It’s for the hardy and it starts at 50 degrees north
Issue 52: Jan/Feb 2007
LATELY I’VE HAD REASON TO CONTEMPLATE THE CHARMS AND challenges of high-latitude sailing. Since we’ve just completed the production of our audiobook of Dave and Jaja Martin’s Into the Light, narrated by Jaja, I’ve become very well acquainted with the terrific tale of their three-year voyage to Iceland, Norway, and the Arctic Circle. It’s a tale well told and one that is a pleasure to offer as an audiobook.
While that book was still in production, I had the pleasure of meeting Beth Leonard at the Annapolis Sailboat Show in early October. She handed me her newest book, Blue Horizons: Dispatches from Distant Seas.
I enjoyed it as we made one last madcap passage: delivering our C&C 30 from Thunder Bay, Ontario, to Superior, Wisconsin. Mystic was returning to her winter home after two seasons in Canada. When I wrote this, we were experiencing three unseasonably cold days on a cold lake in mid-October, so I was having no trouble relating to Beth and Evans’ six-year voyage from Annapolis north to the Arctic Circle and then south to round all five of the great southern capes . . . high-latitude sailing at both ends of the globe.
Beth’s book isn’t so much a story of their most recent voyage as it is a collection of short philosophical musings and personal observations of the cruising lifestyle and the pain and pleasure of arduous cold passages in areas known for tempestuous seas.
These pieces were written as columns for Blue Water Sailing magazine over the years and offer marvelous insights into high-latitude sailing from the perspective of one remarkable cruising sailor. That she is a female should encourage other women to do likewise. Blue Horizons, too, is a tale well told. Beth has a wonderful way with words. My very positive review of this book appeared in the December 2006 issue of our newsletter for subscribers.
What struck me, in particular, was Beth’s comment that high-latitude sailing begins at 50 degrees latitude north and south.
What did she say?
Wait a minute! Did she say 50 degrees? The northernmost part of our very cold lake lies at 49 degrees north, making us (very nearly) high-latitude sailors on a freshwater lake!
Why did this fact seem so astounding to one who was inching southwest on a chart toward Superior, Wisconsin, in the dark on a very cold and lumpy lake? I typically say that we sail where the butter doesn’t melt. But high-latitude sailing (almost, anyway)? Who would have guessed? (Did the disembodied voice of the female weather robot really say that we were experiencing “unseasonably chilly” weather that week? She could have just said “unseasonably cold.” No need to mince words here since the air temperatures were in the 20s and 30s.)
It’s true that we took Mystic south to Lake Huron for two seasons to see why so many people rave about the charms of the North Channel. It is lovely, no doubt about that. But the butter is capable of melting there in the summer, a fact that makes it way too attractive to way too many people. We scurried back to Lake Superior (not far from Lake Wobegon) where the sailors are hardy and all the children are above average. We like this place. With their books, Beth Leonard and Dave and Jaja Martin have reminded me why.
In both tales of their voyages, the authors are able to witness the most stunning scenery and memorable wildlife . . . but not without the hardships that must accompany a sail on the wild side of latitude 50. I generally refer to the cold and inconvenience that accompany our own wilderness cruising as “character-building experiences.” That which does not kill us makes us stronger, they say. Dave and Jaja and Beth remind their readers that the true rewards, when it comes to sailing experiences and incomparable scenery, are there for those who are willing to make the personal sacrifices in terms of comfort and convenience in order to travel where few go.
Our big lake has fewer sailors than any other cruising area I have discovered in our travels as Good Old Boat editors. There’s a reason for this. As we inched slowly down the chart and the lights of the twin port cities of Duluth, Minnesota, and Superior, Wisconsin, didn’t seem to grow any closer or brighter (we still had more than 13 hours to go on this freezing 30-hour scramble!), I resolved to remember all the beauty of our northern lake in the summer with its loons, moose, wolves, caribou, exceptionally dark star-filled skies, and occasional northern lights.
It’s all right with me if the butter doesn’t melt. I take solace in the fact that I, too, am (almost) a high-latitude sailor. My thanks to Beth Leonard for pointing that out.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
