Great Loop Day 045 Oct 12, 2016. Henry Harbor to East Peoria, Illinois
Henry Harbor to East Peoria, Ill
It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy, we face the storm and defy it. —Amelia Barr
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Day 45. Wednesday, Oct 12, 2016. Illinois River. Nothing ordinary about this day!
Last night I spent ruminating on the decision every Looper has to make, do I stay or do I go? The weather forecast called for thunderstorms around 1 pm, Peoria was 34 miles away, and was reasonably assured I could reach that port by 1 PM. I would wait for an update in the morning before making my decision.
Morning came with some light to moderate sprinkles then cleared. My Radar Express phone app showed light showers scattered to the southwest. The morning weather report still indicated thunderstorms in the afternoon. No severe weather warnings. It was time to go. I prepared the Sea Marie for rain showers.
The bimini was fully extended with a rain panel velcroed over the companionway. The auto tiller in the plastic sleeve I originally bought for my Canon camera was excellent protection. The very last thing I need is for the unit to fizzle out from being wet. My Skipper Bob guidebook in a gallon zip lock bag. Cellphone and GPS in smaller baggies. My foul-weather gear was simple. Since it was still warm I wore my water-resistant wind pants, if it had been cooler I would put on a pair of sweatpants under the wind pants. Tee shirt, flannel jacket with hoodie, offshore inflatable life preserver with a built-in chest harness and attached Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB), and a windbreaker jacket if it rains hard. Just a pair of socks and my West Marine boat shoes complete the wardrobe. Skies were partly cloudy with occasional sunshine warming me up. Winds were light from the south.
I could see darkening clouds to the northwest. Those should pass behind us without affecting our travel. Radar indicated a few light green patches of rain but no big worry. It's 8 am and full daylight. I noted Bruce and Scott had left earlier and Marcus and Connie were still tied in at the marina. I settled into my routine as I got underway.
Checking my electronics; the Lowrance chart plotter is working well for the water depth. That is going to be very important. In my hand is my Garmin handheld GPS which now has a 12-volt power cord purchased earlier this summer and I don't need to change batteries. For the eTrex GPS, I do change the two double-A batteries each morning with freshly charged rechargeables. I zero out the trip mileage on both GPS units and record the day's travel in my logbook. Cellphone set to my Navionics navigation app and more important the Radar Express app. The main six-gallon gas tank got filled the night before. Don't want to fill it while underway and while it's raining. Water has no octane and if it gets in the engine it would stop me dead in the water. If need be I'd switch to a fresh 3-gallon auxiliary tank. I'm prepared as I'm going to be.
A few miles out and the skies get cloudy again. The radar app shows a line of rain to the west and southwest moving northeast. It’s going to hit me but still looks like I'll miss the heavy parts. A rumble of thunder behind me to the northwest, that's not heading my way.
White pelicans are becoming more numerous. Flocks of 50 or more huddling together, most with their heads buried under their wings. They're standing in the shallow water on the north end of an island all facing south. I'm not a birder and not familiar with the white pelican's behavior, however, there's something ominous about that. I take their picture and move on.
More channels are opening up off the main channel leading to a large lake on my right. Duck blinds are seen, some nearshore others out in the lake.
The skies are darkening around me and the brighter roll clouds are seen against the darker clouds which usually precede heavy winds in front of thunderstorms. Still off to the west and I'm moving south. Radar check now shows a band of rain in the yellow to orange. Most thunderstorms will display red indicating real heavy rain. No reds. This yellow line continues to build and solidify. I'm near the small town of Chillicothe and see access to a river dock on my right. Docks such as these are few and far between. This line is moving fast perhaps I should dock here and wait it out. Still no reds on the radar, so I decide to continue. The channel I'm in is hugging the tree-lined right shore. On one hand, that may provide some protection from storm winds, on the other hand, the wind could blow down trees in front of me blocking my way. Another look at that radar app and it becomes inevitable this baby's going to hit me and hit me hard. Should be a fast mover, maybe 10, or 20 minutes tops.
Rain starts slowly at first then a bit harder. The wind is shaking the bimini and I'm concerned a good gust would damage it. Holding the front of the bimini making sure the Sea Marie stays inside the marked channel. Red nun buoys on left, green cans on right. Everything will be fine as long as this channel stays close to shore. The channel markers are now getting harder to see as this rain begins to drive harder. Checking the radar it's not moving as fast as I thought and more yellow is showing up heading my way. Great. Now I begin to notice the channel is moving away from shore and out into the open lake. Moving away from the safety of the tall trees I am now a perfect lightning rod!
While underway, I catch a glimpse of my first Asian carp behind the stern. About 10 ft away jumping towards the transom. Then another one across the wake. This one gives me the full monty. Wow, he's a big one. Much too fast to photograph. I continue at 7mph at a little less than half throttle.
Thank goodness there are enough markers, I can only make out the shapes not color anymore. Now the heavy winds are kicking the lake up in a frenzy of 2 to 3-foot waves. The Sea Marie slaps into each oncoming wave with force and determination. Hold on girl, we'll get thru this.
The boat begins to rock with the waves, and at times the prop on the outboard spins out of the water. It's becoming more frequent which really stresses the motor as I continue to hold the front of the bimini against the driving wind. The motor is mounted on the transom with an adjustable transom mount. I had it 2 notches above full down, need to lower it deeper in the water so she stays in. Releasing the bimini I move back to the stern. Grab the bar on the mount to release the notch. It won't budge. I can do it if I time it right. When the wave raises the stern it takes the pressure off for just a split second. Now!, I yell, and the bar releases. Push hard on the motor to set it down deeper in the water. Done. Check the course. Move 5 degrees port. Now 10 degrees more. I check each side of the boat for those buoys. Got to stay in the channel. This channel is getting narrower as I fight the wind and waves pushing me outside the channel and into shallow waters. That's good, I say to myself, easier to find the channel marks. I pray there are no tows heading my way. The channel buoys are about 3 barges in width. No room to maneuver should one be seen. I check the weather radar, is it getting better or worse? It's worse, more yellow and orange behind what's in front of me now.
I glance up and a red buoy goes by my starboard side. What! Check the depth! 3.5 ft, Oh No, No NO! Grab that tiller, and hit the standby button on the auto tiller. Release the steering bar off the tiller. Pull that tiller hard to port and point the bow to the right, get back in that channel! 3.6, 3.8, 4 feet then 10 feet, 14 feet, I'm back in. The channel only runs 14 to 16 ft deep in this lake. Outside the channel, the shallow mud would grab hold of the keel laying 2 feet below the waterline, and with the wind and waves pounding us up higher on these mud shoals so backing up would not be enough to release its grip.
The hard rain continues unabated. The wind-driven waves pound hard on the bow. I look down in the cabin Mickey's laying low on the floor. He looks up at me to say I'm doing ok, but barely. The boat lurches down in the trough and slams into the next upcoming wave. At that moment I see the forward hatch open just a few inches and water from the bow wave pours in. The hatch was not secured. Checking again to make sure we're on the course I jump below. I have less than 30 seconds to get this done or the waves and winds will blow us out of the channel. I crawl forward hanging onto anything solid with one hand while I tighten the hatch screws. Getting back to the cockpit is like struggling to get out of a tumbling dryer, the waves are trying hard to knock me off balance.
Back outside the bimini is holding. I can make out the shoreline, we are crossing this lake to the other side. Only able to see one buoy at a time. They stagger the placement so you see a red nun on the port (left) and then a green can on the starboard (right). We're hanging on. The wind lessens a bit I can now release my grip on the bimini. Making small changes in the course to be inside the channel is my highest priority.
A huge flash! The hair on the back of my head is tingling. Lightning. I hear the crackle then immediately the boom of the thunder that shakes the entire boat. That was too damn close. The rain doesn't seem to let up. The rain curtain is holding well. Another flash… then Boom! An agonizing 10 minutes slowly go by. Finally, the wind lets up, waves diminish and the rain goes from hard to moderate. Still no breaks in the sky in front. It ain't over til it's over. Keep your eye on those marks. I see a bridge up ahead, we'll be off this lake soon.
I spot a small vessel heading toward me, it gets bigger. It's the Spirit of Peoria with a stern paddlewheel I saw yesterday out to greet me. The passengers aboard are waving as if to say, Congratulations! You made it!
I wave back. No, not just me, we all made it.
I survived one hell of a thunderstorm with lightning, rain, high winds, and a nasty 3ft chop in Upper Peoria Lake.
The Sea Marie is one tough girl and I now have faith she'll get us through anything we encounter. Thank you, Sea Marie, for getting Mickey and me through the toughest storm yet and we still have such a long way to go.
We pull into Peoria municipal dock at the request of Detweiller Marina who I called a few minutes earlier. No one around, no other boats. But it has working shore power and that's all I need. Crank that heater up. We got stuff that needs drying out.
This is where Detweiller Marina sent me for the night. Didn’t have any company this evening.
Only spent a night so I didn’t have much time to explore the Riverfront.
Just took a short walk to steady my sea legs.
The Spirit of Peoria returned to her dock.
Free Crab Tomorrow! The catch is it is always… tomorrow!
Well till next time, stay dry and… Fair winds and gentle seas.
Susan Christine. Wow!! Had to hold my breath a couple of times reading about this latest leg of your adventure. You are a wonderful storyteller Henry. Continued safe travels.
Donna Stolarski Whipkey. I love following your stories but sometimes you scare me with the chances you take. It's just a small boat.
Scott Stanley Sikorski. I am not much of a book reader but enjoying each chapter of your adventure. On our travels, with our boat, I understand looking for Red or green markers in heavy rains and keeping an eye on the depth. Glad you made it to your next port, looking forward to your next post...safe travels Henry.
Amy Gagnon Cabot. That leg of the trip was a nail-biter...I love how you tell a story! I look forward to reading about your adventure every day!
Sherry Thaler. Holy, geez, Henry. Had to admit you had me on the edge of the couch there a couple of times. Just remember Sergeant Bill Esterhaus on Hill Street Blues saying "hey let's be careful out there!"