Autopilot

Its a peaceful grey morning on Lake Michigan.

A gentle wind is blowing out of the south.  The Sailing Vessel DISCO is pointed west from St. Joseph's, Michigan, headed for Chicago.  I'm sitting below in the quiet, wood-walled cabin.  Only sounds are the small waves lapping against the hull and my fingers typing at the keyboard of my macbook.  Water is boiling on the stove for coffee.

I climb the companionway steps into the cockpit, where the new Raymarine autopilot holds us on a steady course of 270° towards Wilmette Harbor.  I check the speedo,  We're making 4.7 knots.  We'll be there in about 12 hours.

The Michigan coastline is disappearing behind us.  My phone is "Searching for Signal."  The horizon is empty.  Its just us out here.

A light rain begins, so I retreat back down into the homey warmth of the cabin.  Today, cruising along indoors, seated comfortably on an upholstered bench, DISCO feels huge.

Yesterday, was different.  Skies clear and blue, 20 knot winds and 5 foot swells blew from the North as we sailed down the coast from Saugatuk.  Rather than a home at sea, DISCO felt small and dynamic as we surfed and crashed down the waves.

Rather than below, in the roomy cabin, I spent the entire passage in the cockpit, hand-steering DISCO from wave to perilous wave.  Conditions too rough for the autopilot, I got a bad sunburn.

My 1987 C&C 27 is not a big boat.  Her former owner was a racer and daysailer, who never took her out of sight of shore.  I wasn't sure how much tossing around she could handle.   DISCO performed well in the waves and wind, inspiring confidence.

Its night now.  Suddenly wispy rainclouds are appearing over Chicago's north shore. The late July sunset is dimming and the nav-lights of the Wilmette harbor-mouth are faintly blinking into view.  Red-Right-Returning.  I reach down and press the ignition firing up our small diesel engine.  DISCO chugs into a old safe-harbor familiar from my childhood.  Almost home.