It was a beautiful August morning on Lake Superior with the temperature already in the 60s at daybreak. By afternoon it would be in the 70s. With a forecast of southwest winds at 10–15 knots it looked to be a perfect day for sailing in the Apostle Islands. Consisting of 22 islands and covering more than 720 square miles, this archipelago, which is part of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, combines spectacular scenery and rich cultural heritage, and is home to many interesting lighthouses. The area is one of the best cruising grounds on the Great Lakes.

There were four of us, two couples, aboard Bluebelle, a Hunter 290 we had chartered from Superior Yacht Charters in Bayfield, Wisconsin. We’d chartered the same boat the previous year, and so far our cruise was going according to plan. We had enjoyed great weather as we worked our way around the Wisconsin mainland and headed toward the western Apostles to explore Sand Island.

With the winds forecast to be southwest all day, I thought this would be the right time to sail to the island. Because of its western location, Sand Island seems to attract fewer visitors than many other islands, but it has beaches, sea caves, wildlife, old-growth pine forest, and hiking trails galore.

We covered the 23 miles out to Sand Island in about four hours and decided to anchor for the night in Justice Bay on the island’s northeast side. In the southwesterly breeze, Justice Bay, although small, was calm and well protected. There was a sandy beach directly ahead of us with rocks to the north and some sea caves to the south of the beach. The caves, we found, are strikingly beautiful and can be explored by dinghy or kayak. Once inside, the dim light, the water dripping down from the overhead, and the gurgling and echoes of swells splashing against the rock formations create an eerie atmosphere. The Chippewas who once lived in this area believed the caves, which are carved from the limestone shore by winter storms, are home to evil spirits. If nothing else, they are a reminder that any boat in the anchorage is at the mercy of a strong wind from the north and east.

After going ashore for a quick look around, I returned to the boat and decided to check the VHF for the latest updated forecast. That’s when I learned that the wind was forecast to shift into the northeast after midnight. Although Justice Bay has great protection from three sides, any amount of northeastly wind produces rollers that can come in from straight off the lake.

Then I started to second-guess the forecast. “The NOAA guys are pretty much always wrong all the time,” I told the rest of the crew. I reminded them how two months earlier the wind forecast was 180 degrees out for two days straight. We had worked hard to get here. It was our vacation, and we deserved to stay and see the island.

So we didn’t make the tough decision. Because we were fine where we were with the wind in the southwest, we decided to go ashore again and assess the situation when we returned. We agreed that if we did stay, we could move in a little closer to shore and try to get behindsome rocks lying on the north side of the island. We hoped that if the wind did shift it would veer around slowly and we would stay protected. Of course, we also hoped the wind wouldn’t shift all the way around to the north east. Or if it did, that it wouldn’t happen until after sunrise.

We checked the anchor and rode one more time before going ashore. Even though the anchor had dug in quickly, I felt we were anchored too far out. So we pulled up the hook and motored closer to the beach. While moving into a more protected spot I noticed the water was shoaling quickly. And when we backed down to set the anchor, I heard the discouraging clang of metal as the Danforth skipped across a rock bottom.

Up came the anchor again. This time we went in even closer to the beach and anchored in sand in nine feet of water. One benefit of Lake Superior’s cold water is its clarity; you usually can see bottom at depths of 20 feet or more. After making sure the anchor was well set and that nothing could foul it, we got the dinghy out and went ashore for some serious sightseeing.

We hiked to a lighthouse that was built in 1881, did some beachcombing, and then rowed over to the caves before returning to the boat late in the afternoon. A great dinner was followed by some conversation, reading, cloud watching, sunset watching, and finally stargazing; all the great things you can do in a peaceful anchorage. At dusk we watched a white-tailed deer come down to the beach to drink. The wind was still from the southwest, but the forecast had not changed; northeast wind was still predicted after midnight.

Just before sunset the one other boat in the bay suddenly hoisted anchor and motored away. Were they listening to the same forecast? I’ll never know. What I do know is that our decision to stay was based mainly on wishful thinking and, yes, laziness. Everything was too perfect to be starting the engine and moving somewhere else. We turned in around 2130 and soon we were all fast asleep, rocked by the gentle swells of Lake Superior.

At about 15 minutes after midnight we were awakened by a sickening lurch. Bluebelle was now sailing around on her anchor rode, veering out to one side, then tacking with a vicious snap roll and heading off in the other direction. In less than three hours, the wind—as forecasted— had shifted 180 degrees and was now blowing straight into the bay. I went up on deck, looked astern, and realized we were now on a lee shore. If the anchor dragged or the rode parted, it was a coin toss whether we ended up on the beach or on the rocks. But the anchor was holding. The Danforth had reset itself after the wind shift and seemed secure.

But the waves, now up to 3–4 feet, made sleeping impossible as Bluebelle continued to sail back and forth on her rode. We discussed our options. It was clear to me that the crew was starting to be affected by the motion. Even though getting underway was a viable option, I was concerned about their ability to get the anchor back on the pitching deck in the dark. I was also concerned about keeping clear of the shore, now very close astern, once the anchor was up. And if we did manage to get out of the harbor, we would have the challenge of navigating in the dark to another anchorage.

It was a beautiful August morning on Lake Superior with the temperature already in the 60s at daybreak. By afternoon it would be in the 70s. With a forecast of southwest winds at 10–15 knots it looked to be a perfect day for sailing in the Apostle Islands. Consisting of 22 islands and covering more than 720 square miles, this archipelago, which is part of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, combines spectacular scenery and rich cultural heritage, and is home to many interesting lighthouses. The area is one of the best cruising grounds on the Great Lakes.