There is plenty of fuel...

By Patryk Stachowicz, 15 (Edited by Pawel Stachowicz)

(Dedicated to my Grandmother, Ludmila Stachowicz, PhD - who always made me feel loved, worried about my safety, and definitely kept me well fed.)

Vacation. A few years ago.

It was an easy morning at the Madeline Island Marina and our boat crew was slowly waking up. We were halfway through the traditional journey around the Apostles Islands on Lake Superior while living on a sailboat. Me, my best friend Mark, my Dad and Jennifer. The weather was nice, moderate waves. We sailed a lot the last few days so we were taking it easy. We planned to motor from Madeline Island to Bayfield for brunch. After lunch, Mark and I planned to hang out on shore, check out the candy store and meet up with friends who always vacation there.

Before undocking from Madeline Island, Dad reminded me that I still needed to read a chapter of Huck Finn. I was not too happy about it but I made a plan. I was going to motor ahead on our small 10ft Zodiac inflatable motorboat, drift for a while and read, and then catch up with the sail boat in Bayfield.

Dad and I quickly went over a few procedures (even though I knew them well). I got my storm jacket just in case. The radio and survival box were in the boat so I hopped in and started the motor. As I was slowly leaving the marina we did our usual radio check while Dad was still in the cabin. Last thing my Dad said was: “make sure you have gas...!” I responded: “ Daaaad, there is plenty of gas!” and turned the throttle to the max as the Zodiac began to literally skip over the tips of the waves.

It’s good to be alone sometimes. I made it halfway between the island and Bayfield, to the south of the ferry line, just a couple of miles, then turned the motor off. I sat reading and relaxing while bobbing on the waves of Lake Superior. The rhythmic motion tempted me to fall asleep.

I looked around. To the north of my position our sailboat was approaching Bayfield, so I decided to catch up and soon enjoyed the fast pace of the Zodiac. Well, that did not last long. Suddenly, the motor sputtered and died. I started it again and made it another hundred yards before it quit again. I looked around, no boats were close to me and I was drifting further south with now stronger wind. I picked up the radio. I hesitated for a second because I expected my Dad to say “I told you so...”

“Chikungunya, Chikungunya, Chikungunya... Irie Vibes! on channel 68, over....”, (Chikungunya is the name of the Zodiac)

I repeated the call several times, no answer. I got frustrated a bit, partially about the gas and partially about my Dad not answering on channel 68 as we agreed. After a while I took a deep breath. I remembered what we always talked about during our yearly sailing trips when you are in trouble. I checked the tank-empty. The boat was ok, I had my life jacket on - check, survival gear box - check, I was warm. Radio battery was full and there was a spare too. I switched it to the safety/emergency channel 16 and called out: “ Zodiac,Zodiac,Zodiac...Coast Guard! On channel 16, Over!”. The Bayfield coast guard station answer came quickly. I explained my situation. The radio officer asked lots of questions like: is the boat sinking?, are you injured?, do you have a life jacket on? are you warm? give us your position...

I answered all of them and even remembered all our navigation discussions and the officer was happy with my position information, even though I did not have GPS - he joked. The patrol boat was on another call to help a boat that ran aground and in more trouble. They dispatched a Madeline Island ferry to give me a tow. I was relieved and waited.

I did not know it then, but just as Dad was docking the sail boat, he did see me and even peeked at me with binoculars. He was not worried - he thought I was “chilling” and he saw no signs of distress.

A little bit later, while tying off the boat with Mark, Dad noticed the ferry taking a sudden sharp turn. He later told me that he instantly knew right away: Patryk ran out of gas... Unknown to him, that morning the radio speaker on deck was accidentally switched off and the one in the cabin was not loud enough to hear me calling while the diesel engine was running. Dad told me that he was nervous for a moment, then he remembered all the training and experience I had and just watched through binoculars while waiting for me to be towed.

When the ferry got to me it was a bit intimidating. The ferry was about 150 feet long and a few stories tall. We talked on the radio, they tossed me a tow line and I tied it to mine. When I got it done they radioed: “ how old are you???”. I told them I was 12. They towed the Zodiac half way and by then the Coast Guard patrol boat was there and they towed me the rest of the way.

When we tied off at the Bayfield dock, I stepped on land and I was glad that I did not hear the dreaded “I told you so” from Dad. We thanked the crew of the patrol boat and the chief officer in charge talked to me about the details of my adventure. She gave me a lot of “good jobs” for staying calm, talking slowly on the radio, wearing a life jacket, and most of all, knowing my position. We talked about Mark and I sailing on the Minneapolis Sailing Center race team too. At one point my Dad whispered something into the Captain's ear. She took me to the side and told me: “Did you know that in Coast Guard regulations it says that our boats can leave the base only with full tanks of gas...”, and that was that. We joked and Mark took a bunch of pictures.

The next day we dropped off some thank you pastries and snacks at the Coast Guard station and at the ferry office. Our vacation was continuing. Since then, whenever I hop on the Zodiac, I do look at the gas tank closer (but not in the way that anyone else would notice.)