Sailing in the Midwest: Detroit

This was my view of the world as a teenaged sailor.

Sailing Cal 25’s in Lake St. Clair

In August, instead of returning to the UAE as planned, I suddenly and unexpectedly went back to Michigan for a second time. The reason was that my father needed some help regaining his health and independence. While I was disappointed that I would be delayed returning to Mark and our Middle East adventures, I considered it a gift to be able to help Dad and spend more time with him.

Annie Mayme sailed the Cal25 Nationals
in 2004 with a family crew.
From bow: me, Doug Harvey, Dad,
my brother Paul, my daughter Nicole.

Separation from family and loved ones makes you appreciate them all the more. Besides, my father gave me one of the greatest gifts I have: my love of sailing.
So, when I received a forwarded email to the Detroit Cal 25 fleet about an upcoming Saturday YRA race, I hit “reply all” and said I was in town and available if anyone needed crew. I figured Dad wouldn’t mind.

Couples that race together are
somewhat rare.

The first response I got was from the skipper I’d hoped to hear from -- Dale Marshall. He and his wife Jenny have been racing their Cal 25 Clytie since the early 1980’s. That’s a long time but not as long as Dad has owned Annie Mayme, which he bought in 1968 and raced continuously until 2010. Both Dad and Dale have been YRA and NOOD champions multiple times.
Dale and Jenny are members of Bayview Yacht Club in Detroit, as is Dad, and that’s where I met them at the boat, right next to Dad’s old boat well, which was empty. The Detroit Cal 25 fleet, while still strong, is suffering the same fate as many sailing fleets – a drop in participation.

Never Alone, rolling us to weather.

The other crew offer that I got was from a boat called Never Alone, which I didn’t know as well. I mentioned this to Dad, and he told me that Never Alone had been winning lately. “Well,” I said, “now I know who to beat.”






The race was hosted by Crescent Sail Yacht Club in Grosse Pointe Shores, and it happened to fall on the Detroit Regional Yachting Association centennial, so there was a party planned to celebrate 100 years of sailboat racing in Lake St. Clair and the Detroit River.

Grosse Pointe Yacht Club is gorgeous from any viewpoint.

The start line was off of CSYC, and the course was a triangle that took us around channel buoys between Crescent and Grosse Pointe Yacht Club. This meant that there could be no adjustment of the course marks. Usually, racers prefer to use inflatable marks so they can set the course according to the wind direction, with an upwind leg to the first mark, then downwind, then possibly another upwind leg to finish, or sometimes it’s two or three laps around the course. In the old days, we usually had triangle courses but now upwind-downwind is generally preferred, sometimes with a “wing mark” at the weather mark or perhaps occasionally a reaching leg.

Things were looking really good.

“Get out in front and open it up,” Dad once told me, is the best way to win a race.








At the start, conditions were very light. The boat was very quiet. Dale’s start was textbook perfect: at the line with speed, taking up the boats to weather at the committee boat, and walking away leaving the rest of the fleet to tack away for clear air. The first leg was a tight reach that turned into a one-legged beat, with a dead downwind second leg and a close reach to the finish.

Where'd they get that boatspeed?

The only boat to pass us was – you guessed it – Never Alone. Somehow, no matter how we adjusted our sails and weight, we couldn’t match their speed on the first leg. It didn’t help that we were getting bad air from a larger boat to weather, but Never Alone somehow sailed right through their lee. They did a “horizon job” on us, and the rest of the fleet.

Forty Two threatened us at the finish.

Still, it was an exciting spinnaker finish, with the next boat behind us, named Forty Two, threatening to pass, right up until the last seconds. We finished second in our fleet of seven boats.

Finish line and party tent.

We stopped by CSYC after the race, where there was a big tent set up for the awards and centennial party.

Dad, Nicole and I enjoy The View.

I guess I must be growing up though, because I chose to go hang out with Dad and tell him about the race.

Detroit Cal 25's on Lake St. Clair VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

USA: Biking Along Lake St. Clair

Jefferson Ave. and Lake Shore Drive


Bob prefers riding to walking.

Dad’s next door neighbor Bob rides his bicycle almost every day, weather permitting. A 92-year-old ex-bomber pilot, Bob lives with his daughter Kathryn. He bought a bike hoping she would ride, too.

“You can borrow it,” Bob said. “Hell, she’s only ridden it once!”  Next thing I knew, Bob was wheeling the Huffy one-speed cruiser with coast brakes out of his garage, and I was adjusting the seat and handlebars to suit my height. The problem is, I’m used to lightweight, maneuverable bikes with hand brakes and gears. This Huffy is … a bomber. During the three weeks that I borrowed it I fell over twice, once skinning my knee and the other my elbow, not to mention bruising my pride. 


I’ve named the bike after Bob’s WWII B-24 Liberator, Calamity Jane.
Never mind, even though it’s a bomber, Calamity Jane made me feel liberated. I could get out and ride.



My favorite route is Jefferson Avenue along Lake St. Clair in St. Clair Shores and Grosse Pointe Shores. Jefferson is one of Detroit’s five major avenues, dating back to its survey in 1807. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jefferson_Avenue_(Detroit) “Jeff,” as my Grandma Roz used to call it, begins in Detroit and travels north parallel to the Detroit River, through the Grosse Pointes, St. Clair Shores, and Clinton Township, to the town of New Baltimore at the north end of Lake St. Clair.

This farmhouse may date back to
the early lakefront farming days.

In the early days, when transportation out of the city was only available to the white and wealthy, people had farms and, later, summer cottages along the lake. The rest of the area was hinterland – farms destined to become housing tracts during the baby boom of the 1950’s and the flight to the suburbs of more recent decades. Originally, the area was settled by French farmers who arrived by boat, giving Lac Sainte Claire its name and also naming Detroit after the river, le détroit du Lac Érie, meaning “the strait of Lake Erie.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Detroit)



In Grosse Pointe, Jefferson becomes Lake Shore Drive, and it’s the only portion of the entire 63-mile road that travels next to the lake. The rest of the lakeshore is private property, interspersed with private parks. There is precious little public access to Lake St. Clair which arguably the area’s greatest natural asset. I wonder how the economy there might have been different, had the original planners conceived of public beaches and bike paths? Would it have become an urban recreation destination for paddlers, swimmers and bicyclists? We’ll never know. The forerunner to the modern bicycle didn’t exist until 1817, and the first chain-driven model was built around 1840. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bicycle) Who would have thought then that bicycling would be the competitive and leisure activity it is today?

And as for paddling – well – I guess that was what Indians did.

A grand old house from the 1930's.

As children, the girls in our neighborhood, including my sister Mary and friend Janet (from the previous Detroit story) rode our bikes to Grandma Schreiber’s house in Grosse Pointe Farms once every summer. It was an all day adventure. We would start out from Sunnyside, pedaling through Grosse Pointe Woods to Grosse Pointe Shores.

Grandma lived on Kerby.

We rode south on the sidewalk along Lake Shore Drive until we turned right onto Grandma’s street, just past the Grosse Pointe Farms Pier Park. Along the way, we stopped and gaped at the huge mansions, monuments to the auto industry giants in their glory days, behind great expanses of perfectly manicured lawns. We saw nannies in uniforms – yes, dresses with starched white aprons! – pushing babies in buggies and strollers!


Today you’ll see more people bicycling, jogging and walking on Lake Shore than I can ever remember, although the nannies in costume are gone

Grosse Pointe Yacht Club

Most of those grand estates have since been subdivided, the original mansions torn down. Now there are newer, more tightly spaced mansions and perhaps fewer acres of lawn, but the elegance of Lakeshore Drive remains unchanged.

As a teenager I spent hundreds, probably thousands of hours on both sides of Lakeshore – on the road and on the water. The tower of the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club, which you may recognize if you saw the movie Gran Torino, is perhaps the most enduring mental image I have of growing up.

Private property

Although Jefferson is separated from the lakeshore in St. Clair Shores, you can catch glimpses of the sparkling lake between the trees and houses. And even without the Grosse Pointe lake view, people of all ages are bicycling and strolling on the sidewalk along Jefferson in St. Clair Shores. I even saw a 20-something boy rollerblading and another one on a skateboard, pushing himself along with a pole – similar to paddling a stand up paddle board.





It was refreshing to see so many Michiganders out getting healthy exercise. I kept having to remind myself that the weather – sunshine, temperature in the 80’s, low humidity – was as perfect as it could get. Winter weather can be bitter and bleak.

I couldn’t resist taking Calamity Jane for a ride along Lake Shore, even though it would be a long one from Dad’s condo at the St. Clair Shores Golf Course. From start to finish, it was 24 miles round trip. It took exactly three hours, including getting air in my tires, falling over and picking myself up once while waiting at a stop light, and stopping to take photos.

My ride was 12 miles each way.



 

Calamity Jane, with flat tire.

By the time I got back to Dad’s, my legs were aching – why didn’t I bring some G2 instead of just water?? That heavy bike with the coast brakes did me in. But the next day I found out that our ride had taken a toll on Calamity Jane – she had a flat tire! At least the old bomber didn’t fail me during the mission.










For me, this was a beautiful ride along memory lane. If you find yourself in the area, try the driving tour of the Grosse Pointe mansions from the Grosse Pointe Historical Society. http://www.gphistorical.org/pdf-files/funstuff/driving-tour.pdf and http://www.gphistorical.org/pdf-files/funstuff/gptourmap.pdf

Many of the now demolished mansions still existed when we rode there as kids.





Thanks for reading.

St. Clair Shores VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Grosse Pointe Shores VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

In the USA–Biking Detroit

Michigan Central Station is an imposing
 building, albeit a bit architecturally confusing.

Detroit’s RiverWalk and Michigan Central Station

Growing up near Detroit in St. Clair Shores, Michigan, we kids spent a lot of time on bicycles. So it was only natural that, soon after I arrived for a visit with Dad at the end of July, I was searching for an opportunity to bicycle.

I didn’t have to look far. Detroit has redeveloped its riverfront and replaced the empty parking lots and abandoned wharves and factories with a bike- and pedestrian-friendly path along the river. Back in the 1970’s, before the city’s iconic Renaissance Center was built, I had a summer job working for a food concession at the Detroit ethnic festivals on the waterfront. I remember looking out over the bleak blacktop at the river while I served popcorn, hot dogs and sidewalk sundaes at the Greek, Irish, Polish, and Italian festivals. It was just series of parking lots and empty, deteriorated buildings.

One Saturday, watching the sailboats in the river, it hit me: I could be out there, sailing downriver with my Dad. What was I doing in a hot trailer, in a hot parking lot? But that's another story ...

Something for everyone, on the
Detroit RiverWalk.

Today, the Detroit RiverWalk is an attractive public space where business people and workers can take a lunch or afternoon break, and families can enjoy water play in the fountain. Renovated buildings are interspersed with still-vacant ones. Yet people are naturally attracted to water, and the Detroit River, with its view of the Ambassador Bridge to Windsor, Ontario, Canada is as pretty as any. It’s certainly improved since the 1970’s.

At least this bike had hand brakes.

Searching online, I discovered that Wheel House Detroit http://www.wheelhousedetroit.com/, located in the heart of the Detroit RiverWalk, rents bicycles. I called my childhood friend Janet, who is my resource for local knowledge on Detroit. We rode bicycles around our neighborhood as kids and through high school, and we have remained close friends despite living on different sides of the US for the past 36 years.

Would Janet be up for a bike ride downtown? I was happily surprised to learn that she has recently taken up bicycling again, riding 15 or more miles a day on a regular basis. Not only would she join me, but we could meet her daughter Candice for lunch at nearby Joe Louis Stadium, where she is Assistant to the Director of Security.

Little children play in the
fountain on hot days.

We rented bikes at Wheel House Detroit, $25 for four hours, and rode south on the RiverWalk, passing the fountain, Renaissance Center, and Cobo Convention and Exhibition Center. We stopped to look at the shell of Cobo Arena, where we went to rock concert in the 1970’s -- Rod Sterwart, David Bowie, J. Geils, Dave Mason, Led Zeppelin, The Who … I could hear the crowd cheering and calling “Moooore, moooore!” as they held up lit matches. “It looks small,” I said.

The first concert I went to was here:
Johnny Winter. It was also one of
my first dates.

Cobo Arena is also where the Detroit Pistons used to play. As Phase III of a total $279 million renovation and upgrade project, Cobo Arena is being transformed into a 38,000 sq. ft. ballroom, with meeting areas underneath.

Jan and I have been friends since --
well, before we were born, I guess.

At Joe Louis Arena, we brought our bikes inside and Candi showed us through the near-deserted concourse to a lighted concession booth with table seating and a catering company serving hot lunch entrees or soup and salad bar for $5. It’s a new program for Joe Louis employees and anyone else, such as Jan and me, who happen to know about this great deal. Afterward, we looked in on the arena. There was no ice at the time, and in the silence I could hear the echoes of roaring Red Wings fans.

Hockey is BIG here.

It was a rare glimpse into everyday life in Hockeytown, USA.

This old hotel must have some stories to tell.

One of my main goals of the bicycle tour was to ride to the old Michigan Central Station. I departed there in January 1976, on my first Amtrak trip west. I still can remember the feeling of being in an impossibly grand, relentlessly decaying place. Despite being abandoned for decades, the shell of this formerly magnificent beaux arts train station stands proud today behind a protective fence. When it was built, this was the tallest train station in the world. Completed in 1913, it remained in use until 1988.  Today it stands as a symbol of the rise and fall of Detroit.

Read its history at http://www.historicdetroit.org/building/michigan-central-station/ A grassroots effort has begun to renovate the building, but the costs of asbestos removal and restoration make the completion of such a project virtually unimaginable.

 This station was a huge investment for the City of Detroit
during the Beaux Arts/City Beautiful era.

As we neared Michigan Central Station, I noted the high protective fencing surrounding the building. It was quiet, although there was one vehicle inside the fence, and a banner on the building. The grand station has already been thoroughly looted, vandalized, sprayed with graffiti, and served as a home to squatting homeless and drug addicts for decades.

This is how cities are beautified now.

We rode around behind the building to look at the tracks, and as I was snapping photos of graffiti murals and old train engines, Jan rode off to explore. Presently she came riding back, very slowly.

Energetic young people are moving
into cities again. There is hope!

“I have a flat tire.” Great! We called Wheel House, and they sent out a young woman, who was on her day off but lived nearby, to replace the tube. The stem had broken off.


Back on the road, we pedaled through Corktown, named after Detroit’s Irish population. Jan and I both have old Detroit Irish blood running in our veins. We approached a vacant lot surrounded by an iron fence, and Jan rode her bike inside. Where the heck is she going … ? I followed.

Tiger Stadium pitcher's mound,
viewed from home plate.

“I think,” she said, “that this is Tiger Stadium.” I got a little chill. Sure enough, we realized that we were standing on the pitcher’s mound. Again, I heard the roar of the crowd in my memory. The Tigers play at Comerica Park now, but perhaps someday, this site will be redeveloped into something befitting the old Tiger Stadium legacy.

We returned to the RiverWalk. And … another flat tire for Jan. What gives? For those of you who have read some of my other stories, you might think that this was happening to her because … she was with me. I don’t know. This time, I rode the mile back to Wheel House, reported the flat tire, and was greeted with a look of some disbelief. Nonetheless, a Wheel House employee (we were lucky there was more than one working) rode a replacement bike back with me to where Jan was waiting. As she adjusted the seat to Jan’s height, the bolt broke off. “I don’t believe this!” she exclaimed. So Jan had to ride the replacement bike, with the seat all the way down, back to the shop and get a THIRD bicycle.

The wetland returns to the riverfront. I wonder how like -- or unlike -- it is to what was there in Native American times?

Some day soon this will be a bike path
to Belle Isle Bridge.

We explored to the north end of the RiverWalk, including the wetland, and the construction now underway to extend the path to the Belle Isle bridge.



When we returned the bikes to Wheel House Detroit, we joked about our luck. “We’ll be back to road test your other bikes!” we said.




“We don’t want to see you ladies again!” they replied.

Like it or not, we'll be back!

Detroit RiverWalk VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Michigan Central Station & Corktown VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Still in USA! Lake Tahoe–Bliss/Rubicon Point Boat Camping

I got my love of sailing
from my dad.

Now updated with photo albums.

I thought, as some of you probably did, that I would be back in Abu Dhabi with Mark by now. Well, it was not meant to be. Instead, I am in Michigan helping my dad cope with the inevitable aging process. For him, the issue is his lungs. It’s a story that many people know very well, but it’s not the story I am telling today. That story can wait; it’s still unfolding.

Instead, I am sharing my wonderful last week in Nevada and California. Here is the boat camping story.

Jamie is a native of Tahoe.

Mark’s and my friends Jim and Jamie Casey own the beautiful J124 sailboat Pleiades, which they sail on Lake Tahoe. I have known and raced with them for 10 years now, since they owned their J109 Ice Nine.

Laura (r) and new crew member Lynn (l)
work the front of the boat.

Each summer Jamie organizes a girls-only boat camping trip on Lake Tahoe. We head out Friday afternoon, anchor for two nights, and sail home to Tahoe City Sunday afternoon. Depending on the conditions, we may stay on the wooded California west shore beaches, or head across the lake to the more rugged, boulder strewn but breathtakingly beautiful Nevada east shore.

A SUP. Yes!

This year, we had six women between the ages of 40 and 60 (roughly) and all very fit. Boarding the boat, I was so happy to see a stand up paddle board lashed to the lifeline! It belongs to Lynn who, like me, is enthusiastic but relatively new to stand up paddle boarding. We also had Jamie’s inflatable kayak. It took a long time to unload and store the provisions: lots of fresh salads and fruit, yogurt, nuts, tea and white wine. I love sailing with the girls!

Tahoe water is crystal clear.

We cast off the mooring ball in front of Tahoe State Park, and had a beautiful sail to Rubicon Bay on the west shore. We anchored off the beach at Bliss State Park next to Rubicon Point, close enough to swim to shore. The question was, how cold is the water??








Here’s a little background information about Lake Tahoe, for those who are not familiar. Lake Tahoe is a freshwater lake in the Sierra Nevada mountains located along the border between California and Nevada. It’s the largest alpine lake in North America, and the second deepest, after Crater Lake in Oregon. The lake’s surface elevation is 6225 ft. and its depth is 1645 ft. Lake Tahoe is known for two things: its clarity, and its icy water temperature. Its sources are rainfall and snowmelt streams. Many people have died diving into the lake on a hot summer day. Why? Because while the surface water may warm to 68F, it averages a chilly 50F and below the surface the water is a heart-stopping 39F.
More information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Tahoe 
http://www.tahoereservations.com/lake-tahoe-faqs.

A few other sailboats camped overnight.

For just a few short weeks in summer, Lake Tahoe explodes with activity. The beach at Bliss State Park was filled with people and Rubicon Bay was crowded with boats coming and going. “Look at this!” the locals on the boat kept saying. They aren’t used to seeing so much activity on their lake. Most of the year, it’s just too cold except for the most hardy pleasure boaters and fishermen, and the locals don’t usually venture into the most crowded spots during peak season.






Early morning paddle.

I slept out on the foredeck both nights, watching the meteors shooting across the sky, waking up to the sun rising over the mountains. We took turns paddling early, before the water skiers churned up too many wakes. Some of the girls went hiking onshore, but I opted to stay on the water. I can put my feet on the dirt any time, but this was a special treat to paddle and swim in Lake Tahoe.

I never got tired of looking at Rubicon Point.

Both Saturday and Sunday, the southeastern sky filled with warm weather thunderhead clouds, looming over the mountains and spreading toward us, but they never made it overhead. WE could see rain in the distance but it was probably virga which evaporates before it reaches the ground.

Friday VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Saturday VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

It doesn't get any better than this!

Sunday’s sail began with light winds, but by the time we neared Tahoe City it was a perfect beam reach home.

Sunday VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

It's Jamie's boat, but she
lets Jim drive half the time.

The only thing missing was Jamie’s husband Jim. He couldn’t come camping because he’s a guy. He felt left out, but Jamie and I made it up to him Sunday night with a little pizza party, and Jim demonstrated his new skill: uncorking a bottle of wine using only one hand.













Salut!
Thanks for reading, and watch for the photo albums.
More stories are on the way, inshallah.
Till then, take care of you and yours.