On June 11, 2011, Tom Bamonte and I planned on paddling from Jackson Park Inner Harbor to Four Mile Crib and back via 12th street beach. What we thought would be a paddle of moderate distance on a warm spring morning turned out to be an urban paddling adventure that put our navigation skills (or in my case, willingness to learn navigation skills) to the test.
The plan was to meet at Jackson Park Inner Harbor boat ramp, a designated Lake Michigan Water Trail put-in, at 7:30 a.m. There was a dense fog advisory in effect until 10 a.m. with winds blowing at 10-15 knots out of the northwest, shifting to the northeast later in the morning. As predicted, the fog was heavy. While driving along Lakeshore Drive to the launch site, it was nearly impossible to assess the conditions on the Lake.
Undeterred, Tom and I made the decision to paddle to as planned. Getting there, however, would require us to plot our course. Tom, prepared as always, took out his chart and protractor, and gave me a quick tutorial on using both. We took the bearings needed to get from Jackson Park to the Crib, the Crib to 12th street beach, and back. The chart showed two buoys, one with a bell, that were located approximately two miles offshore and two miles from our put-in. We told ourselves to listen for the bell about 30 to 45 minutes into the paddle. If we heard the bell to our left (or west), we knew we were off course.
A quick warm-up paddle through the harbor and we were off. Immediately upon entering the Lake, it became apparent that we would need to keep our heads on swivel to watch for boat traffic, as visibility was severely restricted. The thick shroud of fog prevented us from using any onshore landmarks to assess our position and progress.
This was my first time navigating with a deck compass in a kayak. One thing I quickly noticed was that our bearing and course did not always align, and a couple minutes of inattention could lead to an unsuccessful voyage or a more frustrating paddle. Navigation in a kayak with a deck compass is part science and part art.
After almost two hours of paddling and having not heard the bell, we started to encounter sailboats motoring out to their intended destination. Knowing that Burnham Park Harbor was slightly south of 12th street beach (almost due west of the Crib), increased boat traffic was a good sign that we were at least traveling in the correct direction.
One encounter with a sailboat stood out among the rest. The crew of one sailboat didn’t motor by and wave as the others. Instead, they motored alongside Tom and began asking questions. “Are you alright?” “Where are you going?” “Do you have a GPS?” Tom allayed their concerns, telling them that we were heading to Four Mile Crib, we had a marine radio and cell phones, and of course, we were doing just fine. The crew also made another observation before leaving us: “We don’t typically see kayakers our this far.” I felt vindicated.
Closely monitoring our compasses, we began hearing a faint sound in the distance. Four Mile Crib has a horn. Could it be? Because we both had time constraints, along with parking meters that would be expiring before 3:00 p.m., our pace quickened. Tom set benchmarks: let’s paddle another 20 minutes towards the horn. After 20 minutes, we still hadn’t reached the Crib. As we were paddling, the sound of the horn intensified, so we decided to paddle another 10 minutes.
After harboring some doubt, but not wanting to give up, the Crib suddenly appeared to the northwest. It was enveloped in fog, and if it had a light, it wasn’t visible. We didn’t have time to bask in our achievement of reaching the Crib the old-fashioned way, using a chart and compass and our eyes and ears. We needed to make it to 12th street beach for lunch and needed to do so quickly.
We corrected our bearing to account for the fact that the northern winds (northwest shifting to northeast) would push us south. Beam seas accompanied us on our paddle west. The undulating motion of the waves was hypnotic. The fog, however, continued to be disorienting. There were times when I thought I saw buildings through the fog and questioned whether Chicago really lay in the distance.
Soon enough, the shore appeared, and much to our excitement, we had nailed another one. The 12th street beach was almost directly in front of us. (The southern 100 yards of 12th street beach is another designated Lake Michigan Water Trail put-in.) Lunch was in order, and as we were eating, the fog began to lift.
Paddling south back to Jackson Park gave us the opportunity to take advantage of the following seas. The reflecting waves off the break walls south of 12th street and near Promontory Point caused our boats to be pushed and pulled irregularly, keeping us guessing, even with waves of less than three feet. Water does strange and powerful things when its energy cannot be unleashed on a beach.
Gary Steinbauer limping back to the launch site
By the time we arrived back at Jackson Park, the fog had lifted enough for us to have a clear view of the shore. Our guessing game was done, and we no longer had to hold our laser focus on our deck compasses.
A clear picture of Jackson Harbor
We made it to the Crib in dense fog, to our lunch stop, and back. This was an extremely satisfying and humbling paddle . . . and we had time to spare on our parking meters.