Hunkering Down and Holding On

Homeward Bound — Day Five

Day Five wasn’t about miles or adventure or dramatic “wow” moments. It was about hunkering down, repairing what we could, and accepting that Lake Michigan, and life on a sailboat , wasn’t in any hurry to cooperate with our plans.

Tom worked hard. Really hard. But the weather had its own opinions and nothing on the boat seemed particularly interested in behaving. Agra2 needed care, patience, and time… and honestly, so did I.

Our First Night at Anchor… and Zero Sleep

This was our first night anchoring on this journey, and if you know me at all, you know anchoring is not my thing. Sleep and I don’t exactly stay friends when we’re sitting out on the water with nothing but hope and an anchor holding us in place.

We set anchor in the late afternoon so I’d have time to “settle in” before night came, in theory, anyway. But as the sun went to sleep, the wind fully woke up. We were in a protected bay, safe on paper… but anxiety doesn’t care about logic. I kept picturing us dragging, drifting, disaster waiting quietly in the dark.

Eventually I gave up pretending to sleep. I grabbed my Oodie, blanket, pillow, and made myself a little nest in the cockpit. There I sat — watching shadows, scanning lights, listening to the wind howl, feeling every movement like a personal threat. When I did fall asleep, it was only for a few minutes at a time before nerves snapped me awake again.

And yet… Agra2 held. All night.Strong. Steady. Exactly where she was meant to be.

As the sun slowly whispered good morning to the world, I finally drifted off while Tom quietly started working on sail repairs. Exhausted… but safe.

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Fog, Fixes, and Trying Again

Homeward Bound — Day Six

Day Six arrived with fog. Thick, heavy, nope-we’re-not-doing-this kind of fog. Sailing wasn’t safe, especially for us still learning the Great Lakes’ personality. So instead, we stayed put. Repairs continued. Plans adjusted again.

Mackinac City was circled on the calendar — June 26th. Only four days away. It was starting to feel impossible again.

That night, armed with my tablet, I set an anchor alarm for the first time. I had no idea if I’d done it correctly… but I tried. Unfortunately, the alarm refused to trust me either and spent most of the night going off. So yes — another night awake under the stars, watching lights and shadows dance while the wind whispered what-ifs.

Sleep: 0

Anxiety: 2

Anchor: Still faithfully holding.

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Storm Lessons and Bravery I Didn’t Want to Use

Homeward Bound — Day Seven

Day Seven started with hope. Bright skies. Early start. Smooth sailing… for about two hours. Then came a Small Craft Advisory and back to Ludington we went. Safety first; even when it feels frustrating.

Tom spent the afternoon cooking to save what freezer food we could. Ice was getting harder to find, and when nothing else is predictable, you cling to what you can control.

By evening, the weather turned beautiful again and we decided to carefully push forward. Maybe, just maybe, we could make more progress toward Mackinac. The lake had other plans.

Storms appeared… then multiplied. Lightning. Thunder. Building wind. Life jackets on. My anxiety absolutely present and accounted for. I swear there were storms in front, beside us, behind us, in the end maybe even above us. Tom and I will forever debate how many, but I know how it felt: Surrounded.

And scared.

This was unlike anything I’d ever sailed through. I don’t ever need to live it again. But we did it. Carefully. Deliberately. Together.

And when we finally slid safely into Manistee and tied up to an empty dock for the night, the relief was bigger than words.

Learning the Lake… and Ourselves

We should have been at Mackinac by now. At least, according to the plan on paper. But sailing isn’t about paper plans. It’s about weather, safety, patience, and respecting the water. Things were breaking. Weather was stubborn. Our timeline didn’t matter nearly as much as our wellbeing.

We’re learning; sometimes the hard way, that you can’t rush the Great Lakes. You listen. You pause. You pivot.

And somehow, through exhaustion and fear and frustration, you get a little braver, a little steadier, and a whole lot more grateful every time you safely reach shore.

What We’re Learning Out Here

Somewhere between broken parts, sleepless anchor nights, fog delays, storm dodging, and constantly changing plans, something shifted for us. We started realizing that sailing life isn’t meant to live on a schedule. It isn’t about racing from destination to destination or proving we can “stick to the plan.” It’s about respecting weather windows, trusting instincts, and learning to read what the lake is trying to tell us.

We began leaning on tools instead of just hope, weather apps, wind charts, wave forecasts, slowly learning how to interpret them, how to plan smarter, and when to say not today. And maybe one of the biggest gifts has been the sailors we’ve met along the way. Experienced, calm, generous people who’ve lived through their own messy chapters and were willing to share wisdom we desperately needed. We listened. We asked questions. We learned to pause instead of push.

This journey hasn’t gone “according to plan,” but maybe that’s exactly the point. Sailing isn’t about control. It’s about awareness, respect, patience… and finding courage in the quiet, uncomfortable spaces. And little by little, we’re learning to trust the boat, trust the lake, and trust ourselves. ⚓💙

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June 20 ➜ June 22, 2024

Ludington, MI

Anchored

0 Nautical Miles

201.4 Total NM

June 23, 2024

Ludington, MI ➜ Manistee, MI

Emergency dock on a empty private dock

25 Nautical Miles

226.4 Total NM