A Visit to Powerboat Hell

The first day of the Memorial Day weekend was forecast for low to mid-60 degree temps. We decided this was a bit cool and gambled that the weather wizards knew what they were talking about; Memorial Day itself was looking like the better day. It was better, if you like your sails hanging lifeless from the mast. It was sunny and warm, though, and it was nice to be out on the boat, even if we motored much more than we sailed.

We were turned away from the municipal ramp at Hudson, so we went the half-mile south to King's ramp and paid the highway-robbery charge of $12 to launch and park. King's has no docks, so you have to launch and either beach or motor around until the vehicle is parked, then pick up the driver. Julie drove the van, and I motored over to the little beach to wait for her. As we motored away from the launch area, I noticed something about Hudson that I'd never realized before - Hudson has an anchorage.

I could've guessed, if I'd studied the area around the marina a bit more, but we've never seen a single boat anchored out there before. Usually, the powerboaters will motor over to one of the several islands that isolate the marina, two public ramps and mooring area from the main river channel. On Memorial Day, however, there were just too many boats on the water. We had to thread our way through at least 50 boats anchored outside the marina, and a dozen or so others underway through the anchorage..

We steered a long way around course looking for a neighbor's boat that we expected to see beached on the first island across from the new-found anchorage. After a fruitless search and equally fruitless hails on the VHF, we turned south for the sailing area of Lake St. Croix. As we passed under the I-94 bridge, we realized we were entering a new dimension of boating - Powerboat Hell.

Yes, that's right - the river seemed alive with powerboats of all sizes and types. Mammoth river charter cruisers moved up and down the main channel, displacing huge wakes even at slower speeds. Closer to shore, the PWC squadrons zipped about. To add insult to injury, we were also confronted with extremely light and variable winds. Julie was steering us under power to the place she wanted to make sail, and she idled down and turned us into the wind. For the first time from the cockpit, I hoisted the main.

We had recently rigged the boat to lead all the running rigging aft to the cockpit. This project included mounting turning blocks, deck organizers, and clutches to the cabintop. The two main reasons for this were to get the kids more involved in handling the boat, and to keep me in the cockpit instead of sitting on the cabintop. With the lines led to the cockpit, I could now have the kids help with hoisting the main, or reefing, or adjusting the vang.

This time I did it myself. It would have worked like a charm, had I remembered to loosen the lazyjack lines. As it was, a batten got hung up and I had to shake it loose. Okay, the main is up, now to unfurl the jib. Oops! It helps to make sure the topping lift line isn't too slack. Mine got wrapped in the jib, allowing it to only unfurl halfway. Bother. Furl it back up, take out the slack in the topping lift and try again. Much better. Now... where is that wind?

Looking around, none of the other sailboats seemed to be having much luck. Once in a while we'd catch a puff, but it wouldn't last. Just when you'd get your sails trimmed to take advantage of what little wind there was, some PWC or runabout would come zipping by, rocking you in his wake and throwing the sails into confusion. We did more rocking than anything else; the kids (and Julie) were getting impatient to be moving. We decided to head further south under motor where we could see some sails drawing well.

Once again, we tried to catch the wind. Once again, we failed while still getting rocked by powerboat wakes. The crew was now obviously in dissent, so we decided motor back north to the islands in hopes of linking up with our neighbors. After scanning the names of all the boats beached on the first two islands, we decided to beach on #3, the same island Julie and I had visited a week earlier. The kids swam in the river while the adults fixed dinner - hotdogs, chex mix and cookies.

After dinner, the kids swam around, found some shells, and pestered each other. Eventually, it was time to leave and we loaded up and cast off. We steered between the first two islands, finally spotting our neighbor's boat with Kyle, their son, standing in the cockpit. About then we gently slowed to a stop. Kyle shouted that we had hit the long sandbar that guarded the island. No problem - I winched up the keel and we were moving again. Pop! The rubber shock-cord in the rudder downhaul broke in two as the rudder made contact with the bar. I guess I should've eased that a bit once the rudder was firmly down. Oh, well. Back to the ramp.

We recovered the boat cleanly, but while unloading in the parking field (I hesitate to call it a parking lot), I noticed that I'd managed to wind the trailer's winch strap around the sprockets. We got that straightened out, but now need to replace the strap. All in all, a nice day to be out on the water, we just could've done with a little wind. And fewer powerboats.

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