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The Manitou sailing in Grand Traverse Bay. A Tall Ship Adventure on the Great Lakes
Written by Berit Thorkelson / Photographs by John Noltner
The wide-open water. The fresh, clean air. The sun on your face. The
sails overhead, trapping the wind that alone moves this tremendous
vessel across the deep, blue lake. Your own, relaxing tall ship journey
on the Midwest's version of the high seas awaits.
The Spirit of the Sea
The massive steel hull shoves aside sparkling wave crests, and giant
polished masts point skyward. Overhead, more than 3,000 square feet
of heavy canvas sails are pulled so taut they barely billow with captured
wind. Ultimately, this journey will be determined by the whims of that
wind, but Captain Dave McGinnis knows how to harness its power to navigate
the 82-ton two-masted schooner Manitou through the blue waters of Grand
Traverse Bay.
"You have to work with what Mother Nature sends your way," he
explains.
Captain Dave McGinnis at the helm.
At the start of the two-hour cruise, many of the 30-some passengers
who boarded at Traverse City, Michigan, raised the mainsail. In unison,
they heaved its white-gray rope--that's line in sailorspeak--when the
crew ordered, "Haul away!" Now, they relax and enjoy the
view: the low-lying Traverse City skyline, the homes and trees along
the peninsulas, and water meeting sky at bay's mouth. The 114-foot
ship moves at a leisurely speed--4.3 knots, about 5 mph--making it
easy to walk about the shiny wood-plank deck, which releases a slight
scent of sun-warmed wood. Maybe there's a hint of wet line, too. Line
wraps around the thousand-pound boom, and when the giant sail moves,
it creaks, twisting against wood.
Despite the sunny 70 degrees, the crisp lake wind raises
goose bumps on arms, tangles hair and turns cheeks rosy red. Sometimes,
a light mist
sprays over the deck's edge, though the ride is sedate. A mother explains
to her young son, who expected more speed from such an impressive pirate
ship look-alike: "It's a sailboat. They don't go fast. It's a nice,
relaxing ride." He seems satisfied with this, content to sit under
the sails and watch the three-person crew work.
One crew member lowers the head sails.
"Stand by to tack!" orders Captain Dave. "Stand by to tack!" the
crew affirms, freeing and maneuvering lines so the sails flap noisily
to the ship's other side. Lines are pulled taut and fastened in figure-eight
loops around wooden pins, and the ship shifts direction. Between orders
to tack, haul away and harden up the main, the crew moves about, free
to answer questions from passengers, who sit on deck boxes holding
life jackets and the housing for cabins below.
Some have opted to spend the night on board. They'll climb down ladders
to these cabins, typical of a 19th-century schooner, with bunks and barely
room for two to stand side by side. They'll fall asleep to the rocking
of the docked boat and wake for coffee at sunrise on the dew-covered
deck, followed by breakfast cooked on the ship's wood-burning stove.
More than half a mile of line running
between ship and mast.
But now, Captain Dave offers the wheel to passengers who take turns gripping
the polished cherry spokes, turning them at captain's orders: one spoke
port, three spokes starboard, seeing how the subtle movement slowly and
eventually takes hold. The bow heaves slightly up, rocks down and points
across the lake toward shore.
As the vague fuzziness of the shoreline starts to offer
details, Captain Dave shouts, "Stand by to strike the headsl's!" He
gives a thumbs-down, and the crew deftly drop the forward, triangular
sails,
then work their way aft, where the bigger sails require more control.
For the two last and largest, one crew member climbs to the huge boom's
end and straddles it. As the other two slowly let out line, she guides
the sail, folding it accordion-style. With nothing left to catch the
wind, the ship drifts.
Shadows of crew climbing the rigging.
Captain Dave starts the engine to pull the ship swiftly to shore, and
its mechanical shuddering contrasts with the quiet ship sounds of moments
ago. The engine signals the trip's end, and the sun lowering behind
a ridge of trees, mirrored in the water, makes it a beautiful one,
befitting a relaxing tall ship journey on this great blue lake.
Reviewed July 2004.
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