Cruising Stories

Navigating Inland Waterways - Annapolis, Maryland to Duluth, Minnesota

2,100 Miles and 60 Days

By
Cathie
Trogdon

What next? After three summer seasons cruising the eastern seaboard, my husband, Peter, and I were ready to go somewhere new. Granted we hadn't examined every port of call, but we had cruised as far north as the Canadian border along the coast of Maine and south to Florida and the Bahamas.

Now, we looked inward, toward the U.S. and Canadian interior. We had heard wonderful stories about the Great Loop. This popular loop cruise encompasses the Hudson River, the Erie Canal, the Great Lakes, the Mississippi and other southbound rivers to the Gulf of Mexico and then the inland waterways on the west coast of Florida and finally back up the East Coast. Peter and I were intrigued with the Hudson River and Great Lakes portion of the loop. We had heard about the picturesque 1,000 islands on the St. Lawrence Seaway and the Trent-Severn Waterway, one of the Canadian Canal systems. We investigated several mini-loops that cruisers follow both clockwise and counterclockwise on the New York canal system, the St. Lawrence, the Canadian Canals and Lake Champlain and realized we could design a custom trip.

As we began to plan our fourth cruising season, it occurred to us that our trip could be a platform for a larger plan to take our Zimmerman 36-foot lobster boat Bee Weems to the Pacific northwest. Peter's ultimate dream was to cruise to Alaska in his own boat one day. The accomplishment of that dream would come true the following year, but we needed to set the stage.

We developed an ambitious plan to cruise two months from Annapolis to Duluth, Minn. A trip like this would require moving almost every day to travel the 2,100 miles in 60 days. We quickly realized that we couldn't do everything we wanted in that amount of time, so we gave up the idea of the Lake Champlain/Montreal portion, shelving this for a future trip.

It helped to create a tentative float plan and break the trip into eight segments. The adventure for us really began as we headed north on the Hudson from New York City. We had been told that it wasn't safe to begin the northbound journey until early July because of the time it takes to wash away all the debris from the spring melt after a harsh winter.

For me, cruising the Hudson was like traveling through an English pastoral painting. Such a contrast to the crisscross of wakes from the multitude of boats in New York Harbor. The change was almost instantaneous once we passed Manhattan island on the starboard side. The natural beauty of the Palisades came first and was a welcoming relief from the concrete city.

During 160 miles from New York City to Troy River, the river was tranquil with an occasional small village or large mansion dotting the high banks. There was very little boat traffic to disturb the peaceful setting. The Hudson River is a tidal estuary that flows two ways with a gentle current of 1.5 knots. At some point along the way, a distinct change from salt to sweet water occurred. We could smell the difference in the air. From that moment on we realized we would be traveling in fresh water, a new experience for us. No need to check the tide charts anymore.

Our first stop was under the shadow of the Tappan Zee Bridge on the 4th of July. Tarrytown Marina is the perfect jumping off place to visit Kykuit, the Rockefeller Estate and Lyndhurst Castle. We were fortunate enough to participate in an 18th-century Independence Day Celebration at Sunnyside, home of Washington Irving. On the other side of the river is the town of Nyack, where we tied up at the Nyack Yacht Club to explore the birthplace of the American realist painter, Edward Hopper.

As we continued north we passed Poughkeepsie and Hyde Park, where the Culinary Institute of America and the residences of the Roosevelts and Vanderbilts sit high above the river. We stopped in Kingston to visit the Maritime Museum, and we cruised past the U.S. Military Academy at West Point on the bluff at the bend of the river. I particularly loved the picturesque lighthouses along the way such as Esopus and Meadows.

As we approached Albany, I was a bit sad that we were leaving behind the quiet beauty of the Hudson, but I was excited to begin the next portion of our journey that would involve learning to negotiate the locks of the historic Erie Canal. An easy-to-read sign pointed out the turnoff to the west from the Hudson. Before entering the Erie Canal system we successfully navigated our first lock in Troy. We were the only boat in the lock, so we didn't have to worry about fending off other vessels while grabbing hold of lines on the lock wall.

The Erie Canal was completed in 1862 and was an extremely busy commercial shipping waterway moving cargo from the U.S. interior to the east Coast before the railroads took over. The present canal system rises 566 feet from the Hudson River to Lake Erie through 57 locks. Our course took us through only 32 locks because we turned off at the Oswego Canal cutoff toward Lake Ontario to get to the Thousand Islands. Knowing that these were commercial locks, I envisioned bustling industrial cities along the way, but instead most of the canal system is scenic and rural.

From the Oswego Canal we traveled east over a small portion of Lake Ontario to reach the opening of the St. Lawrence River and the Thousand Islands. The 1,864 islands are defined as being above water 365 days a year and supporting at least one living tree. The islands are charming, some with houses that cover every inch of surface, many with two-door vessel garages sheltering beautiful vintage wooden boats. The most famous islands are home to the singer and Boldt Castles, popular tourist destinations definitely worth visiting. We spent our first two days on the U.S. side of the river with a visit to the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, NY. and then crossed over to Kingston, Ontario, passing through customs there and remaining in Canada for the next three weeks.

By the time we arrived at the Trent Severn Waterway we were accomplished lock masters. This Canadian lock system consists of 36 swing bridges, 41 locks, a marine railway and two hydraulic lift locks. The big difference between this system and the Erie Canal is that this waterway was never designed for commercial ship traffic. The locks are much smaller and are sometimes hand turned. You only see pleasure craft here due to the maximum draft of 6 feet and a height limit of 22 feet. The locks connect a series of rivers and lakes from the St. Lawrence River to Georgian Bay on Lake Huron. Unlike the Erie, we met other boaters waiting at the lock entrances and found this was a much more social week than any previous.

After traversing the marine railway called the Big Chute, we broke out of the narrow canal system into a large open body of water, the Georgian Bay region of Lake Huron. Georgian Bay is dotted with 30,000 islands larger than an acre. Although the bay is vast, there are narrow, unforgiving rocky channels to negotiate. Georgian Bay connects to another region called the North Channel, which is distinguished by the Canadian Shield, a granite bedrock exposed by the glaciers at the end of the last ice age about 11,000 years ago. The granite rock formations and the windswept pines are characteristic of much of the lake shoreline.

The final leg of our trip began with our last lock experience at Sault St. Marie, the gateway from the North Channel to Lake Superior. Lake Superior is 25 feet above the North Channel. It took us two hours at 15 knots just to pass through White Fish Bay at the entrance of the lake! This lake has its own weather system. It has a current that runs 1-2 knots counterclockwise. We experienced the roughest waters of our journey on this body of water. it's very much like the ocean, over 360 miles long and 1,300 feet deep in places. Lake Superior contains 10 percent of the earth's fresh water, and it is 625 feet above sea level. Most of the time we cruised parallel to the shore line maybe a mile or two out, but when we crossed to Isle Royale National Park we were out of sight of land for three hours! Most of the shoreline is covered with evergreen trees right down to the beach. There are miles and miles of beautiful sandy beaches and no people in sight.

The Apostle Islands, a group of 22 islands off the Bayfield Peninsula in northern Wisconsin, are the most popular cruising waters on Lake Superior. Bayfield Marina was our jumping off spot and we had beautiful weather at the end of the summer season to explore the sea caves and nature trails on several of these islands.

We arrived in Duluth on Labor Day weekend almost exactly two months from our start date. Peter and I had a flight back to Baltimore, but our beloved Bee Weems was loaded onto an 18-wheeler and trucked 1,700 miles to Anacortes, Washington. The journey of the past two months was just the beginning of a much greater adventure to explore the Pacific northwest and the inside Passage of Alaska in the following two years. Stay tuned for our next adventure to south east Alaska.

Our Float Plan (Distance measured in Nautical miles)

  • ANNAPOLIS TO NYC 2 DAYS, 250 MILES
  • HUDSON RIVER 2-4 DAYS, 60 MILES
  • ERIE & OSWEGO CANALS 4-5 DAYS, 186 MILES
  • LAKE ONTARIO/1,000 ISLANDS 4-6 DAYS, 20 MILES
  • TRENT SEVERN WATERWAY 7-9 DAYS, 245 MILES
  • GEORGIAN BAY 7 DAYS, 180 MILES
  • NORTH CHANNEL 4 DAYS, 80 MILES
  • LAKE SUPERIOR 13 DAYS, 420 MILES
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The Autumn: Why Haul Out
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Water and Fall foliage at Dory's Fall
Dory's Fall

Why do so many yachtsmen hurriedly haul out their boats immediately after Labor Day? Sure, the kids are back to school, and the weather starts to change. But we have enjoyed some of our most clear, calm, beautiful days boating in the fall. I dare say don’t haul before fall, have a ball while everyone else is buttoning up their boats and turning to watch football or baseball. Perhaps those sun-soaked sandbar rafting days have passed until next summer, but from New England to the southern coasts you’ll still find glorious warm days, less boat wake and less boat traffic in general, which opens a world of late season cruising opportunities. My father always said boating is better once the “summer yahoos disappear.”

Boating Experience: So soon in fall? 

A FEW REASONS TO LOVE THE FALL BOATING SEASON

Red Fall tree with water and boat in the background
Cape Porpose Maine Fall

Fall boating is just quieter. As most boaters vacate the water in lieu of other pursuits, September and October can offer brilliant blue-sky days. Waterways that were jam-packed with everything from inflatables to tour boats a month prior are now more open for you to explore. Loud two stroke “boater-cycles,” as my friend likes to call jet skis and sea-doos (personal propelled watercraft) are trailered away leaving in the absence of their wake- jumping a more serene scene.

Foliage starts to pop on the waterfront come mid-September into October from Maine to Virginia. The sparkling water reflects the kaleidoscope of autumn leaves in their shimmering crimson, gold and orange. It’s spectacular, truly a photographer’s dream, whether you’re on a lake, the ocean, a beautiful bay or waterway. Boating in September, October, even into November a bit farther south, is a gem. Just be mindful of the forecast, hurricane season, and significant temperature shifts that invite pop-up storms.

Man's legs propped up on seats facing stern of the boat with sunset in the background
Block Island, RI.

The weather. With cooler fall days, temps trend toward delightfully crisp and clear. Days are also shorter, so midday boating is best for peak sun. For your boating comfort, have sweatshirts, sweaters or jackets handy, even hats and gloves, especially if you’re in northern New England.

Good news: Gone are the hot humid mugginess and the bugs that accompany spring and summer heat. Bonus: you have less chance of that scorching summer sunburn. Still, be sure to apply sunscreen, refraction on the water is real even when a chill is in the air. You may want to eat steamed lobster by the waterfront, but you don’t want to look like one. Evenings on the water cool off, making for great sleeping aboard. Snuggle under covers and wake to fresh air and hot coffee on deck that never tasted so good in another season.

Fall means more available dock slips, moorings and anchorages as many are pulling their boots “up on the hard,” which frees up marina space for you. The same prime spots that were impossible to get in summer, with wait lists at places like Block Island, Newport and Annapolis, are now wide open. Same goes for waterfront restaurants with tie ups; their face docks are free and on a first come first served basis.

Just be prepared that dockhands and marina staff may not be as readily available in the fall, as students that typically manage the docks have returned to their campuses, and marine techs are pre-occupied prepping folks’ boats for winterization and storage. Be ready to tend your own lines.

Wildlife abounds in fall. Migratory birds are on the move. Enjoy watching geese, loons and birds-of-a-feather flocking south as winter approaches.

Speaking of marine life, if you like to fish, then fall is your wish. As temperatures decline, the fish sense that winter is coming. In preparation of the next season, fish begin their migrating south and their subsequent feeding frenzy.

Sailboat on a mooring with fall trees in the background
Kennebunkport Fall Foilage

Snowbirds of the human variety start their boating trek south too, if they aren’t storing their boat up north. Cruising the ICW in fall can be a social circuit where you may see the same boat owners and crew as you stop along your way at various harbors and marinas. It’s entertaining to compare ship logs and experiences from your adventures, favorite sights and seaports, with fellow boaters along your journey.

I have always loved how friendly boaters can be, and how an impromptu sharing of dock-side drinks aboard yours or their top deck can quickly transpire into an animated evening talking about best and worst boating with your nautical neighbors.

Word of caution: don’t be like my dear deceased, super-dedicated-to-boating Dad who insisted there’d be one more great boating day in late fall in New Hampshire. He would hold out on hauling his 28’ Eastern well into November, insisting it’s not winter till December. I recall more than once having to chip the ice of the dock lines to free up his pride- and-joy, then boating to the nearest icy ramp while frost clung to the windshield, and it was bitter cold on the slippery decks. That’s taking fall boating to an extreme.

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Cruising Grenada
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Sugar Spice and Everything Nice

When the end of the cruising season in the southern Caribbean was upon us, we did what many Caribbean cruisers do: We sailed south for Grenada. We delayed as long as possible, knowing the hurricane season was upon us, but we didn’t want to be forced south. I had one impression of Grenada, and that was of rotting boats and retired sailors. It was a cruisers graveyard, or so I thought, and I was far from accepting an end to our sailing days.

Grenada is the southernmost group of islands in the Lesser Antilles archipelago as well as the name of the main island in a cluster of eight smaller islands and about a dozen smaller islets and cays. The only thing I knew of its geography prior to arriving was that it was one of the few island groups in the Caribbean far enough south to be considered out of the hurricane belt. So, it was ironic that on our first day in the country we had to shelter in the mangroves from a Category 1 storm.

As we lashed our boat Ātea’s bow to densely bound tree roots and secured lines to the cleats of yachts on either side of us, our small unit became part of the larger, unified collective. Little did we realize that this interconnection would be representative of our Grenadian experience.

Safely through the storm, we disbanded and spread out to explore our new surroundings. We completed our clearance in Carriacou, Grenada’s northern sister island, and were amazed to see a hundred or so yachts anchored in Tyrell Bay, Carriacou’s main harbor. I knew Grenada was popular, but if the numbers of boats in Carriacou were anything to judge by, I’d have to cope with much larger crowds when we travelled farther south.

The south coast of Grenada not only provides the most settled weather, but it’s riddled with about a dozen safe harbors from the dominant easterly swell. It’s the reason cruisers gather on Grenada’s south coast and also the reason why they remain. Some stay for hurricane season, some use the island as a base for a few years, others retire from active cruising and either settle or sell. One thing was certain: Grenada was far more than the end of the line.

Before making the journey south, however, we wanted to stretch out the season by adding a short circumnavigation around Carriacou, known as “The Isle of Reefs” to the Kalinago people (the original Island Caribs). We spent our time there dodging bommies (submerged coral reefs) and soaking up the tropical island experience with our feet in the sand, our bellies in the water and our hands on a bottle of rum.

We stopped at Petite Martinique, the third and smallest of the three main islands. There we enjoyed rugged, rocky beaches and side-stepped clusters of goats grazing the green rolling hills as we hiked up Mount Piton for panoramic views of the surrounding islands. We climbed down into the Darant Bay Cave for framed views of the same islands at sea level.

Of course, we couldn’t miss a few sundowners on Mopion, a tiny sand mound rising amid expansive coral reef with a single thatched beach umbrella perched in the center. While technically a part of the Grenadines, its proximity to Petite Martinique made a quick dash across the border for a sip in the shade of this unique little spot a worthwhile experience. Carriacou is an island surrounded by unspoiled reef, and it did not disappoint. A quick tour of her perimeter was the perfect way to salute the end of an amazing Caribbean season.

With a quick stop-over in Ronde Island, a beautiful private island that’s halfway between Carriacou and Grenada, we continued our transit south. Again, I hadn’t prepared myself for the wild beauty of Grenada’s west coast. Mile after mile of dense, lush forest cascade down the leeward side of the island from peak to sea.

We hugged the coastline as we sailed the 13 miles down the west coast, looking up at 2,700 feet of volcanic rock and shear waterfalls that fed small rivers that ran down the slopes of the mountainous interior to the coast. While Grenada is well reputed as a tourist destination for holidaymakers seeking either a sun- drenched party or quiet refuge on one of its 45 beaches, I knew from sailing the coast that my preferences would draw me inland.

Grenada’s coastline contains many large bays, but most yachts head for safe anchorage behind one of the many narrow peninsulas that split up the southern coastline. As we pulled into Prickly Bay, the first of Grenada’s southern harbors, I knew from the crowd of yachts that I would escape to the interior as soon as possible. As it turned out, I didn’t get that chance. As soon as we dropped anchor, we were invited ashore for a cruiser’s jam session to reconnect with friends from past seasons.

The following day we crammed into the back seat of a taxi on our way to an event for the annual Chocolate Festival, and our schedule quickly filled after that with tours of cocoa plantations, cocoa grinding competitions, chocolate tastings and chocolate drawing contests. In additional to the island’s cultural events, we were also immediately drawn into the cruiser’s social scene.

On our first week of arrival our mornings were already booked into early morning yoga and bootcamp on the beach. The kids joined a cruiser’s homeschooling collective and regular extracurricular activities that were held under the shade of the trees. If we weren’t listening to live music or joining the locals’ beach barbecues in the evenings, we were sitting poolside and sipping beers from a $5 bucket with other cruisers at Le Phare Bleu, a boutique hotel that opened its amenities and services to cruisers during the pandemic.

Every morning offered an activity, and every evening we joined a social get-to-gether, so the weeks flew by in a social extravaganza unlike any we’d experienced. As yachts gather in Grenada every year for the hurricane season, the regularity of this influx of boats resulted in a solid cruising community and a variety of services and events. Far more than a collection of retired boats and sunburnt seamen, my preconceived notions of Grenada didn’t come close to the reality of the vibrant cruising network that existed on this popular island.

As we made new friends and reconnected with old ones, we really enjoyed the buzz that the tight community offered.

Pulling myself out of continuous activity took a concerted effort, but I eventually dragged the family off the beach and up the mountains.

After our trip into the interior, I developed a new passion for my time in Grenada: A short bus journey followed by a hike into the forest would lead us to one of Grenada’s many waterfalls. Unlike other tourist destinations where fees were handed over and you’d stand under falls next to groups of other tourists, we had the rivers for free and all to ourselves. Some of the trails were near the road, and we’d hop on and off a bus to walk the short distance to the falls. Others, such as Seven Sisters and the Concord Falls, required planning as it took a full day to hike in and out of the forest, clambering up steep banks and crisscrossing the river to wind through deep forest and get a view from the top.

Each part of the river that ran down from one of the six inland lakes had its own magic, and I was enthusiastic to see what each had to offer. Later I appreciated all that I’d experienced of Grenada’s inland beauty. As I paid $20 per person to stand in crowds under cascading water at Costa Rica’s most popular waterfalls, I couldn’t help but compare it to all that I’d seen in Grenada’s secluded, remote interior.

In additional to nature, we explored some of the historical roots of Grenada’s past. Grenada’s original economy was based on sugar cane and indigo, and with that, slaves were imported in the mid-17th century to work and harvest crops. We set out to search for some of the old plantation houses and slave pens that remained from that period, which took us on a wild tramp through the backstreets of quiet neighborhoods and into unmarked bush to find these lost relics.

It was quite the education for our children to see small, dank, windowless, stone slave quarters set behind grand old houses, a potent reminder of darker times in this beautiful and vibrant country. We also smelled and sampled some of Grenada’s current crops, nutmeg, mace and cocoa at the top of the list of exports, and enjoyed local culinary treats such as oil down, a vegetable stew that is the country’s national dish. Thanks to these excursions we can say that Grenada is, both figuratively and literally, full of sugar and spice.

Cruising often leaves you tied to the boat and, therefore, the sea. Grenada offered a wonderful period of enjoying the most of both land and sea in equal balance, so we were able to get the most of what the country has to offer. To see the beaches but not the forest, lakes and rivers offers only half the experience; likewise, to spend time inland but not explore the coast leaves only half an impression. As Grenada offers safe anchorage throughout the hurricane season, cruisers remain nearby for an extended period, sharing experiences and building friendships. This is unique for a community that is typically very transient, and it offers plenty of opportunity to create a home away from home atmosphere.

In addition, suitable yacht services are available, so that time spent waiting for the next season gives everyone a chance to get much needed repair work done. Far from being the end of the line, Grenada offers an interim rest stop where friendships are forged and yachts are restored on an island that offers a range of activities and opportunities both on and above the waterline.

Article and photos by Kia Koropp

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Our Adventures between the Great Lakes from Detroit to Port Huron
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My husband Tim and I spent 2021 traveling 8,000 miles around the Great Loop. Like many, we wanted to cruise in Canada, but we didn’t get the green light for entry in time. We were initially bummed, but our mood quickly shifted as we discovered some of our favorite stops on the stretch that kept us in U.S. waters, including our journey between Lake Erie and Lake Huron.

Stop 1: Belle Isle

Estimated Mileage: 2 NM

Belle Isle is the largest city-owned island park in America, located on the Detroit River between the United States and Canada. The island’s only marina is the Detroit Yacht Club, which has a limited number of transient slips for reciprocal members, so it’s best to explore while keeping your boat at Milliken Marina. 

Roughly 1,000 acres, Belle Isle is home to an aquarium, maritime museum, botanical garden, beach, picnic areas and playgrounds that provide a plethora of options to explore. You won’t find great spots to grab a bite to eat, so we recommend stopping at Atwater Brewery on the way back to the marina.

Stop 2: Harrison Township, Lake St. Clair

Estimated Mileage: 24 NM

Often referred to as the Great Lake’s smaller cousin, Lake St. Clair is large enough to easily keep your distance from freighters yet small enough to explore in a day.

By boat, you can visit several of the lake’s swimming spots in Anchor and Bouvier Bays (or “Munchies” Bay as the locals say), popular for their clear water and hard bottoms. After an afternoon of swimming, cruise through the Clinton River and tie up at one of several restaurants catering to a lively boater scene for a drink and meal. Crews Inn is one of our favorites for their fun atmosphere and great food.

Lake St. Clair Metropark Marina is a popular spot for transients. The marina is located in the park, so after docking, enjoy the expansive park’s beaches, trails, picnic areas and swimming pool.

Stop 3: Port Huron, MI

Estimated Mileage: 44 NM

Port Huron is home to the start of one of the longest fresh-water races in the world called the Port Huron to Mackinac Sailing Race, and the port is a charming and boater-friendly destination.

Ideal for its central location and friendly members, Port Huron Yacht Club is a great place for tying up, sipping a drink at the clubhouse and avoiding the drawbridges on the Black River. Another popular spot is about a mile farther down the river at the 95-slip River Street Marina.

Port Huron is home to the Island Loop Route National Water Trail, a 10-mile loop through the Black River, Lake Huron and St. Clair River. Your dinghy is a must through the Black River and for exploring the town and clear waters by boat.

Walk a mile along the Blue Water River Walk that runs along the St. Clair River. Be sure to leave enough time to watch the freighters go by and delve into the area’s history that is shared along the route. Continue a couple of miles farther to Lighthouse Park, where you can enjoy an afternoon at the beach and swim in Lake Huron’s crystal clear water.

During a stroll downtown, check out the Knowlton’s Ice Museum of North America to discover the history of local ice harvesting that took place along the Great Lakes.

When you’ve done enough activities to work up an appetite, Casey’s is the place for delicious breadsticks and pizza. For a more upscale option, you can’t go wrong with anything on the menu at The Vintage Tavern. Maria’s Downtown Café offers a hearty breakfast, and Raven Café or Exquisite Corpse Coffee House are great options for a cup of coffee.

Kate Carney is a writer and Great Gold Looper who traveled 8,000 miles on Sweet Day, a 31-foot Camano trawler. Learn more about her and her husband’s adventures on lifeonsweetday.com

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