A step back in time

Ferry rounding the bay

This summer I had the privilege of visiting Mackinac Island for the first time. A small 3.8 square mile island sitting in Lake Huron between the upper and lower peninsulas of Michigan. For those of us not from the area it is interestingly pronounced mack-in-aw. A mistake I made a few times before I realized that the locals were not happy that I was butchering their island's name.

Mackinac Island, Michael Barera

Things are pretty tranquil on Mackinac Island, but it is no stranger to excitement. During the American Revolution it was home to a large British fort. Later during the War of 1812 two different battles were fought on its shores. Now the entire island is a National Historic Landmark. From the Victorian period onward it has mostly been a summer resort town. A quiet place on the water for those living in the surrounding areas to summer. To this day the entire island has banned motorized vehicles of any kind, with residents instead relying on horses and bikes.  Surrounded with horse drawn carriages and Victorian architecture. A step onto Mackinac's shores is almost a step back into time.

What struck me as most interesting though, is the island's heavy reliance on ferries to support their daily lives. Every hour on the dot ferries pull away from the docks of Mackinac and make their way out of the bay. In a single file line they pass by the lighthouse. Then in a shape resembling a spider's web they split off at full speed to their various destinations. It almost seems like they are all fleeing some great calamity. Yet like clockwork, 30 minutes later they return filled with more people and supplies. During the summer the ferries are the only tie the island has to the mainland. Anything from groceries to new washing machines, the ferries carry it all.

At the end of the summer season the island's horses return to the mainline to winter in some warm barn. The ferries take the 500 different horses on the island a few at a time, sharing space with their usual cargo. Once the horses have been returned to shore it is only a matter of time till the winter ice causes the ferries to return to the mainland as well. At this point the island is on their own until the ice hardens enough for snowmobiles to cross back and forth. Year round residents will get all of their supplies via snowmobile until the warmth of spring breaks apart the ice. Then once again, the ferries of Mackinac will sail again.

The docks of Mackinac Island hearken back to a different time. Filled with supplies being unloaded by boats and carted off to their owners. It is easy to imagine what the sea ports of old must have been like. A time when things were not only an Amazon click away. For now though the past lives on off the coast of Michigan on sleepy Mackinac Island.

The voyage of the Kon-Tiki

 

Many people have come up with new and unorthodox ideas throughout history. Whether it be Charles Darwin and his theory of evolution or Steve Jobs and his idea to put a personal computer in our pockets. But few have committed to their ideas so wholly to then voluntarily risk their lives. One of those people was the Norwegian explorer and writer Thor Heyerdahl. Shortly after World War II, Thor had a rather unconventional idea. That the inhabitants of the Polynesian Islands had traveled by boat from South America instead of coming from the Asian mainland. His theory was not accepted by academia and laughed out of most circles. But Thor was not swayed, instead he dreamed up a way to prove them all wrong. He decided to build a balsa wood raft and sail across the Pacific himself, proving the voyage was possible with primitive means. 

Thor Heyerdahl

He scrounged up a small amount of funding from various sources and convinced the navy to donate some old food rations. Then, with his small team of close friends, he traveled down to Peru to begin construction. Thor was adamant that no modern techniques or materials be used. The raft consisted of nine balsa wood tree trunks each about 45 feet long and 2 feet across. Holding this all together was nothing more than 1 inch hemp ropes. Not exactly what one would call the most sea worthy of vessels, especially for a transpacific crossing. What is even more incredible is that Thor couldn’t even swim. As a child he fell through the ice of a pond and almost drowned. This developed a fear that kept him from learning how to swim. 

Nevertheless on April 28th, 1947 the Kon-Tiki (named after the Incan sun god) set sail. With nothing more than the currents and wind to carry them, it was slow goings. During the voyage they braved through storms, fought off sharks, and almost wrecked a few times. All told the crew of the Kon-Tiki spent 101 days at sea traveling 4,300 miles. But on August 7th, 1947 the Kon-Tiki crashed onto a reef off the coast of Raroia atol in French Polynesia. Arriving more or less in one piece, all of the crew swam ashore safe and sound. A ragtag group of friends had successfully crossed the Pacific Ocean using nothing but a balsa wood raft. Thor had proved the possibility of his theory. 

The Kon-Tiki

The crew of the Kon-Tiki enjoyed a mild case of celebrity afterwards and made the rounds on different radio shows. The public latched onto Thor’s theory and story of his voyage. Unfortunately academia still for the most part ignored his theory. It wasn’t until recently that DNA research has proven that there was some contact between South America and the Polynesian islands. Although this research also showed that most settlement of the islands still came from Asia.

The voyage of Kon-Tiki and Thor Heyerdahl still leaves a lasting legacy. Thor captured the public’s imagination and lit an interest in anthropology as well as exploration with many people. His book about his voyage titled simply Kon-Tiki was a best seller for some time. A movie portraying the crossing was released in 2012 and was nominated for an Academy award. I recommend the movie. The trailer is embedded below. 

Interview with Nate Pittman

This week's post is a little different. I had a chance to do a short audio interview with Nate Pittman.We talked about his first memories of boating as well as a few other stories. Including a time he and his father almost got caught in a small storm. Special thanks to Nate for being generous with his time.

The journey begins...

My first memories of the ocean all have one thing in common, the rocky coasts of Kennebunk, Maine. This sleepy vacation town looks just how you would expect it to. Old wharfs, lighthouses, lobster boats, and seagulls as far as the eye can see. Almost every weekend of my elementary school summers were spent in this coastal paradise. Lucky for me, my grandparents lived there and had plenty of room to spare for visitors. Although not Maine natives, they tried their best to fit in. My grandfather played the part mostly through his ownership of a small Boston Whaler center console boat. It was mostly a solitary effort, just him and the ocean. That is until he decided to bring me along one day.

I was hooked almost instantly. I fell in love with the ocean over the course of that first summer. It wasn’t long before my grandfather taught my how to drive the boat. I could barely see over the steering wheel, yet there I was bringing the boat in and out of the harbor. My grandmother really did not like the idea of her second grade grandson driving around a boat, but my grandpa backed me up. We were a team. The two of us explored every little cove for miles on either side of Kennebunk. On time we almost got boarded by the secret service for getting a little too close to former president George H. W. Bush’s home.

These were the stories that we made together. Like old salty sea dogs we came back to tell my grandmother of that day’s adventuring. Out there on the water I felt like the king of the world. No teachers to tell me what to do or grownups to tell me I was too little. Just a grandfather teaching his grandson everything he knew about the ocean. Laying the foundation for a lifelong passion that would only continue to grow.

Now the Kennebunk house has long been sold and the little Boston Whaler has been on blocks for years. But to me it all still feels like it was just yesterday. Those summers made me who I am today.

For the adventurous souls

The ocean has charmed man for centuries. Its mighty power has held hearts captive in its beauty and destruction. Writers, explorers, sailors, and the average man alike have felt its pull. Like a fickle king it gives out reward and punishment. The sea and boating is my passion. It provides me respite while also constantly challenging me. It is in this balance between relaxation and struggle that I find belonging. On the water, I am home.

This blog is about a topic near and dear to my heart, boating. I’m writing for all the adventurous souls out there that have felt the call of the sea. For those that are trapped in the everyday tedium of life and wish they could escape to a lost time. A golden age of adventurism filled with the likes of Earnest Hemingway, Jack London, and artic explorers. A time when men were allowed to be men and nature still fought back against the march of industrialization. 

So here is to the wild heart inside all of us. May it find the adventure it yearns for and never go silent. I hope this blog filled with personal experiences, salty sea stories, nautical culture, and history brings you happiness.