Sailing with Helicopters; Swimming with Fishes
by Dennis Marshall

Lake Macatawa, in scenic Holland, Michigan, is a rather large lake that, at its western end, feeds into Lake Michigan. The eastern end of this lake is partly industrial having a Pfizer plant, a scrap metal yard processing plant, cement plant, and a Heinz Co. processing plant marking its shores. But as one sails westward, parks, marinas, and beautiful homes that would make Martha Stewart drool vie for their place on the shoreline and the best view of the lake. My lovingly but inexpertly built ply on frame sailboat adds a certain indefinable charm to the scenery. Of this I am sure!

Lake Macatawa click thumbnails to enlarge

The day was sunny when my friend and I put in at the ramp near the Pfizer plant. He had not sailed in two years, and he had never sailed on a lake as big as this one. Winds were force 3 gusting to 4 from the WSW when we pushed off the dock; my friend was at the helm, and we began the 6 mile sail to the mouth of the channel at the western end of the lake. My friend was a little nervous, as you can imagine. The lake makes the boat seem very small and vulnerable, and he was a little rusty in his sailing skills. As he became comfortable tacking down the lake, he began to enjoy himself, bolstered by my assurance that I had not capsized the boat and had had it out in much heavier wind conditions than we were in now. Today was a perfect day for a sail.

"The eastern end of this lake is partly industrial having a Pfizer plant, a scrap metal yard processing plant, cement plant, and a Heinz Co. processing plant marking its shores."

Those of you who may be familiar with this lake know that it is shaped roughly like an hourglass with a “narrows” in the middle that virtually splits the lake into an eastern and western half. An hour of tacking had us about 500 yards from the entrance to those narrows. We were sailing on a starboard tack and moving quite nicely when I pointed out to my friend that a helicopter was going to land at one of the large mansions approximately 200 hundred yards away. This helicopter is a regular visitor to this particular home, and I had seen it land and take off many times, so did not think much about it. It passed overhead about 75 yards to starboard.

"Technically it was not really a capsize. I just shipped a little water"

I'm still watching it when I hear a cry from my friend at the helm. His eyes are filled with terror, but his face has the look of resignation that says: “We’re heading for Davy Jones’ Locker and there is nothing we can do about it”. Water is pouring over the gunn’l and my hat gets blown clean off and sails about 25 yds aft of the boat. My friend releases the sheet and lets the tiller go. This, along with the passing of the down draft from the helicopter’s prop wash, stops us from doing a complete imitation of the Nautilus, and the boat comes to a halt with water sloshing up to the top of the lower bilge panel.

"My lovingly but inexpertly built ply on frame sailboat adds a certain indefinable charm to the scenery. Of this I am sure!"

The boat was quite stable even with the amount of water sloshing in the bilges, and it was in no danger of either turning turtle or sinking further, so we were in pretty good shape. My friend, however, mortified and full of recriminations, was rather hard on himself as I set the anchor, got out the bucket and sponges, and we began to bail the boat. It took twenty minutes to bucket out the boat, and about halfway through that process, the helicopter took off and flew over us again. I had been telling my friend that our unfortunate incident was due to a variety of factors, and that the prop wash would not have much of an effect since the sheets were slack and the sail was not set to catch the wind as it had been a few minutes prior. Despite my reassurances, he laid face down in the bilge, still half full of water, like a soldier diving for a foxhole from a mortar attack. The passing of the helicopter the second time proved to be uneventful as predicted, and we finished bailing the boat. My poor friend, however, was now soaked from head to toe.

"Now those of you who may be familiar with this lake know that it is shaped roughly like an hourglass with a “narrows” in the middle that virtually splits the lake into an eastern and western half."

In thinking about this incident, I figure that the same thing would have happened to me if I had been at the helm. As I said earlier, this helicopter flies in and out of Macatawa regularly, and I have been in its flight path numerous times, although perhaps not as close as today. Problems from the helicopter’s prop wash did not even dawn on me until after it was all over. I will pay more attention in the future. Not all “navigation hazards” are land or water based. I have been wondering why I did not feel the boat respond to the gust from the prop wash and relay instructions to the helmsman? I can't recall any noticeable difference in the boats response. Is it possible that it pushed us straight down more or less? I wonder.

"What frustrates me most about all this is that I lost my hat. Now this hat wasn’t anything special except that my wife liked the way that I looked in it."

What frustrates me most about all this is that I lost my hat. Now this hat wasn’t anything special except that my wife liked the way I looked in it. I reckon that until I get a replacement, I’ll get a lot fewer smooches around here than I’m used to. Bummer!

PS The rest of the afternoon was full of delightful sailing, as it should have been all along.