Day 22: Cleveland to Sandusky Bay

---

August 31, 2021: Lake Erie strikes back — with a vengeance.

---

We left Cleveland just before 7 AM, slipping out through the channel on the west end of the waterfront. Capt Paul was at the helm and I sat in the watch seat. This had become our default starting position. Dianne didn’t seem interested in taking the helm, but she’d sit in the watch seat when I took the helm and then stay there when Capt Paul took over again.

Cleveland channel lighthouse with the city skyline behind it.

Serious “Seas”

The lake forecast had called for up to 2 foot waves with 2-3 seconds between them. Our autopilot route, which Capt Paul engaged as soon as we left the harbor, was a straight line from Cleveland to Cedar Point, the entrance to Sandusky Bay. Because the land curved to the south between those two points, we’d be quite a way out on the lake for most of the trip.

The pitching rolling started almost immediately.

Imagine this: You’re riding in a boat doing about 10 knots (11 mph) on water with deep, widely spaced swells. You’re traveling at about a 30° angle to the swells rather than straight into them, so every time your bow climbs over one, your stern is still down low. You come down over the top and start down and now your stern is high. The result is a pitching (up and down) and rolling (side to side) motion that’s irregular and can be, at times, quite violent.

This didn’t seem to faze Capt Paul, but it had me holding on tightly in my seat, glad to I had Sea Bands on and Dramamine in me. Behind us, in the cabin, dishes that had been left to air dry went flying onto the floor, items slid off shelves and table tops, a drawer kept sliding open and closed, and Dianne was having was much trouble sitting in the bench seat at the table as I was sitting in the watch seat.

I looked at the chart plotter display. Unless conditions changed, we were in for five hours of this.

It went on for a little over two hours when Capt Paul turned over the helm to me. And then he went to his sleeping cubby to take a nap. Dianne moved up into the watch seat. I set my iPad with Aqua Map on it into the iPad cradle Paul had installed, plugged it in, and settled down to baby sit the autopilot.

I was not happy.

The conditions seemed to get worse. At one point, we were hit by a side wave so violently that I slipped off my seat. (Seriously, Ranger! Why aren’t there armrests on the helm seat?)

“That’s enough for me,” I stated. “First, I’m slowing down.”

I pulled the throttle back to half speed.

“Good,” Dianne said.

“And now I’m changing course to ride with these waves instead of against them.” And I disengaged the autopilot, steered the boat about 60° to port.

“Yes,” Dianne said.

“And now I’ll increase speed again to see how we do.” I slowly throttled back up, eventually reaching our cruise speed.

The ride was completely different. We were riding with the waves instead of having them on our starboard bow. We continued to pitch up and down, but the rolling virtually stopped.

Dianne and I talked a little about how the ride had been. It turns out that Dianne had been afraid that we’d capsize. The thought had definitely entered my mind more than once, but Capt Paul had explained to me that the only wave that could capsize us was a breaking wave at least half the height of the boat’s beam. The boat’s beam was 8 1/2 feet so we’d need a 4 1/4 breaking wave. The waves were big that day, but not that big.

Of course, the new course I set was no longer going directly toward our destination. I’m not sure then what I planned — I think I believed the conditions would be better closer to shore — but as we continued motoring along for another hour or so, I embraced the inevitable: we’d have to turn more westerly again, basically in the same direction we’d been going, before we reached the shore.

So I did. And the rolling pitching motion started up all over again. And instead of being 60 minutes closer to our destination, we were about 15 minutes closer.

Did I learn a lesson? Yes. Would I do the same thing again? Probably.

What I did have demonstrated to me was the concept of fetch. Per the NOAA page about waves:

Wave height is affected by wind speed, wind duration (or how long the wind blows), and fetch, which is the distance over water that the wind blows in a single direction. If wind speed is slow, only small waves result, regardless of wind duration or fetch.

The wind speed was not slow. It was at least 10 knots. It was blowing from the north northeast — in other words, towards shore. So the closer to shore we got, the more fetch became a factor.

On another trip, I asked Capt Paul if we’d be better off traveling along the northern shore of the lake if the wind was coming from the north. “But that would take us out of our way,” he replied.

I guess it depends on what’s more important: getting to a destination quickly or having a comfortable ride. I bet you can guess which camp I’m in.

In any case, we were about five miles out from Cedar Point with the amusement park clearly in view, when Capt Paul woke up and joined us. He took over. Dianne stayed put. I watched for a while but got tired of being tossed around so I went down to lie down on my bunk. I dozed off.

Cedar Point Amusement Park from Lake Erie. Do you think there are enough roller coasters? The entrance to the bay was to the right of this.

I woke up hearing them trying to figure out where they had to go. We were in Sandusky Bay and the conditions were smoother. Having just woken up, I could see I was no help to them, so I went back to sleep.

I woke up again when they had the marina, Castaway Bay, in sight. I put my shoes on and climbed out onto the bow with the line. I helped them tie up the boat. Then I went back inside and fell asleep for another two hours.

The ride had taken a lot out of me.

Here’s the Nebo log for Day 22 of my trip. You can clearly see where I changed course.

At Sandusky Bay

I slept through the afternoon. Capt Paul and Dianne walked over to the only restaurant within reasonable walking distance, a place called Quaker Steak and Lube. They had salads.

When I woke up, they were back. I must have eaten some leftovers — probably the Vietnamese food from the previous day. I honestly don’t remember. I also don’t remember writing the blog post for Day 14, but it’s published with that date.

I did walk around the property a bit. We were the only boat parked at the transient dock; the adjacent docks were full of boats, most of which had been lifted out of the water on slip lifts. There was a gated community adjacent to the marina. The marina had a pool and hot tub, which no one seemed to use; there was some floating debris from the wind and the hot tub looked like it was down about 100 gallons of water. Beyond all that, a hotel and indoor water park were under construction; the whole area would be like a zoo next season when if it was completed and opened by then.

Castaway Bay marina’s seasonal slips at sunset. The place was very sheltered and very quiet.

Other than that, I don’t think Capt Paul could have found a more remote marina in the area. We were at the very far end of a channel that could only be reached by slipping under a raised section of a causeway. He’d wanted a place to shelter from weather expected the next day and he’d sure found one.

Nano parked in a transient slip at Castaway Bay marina.