Our thanks to Pete and Peggy Frazier for forwarding this very entertaining account by John Cebalo of what was essentially a self-operated, hands-on travel lift. Such is a fall and spring chore in which few of us get to participate.

THAT TIME OF YEAR
The friendly September sun was unseasonably warm, and the afternoon was mild and humid. Now, at twilight, it is still warm and calm; and, as always, on precious, numbered evenings like this, which magnetize people out of doors, the Mattson Harbor parking lot is crowded. The congestion tonight is increased by the trucks and boat trailers of the Salmon fishermen, as they shuttle in and out of the launch ramp. “They’re running at the mouth of the Carp.”

The north half of the Cinder Pond Marina’s launch ramp is called The Well. It was originally built to accommodate a marine travel lift, but none was budgeted. Pete Frazier was on the Harbor Committee that oversaw the construction of the marina. It wasn’t until nearly twenty years after its opening that the Lake Superior Yacht Yard purchased a lift, and, with the City’s consent, operates it. And now it’s that time of the year to use it: haul out.

A truck, which has seen happier days, backs into marina office’s parking lot. It has a yellow and red Vietnam ‘chopper license plate on its front bumper. Pete, attired very casually, in a classic blue collar way, gets out and stands next to the travel lift. Fashion plate, he ain’t.

The lift straddles The Well, and looks like a large, faded blue Lego – or like something out of the movie Tron. It came from Nestegg Marine in Marinette. On the side it says “35 B F M.” Pete is not sure what B F M stands for, but the 35 means it can lift 35 tons. It has an internal clearance of 19’; and the distance between the two straps along the sides is 18’. When set up, of course, the straps run across The Well, under a craft, cradling it. Some boats have marks on the hull indicating proper strap placement. But Pete has good reason not to trust these. And he relates a horror story about factory marks and crushed railings – so judgement is required. The machine is something of an anomaly. Because it was built to span a larger, 50 ton, well, and consequently has an internal clearance wider than normal. The jib boom atop it was acquired from a character over in Ishpeming. It is used for stepping and unstepping masts. Its controls are attached to a power cord. Naturally, Pete has modified it.

In The Well now is a sailboat, with two men aboard. Pete, controls in hand, is operating the boom, which has a belt wrapped around the mast, under the spreader. “They’ve done a good job with the stick. Otherwise it can take forever.” He means that the backstay, forestay, and shrouds stabilizing the mast have been loosened for easy removal. While hauling out a boat can be accomplished in an hour, unstepping an aluminum mast can easily take twice as long, and is another delicate operation.

Pete slowly raises the boom, and the mast, now suspended, floats free. Clutching its heel, one boater guides it toward the bow, where a triangular wooden support awaits it. A similar support is on the stern, and the other man rests the mast head upon it. Once the mast is snug, the men clamber off the boat onto the pier. Nowadays, at haul out, most masts are left stepped. But the owner feels that because of winter winds, this places undue stress upon the hull. The hollow heel will later be covered because, in the spring, more than one sailor has discovered birds nesting in the exposed end.

Now, to find a way through all these vehicles…

Pete climbs up to the cockpit of the travel lift and, with warning beeper sounding, slowly drives it, with the slowly swaying boat, off The Well and onto the parking lot. The men walk ahead, acting as road guards, and also as scouts to find a safe route through the irregular parking pattern. The City has set aside the north side of Mattson’s parking lot for winter boat storage. Here, trailers and boat cradles, allocated a parking space apiece, are set one parking place apart. At the selected spot, Pete pivots the machine 180 degrees, and backs up over a waiting cradle. After some minor horizontal shifting, he gently lowers the sailboat onto the cradle. He waits patiently until the boaters assure him that they are satisfied the craft is secure. The straps are collected. And then they guide him back over to The Well.

It is dusk now, but the parking lot is still abuzz with activity, as people seem reluctant to leave. A small constellation of bright lights lies sprinkled across the placid black waters of the Bay, as the fishermen too, hesitate to return to shore. Pete parks the lift over The Well and climbs wearily down. It’s been another long day.

*

Christy is standing all by herself at the end of Pier 2 on the Fuel Dock at the Cinder Pond Marina. The 5’8”, 120 pound Marina Attendant is being confronted by a 60’, 27,000 ton metal houseboat, which is being pushed broadside toward her by a 20 knot wind. How is she going to moor this out of control monster?

CRACK! The boat’s stern slams into the floating wooden dock, shivering its timbers, and cleaving a 5×5 post in half. On board, on the fly bridge, the owner cringes.

“Ouch. What’ll that cost?” he shouts.

Fortunately Bob Frak arrives a moment later to lend Christy an expert hand, and, working together, the vessel is made fast. This is the one they’ve all been talking about up at Presque Isle. When it was learned that Pete was going to haul it out the universal response was, “I want to be there to see that.”

It is now late in the season, a Saturday morning in October, cool and cloudy, with the threat of rain. But the backdrop is inspiring. On the far shore, across the turbulent waters, autumn is in full bloom and shafts of brilliant sunlight slide across the landscape.

Since this annual exercise can be quickly complicated by the weather, the houseboat came down from the Presque Isle Marina last night. It is always prudent to have a cushion between your haul out date and when you leave the Upper Harbor. Those who wait until the morning of can quickly find themselves over matched, as they try to bash their way downtown across a resisting Lake. The plan was to dock along the bulkhead at Mattson Park. But another strong wind had sprung up, white capping Marquette Bay; the bulkhead was definitely not the place to be, so an alternative accommodation was arranged on the sheltered T-Dock at the end of Pier 3 in the Cinder Pond. Now the boat must be brought down the fairway, between Piers 1 and 2, to The Well and the waiting travel lift.

Although a twin screw, twin rudder, power boat with bow thrusters and not a sailboat, still, there is a great deal of topside, square yardage in fact, for the wind to push against, just like a sail. It does so now, and as the boat motors down the fairway, she bumps, slides, scrapes, and chisels her way down the row of wooden posts which picket the ends of the fortunately empty 30’ slips on the right. Meanwhile, Pete is standing calmly next to the lift, just watching.

Finally, with the help of several men gingerly fending off (“Watch out for your fingers!”), or hauling strenuously on lines, the boat noses into The Well. Pete, tape measure in hand, starts to work his way down the hull. He instructs the owner, who is now peering out of a hatch on deck, “Find the rib.” The rib, a transverse member, is located. Pete and Bob and Repete Frazier take more measurements, but then Pete stops and shakes his head. “The weight is in the stern. We’re going to have to turn it around.”

The owner shrugs, and climbs back up to the fly bridge. The craft slowly backs out of The Well against the wind. Once in the fairway, the straining vessel is warped around, stern to The Well. She starts to move backwards. But now red lights are blinking on the control console and the owner yells, “I’ve lost the bow thrusters!”

“Keep her coming.”

Screws slash and claw at the white water, as they painfully pull the boat back into The Well.

A small crowd has gathered to watch the lifting. The lift has carried the D N R’s RV Lake Char, which is 56’ long and displaces 26 tons. So this should work…

The houseboat is 60’ long, and its weight requires extra heavy duty straps. Still, there is going to be a lot of overhang. The trick here is weight distribution: there should be a variance of no more than 10% between the two ends, i.e. 45%-55%. To miscalculate is a good way to end up on the front page of The Mining Journal. But Pete has checked and is satisfied. So he climbs aboard the lift and, with beeper sounding, very slowly eases the craft out of The Well. He does a 90 degree turn to the left and then, with flanking parties of both helpers and the curious, rolls backward across the nearly empty parking lot to the corner of the storage area. In order to position the boat as tightly as possible an offending wooden post is removed. Then Pete waits as the owner and friends go beneath the craft with blocks and jacks. The boat is then gently lowered atop them. When everyone is completely satisfied that it is stable, the straps are removed. As a finishing touch Pete puts electricians tape on the hull to mark the strap’s positions. They will go in the same places next spring when the craft is hauled in. The lift will stay where it is for the time being, over the boat. Finally, he steps back and takes a photo of lift and boat together.

A cold rain has started and this disperses the crowd. The line of boats in the parking lot is almost filled and so is the available space over in the Yacht Yard. But there are still more boats to haul out, and the weather is closing in fast. It’s going to be another busy afternoon. But then, it’s that time of year.

JOHN CEBALO