Medford mail tribune., June 16, 1963, Image 47

We Escaped
from a
"White Dungeon"
....
As waves
splashed over our
tied onto a buoy
but rescue was still no closer.
A carefree boat trip turned into terror
for the author and his wife as banks of impenetrable fog imprisoned them for 24 hours far out
on wind-churned Lake Michigan By RICHARD HOFFMAN as told to Hal Higdon
I haven't lost my love of the water
as a result of being nearly killed last
summer; I've just learned to respect it
For 24 hours my wife and I were adrift on
Lake Michigan in fog as thick as milk. Waves
sploshed over the sides of our 16-foot inboard,
threatening to swamp or, almost worse, push us
far from shore and rescue. I swore that, if we
got out alive, I'd never try to cross the lake in
an open boat again.
It ail began one sunny Tuesday in June when
we impulsively decided to visit friends on the
other side of the lake. I had made the trip from
Wilmette, III., to Michigan City, Ind., many
times. On a clear day it is an easy, unexciting
cruise of 38 miles; you lose sight of shore only
half the distance. But to be safe, I radioed the
Coast Guard: "Any small-craft warnings?"
"Fair weather predicted all day," crackled back
the voice.
"I'm leaving Wilmette bound for Michigan
City. I should get there around noon."
I had allowed myself considerable leeway. It
was then 10 o'clock, and the trip ordinarily takes
only an hour and a half. But by 11:15, we still
had not sighted the Michigan City shore. Visi
bility had worsened.
Then, almost like stepping through door, we
found ourselves immersed in fog so thick we
could fee nothing but the bow of the boat! "I've
never seen fog like this," said Mickey, my wife.
I hated to admit it, but neither had I.
I was afraid of going aground, so I cut speed
and steered by compass. Later, I would have
happily ripped the bottom of my boat out on
some beach for the privilege of touching land.
After 10 minutes I radioed the Coast Guard and
told them our predicament. Yea, they had fog,
but visibility was still almost a mile.
We must have stumbled across an isolated bank.
"Well, if we can't get through the fog," I said
to my wife, "maybe we can go around." With the
Coast Guard's permission, 1 made a ISO-degree
turn and tried to go out the way we came in. But
after 15 minutes, I had to give up; the fog had
completely swallowed our boat.
"We failed to penetrate the fog," I radioed the
Coast Guard. "Assistance requested."
"Stand by and drop anchor," came their reply.
We dropped 100 feet of line overboard but
failed to touch bottom. Waves, building from
the northeast, began to splash over our sides.
Then a lucky thing happened. I heard a thump;
looking overboard I saw we had drifted against
a fisherman's buoy. It must have been a million-to-one
shot. After tying onto it, I relayed the
news to shore.
"We'll find you in a minute," they replied con
fidently. But five hours later they were still
looking. Unfortunately we were too small to ap
pear on the radarscope, and our radio signal had
grown too weak for the directional finder.
As we listened to the Coast Guard boats con
versing back and forth by radio, we heard them
reporting visibility of half a mile. Yet our visi
bility was only 50 feet "Why, they're nowhere
near us," said my wife and I had to admit she
was right
It was like being adrift in. outer space. With
the fog completely surrounding us, we were
separated from the world. We felt we had to do
something, so I got permission to make another
compass run toward shore. But 20 minutes later,
with fuel dangerously low, I finally gave up and
cut engine. I had to hold some gas in reserve to
avoid being washed against a breakwater.
Now our problems multiplied : we were adrift
our radio batteries were shot we had no
warm clothing, the waves roared at us broadside,
and there were eight inches of water at our feet.
I dug out a canvas bag to use as a sea anchor,
but it pulled us only part way out of the trough.
Then I remembered the picnic basket that had
contained our lunch. Filling it with tools, a fire
extinguisher, and every other heavy object I could
find, I tied it toa nylon line and dumped it over
board. It yanked the boat's head into the waves;
in this position, we at least could ride out the
night without having to bail constantly.
The night was cold. We huddled beneath a
terry-cloth beach towel and cushions we had pulled
off the seats. The canvas boat cover would have
helped, but it had been stolen only a few days
before. We did not sleep.
"Do you think they'll ever find us?" Mickey
asked with great concern.
"The fog will lift by morning," I said. But by
morning it had not lifted; we still were impris
oned in a white dungeon.
During the night however, we had received
a clue to our . whereabouts. It was the sound
of a foghorn, and it seemed to come from all
directions at once. Its mournful cry grew and
grew until about two in the morning then it
faded slowly in the night
"mHAT'S THE Michigan City foghorn," I told
J. my wife. "We must be drifting by ofTshore.".
By seven o'clock my radio battery had re
charged enough to report this to the Coast Guard.
An hour later we heard a boat's engine upwind.
I whistled as loudly as I could, but they must not
have heard us. Soon the noise .of their engine
faded away.
Then we heard another boat downwind, tooting
its horn three blasts at a time. They had heard
us trying to attract the first boat We had finally
been found!
Forty-five minutes later the radar boat Arundel
loomed up like a giant whale feeling its way
through the mists, and we were taken aboard.
As we sipped hot coffee with the Arundel's cap
tain, he told us: "If you had one 35-cent grocery
item on board, we would have found you at once."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A roll of aluminum foil. Spread out on your
deck it would have served as a reflector for our
radar signal."
I won't make the same mistake twice. The
next time I cross a large lake in a small boat I'll
be hugging the shore line. And in addition to
carrying the extra clothing and provisions we
forgot I'll have a roll of aluminum foil along!
Family Wrrkly. Jim IS. IMS
IUUSTIATIOH IT ISA MIMCTT