Abandon Ship!

Well, not really. The ship is just fine, nestled securely in a dock at Houghton, MI. The crew has disbanded - John and Ed return to work, Scott returns to his family, Ed and Bob are back in Lac La Belle, and Mark is driving across the UP to his wife in Duluth.

I figured the next time I would see Mark, he would be waving to me from the helm of Mazurka, stopping Park Point traffic as the Aerial Lift Bridge rose to let his ship pass.

Instead, I'll see him in about two hours when he drives up in his brother's pick-up truck.

The captain returns to Minnesota to close on his other house, his land-based house, and move his land-based furniture and belongings to our new North Shore 1895 residence.

Mark will then drive back to the UP to retrieve his first home and bring her by water to the Twin Ports with his crew of Ed, Bobby, and Wendell.

Sound confusing? You bet. But the engine will be repaired, the gale force winds will have died down, and the crew will be rested.

I am very glad I opted to stay on land for this trip.

If you still need a Mazurka cruising fix while the crew takes a hiatus, check out my recent article in the Chicago Sun-Times travel section: Third Coast Charms.


(Leaving Milwaukee on a calm day along the Third Coast.)

Welcome to lovely Houghton/Hancock

Mazurka has arrived in Houghton, MI, where it will stay for a couple days. Welcome to the Keweenaw, Copper County, home to Michigan Tech.

The trip across half of Lake Superior was smooth, but now the wind is kicking up, with waves 5-7 feet, so the crew is going to use this time to regroup and make engine repairs.

They're losing two valuable crew members (John and Ed) who have to return to work on Monday, but they're gaining Wendell, an experienced sailor and has crossed Gitchigumi several times.

They sound tired.

Forward or back?

"Sometimes there is no right answer," Ed told Mark yesterday, regarding a blown head gasket on the engine.

To go ahead or stay back? The crew debated all day, then went ahead up the St. Mary river, approaching the Soo Locks and the wide open expanse of Lake Superior. Last night they stayed at a harbor, hoping to find a machinist, who was no more. They had parts flown in by UPS. This morning they decided to just keep going, blown gasket and all. If the problem gets worse on the water, they have the parts to make repairs. Which doesn't entirely make sense to me, but I'm not onboard. And thankfully so.

Meanwhile, I get a thrill looking at the location maps Bob periodically sends out via SPOT. To see tiny 38' Mazurka embarking on enormous Lake Gitchigumi is pretty humbling. I can only imagine how small the crew must be feeling.


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Trouble in the Soo

It's never good when black smoke plumes out of your engine.

Awaiting further updates...the crew is in the Soo, but stopped for more engine repairs. I've heard rumors of parts being flown in. This trip is probably going to cost a lot more than we thought.

What do they say about a boat being a hole you pour money into?

Perhaps my friend Tom was right - sell the boat, buy a canoe. Or a kayak. Anything without an engine.

Leaving Lake Michigan

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Yesterday the captain called me around 3:30 p.m. to report that the engine was repaired and they were back on course.

His brother Ed called two other MDOT mechanics who showed up and they all fixed the engine. When they put the key into the ignition, the starter wouldn't turn it over. A new disaster.

John suggested, "Why don't you just tap the starter with a hammer?" They did; problem solved.

Then Mark took the boat a little upriver before Bobby pointed out that the lake was the other way.

As of 3 p.m. CDT Wednesday, they're getting ready to bid Lake Michigan a fond adieu.

My Four Sons

Opting out of the trip was suddenly made okay when Mark's brother Scott was able to get a last-minute plane ticket and arrived in Chicago at 6:30 a.m. on Monday, mere hours before Mazurka cruised out of Chi-town for the last time.


So now the Schneiderhan complement is complete: Ed and his four sons, Mark, Scott, John and Ed, and his friend Bob. What a father's day gift.

They cruised out of Navy Pier on Monday around 2 p.m., with clear skies and waves 1-2 feet. Their route: head across Lake Michigan to South Haven, MI, then start north along the Michigan coastline.

This morning I got a call from Mark around 8 a.m. "We're being towed."

On a routine check at 4 a.m., they noticed fuel in the bottom of the boat. A busted fuel line. They were 28 miles from the Michigan shore.

So they called the Coast Guard, and then Boat U.S., and they're getting a tow into Muskegon, MI. Mark's brother Ed is a large engine mechanic for MDOT and knows his stuff; he was already on the phone lining up parts for when they arrive.

Mark sounded okay - he said the crew was a little deflated, but not without a sense of humor: Scott and John were fishing off the stern while being towed. "This is a great speed - let's get some lines out there!"

Taking a Trip, Not Taking a Trip

A few years ago I went to Haiti on a medical mission. One evening, our team returned to the mission house after working a long day in a clinic with no electricity, no water, and patients lined up for days. No sooner had we entered the house and sat down than word came from the village: a baby was being born.

Four team members grabbed their bags and loaded into the truck. I stayed sitting on the couch. "Aren't you coming with us?" they said, sure that I would get a great story out of this event.

In my mind I could see the hot rooms of the small hut filled with people scuffling over the dirt floor; I could hear the screams. Barging into the crowded home of a woman in painful labor, surrounded by family members, long into the dark Haitian night did not sound appealing to me. No, I wasn't going.

After they left, I went upstairs and sat on my bed, struggling with regret about my decision. It would be a great story. A once in a lifetime opportunity. And what kind of writer was I, to stay at home instead of following the action?

The oldest son of our mission hosts, 10 year-old Stephen, came by - I was staying in his room. "You didn't go see the baby?" he asked.

"No," I told him.

He sat down beside me, his face a beautiful combination of his American mother's compassion and his Haitian father's determination. "It's hard to know what to do," he said. "Sometimes it's better to get the experience, and sometimes it's better to hear about it afterwards." He thought for a moment, then added, "A lot of times, my dad makes it sound more interesting. I wait to hear it from him."

This week, when faced with the concurrent tasks of buying a house and packing and moving all our stuff...and a nonstop boatride of indeterminate length with a crew of five men, I have opted to save my sanity and stay on land.

This was not an easy decision. I'm still sitting on the couch, wondering if I'm missing the trip of a lifetime. Maybe I am.

I'll wait to hear the story from the captain and crew. Like Stephen said, maybe their versions will be more interesting.

That night in Haiti, the American nurses returned rather quickly from the house of the Haitian birth, with an over-the-top story of how they assisted in delivering triplets. Then they confessed: "The baby was already born by the time we got there. They didn't need our help at all."

Are we really taking this trip?

Our last time onboard Mazurka was 30 degrees in mid-November. I'm wondering if our upcoming trip on Lake Superior will be much different.

In 12 days we set sail for Duluth. I'm in denial. There are too many details to figure out before we go. But what's really to figure out? Put the boat in the water, systems check, buy groceries. There's always the anticipation before going on a trip like this, the worry of trying to plan for every single possible incident. But what's really to plan? Start the engine, start moving. Figure it out as we go. As soon as we're freely moving, everything seems to fall into place.

As my friend Erika reminded me this morning, "When you're out on the bow, it's hard to be mad at God."