M A R L I N    B R E E

 

I was sailing down the coast of Superior, out of the Apostle Islands, when I entered the Superior entryway. I managed to tie up at the old Coast Guard station, now nearly abandoned, and tonight I was in the pilothouse of an old tugboat, chatting with the captain, as fog and night rolled in. Suddenly, there were three loud blasts and a wall of steel came out of the fog and went past us. It was an oreboat beginning her long voyage. "That's the entryway the Fitzgerald used on her last voyage," the tugboat captain said. I recalled my history: "It was a sunny, bright day in the harbor on Nov, 10, 1975," I said. "A little muggy. The forecast called for thunderstorms later on, but why'd they go?" The captain thought for a moment. "Probably, they thought they could beat the storm," he said.