Superior sailing around Wisconsin’s Apostle Islands

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Brian E. Clark (left) gets a sailing tip from Dreamcatcher owner John Thiel while sailing around the Apostle Islands on Lake Superior. | Matthew B. Clark~For the Sun-Times

IF YOU GO

CHARTERS: Bayfield charter companies that offer sailing courses include Dreamcatcher Sailing, dreamcatcher-sailing.com, (800) 682-1587 and Superior Charters, superiorcharters.com, (715) 779-5124.

OTHER OPTIONS: Another way to see the Apostles is by sea kayak. Contact Living Adventure, liv ingadventure.com, (715) 779-9503. Or cruise the islands and see lighthouses with Apostle Islands Cruise Service, based at the Bayfield City Dock; apostleisland.com, (800) 323-7619. The service will transport kayaks to Stockton Island, which has wilderness campgrounds.

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Updated: November 16, 2011 1:26AM

BAYFIELD, Wis. — Lake Superior is the world’s largest freshwater lake, stretching 350 miles from east to west and another 160 miles north to south. For all practical purposes, it’s a giant inland sea.

Tucked down in its southwest corner is a collection of nearly two dozen picturesque tree-covered islands. Known as the Apostles, they boast clear water and sandy beaches. In the shallow bays, the water can approach a toasty 80 degrees in August.

The Apostles are one of the most popular places in the Great Lakes to kayak, hike and sail. They’re often compared to Washington state’s San Juan Islands. Sail magazine has dubbed them one of the country’s 10 best spots to sail, and September is one of the best months to do it. Crowds are down, the water’s still warm and prices drop.

All but one of these sandstone outcroppings are part of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore — essentially an aquatic national park. The outlier, Madeline Island, has two big parks of its own on its southeast side.

For the last eight years — ever since I moved from San Diego to Wisconsin — I’ve wanted to sail in the Apostles. More than a few times, especially on chilly winter evenings, I found myself perusing websites of charter boat companies dreaming about sailing everything from a modest 27-footer up to luxurious sailboats spanning nearly 50 feet.

I’m no stranger to the water. I’ve canoed in the Boundary Waters, kayaked whitewater streams all over the world and even crewed a time or two on a friend’s boat in San Francisco Bay. But my sailing skills are limited. So in June, my 22-year-old son, Matt, and I drove north from Madison to the harbor village of Bayfield, population 800. We connected with Dreamcatcher Sailing co-owner John Thiel for a couple of days of hands-on sailing instruction in the Apostles.

Before stowing our gear on the Egret, a 37-foot Tartan sailboat, Thiel showed us the proper technique for coming aboard: Grab the shrouds (the wires that run from the side of the boat up to the mast) and step over life lines that rim the boat about a foot above the deck.

As the sun sank over the lake, we made ourselves at home in the Egret. With six berths — that’s sailor talk for beds — Matt and I had plenty of room to spread out.

The next morning, Thiel arrived around 9 a.m. toting a delicious fruit-filled coffee cake pastry called wine bread, picked up from the Candy Shoppe near the harbor. He also had fresh whitefish that we planned to cook that night.

By 9:30, we were pushing off from the dock, venturing beyond the harbor breakwall and into Lake Superior.

The wind was coming out of the south as Thiel, a Wisconsin native who grew up sailing 12-foot Sunfish boats on inland lakes, showed us how to put up the jib (the smaller sail at the front of the boat) and the main sail.

We headed northwest toward Basswood Island at the southern end of the Apostle archipelago. As the day warmed, the wind began coming out of the northeast, blowing onshore.

For the next hour or so, we tacked back and forth, using the oncoming wind to move north. Over the next two days, Thiel helped us understand sailing terms and taught us the basics of how to navigate, hoist and trim the sails, dock, anchor, steer the boat and even unfurl a colorful spinnaker sail.

When the wind is blowing at you, he told us, you can make the sailboat move forward by angling into the breeze. The sail catches the oncoming wind like an airplane wing, creating a pressure differential between the different sides of the sail.

The big fin that sticks down under the boat — known as the keel — prevents the vessel from being pushed sideways. And the rudder (this part was easy to understand) lets you steer.

We were here both to learn and to relax. When the motion of the Egret made us drowsy (not seasick, thanks to Dramamine), Thiel told us it was fine to take a nap.

Sailing the coast of Basswood Island, he showed us the outline of a sunken dock that was used to ship tons of brown sandstone from an island quarry. Much of that stone ended up in homes and buildings in Chicago.

Along the craggy Basswood coast, the wind, waves and winter ice had carved caves that stretched deep into the island. The same was true at Hermit Island to the north, where we hopped in the Egret’s rubber dinghy and paddled into a cave that spanned more than 100 feet.

That afternoon, we sailed a few more hours, tacking back and forth to get to Stockton Island, our destination for the evening.

By 5 p.m., we pulled into the dock at Stockton Island’s Presque Isle Bay. Matt and I pitched in to help prepare our dinner of grilled white fish that melted in our mouths.

By the time the sun set around 8:30 p.m., I was in my berth trying to make some headway in historian Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book on President Lincoln. But the sailing had tuckered me out and I was snoozing before 9.

The smell of morning coffee — nearly 12 hours later — woke me up.

“Not unusual at all,” Thiel said. “Sailing is deeply relaxing. I think it’s great that people catch up on their sleep when they come out with us.”

By 11 a.m., after finishing off the last of the wine bread, we were underway again. Only this time, the wind was with us — and blowing a strong 18 knots.

We only needed to unfurl the jib sail to reach speeds up to 8 knots, which had us flying back to our home harbor despite 4-foot waves.

All too soon, we were docking back in Bayfield, relaxed and refreshed — and better sailors, to boot.

Information for this article was gathered on a research trip sponsored by Wisconsin Tourism.

Brian E. Clark is a Madison-based free-lance writer.