S/V AMICUS

Sea Change 2022 season begins

Pearl is happy on board

In the winter we recruit our crew. In March we watched the snow melt, rebuild, and dissipate again. Mark put finishing touches on the inside of Amicus II.  In April the snow and rain continued as well as the icy winds.  We watched the ice charts and Mark stole to the boat to paint or caulk every time the sun peaked through, no matter the temperatures or the wind. We launched five days before Sea Change began; crew arrived during yet another northeast gale. Once again, I thought, "Are we crazy?"

Now, sitting in Washburn Wisconsin after two full days of motor/sailing here and teaching 150 middle schoolers about plastics, invasive species, and other climate-related threats to Lake Superior, I'm reminded that we are not crazy.  We just needed to thicken our skin a little bit.

Mark captivates 100 students

This year's crew has not only proved themselves almost instantly able to live aboard a boat and herd middle schoolers, but they are a musically talented bunch.  We have two fiddlers, and a piccolo and a guitar to accompany them. 3-part harmony is not out of the realm for us. The crew has created a song you will want to hear someday about the Sea Lamprey outsmarting the Niagara Falls to enter our lake system (do you know how this happened?)--one of the stories that Mark uses to rivet the attention of students on our way to climate solutions. 

After this post, we will send updates mostly via Instagram (#Amicusadventuresailing) or Facebook (Amicussailing).  Our blog may also get some use. Next stop is the Keweenaw Peninsula about May 9, followed by Isle Royale around May 13.  We will re-emerge on the north shore of Minnesota around May 22.

Summer 2021

As the summer of 2021 winds down, I struggle to put words to paper, or fingers to keyboard.  It it always this way.   Attention spans are short even if hearts are full.  Maybe a set of bullet points will serve. 

1.Sailing.  So many good experiences.  Mark took out a couple who have

dipping on a day sail

everyone's favorite spot

embarked on a new business.  They were taking one precious day off all summer, and they used it to get out on the Lake.  They barely talked, he said--just sat, facing into the wind, breathing and sensating.  We've taken a record number of people out to swim too, on this hot hot summer.  "Bring your bathing suits" was a new idea a few years ago, suitable only in conditions found a day or two a summer.  This summer, we made it part of our standard preparation.  

2. Parenthood.  Both girls gone for the majority of the summer.  Cedar launching to Michigan Tech in mid-August.  There is

Off to University!

nothing in my life so rewarding as homemaking, and the empty nest is a deeply felt vacuum. What will the next phase be?  Quoting my dear friend Ann whose life is running parallel to mine, apparently:  "Overwhelming mix of emotions for this mom—...awe in [my daughter's] intensity of passion and determination, excitement and joy for the adventures ahead,....and admittedly totally selfish however intense and overwhelming heartbreak that suddenly in the blink of an eye we’ve reach that point where if all goes as hoped she will be mostly gone far away and home only briefly from here on out."  Yes.

3. COVID.  There's an imp infiltrating into our brains.  "How can I create discord?" It's methods are devious. Like Loki in Norwegian mythology, or Screwtape in C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, this "senior demon" has created a strong footing.  I can see it wringing its hands with glee, having succeeded beyond its wildest dreams. It used to take violence.  War.  starvation.  But today--ANYTHING can convince people that others are enemies!  A disease!  A vaccination!  Vitamin D!  a Mask!  Once we see the power of this Imp, however, we can send it scuttling simply by reaching out to any "other" which can now be defined even as someone who has made a different choice about wearing a mask, or getting a shot.  There is a new tribe growing and silently communicating via everyday interactions--those who refuse to demonize the other, those who appreciate that everyone makes different choices, those threatened by neither side, those who are still searching beneath the vitriol for answers that everyone can live with. 

4. MELANOMA.  A changing, growing freckle on my leg brought me reluctantly to the clinic in the beginning of June.  The result was 3 weeks of uncertainty, 2 canceled sailing trips, three surgeries, and lots of waiting and wondering.  Also a strong sense of being carried in a current of love and good will towards what was, in the end, a happy ending.  But even before my case was closed, good things resulted--in this case, healing between myself and the medical professionals I have eyed warily for decades.  I met more kind and competent and just-so-HUMAN nurses, and personable compassionate doctors, to bring about a gentle but complete revamping of my ideas about medical care.  There may be mistakes and blind spots in the profession as a whole, but the people are caring, human, and intend the best.  And it is pretty incredible what they can do these days.  I adored my surgeon who looked me in the eye, shared her wisdom and more importantly her ignorance when applicable, and whose hands were the steadiest Mark had ever seen (he watched the first, initial surgery).  She showed Mark how to take out my stitches on Isle Royale so we could head north just eight days after the surgery.  Long story short:  I am one of the lucky ones, able to resume life as normal with only check-ups to remind me of this chapter of my life.

5.

Supercell Thunderstorm in Two Harbors in July

Weather and Climate.  Beginning with a hot, dry May, this has been the longest summer of my life in Minnesota.  As I write, plumes of smoke waft through Two Harbors from the wildfires just north of us.  Drought is not unheard of for Minnesota, and forest fires are part of natural regeneration, I remind myself.  The water temperatures of Lake Superior, however, are the warmest in memory and I suspect in record, especially below the surface where Mark and I have been documenting offshore temperatures for years.  Minnesota is feeling the heat, so to speak, which has the sad but true consequence that our climate work has upticked and felt very successful.  People are paying attention, and scared, as well they should be.  Sea Change trips, and volunteering with the Citizens' Climate Lobby continues to uplift and connect us to others in a movement that is beginning to feel worthy of the challenge.

There's more, always more, but that will have to suffice for now. I, for one, am ready for crisp fall air and some drippy rain.

Sea Change Teen July 2021

For those of you who are wondering where we have been..... June included a 3-week disruption to our sailing schedule due to medical issues that is a subject for another posting.

BUT.  By July 3 we were back in business and took five intrepid teenagers to Isle Royale via Sea Change Expeditions.  I never fail to be impressed with the caliber of teens we get on this trip.  Somehow they (and their parents) willingly take on a unique challenge--living in a small sailboat with seven others, learning all they can about our changing eco-system, learning to sail for hours at a time, acquiring a necessity-based flexibility, and eating a diet that can only be described as utterly unique and Katya-esque.  Lloyd, Loue, Savanna, Amelia, and Evangeline did all this and more with flying colors. 

And this year we had Kai aboard--a veteran Sea Changer from 2019 and a counselor, mentor, and wilderness leader all rolled into one.   

Highlights included: 

• a full day at Passage Island exploring, learning and studying in a most remote and starkly gorgeous setting,
• the MOB (Man Overboard) drill which necessitated learning how to quickly come about, keep an eye on the floater, luff the sails at the exact moment, and above all TEAMWORK,
• the volume of food (particularly oats and beans) that this group managed to ingest (and they are not big people!),
• the full read-aloud of Shackleton's Incredible Voyage in Endurance,
• perpetual laughter,
• deep discussion of how we discuss controversial issues like climate change,
• a gentle overnight sail into Grand Marais on our final night, followed by a 9 a.m. post-breakfast dip just as we were arriving, and finally...
• Loue and Evangeline both learning to dive off the ladder after numerous--dozens--of attempts. 

Water temperatures and air temperatures were both very high, which made for a lot of dipping at all times of the day, and thick haze from Canadian wildfires made our climate work relevant and immediate.

But mostly, you just gotta see a few pictures to get an idea.  

 

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The Final Days: Sea Change May 2021

Silver Bay signs the Clean, Cold, Clear Challenge

Our final days of Sea Change vacillated between exciting-and-absorbing, and quiet.  Two extremely blustery sails brought us home--the first in waves that frequently reached 8 feet and sent one of us feeding the fish after a hiatus of three weeks from seasickness. 

But--it brought us into Silver Bay in time to spend a fantastic morning with the 5th graders from the Silver Bay public school, followed by a period of extremely windy and unstable weather.

The final passage home began at 5 a.m. and could have been the worst of all.  Mark and I got us out on the water, with only Isa poking a sleepy head out the hatch and asking, "Am I supposed to do anything?" Change was in the air--great gusts of wind punctuated with no wind at all.  A big swell from the SW (head on) and wind-driven waves hitting us from W and NW.  Thick clouds, fog, then sun.  It was "active steering," as we call it.  I did wonder if I should pass the bucket around below.  But no--all crew popped their heads out at various times.  Breakfasts were scooped out of bowls in the sink without ado, and everyone harnessed up and appeared cheerful well before their watch began.  What a crew! 

Secchi Disk testing

Conditions stabilized throughout the day and by mid-day we were home in Knife River--just in time to head to Two Harbors for the Conference Track Meet.  Crew made signs and managed to support the girls without embarrassing them (unlike their parents).  Cedar and Lamar ran like champs and we drove back to the boat for a late tuna wiggle dinner.

Thursday's weather (strong NE winds and big waves) brought a surge of cold, and the four teens that joined us for the day from the Grand Rapids Alternative School were disappointed not to be able to get out on the Lake.  We spent some fun hours together nevertheless, having worked with them virtually before.   Mark pulled out the dinghy and two of the boys trolled out with him, then came in and searched in the net for spiny water flea (found) and microplastics (found).

Trolling for microplastics and spiny water flea

Friday was our final day with the North Shore Community School--another class we've been working with for months already.  Today was fun day.  A NE wind that can only be described as freezing was the only hitch.  Mark told a mean shipwreck story that absorbed all, which were followed by our rounds of skits and games and finally, the signing of the Clean, Cold, and Clear Challenge and then a frigid picnic lunch.

Longtime friends, recruiters of Isa, and veteran Amicus II sailors, the Holdens, joined us for our final night of feasting, games, and then just sitting in the cockpit and sharing laughter and memories until dark, got us through our final evening.

the final morning

Now the crew are all over the country, we are back in Two Harbors.  We have laundered and resupplied, and Mark is looking hard at the forecast to determine when he can head to Grand Marais for his first Isle Royale Trip with North House, beginning Thursday June 10.  I am slowly working my way into my commitments while preparing for another month on Amicus II.  Cedar graduates from high school on Friday, and then both girls have just two weeks before they will be off on their own pursuits for the summer.  Doesn't time fly!

Three Weeks in with Sea Change 2021

Sea Change Expeditions is three weeks into our month aboard, sitting at anchor in Taconite Harbor.  Pea soup fog keeps us from seeing much outside, but we are grateful for the chill after serious heat in Marquette and Houghton.  My heart is full, so here is some of the outpourings....

Two nights ago we sailed here from Michigan on a rainy, dark overnight.  Mark called it just hours before takeoff, having decided that a nighttime passage would be the best wind and the safest journey, despite the fact that we had just completed a full day of programming and were still tired from our overnight two days before.  Everyone but me adjusted quickly.  I struggled.  My eyes were heavy with weariness and Mark didn't lie about the potential for rousting conditions and/or rain.  Sensing my wariness, he did all the heavy lifting, lying in the cockpit with the on-watch crew most of the night.

Brandi on watch as darkness slowly lifts

For me, lying in the quarterberth by the back hatch, it was a relatively peaceful and stable night. The red light from the chart table cast a familiar light on the cabin. The swishing of the waves through the hull was loud and constant and assured me of fair winds.  The motion went from calm to gentle--and stayed there.  Transitions for on-watch were efficient, the only sound the clicking of caribeanners to harness oneself to the boat, the clicking of the cabinet handle holding the muffin snacks, and the muffled clunk of bog boots climbing the steps.  Then, the low tone of conversation as the person leaving tells the person arriving the conditions, the direction, and what to expect.  At one point, fully awake, it was silent for so long that I wondered.  Then, a single question from Mark, dozing in the cockpit, "How's it going?" and Katie's cheerful and wide awake reply.  "Fine!  Yep!"  Ahh.  Katie is at the wheel, and all is well.  I could drift off again, satisfied that the winds were steady and the pelting rain was not getting anyone down.  When Mark finally got me up at 4:00 CT, I could make out shapes in the cockpit and the rain was reduced to a drizzle.  Brandi was just going on watch, and so together we watched black turn to gray turn to lighter gray--not the gorgeous sunset morning, but it had its particular charm.  Birds chirped nearby and flew into the cockpit.  The rhythmic swish of the waves became slowly visible around us.  When it was light enough to video without a flash, I made an attempt to catch the feeling.  Of course, the video didn't even come close.

Yes, we've reached that comfortable state--we've formed, stormed, normed, and are performing now.  We can take off into the biggest lake in the world in rain and fog right when everyone else is going to sleep, and barely skip a beat.  We arrived in thick fog and overshot the entrance to the harbor, despite our 2-knot speed, four people peering out, and my eyes glued to the radar.  On our second attempt we found the breakwall before hitting it, and put-putted our way along it until we were in.  Safely moored, we finished our day with a special dinner--a free range chicken and mashed potatoes.  By evening we tried a sing-a-long with the guitar, discussed books, and did art.  Andrew is an amazing artist and Isa loves to paint in his pen drawings.

Andrew speaks to 5th graders in Houghton

Meantime, have we done any good in the world outside our cabin?  Thursday's program in the drizzle with 24 6th graders reassures me that we are doing something right as well.  After our plastics talk, our skits, our games, and our boat tours, we bring the kids to our homemade sail map of Lake Superior, signed by hundreds of coastline kids who have committed themselves to the "Clean Cold and Clear" Challenge (what we want for Lake Superior).  We urge them to sign only if they are ready to step up in some way, and we have numerous suggestions if they are still wondering what they could do.  Over half the kids signed.

Our last week will be a long, slow homecoming.  Lots of time back on the north shore.  Several more school programs and virtual programs.  Visits with friends and meet-ups with Cedar and Lamar, including a potential home track meet that we all hope to attend in Two Harbors.  We'll see what actually happens but I know it will be good.

Sea Change Crew Blogs - Isa

Howdy! I'm Isa!

Every evening at dinner, Mark poses a question for the day. As food is passed around, the crew ponders their answers. We share stories of moments that have stuck with us through our lives.

In his book Cosmos, Carl Sagan said something along the lines of "We make the world significant by the courage of our questions and the depths of our answers."

Without questions, answers, and lessons being learned, I would surely be drifting in vague confusion as to what we are doing on this boat (note: physically AND metaphorically). However..! All sorts of queries are being considered such as: 
Why can't we have whales in Lake Superior?
How can we help coastal community school engage with the topic of climate change?
Wait, what is the rope spinner thing called??
Who is someone you have influenced? Can we empower the youth when we meet them?
Have we been accessible to all who may be interested?
Are you suuuuuure we can't have whales here someday???

Whether it's a quick answer or something that needs to be continually discussed, Mark and Katya, along with the crew are always open to a good conversation.

I find myself on the deck of the Amicus II - trying to remember anything and everything that I have had the opportunity to learn so far. As we sail on, I look out to the waves changing hues in the sun, thinking. Well okay ... there may be more snacking on banana chips than thinking.

~isa~

Crew Blogs--intro to Andrew

    Date:  Sunday, May 16.  

Your 2021 sea change crew just sailed from Copper Harbor to Marquette, Michigan. The crew and I have been enjoying sailing and were a bit disappointed that we had to motor into to Marquette. Luckily, we had a surprise guest that cheered every one up! Our guest was a Red-breasted Nuthatch which flew on to a stay near the stern of the boat. The bird, we lovingly nicknamed Wee Fluff stayed with us for six hours of our voyage.The wee part of the name came from the fact that  the bird was small. The fluff part of the name was added because the bird had its down feathers puffed up to protect against the cold wind. Wee Fluff spent most of her time on the boat perching on crew members heads and eating sunflower seeds.Wee Fluff left us for her new life in Marquette  when we reach the shore line.however, she will for ever stay in our hearts.

I was so excited to talk about the trip I forgot to introduce my self. My name is Andrew and I am member of the 2021 sea change crew. I hail from Saint Paul, Minnesota and go to school at Augsburg University in Minneapolis. I am a city kid with a passion for the outdoors. Lake Superior is a place I am particularly passionate about. In 2018 I visited Duluth for the fist time.  I spent hours watching and reading about the fish that lived in Lake Superior at the Great Lakes Aquarium.  This event sparked  my interest in Lake Superior. I wanted to learn more about the aquatic plants and other organisms that make up the lake's complex ecosystem. 

    Today as a part of Sea Change I am learning more about Lake Superior's ecosystem. Through the Sea Change program I have been able to see many places on the lake first hand and meet with many people that live and have grown up on the lake. Through conversations with these people, as well as with Mark and Katya, I have learned about the effects that invasive species and climate change has had on the lakes ecosystem. These experiences have helped  me understand the lake on a more intimate level.

That’s all for now and remember to keep Lake Superior COLD CLEAN AND CLEAR!!! :)

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Sea Change Crew Blogs - Brandi

During our first day on the water I leaned over the edge of the bowsprit as we sailed away from the rocky shoreline of Knife River. With the boat behind me there was only water and sunshine to be seen and I felt like the women carved into the bows of old wooden ships who were forever smiling into an endless horizon. It was exhilarating. This experience has been full of moments like that and we have had tons of great conversations about climate change, heaps of delicious food and some pretty incredible sails.

I grew up on a manmade lake in Nebraska. It was a sanctuary amid the endless corn and soybean fields of the Great Plains and I fell in love with being on water. My childhood was spent skiing, playing water tag and a whole lotta pontooning. My love affair with Lake Superior began when I started studying at Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin. When it came to choosing a college I knew I wanted to be somewhere close to water and I chose to be on the shore of the biggest lake in the world. 

I graduated in December 2019 with a degree in Natural Resources and Biology. One of the biggest takeaways I have from my education is that caring for the environment is useless without caring for the people who depend on it and building resilient and compassionate communities who live in tandem with the natural world. Mark and Katya have created Sea Change Expeditions to do just that, to raise awareness of what we are doing to our planet and what we can do to make a difference. 

I have been dreaming of this Sea Change trip since I first heard of it from Katelyn Nimsgern, a fellow Northlander who had been on Sea Change in 2018. This trip is much more than I had hoped it would be- lack of showers and all! Cheers to another week and a half aboard the Amicus 2!

~Brandi

 

Sea Change Crew Blogs

Note:  The following entries this month will be posted by our crew on Sea Change Expeditions--our month-long Lake Superior voyages focused on climate change engagement with coastline schools. 

Well hello there!

My name is Katie Cothran - I'm from Marquette, MI and study Biology at Northern Michigan University. After learning about Sea Change at an event hosted by NMU, I immediately sought out ways to get involved with the organization. Now nearly two years later, I'm a part of the 2021 crew!

Sailing to Isle Royale is without a doubt one of the most memorable experiences of the voyage so far. Most of the destinations we're traveling to are firsts for me, but now I can see why Isle Royale is the most revisited national park! Learning more about the island, its shipwrecks, and its cultural significance has been fascinating. The silence of nature is truly difficult to find, and Isle Royale is the best place I've been fortunate enough to experience it.

Sea Change has been wonderful opportunity to help educate young students on topics ranging from invasive species to plastic waste! Mark & Katya's passion for sharing the hope that we can reverse climate change gives me motivation to discover more ways to fulfill that mission! A thought that I'm constantly reminded of is that we need everyone to make an imperfect attempt to live sustainably, not a handful of people to do it perfectly.

I'm looking forward to taking more dips in Lake Superior and continuing to visit more classrooms. Stay tuned for introductions from other 2021 crew members!

Wrapping up the 2020 Sailing Season

Ship coming into Two Harbors

Time to wrap up a different kind of a sailing season. Like everyone, we experienced our lows!  Cancel, cancel, cancel.  Young adults, adults, trips to Isle Royale.  In a fit of hope we rescheduled the teen trip, and got within a stone's throw of making it happen via a pre-board COVID testing regime for ourselves and our excited teens. But in the end, the testing capacity was not there at the time we needed it.

On the flip side, our day sails took off, setting to rest our financial worries (for the time being) and attuning us to the acute privilege we share of getting out on the peaceful, restful, airy, fresh, wilderness that is Lake Superior.  Add to that the good luck of relatively dry, hot, sunny weather, and many thunderstorms conveniently barrelling through overnight.  We celebrated birthdays and anniversaries in unprecedented numbers and received profuse thanks (and generous tips) beyond any previous year.  Maybe our purpose this summer was to respond to the sense of crisis by offering people a short but thorough break from the anxiety that seems to fuel moments in history such as these.

Split Rock Lighthouse

Fall continued the day sail bonanza but by then we were less anxious about $$$ and more aware of our own need for, and permission to, R and R.  Mark and I spent 3 nights together, sailing back from Grand Marais to Knife River, in mid-September.  We had not sailed overnight alone, that we could remember, since our honeymoon!  We enjoyed ourselves immensely.  The peace and quiet, the dulling of daily tasks and responsibilities, and the mesmerizing, contemplative effect that Lake Superior wind and waves, inspired several deeper conversations about our future.  We see the inevitable "launch" ahead as the girls leave home, and until now had not looked past the sadness of that (despite its rightness--we know it's all good!). But during this time we returned to our two-some energy field, on our beloved boat home packed with the memories of the dozens of people who have lived with us there.  It helped that the girls were managing their lives at home just fine without us.  We started to imagine "the next chapter."  No concrete plans yet, and it is still a few years away!--but know that it will surely involve sailing, and people, and adventure, and making the world a better place.

always working on his celestial navigation

On a long MEA weekend, the Gordon family sailed to the South Shore (Port Wing) to see some old and faithful homeschooling family friends.  It didn't work out quite like I envisioned.  The trip across on Thursday morning was boisterous, with an inauspicious beginning.  Ten minutes from departure, Lamar assessed the wave height and then told us, from the top of the hatch, "Good night everyone.  I'm going to bed."  Cedar and Mark put up a double-reefed main and I got the headsail out, but we were quickly overpowered and the wind was really more NW then SW....Mark determined that the main should come down.  Cedar and I were not up to the task, I guess, and with a huge main sail flapping around and the boat turning pretty wildly, I eventually returned to the cockpit with my tail between my legs and took over the helm.  In short order Mark had the main under control.  Next he gybed the headsail, while informing me that he had ripped the main sail yet again while getting it under control a few minutes before.  (That thing is in tatters and a new one has been ordered. )

Port Wing did not live up to its "tropical" reputation--the sand beaches were cold and windy, the "warmer" water was 40 degrees and brown, and the wind howled in the rigging.   To top it all off, all but Mark had colds by Friday morning.

october 19, 2020

Still, all agreed it was fun.  Our homeschooling friends were as hardy and loyal as ever; we managed three chilly visits. Otherwise, the girls spent the day in the cozy heated cabin.  Mark and I braved a few walks. Friday night we watched the movie "Lincoln" on the computer with ginger cake and tea.  Saturday morning we rose on the early side (given October morning darkness--another factor I had forgotten about when we made this plan in sunny August) and got out on the water while it was still pretty calm.  The radio bleated anxiety--small craft advisory, winter weather advisory, rain and snow and wind--so we turned that off and enjoyed the ride.  The winds never got above 10 knots from right behind us, so we motorsailed to get to full speed.  (I guess that says something about our desire to get back!)  It did rain/snow/hail lightly  most of the way, but the girls stayed inside and I was bundled to the hilt and never got terribly cold.  We were home by mid-afternoon and Mark hauled Amicus II out of the water less than 48 hours later.  With snow and gales predicted for the next two weeks, it seemed best. 

What will our world be like when Amicus II goes back in in April of 2021?  All predictions welcome!