I can’t quite say when the idea of cruising our MacGregor 26x on the American Great Loop first took hold. I had been aware for some time that boaters could circumnavigate the eastern US via an all water route. In fact, we had actually sailed on several portions of the Great Loop on previous trips back east. However, once I discovered and started exploring the American Great Loop Cruisers Association (AGLCA) website I got seriously enthused. Sandy, however, had serious reservations. How could we manage to be away from the house and yard for the full year which such a cruise would take? How would we handle emergencies involving ourselves or family members back home? Could we actually become liveaboards on such a small boat for so long? And most importantly of all, how could she manage to be away from our grandkids for so long? Once workable solutions to these concerns emerged we committed to transforming the dream into reality.
The actual process of preparation has been underway for several years. I started by accumulating a complete set of paper charts and cruising guides, which is no small task in itself. The route is more than 6000 miles in length, extending from the Great Lakes down to the Gulf of Mexico via rivers, locks and canals, then by intracoastal waterways to Florida and up the east coast of the US to New York, and again by rivers, locks and canals north to eastern Canada and back onto the Great Lakes. Some charts and guides I purchased new while others I got used through the AGLCA website. I filled in some gaps by downloading and printing NOAA and Corps of Engineers charts, which I made into custom chart notebooks. Altogether, these paper charts and cruising guides filled 3 sizeable plastic tubs and weighed over 70 lbs.
With these materials in hand, the process of route study and selection and tentative itinerary commenced. We decided to start on Lake Michigan, at the town of Grand Haven, because a good friend who lives there was kind enough to offer us a place to park our truck and boat trailer for the year long cruise. This then dictated the approximate starting date of late August, enabling us to reach Chicago by Labor Day. My reading had pointed out the importance of getting off Lake Michigan before the more unsettled fall weather pattern sets in. Most sailboats doing the Loop must unstep their mast at Chicago and either have it trucked to Mobile AL or lash it down on deck for the trip south, due to low fixed bridges along some of the rivers. We, however, can lower and raise our mast while underway, thereby allowing us to sail whenever we have favorable winds on the inland rivers and lakes.
I identified some key dates, targeting our arrival at Mobile Bay around Nov. 1, which is near the end of hurricane season. This would enable us to select a favorable weather window for the 170 mile open water Gulf of Mexico crossing to Tarpon Springs FL and sail around the Florida penninsula to Miami in time to fly home for the holidays. We could spend the balance of winter in the Bahamas and time a spring cruise up the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) for arrival on Chesapeake Bay around the first of May. I developed a plan for flying Sandy home for a couple weeks of grandparenting time while I brought the boat up Chesapeake Bay with friends. She would meet up with me at Baltimore, and the cruise would continue down Delaware Bay, up the New Jersey coast, into New York Harbor, up the Hudson River and north to Canada via Lake Champlain. We would take the historic Rideau and Trent/Severn Canal routes across southeastern Canada to the Georgian Bay on Lake Huron, and from there back to Lake Michigan and our point of beginning. I projected the entire voyage to take approximately 13 months.
The next step involved assessing the boat to identitify a list of modifications, improvements, upgrades, and replacements which would enable us to function as liveaboards on this cruise, with the maximum degree of safety, comfort and convenience. Inevitably, conflicting parameters arose, requiring compromise and creativity. Checklists were prepared and, in January of this year, work commenced in earnest. We tackled a complete interior remodel. 
I installed a new stainless sink and corian countertop and Sandy sewed up new cabin cushions. We replaced the old worn out foam with new, high quality foam which adds greatly to comfort while sitting and sleeping. These were both very major projects. We also replaced carpet and I dressed things up with mahogany trim around the windows, countertop, and seats. Sandy sewed up custom fabric organizers to conveniently store shoes and clothing in. We became obsessive in creating storage out of every open surface and obscure cranny.
Exterior projects included having our dealer apply barrier coat and bottom paint to the hull. While this was being done, I got the trailer sandblasted and repainted, and then installed new bunk carpet, wiring, and LED lights. I made improvements to my anchor setup and came up with a system for quickly rafting the dinghy up to the side of the boat in preparation for anchoring, docking, or locking. As the work proceeded, old checklists were replaced by new ones, however, as I write this, preparation of the boat, truck and trailer is nearly complete, leaving us with just over a month to focus on preparing the house and yard for our prolonged absence, provisioning and stowing of things on the boat, and attending to a myriad of details like bill payment, mail forwarding, and final visits with family and friends.
Determining what to do about the house and yard was a major challenge. We quickly dismissed the idea of renting it out, having had unfortunate previous experience with that option. We settled on simply locking the place up with the heat set on low, keeping key utilities like water, sewer and power turned on (that way the automatic sprinklers would operate), and hiring a yard maintenance outfit to mow the grass, rake up leaves, and shovel some snow. However, a couple of weeks ago a better solution dropped right in our laps when we learned that a long time friend was in need of a place to live for the next year. After talking with her, it became obvious that the fit was perfect, so we now have the ideal house sitter. As for the house itself, lately it seems as if it has other ideas. It’s been behaving like a little puppy who messes things up when you go off and leave him behind in the house. Following our recent shakedown cruise, we returned home to discover that the pump for our outdoor pond had quit and one of the valves for our automatic sprinkler system had failed. The heat wave while we were gone had burned the lawn to a crisp. And yesterday Sandy mentioned that the electric garage door wouldn’t close. Just when I really want to work on preparations for the cruise, I’m having to spend time fixing house things that have operated flawlessly for decades.
campground is green and inviting, with lush grass and tall shade trees, a welcome oasis after crossing the dry and featureless Snake River plain. As we’re setting up for dinner, we discover that we forgot to pack paper plates. Barbqued skirt steak is on the menu and we don’t want to marr our new plates with cut marks, so we hit upon the idea of heating up some flour tortillas and making fajitas out of the skirt steak. The dinner turns out great, and we’ve discovered a terrific new boat dinner idea. After dinner we go for a walk, over to the day use area and along a trail which leads to an old river ferry, marked by an interpretive sign. Quail and cottontail bunnies hang out in the brush, and white pelicans fly low over the river. It’s 10 pm local time, and the campground is not quiet. Temp is in the high 70’s, and the new fan inside the cabin feels good. Our upgraded companionway bug net went up easily, keeping the bugs out but allowing the air and sounds of the night in.
The drive itself goes smoothly as we leave Oregon Trail country along the Snake River behind us, briefly drop down into the Salt Lake Valley, and then weave our way through a narrow canyon toward Wyoming. Just past the border we are required to pull into an inspection station, where Wyoming Fish and Game officials inspect our boat for unwanted quagga mussell hitchhikers. These little mussels are an invasive species, which have infested inland waters in many parts of the US. Some states, including Wyoming, take special care to keep the pesky mussels from spreading further. The inspector recognizes our boat as a MacGregor, and in fact, he owns a MacGregor classic himself. He knows all about water ballast, and asks us to both tilt our outboard motor down and open our water ballast valve. No water comes out, and we pass his inspection. He gives us a certificate and seals a small wire tag onto the front of our trailer, and then we’re off again.
The drive across western Nebraska is tedious and uninteresting. Like most places, Nebraska certainly has her beauty, however, I’m sure it’s best seen up close and at a slow pace, as in walking along a stream or resting in the shade of a cottonwood tree. Cruising along at 70 mph on the interstate, with featureless cloud cover overhead, is certainly not the best way to appreciate Nebraska. The heavy semi traffic and frequent construction zone slow downs don’t help things either. In addition, we cross into the Central Time Zone, which means we’ll arrive at our eventual destination an hour later by the clock. I consider stopping at North Platte, however, opt to continue on to Kearney, where the map shows a State Park campground. Our Google Map app on the smart phone routes us right to the place, and it turns out to be a pretty area, with lots of vacant camp sites scattered out along the margins of a series of small lakes. We finally arrive at 6pm, local time. The place is lush with grass and nicely spaced shade trees. We back into a spot and set up for the night. Tomorrow we’ll take it easy, with a much shorter distance in mind.
Nebraska, western Iowa is very hilly and rolling, and the farms which have developed on its rich soil are delightful to behold. Vast corn and soybean fields are contoured into the hills, resulting in interesting patterns. The farm buildings and homes look prosperous. Some enterprising farmers have taken advantage of strategic hilltops to lease billboard sites. In one field next to the freeway I spot a “Burma Shave” style series of signs which appeal to the urban planner in me. They read: “Urban Sprawl” / “Ain’t very Purty” / “Save our Farmland” / “Build in the City”. These signs are sponsored by the Future Farmers of America. I heartily endorse their sentiment.
opt to go a couple hours further east, to a private campground located just 20 miles outside of Davenport. We arrive shortly after 5 pm and are pleased with our decision. We’ve driven out of the rain (for the moment at least). The place looks attractive and will suit our needs. I dry off the picnic table and we have our dinner of grilled sausages outdoors. It starts raining again, just as we finish eating, so we go into the boat for our dessert, a couple of ice cream bars purchased at the campground office. I call our friends in Grand Haven to let them know when to expect us tomorrow. It looks like we should be able to get there by around 3pm, if things go favorably.
waterway we’ll soon be cruising down in our boat. We drive down through the little river town of Marseilles and stumble onto a very recently built memorial to the Mideast Wars, which is located right on the river’s shore. The grounds are nicely landscaped, with a flag pavillion and memorial wall with the names of fallen veterans. We photograph the boat on its trailer, with the river beyond. Soon after returning to the interstate, we actually cross the Illinois River at Joliet, and we shoot pictures of our upcoming route from the freeway bridge. 
to the launch ramp and begin the task of rigging the boat. It has always been my goal to do the perfect set up, with no mistakes or wasted effort. Once again, this highly desirable goal eludes me. After raising the mast part way up, I realize that I’ve forgotten to pin the top of the forestay (I undue it for road travel, since this allows me to strap the furled jib to the mast without having it lay in a curve on deck). This results in me having to lower the mast back down, unpin it from the step and roll it back to the bow pulpit so I can reach the fitting where the forestay needs to attach. The setup process is further complicated by the fact that we’re doing this in nearly gale force winds. The wind is simply howling as we labor to rig the boat. I subconsiously find myself working a little slower, hoping that the wind will ease off when the time actually comes to launch the boat, however, we have no such luck. Around 2:30pm I back the truck down the ramp, and Chinook gets her first taste of Lake Michigan water. It’s all my dock line handlers can do to hold the floating boat close to the dock while I pull the truck back up the ramp and park. I lower the engine and rudders, but don’t have enough depth for the centerboard to go down. I turn the Garmin on and start the engine. Our friends work the boat out to the end of the dock with the docklines, which is a real struggle since the 30 knot wind is pressing broadside on the boat. Finally, it’s time to release lines and leave the dock, for the first time on our Loop cruise. I go in strong reverse to keep us from swinging around, against the next dock. I continue backing into the wind until I have enough space to shift into forward and swing around, into open water. About this time I realize that I really don’t have a clue which way to go in getting to the municipal marina. Sandy goes below and pulls out the Great Lakes Waterway Guide and looks up Grand Haven. I conclude that I have to take the channel to port. We’re headed straight into the wind, which is howling off the lake, and I’m dreading the prospects of trying to pull into a slip in these conditions. I radio the marina and get directions to our slip. Our friends are waiting there with our camera to document our docking. I’m hoping I don’t provide them with a full blown disaster. A marina employee is at the end of our slip, ready to help with our line, if we can simply get close enought to pass it to him. I make a wide circle so I’m heading bow into the wind, and try getting into the slip. At the last moment we get slammed by a tremendous gust of wind which threatens to slam the side of our hull into the end of the dock. I jam the throttle into reverse, thankful for the power in my 60 hp engine. I pull away and circle for another attempt. This time I ferry over in the wind in good position to enter the slip, then give a shot of power to counteract the force of the wind, get turned into the slip, and then reverse to avoid ramming the bow into the walkway. It all works out perfectly and with great relief I hand the stern dock line to the marina attendant. We’ve successfully completed the first mile of our Great Loop Cruise.
We get up and going at 6:30am, with breakfast and warmly felt goodbyes to our Grand Haven host friends. We drive down to the city marina with
our friend and his brother in law, who will accompany us on the first leg of our journey, down to Holland, around 20 miles distant. Our boat sits prettily in her slip, awaiting my direction to take us whence I steer. We take a dock side photo, uncleat lines, and are off. We cruise down the channel, which is the mouth of the Grand River, past the Coast Guard Station and the light out on the end of the jetty, and onto the vastness of Lake Michigan. I believe Lake Michigan is the 3rd largest lake in the world, and it is indistinguishable from an ocean. The breeze is steady, from the SSW, more or less right on our nose. We punch through 1 to 2 foot chop, and as the morning progresses, it seems to build to 2 to 3 foot, and from our angle, gives the boat something of a corkscrew motion. This proves disagreeable to one of our passengers, who ends up experiencing a very unpleasant passage. By around 1:30pm we enter the breakwater at Holland, which actually leads us onto Lake Macatawa. We take advantage of the lighter winds and calmer seas on the lake to raise sails, shut down the engine, and eat our lunch (all except for our sea sick passenger). I want to tie up at the marina closest to the town proper, which is near the head of the lake, on the south side, and so select Crescent Bay Marina which looks, in my 2012 cruising guide, like it will serve our needs. Their listed phone number proves to be out of service, and when I try hailing them on VHF, someone calls back and informs me that Crescent Bay is no longer a marina. By this time we’re almost to the location of the former Crescent Bay Marina, and thus must come about and head for one of 3 marinas located at the head of a bay on the north side of the lake, about 1/3 of the way from the mouth. I select Yacht Basin Marina, phone them up, and arrange for a slip. They direct us to a tie up near the fuel dock, which is handy because it’s easy to find. That proves to be about the only handy thing about Yacht Basin Marina. The 10 plus mph cross wind is certain to complicate docking, so I request help from one of the attendants at the fuel dock. She walks the short distance over to our slip and takes our bow line as we ease in, wind behind us. She simply stands there as the dying momentum of the boat pushes our anchor into the boat box at the head of the dock. I’m moving slowly enough that no damage is done, but I’m amazed that she didn’t think to simply grab something and kill our motion. Oh well. Next comes tying the boat to the dock. There are all sorts of knarly projections below the walkway, all of which threaten to scrape the hull. I arrange 3 different types of fenders to keep us off those hazards, and finally get satisfactorily tied up. It’s about then that we notice the heavily amped rock music emanating from a floating dock just a short distance across from
our slip. A large crowd of probably well lubricated party goers are loudly enjoying the music, however it’s the last thing we need after a bounch passage down from Grand Haven. We hope they’ll quit early, but that doesn’t prove to be the case. We go for a short walk and they’re still going strong when we return. Also, the water near the end of our dock is extremely choppy, with about 3 miles of open fetch carrying across the lake. The fenders are holding their position, but the boat is jerking uncomfortably around. With deteriorating weather in the forecast for the next several days, we don’t relish being pinned down here. I study the forecast, and see that thunderstorms are projected to hit tomorrow around midday. Winds are forecast to be slightly stronger than today, so moving is certain to be even more rough than today, but I really would like to get away from this place. The next harbor to the south is Saugatuk, on the Kalamazoo River, just 7 miles downlake. I’d really like to reach South Haven, which is around 27 miles distant. I decide to rise at 4am tomorrow, get free of Yacht Basin Marina’s slip, and make a pre dawn run down lake. If it seems too rough out there I’ll duck in at the Kalamazoo River inlet, and if it seems ok, I’ll press on all the way to South Haven.