 12 foot tent, two 48 inch kapok mattresses, blankets, clothing, anchor, grocery store, ice box, life preservers, and all the usual and necessary camping equipment.
We were to be independent of the rest of the world for several days at a time. Our boat had been registered early in the spring, and now carried the number A 1792, showing that a proper and respectable craft of American registry, she was entitled to all considerations and courtesy. We certainly received more than our share of both.
On the previous trip, the surplus gasoline supply had been carried in cans, while a mason jar, with a screw top was used for filling the tanks. This makeshift answered after a fashion, but the method was both messy and wasteful. Spilling a good share of the gasoline over the boat and into the water could not be prevented no matter how much care was exercised. A good deal of sand also found its way into the gas tank, and eventually had to be strained out through the little screen on the gasoline line.
In this trip a much larger tank had been arranged to fit under the seat near the stern, which held twenty-four gallons of gasoline. An ordinary tire valve had been fitted into the top of the tank, and by using an automobile pump, it was possible to raise the gas to the engine tanks without trouble. A quarter inch pipe was run to the stern, and a valve, long nipple, and several feet of rubber hose made a flexible connection to the engine tanks. By filtering the gas and oil into the main tank all dirt was avoided, and it was not necessary to clean the fuel lines any time during the entire trip.
We made our departure on a Sunday afternoon, and we were cheered on our way by a party of friends, who wished us good luck and God speed. Our first run brought us to Point Lookout, a distance of some forty miles, with which we were quite pleased. During this run, the engine tanks were being filled alternately so the boat never entirely stopped. Later it was found practical to to fill them while running at full speed, and the only stops made were when making a landing.
In previous tests, Inez Mae had made 11m.p.h. with two passengers. We considered this very fair, considering the weight of the boat. Now, however, loaded to the rails with baggage and four passengers, she was doing 8 1/2 miles and the results were most satisfactory. The engines were not timed together, and ran independently just as they were shipped from the factory. It was found advisable to clamp one engine fast, and do all the steering with the other engine. When making landings, or beaching the boat, the one engine was cut off, while still in deep water. This slowed the boat down, and permitted easy control of the boat, since the other engine was tilted out of the water, and did not require further watching.
A camp was set up, and a fine meal prepared on the fried chicken which the Talbot family had supplied for the first meal. After all the baggage had been carried to the tent, we wondered where it had been stowed. The same question had been raised before, as we looked it all over in the boat house. Mrs. Bailey was voted a wonder in the art of packing equipment into a small space, for we had everything we needed.
An election was held with the result that Mrs. Bailey was elected Commodore, Norman the navigator, Mary the second engineer and general adviser, while I filled the post of engineer and cook. Norman's occupation is that of trap-net fisherman, so he is familiar with small craft. Turning the work of handling the boat over to him was a great help. The work of engineer was reduced to that necessary to keeping the engines supplied with fuel.
The only other worry on my mind was the problem of providing sufficient food for a hungry crew. What appetites they developed before the trip was over. A very large box containing provisions had been stowed in the after end of the boat, and covered with a heavy canvas. This was called the grocery store, and I selected it as my seat. The wisdom of my action was proven several times when the crew threatened to raid the gallery. A board running between the two rear seats furnished a place for the second engineer, and we were in the engine room. Just ahead of us sat the Commodore and navigator in what they pleased to call the pilot house, and from which we of the after end were strictly barred.
The following Monday morning found a strong wind blowing from the southwest and threatening rain. Breakfast was prepared early, and we were soon underway, running one motor on account of the sea, until we rounded the point and get under the lee. Just beyond this point we ran on a reef, due to failure to watch our course. This resulted in a sheared off drive pin in the starboard motor. It was the work of a few minutes to replace the pin, and while the boat slid along under one engine, it was repaired. Both motors were merrily humming along again in ten minutes. This was the total of repairs or replacements on the entire trip, and need not have happened had we used sufficient care.
A stop for luncheon was made, and Tawas Bay crossed early in the afternoon. On swinging out into Lake Huron we found the seas were raising quite a bit. We scudded along at a lively pace, with a four foot following sea behind us. Occasionally one of these crept up over the transom and spilled a little water in the boat. The situation was not serious, until later in the afternoon.
During this time the girls were much annoyed with the stinging of little flies which seemed to enjoy biting through their stockings. The Commodore finally dug about among the bales and soon came up with a fly spray. This caused much merriment as it was used to spray the legs with fly-tox, and thus put an end to that nuisance. The navigator and I, wearing hip boots, were quite free of this disturbance.
We were glad to run into the river at Au Sable, as we had been bouncing around rather lively for the past few hours. Since there were no trees here to which we could secure our tent, we had to erect some stakes and grow our own trees. The forest here had been entirely destroyed some years previously by a forest fire. Dinner was voted a success as we fried a fresh lake trout.
Later as we turned in for the night it started raining. The rain continued through the night and until noon the next day. A shift in the wind then cleared away the clouds, so that we were ready to go on. We filled our tank with high test aviation gas from a nearby flying field before leaving. No difference was noticed in the operation of the engines between this and regulation gasoline, and we quickly decided that it was not worth the extra cost of twelve cents per gallon.
In making the landing at the old wharf at Harrisville, we were thoroughly drenched. The experience was not new, for I have never been able to make a landing there without shipping much water. The shore is lined with large boulders, and the old wharf is falling to pieces. It is not a fit place for even as small a craft as ours. After the girls were finally ashore, Norman and I ran the boat to the Sturgeon Point Lifesaving Station. Here we were met by friends with an automobile, and had dinner with them later in Harrisville. We renewed our acquaintance with the Life Saving crew, who were greatly interested in our trip.
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| Photograph courtesy U.S. Archives of Michigan (earlier photo than 1926) |
We left Sturgeon Point before before dark, and while the seas were still rolling freely, the wind had died down and it looked reasonably safe to me. It must have looked differently to the captain of the station, since he ordered the surf boat to be ready to come to our rescue if necessary. We were entirely unaware of the anxiety we were causing as we ran up the lake.
At ten o'clock in the evening we decided to run ashore, at what appeared to be a well wooded island just south of Thunder Bay. It proved to be a stony reef without the least bit of shubbery on it! It was quiet and not too cold so we decided to stay for the night and build a campfire without erecting a tent. About the time we turned in, fully dressed except for boots, the wind began to blow from the north, and by morning it was decidedly cold. The driftwood burned like tinder, making a great deal of heat for a few minutes. It did not last long, and our end of the reef was well cleaned up before sunrise.
We did not stop to make breakfast, and ran on to south point as soon as it was light. Here we cooked a hot meal, making a mental note of Stony Island, with a sincere determination to eliminate it from our list of future stops.
We crossed Thunder Bay which is twelve miles across under one engine slowed down to half speed. The strong wind which was blowing out of the north made this necessary. As it took nearly three hours to work our way across, we ate our luncheon on the way, and already te crew were asking to be fed five times a day. On reaching the station at Thunder Bay Island, the life saving crew reported back to Sturgeon Point that we had crossed safely. We knew nothing of these precautions until we were on our way home.
The weather had now moderated, and as we passed Middle Island the lake was like glass. With both engines going at full speed we were making fine time. We made a landing at the Piepkorn fishery in Presque Isle Harbor, and were warmly greeted by the members of the fishing crew. We slept in the twine house of the finest fishery on Lake Huron. During the evening Max Piepkorn offered to take us part way across Lake Huron if we wished to enter Georgian Bay via the Duck Islands.
Read a short tale about one of the Piepkorns -"Three Men and a Bottle". As far as I can find, it was Fred Piepkorn, maybe Max was a nickname.The Duck Islands had formed a prominent part of our trip last year while we were running for shelter
after being at sea for over six hours. The Commodore and I thought it well to change our route and visit them again. Mr. Piepkorn told us his boat would be leaving at 6:30, and we agreed to ride with him.
A $2.00 watch had been purchased especially for this trip. Its main recommendation was that it was certainly a loud ticker, and when it registered 5:30, I arose to start breakfast. Just as I was about to light the stove, Max came along and asked how soon we would be ready. I assured him we would be ready on time, and inspecting his watch he announced it was 6:25. There was no breakfast in sight for us then, and running back to the twine house I told the girls that the steamer was waiting for us. In a very few minutes we were on board the steamer Ciscoe, steaming out of the harbor with Inez Mae towing along behind.
I pretended not to notice the hungry look on the face of the Commodore and second engineer, but mentally decided my clock was worth what I had paid for it. We rode on the steamer for two hours, finally getting back on board our craft just as Duck Islands loomed up in the distance. Piepkorn estimated them to be 15 miles off, but I believed him to be short a few miles. An east wind was blowing with rather more sea than I would have wished for, but we assured Max that we could manage and started away with one engine.
Half an hour after we left the steamer it started to rain with a cold, driving drizzle. This was not bad in itself, except the mist began to shut out the Island and we were "surrounded by horizon" in the words of the second engineer. As the Island disappeared from view we took a compass bearing on it, and finally decided to drive on in spite of the sea and sent the boat bounding ahead with both engines wide open. We threw spray to the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and naturally shipped a goodly part of it until it became necessary to pump almost continually. The other members of the crew looked back at me and grinned in spite of the streams of water which were running off them from head to foot, so I realized they were good sports in in the fullest meaning of the term. After running at this speed for a time the rain stopped and the Island came into view.
We ran the cut between Great Duck and Outer Duck, and made a landing, both passengers and baggage being thoroughly drenched. As it had been too rough on Lake Huron to even allow a hand-out, it seemed a long time between meals so we gave first attention to the matter of eating. Then we took possession of an abandoned house at the old fishery and proceeded to change into dry clothing and spread everything out to dry.
Norman and I went trolling the lake for trout, and within two hours returned with two beauties weighing over twenty pounds. On our return we found the girls had cleaned house thoroughly. A heavy fog settled over the lake, and after dinner we walked across the island to visit the keeper of the light and his family. The fog horn was booming continually, and the light flashed through the fog casting weird shadows through the trees as we stumbled along the path through the woods. We returned to our newly adopted home at 11:00, while the fog horn roared all through the night.
A $2.00 watch had been purchased especially for this trip. Its main recommendation was that it was certainly a loud ticker, and when it registered 5:30, I arose to start breakfast. Just as I was about to light the stove, Max came along and asked how soon we would be ready. I assured him we would be ready on time, and inspecting his watch he announced it was 6:25. There was no breakfast in sight for us then, and running back to the twine house I told the girls that the steamer was waiting for us. In a very few minutes we were on board the steamer Ciscoe, steaming out of the harbor with Inez Mae towing along behind.
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| This ad is from 1926, showing a Lake Huron fishing steamer. |
I pretended not to notice the hungry look on the face of the Commodore and second engineer, but mentally decided my clock was worth what I had paid for it. We rode on the steamer for two hours, finally getting back on board our craft just as Duck Islands loomed up in the distance. Piepkorn estimated them to be 15 miles off, but I believed him to be short a few miles. An east wind was blowing with rather more sea than I would have wished for, but we assured Max that we could manage and started away with one engine.
Half an hour after we left the steamer it started to rain with a cold, driving drizzle. This was not bad in itself, except the mist began to shut out the Island and we were "surrounded by horizon" in the words of the second engineer. As the Island disappeared from view we took a compass bearing on it, and finally decided to drive on in spite of the sea and sent the boat bounding ahead with both engines wide open. We threw spray to the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and naturally shipped a goodly part of it until it became necessary to pump almost continually. The other members of the crew looked back at me and grinned in spite of the streams of water which were running off them from head to foot, so I realized they were good sports in in the fullest meaning of the term. After running at this speed for a time the rain stopped and the Island came into view.
We ran the cut between Great Duck and Outer Duck, and made a landing, both passengers and baggage being thoroughly drenched. As it had been too rough on Lake Huron to even allow a hand-out, it seemed a long time between meals so we gave first attention to the matter of eating. Then we took possession of an abandoned house at the old fishery and proceeded to change into dry clothing and spread everything out to dry.
Norman and I went trolling the lake for trout, and within two hours returned with two beauties weighing over twenty pounds. On our return we found the girls had cleaned house thoroughly. A heavy fog settled over the lake, and after dinner we walked across the island to visit the keeper of the light and his family. The fog horn was booming continually, and the light flashed through the fog casting weird shadows through the trees as we stumbled along the path through the woods. We returned to our newly adopted home at 11:00, while the fog horn roared all through the night.
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| Great Duck Lighthouse built 1875; Photograph courtesy Library and Archives Canada |
Friday morning there was no wind, but a heavy haze hung over the Lake. We left Duck Island and made a landing in Mississagi Passage (Strait) to take a few pictures. Ran through into Georgian Bay, and landed on Drummond Island and cooked a trout for dinner. We had made about sixty miles in spite of a late start.
It was at this point I made the rather startling discovery that if I put a five pound trout into a kettle with about a dozen potatoes, two good size onions and a handful of salt, it was just about right to form the main course of a dinner for four. When well flanked with the usual trimmings and topped off with two quarts of freshly picked wild raspberries, it seemed to chase the wolf from the door in a quite satisfactory manner.
About this time another peculiarity made itself known. Norman was always looking for a comfortable place to sleep, and Mary was always hungry. It seemed she wanted to eat early and often, and I soon learned that when she groaned it was time to reach for the deadly frying pan. I lost considerable sleep trying to figure out new ways of serving bacon and eggs, or some way to make an ordinary meal last longer than 2 1/2 hours.
Trees were a bit scarce at this camping ground, and so we decided to sleep in the open, and carrying up our mattresses and blankets we made up a wide bed on a pile of peelings from cedar posts. It was a pretty fair bed, but the campfire we built came creeping our way in the night and set fire to the bark. When we finally awakened it had caught one of my hip boots and the boot was merrily ablaze! This was our first accident, and we were thankful it had not burned our feet. The only bad feature about it was now Norman had to do all the carrying to and from the boat when we could not beach her, and of course I was not nearly as sorry as I made believe.
Saturday morning it was blowing hard, and we picked more raspberries and made pies, though to be sure I had a little more trouble getting them to taste like mother's. Finally as the wind began to die off a little before noon we left for St. Joe Island, landing at Hilton Beach where we were welcomed by friends. Our last trout, a seven pounder, made dinner for the gang.
Sunday was spent bass fishing around St. Joe, with remarkable success, while the girls drove around the Island with Mr. Ryan making a busy and interesting day. The Bay is full of islands, few of them have been changed by the hand of man, so that it is far more beautiful than the Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence. (Who is Mr. Ryan? )
Monday we left Hilton after filling our gas tank and headed up the old channel for the Soo. It was a beautiful day, and we erected a big umbrella we carried for a sun-shade, similar to those used on the huckster wagon in the old days.
This boasted that we use Patton;s Sun-Proof Paint, and as we met the steamers we were causing a good deal of amusement and speculation.
We reached the Soo, and reported to the Canadian Customs, after which we locked up through American Lock No. 2, in company with two large freighters. Tourist lined the lock walls and called to us as we ran around in the lock, and we created considerable interest. When they started to open the gates, we ran out ahead of the steamers and into Lake Superior for several miles, and then turned around and came back into the Canadian Lock.
We found it necessary to report to the Lock Office, and register the same as a freighter. I climbed over the wall and ran to the office and gave them all the facts I could about our craft. After giving the name, home port, name of owner, and other data, the conversation ran about kike this:
"Draft?"
"About 15 inches."
"Well, I'll give her three feet." "Tonnage?"
"About one ton if loaded to the rail."
"Well, I'll give her four tons."
I thanked him for his generosity, but assured him we couldn't think of taking advantage of such a giving disposition, and left as soon as possible for fear he would give me the canal.
As I approached the wall a gate-tender remarked that while he had looked through many a strange craft, this outfit beat them all. I found they had already started to lower the water, and Inez Mae was about twelve feet below me. The Lock Keeper shouted it would be best to back away from the whirlpool, and as I was Engineer it was up to me. Jumping from the wall into the boat, I landed with all the grace and lightness one might expect from an awkward 200-pounder, failing somehow to upset the craft.
I assured them backing up is what she does best, and tightening the clamps, we had great fun running around in the lock, while they dropped us to the lower level. Out of the lock we ran to the dock of the Soo-Falls Brewery, and after purchasing the necessary articles to re-fill our grocery store, a new pair of boots, and sending a few cards and telegrams, we stowed a couple of cases of light refreshments, and bid good-bye to our good friend Ryan, and headed down the river.
Stopped a mile or so down on the American side to refill the gas tank, and after landing had a considerable argument with our camp stove before I finally announced dinner was to be served. At a previous stop the supply of gasoline we carried for the stove had run out, and I had filled the tank with gasoline we carry for the engine. This was already mixed with oil, and while a Coleman stove is rather heavy in its consumption of gasoline, I must admit it is very light in its use of lubricating oil.
Tuesday we were up and away early, the stove not working any better. As soon as we were well under way we dragged the stove back into the engine room, where Mary and I tore it apart and cleaned and rebuilt it, throwing the surplus parts into the river to the consternation of the balance of the crew. However, I think the Coleman people must have put too many parts in that particular stove for it worked fine after we got through with it.
It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly, and there were a good many boats on the river, and though we were not passing many of them, still we did manage to meet quite a number of them. We played around in Potagannising Bay for a couple hours, and finally landed at Detour, again refilled our gas tank, and strolled out into the country to the meat market to purchase steak for dinner. The meat market is about two miles from the town, for no reason I could see except the butcher does not have to go so far to purchase his live stock. Away again later, and met the steamer Zillah with our friend Captain Ward, and as he was a friend from home, he blew us a salute, and called his greetings, and we felt quite happy to see someone whom we knew. We did not imagine it was to be the last trip of the Zillah, which now rest in the waters off Whitefish Point in Lake Superior. Lake Huron was rough and as the wind increased we were finally forced ashore in Scott's Bay on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
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| http://americanhistory.si.edu/onthewater/ |
The skies were dark, and it threatened to rain, although it held off while we set up camp and cooked dinner, after which we walked up and down the beach until bedtime. Bedtime seemed to be shortly after dark, although we did stay up one night until almost 9:30 to play cribbage.
The wind increased all through the night, and when we got up in the morning it e=seemed as if all of Lake Huron was trying to crowd into the little harbor we were in. During the night deer had walked along the beach, and hundreds of tracks testified to their number. We picked berries, and lay around on the beach until after noon when we went exploring, and found a little cottage a mile or so up the shore, occupied by a Professor from Ann Arbor and his wife. Visited with them for a couple hours and returned to camp for dinner.
Thursday morning it was still blowing and Norman's prophecy of a three days blow seemed to be well founded, but in the afternoon we decided to take a ride, and loading our outfit struck out. Lake Huron was a smother of white, and in a couple of hours we had enough of it and landed on Gravelly Island at the Eastern entrance of Les Cheneaux Islands.
The wind whistled down the channels, and it seemed it was blowing from all directions. It was impossible to find anyplace to find real shelter. We did not erect the tent, as probably it would have blown out to sea, but made the best windbreak we could out of our big umbrella and the tarps, and spent the night.
Friday morning it was still rough, but we were getting a bit short of provisions, especially bread. I hated to try feeding the crew pancakes three times a day (What!? That would be OK with me!) so we finally worked up the courage enough to embark and run to Cedarville, where we landed shortly after noon, dripping water from every joint, cold and hungry. Lunched at the hotel and re-filled our provision supply and started away, in spite of the fact some residents warned us against it, and the fact we had some little trouble holding the boat up into the wind until we could get enough speed up to drive against the storm. Cedarville is only a small summer town, but it looked too thickly settled to appeal to us for we were getting wild and tough as Norman said, and need lots of room.
The sea was the worst we had encountered and when we finally reached a well wooded island just off Hessel, having been about two hours making six miles, we called it a day. Made a landing in a rough sea among the rocks, and hurried to erect our tent before it started to rain. The canvas was wet, and leaked considerably when it started to rain, and it rained hard all night. We set up the stove in the tent and warmed it up a little, but could not prevent the water coming in, and all were glad when daylight finally arrived. For the cook the joy was short-lived for a goodly part of the material necessary for breakfast was in Inez Mae.
I put on an oilskin coat, and boots, and splashed down to the shore, and found the stern line had slipped off the rock to which it had been fastened. Inez Mae was dancing at the end of the anchor line, about 200 feet from shore, and in nearly 50 feet of water. Once before this had happened, but that was on our first night out, and the water in Saginaw Bay is fit to swim in. There I was on shore, and the water was ice cold to say nothing of the fact it was still raining. No help for it, and so stripping down to B.V.D.s I stumbled over the rocks until the water was up to my waist, and struck out for the boat. The waves slapped me in the face, and it was decidedly uncomfortable. When finally I crawled over the side, it was to find the anchor had become wedged among the rocks, and it was fifteen minutes before I managed to work it loose. All the time it was getting colder. When I finally got the boat back in position, and a shore line secured to a tree, the rest of the crew had begun to wonder about the delay, and Norman was out to look me up.
I wrapped a tarpaulin around me, and with my now thoroughly soaked clothes under my arm staggered back to camp. The greeting I received was: "I'm hungry." "When do we eat?" "What took you so long?"
My teeth were chattering too loudly to make a reply, so the peace was not disturbed. After changing into dry clothes and swallowing a cup of coffee I was as good as ever. Am really inclined to call it accident No. 2, and it never happened again on the trip.
We decided to move along in the afternoon, as Mary said she could not get used to sleeping two nights in the same place, and packed our wet tent and baggage into the boat. It was still raining a bit, and a heavy fog was drifting oner the lake, but the wind had died down. We rounded Brulee Point and passed inside St. Martin's Islands. Although they are big islands, and only half a mile from the mainland, the fog was so thick we did not see them.
We made Jamison Bay and landed at the dock of an abandoned saw mill. Found all the mill houses padlocked, but loosened a board on the side of the mill, and took possession. Hungry and cold, the crew looked at me, and I knew something must be done. I put about 1 1/2 pounds of salt pork, a pound of corned beef, 14 potatoes, 3 onions, celery, tomatoes, a can of string beans, and one of corn into a 12 quart kettle and set the the fire going. Suggested we take a walk, and we returned in about a half an hour. As the mulligan was hardly ready I sent the crew out on the dock fishing. The fish did not bite but it kept them amused for another 15 or 20 minutes. As I saw them coming I called "Come and get it!" and emptying in a half bottle of catsup, poured the coffee, cut up a loaf of rye bread, and set out cheese, crackers, cookies and jam. We managed to make a meal of it.
As Norman finally scraped the bottom of the kettle he gave a long sigh, and I wondered if it was from pain or satisfaction. A pint basin of raspberries to each made dessert, and the cleaning up and dish washing caused considerable agony as for some reason the girls did not feel like working. Another walk, and we decided to go to bed. We were just nicely settled down when a porcupine came nosing around, and his grunts awakened the girls who asked what it could be. I answered bears but Norman finally had to get up and chase the little fellow away, but in 20 minutes he was back. Deciding he could not harm us, and hoping he would not eat all the grub we left out, we settled down again, only to have three dear come strolling within ten feet of where we lay. It seems every time we finally dropped asleep some of our little neighbors came to visit us.
Sunday morning found us eating breakfast very early, in spite of the amount of dinner we had consumed, and our regular bill of fare was reinforced by a mess of mushrooms found in the mill yard. Sky still gray, but promising to clear, we were away at 6:30 and reached St. Ignace just as the sun came through in all its glory. It was warm and beautiful, and in ten seconds our spirits rose 100 percent, and all forgot the days of rain and wind, and the delays of the last week. Wired home to assure the folks that we were safe following the storm which swept the entire chain of the Great lakes, and left St. Ignace passing Mackinac Island, and east of Bois Blanc.
Sighted the light ship about four miles off starboard bow, and finally after having luncheon en route, and shaving by the aid of a mirror tied to a nail in the handle of our umbrella, we landed at Forty Mile Point, having made a run of 9 1/2 hours without stopping either engine. We were filling them on the run by now, and in all that time, they had never missed a beat nor faltered for a second. A moderate breeze made a delightful ride, and we were behind schedule, and well pleased with the run.
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| New Presque Isle Light |
Monday morning came bright, and the sun and wind whipped away the fog. We stopped at the Old Light to take some pictures, and here the third accident happened.
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| Old Presque Isle Light |
Where ever it had been impossible to beach the boat on account of rocks or shallow water, the navigator and I had carried the girls ashore on our backs. Since the rocks were covered with moss, and washed by the waves until they were smooth as glass, and slippery as an eel, we had several narrow escapes from dropping our loads. And here it happened, for when in about fifteen inches of water I stumbled and fell backwards with the second engineer riding packback. No one was hurt, and we all enjoyed a laugh over the affair, but an attempt to note in the log that Mary fell overboard, with an account of the gallant rescue I made was ruled out.
We reached Thunder Bay at noon, and as it was blowing rather brisk from the northwest we ran into the Bay for a distance of several miles before attempting to cross. Again had luncheon enroute and reached Harrisville, and were told of the narrow escape on our way north, as portrayed by the crew at Sturgeon Point. Left Harrisville, and when we finally rounded the point, and crossed Tawas Bay, it was rough and choppy. We were glad to get ashore at 1:00A.M. We slept in the open with the aid of a big campfire, and dozed for three or four hours for at 5:15 we were aboard and headed out into the Lake. The sun was shining beautifully, and I dug out the Coleman and, setting it up on the stern seat, cooked breakfast. With a frying pan in one hand, and the tiller ropes in the other, the cook was busy. Landed at Pt. Lookout and re-docked Inez Mae, to the surprise of everybody who could hardly believe the time we had made in our run down the Lake.
We had covered over 1,000 miles, burned 124 gallons of gasoline, consumed almost unbelievable supplies, had wonderful fishing and liver out-of-doors for sixteen days. We were sun-burned, tanned, happy, and feeling fit, all regretting that such good times must come to an end. Mary's nose was a brilliant red, and she was known as Middle Island as that is the only other fixed red light we encountered.
The Eltos were both singing the same tune as at the start, and not a spark-plug had been changed in the entire trip. Never covered since leaving home they had been soaked by spray and rain and never failed to start without delay or trouble. The Commodore and I, who had from previous experience expected wonderful results from the engines, were delighted at the performance. Inez Mae was a little worse for wear, but only due to the fact we had left little spots of blue and aluminum paint on rocks all along the way.
Not a serious accident to cause a moments pain or regret, not a cross word from a member of the crew, and all feeling fine in spite of my amateurish attempts at cooking, and all anxious and ready to repeat the following season. As I write they are making plans for the year to come. Words fail me as try to tell of the joys and pleasures of such a vacation trip, and to anyone who loves the out-of-doors, wide open spaces, sunshine and water, such an outing is sure to appeal.
The End
The following ad was in the same issue of Motor Boating.
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