Come Together

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Brilliant sunrises and sunsets, cascading meteor showers, epic thunderstorms … all of these have topped the list of memorable moments for skippers and their crews of the biennial Trans Superior International Yacht Race.

But is there one favorite in each race, a single moment where it all comes together?

Dave “DJ” Johnson, former co-chair of the race committee and veteran of “at least eight” Trans Superiors, puts that question to each finisher coming into Duluth after crossing Lake Superior from Sault Ste. Marie.

One answer, in 2021 on the shirttails of the pandemic, stole Dave’s heart and became a favorite for the retired Marshall School sixth-grade science teacher who loves experiencing the race through its participants.

“He was a big, strong, muscular brutish kind of guy, and when I told him I ask that (question) of everybody, he started to tear up.

“He stepped back, shoulders shuddering, trying to get himself together. It surprised me – he didn’t look like an emotional guy at all. He came back and said, ‘You know, every year for all of my life, my brother and I have been getting together to do so many things. Deer hunting, sailing. That whole year of COVID we were apart. This week, I got to sit on the rail with my brother for three days and just connect and talk and re-establish the wonderful relationship we have.’

“That is exactly why we do this,” says Dave. “The opportunities for relationships, coming together and community. That guy’s experience made all the work, all the phone calls, arranging porta potties, all of it – he made it all worthwhile.” 

The race got its start from two Duluth sailing friends, Jack Soetebier and John Pierpont, in 1969 when 22 boats joined in the endeavor.

This August, more than 300 sailors and hundreds more volunteers and ground support crew will come together for the 29th Trans Superior.

On August 2, they’ll start out at Whitefish Bay, then cross 338 nautical miles of the Big Lake to the finish line in Duluth. The every-other-year race attracts people from all over the world – even as far as New Zealand – in a race that typically takes three or four days. A 75-foot Catamaran set the record in 18 hours. Weather, craft and crew all impact the time. Anything can happen on the course, and

often does. 

The competition’s physical and climate challenges take center stage, requiring hours of meticulous preparation, but the most important pre-race prep may be gathering the right crew to face any circumstance. 

The right crew on land, coordinating the race across the largest freshwater lake in the world, is also critical, says co-chair Stacy McKenzie.

“It’s a big, cold, unforgiving Lake,” Stacy says. “That’s one reason we have a unique reputation for our hospitality. We go above and beyond to recognize the sailors. We meet everybody out at the Soo. There are lots of events. And we meet everyone personally at the dock when they arrive in Duluth. There’s someone helping them land no matter what time they get in. Everybody comes to the awards party. Everybody knows everybody at that point. It’s a really fun reunion for a lot of people.”

The Duluth Yacht Club, host of the Trans Superior, makes sure every new racer is paired with a boat liaison, says Stacy. “We always make sure we’re pairing them up with someone who can help ease their fears and offer advice.”

On the water, race coordinators and experienced skippers agree assembling the right crew on board is vital to success. “Personality plays a big part in crew dynamics. You could be stuck out there for five days,” says Stacy. While the race sees professional skippers and their crews, recreational sailors also fill the ranks, including some novice crew members.

Each person needs a variety of skill sets and the willingness to do whatever is needed, from trimming sails to navigating to cooking. “It’s important to have people focused on sailing fast, but who also make it enjoyable. They need to be serious, but bring levity. And they need to be natural caretakers, to check on people, to go down below and cook. Feeding people’s hearts and stomachs is really important on long races like these.”

One competitor sums up a successful experience in two elements.

“It really came down to having the right boat and crew for the job,” says Derek Brochu, two-time race veteran who will be back this year for his third go. He had dreamed of being in the race since first reading about it in this magazine in 2009. (Derek’s dad, Ron, now

owns Lake Superior Magazine.)

When he read the story, Derek knew nothing of sailing or racing sailboats. “The idea of crossing the whole lake without stopping and only using the wind for propulsion was pretty wild to my 23-year-old self,” he recalls. “It seemed totally bonkers, but knowing that it was possible opened a whole new world for me. Within a year I had my own boat on Lake Superior. I had to try it.”

In 2020, Derek acquired and refit a 1978 Peterson 34, rechristened Enigma, a 34-foot craft that was both comfortable and seaworthy of Lake Superior. In January 2021, he asked the crew if they were interested in doing the Trans Superior. The answer was a resounding yes.

“I spent every day from then until our departure in late July preparing the boat for the race.”

His tasks included bringing Enigma back to life from a 25-year slumber “on the hard” (out of water) and fulfilling the stringent list of safety requirements and gear – a list more extensive than other Great Lakes races.

For example, competitors need to order an EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radiobeacon), mount it appropriately and register it to the vessel. The vessel’s batteries need to be appropriately strapped down. In addition, there’s the general preparation for a long journey with adequate supplies and a dry place to stow everything. On top of all that, Derek says, there’s crew and boat management, including getting the boat to the starting point, the watch schedules and arranging any dockage along the way. Oh, and of course, there needs to be a race strategy, notes Derek. “It adds up to a very large collection of small tasks.”

Unlike other races, life rafts are required for the Trans Superior. “Lake Superior is just so, so cold,” says Stacy. “If things go south and you’re on the water, you’re not going to survive by the time a helicopter or Coast Guard gets there.” 

And things can go south – fast. 

Weather is the biggest wild card, and it affects everything. Thunderstorms during a race can be the scariest, says Derek, “You never know what exactly is coming or when it will arrive. Frequently there’s no cell service or a way to get accurate weather info for the specific location you’re at.” In August over the span of a few days, it’s not unlikely that some storm will crop up somewhere on the 300+ mile course. 

“There’s basically nothing to be done in a thunderstorm to lower the risk of a lightning strike or something of that nature. You’re just there on a flat plane of water with the tallest, most conductive piece of metal above your head for many miles. It’s not for the faint of heart.” Boats have gotten caught in storms, and lighting strikes have taken out electronics. Wind speeds and direction can shift suddenly. High winds do not equate a better time. The flipside is no wind, leaving boats dead in the water until a wind picks up again. In 2021, Derek and his crew spent a “maddening amount of time barely moving, going in circles,” he recalls. “It was exceptionally challenging to try to keep moving forward in the right direction with light and variable winds. We were impatient and sailed closer to the Keewenaw than we should have, then spent a day trying to escape it. It was very disheartening, and a lesson learned.”

While weather is a known variable, there are other events you can’t even imagine. 

In Dave’s last Trans Superior, the boat’s skipper began having problems when his anti-nausea medication patch adversely reacted with one of his regular medications. “We didn’t know that was the problem. He’s a really good skipper, and he was steering the boat erratically at the beginning of race, doing the opposite of what we suggested. He kept … getting more unstable and bizarre, like seeing people in the water.”

Over three days it became a full-on mental health crisis, says Dave. The six crew members mutinied and quarantined the skipper in the cabin until they reached the finish line. “I don’t know if we made the right decision to finish the race. But we made a decision. In hindsight, we should have landed the doggone boat and gotten him to shore. You get caught up in the racing side of things.”

Medical emergencies can be handled in a variety of ways. Dave recalls an incident on another vessel where a crew member had to be hospitalized for a sudden medical condition. “Somebody onboard put an ‘X’ on their location on the GPS and motored into the nearest harbor, got him into ambulance, then motored back out to the X and started the race again. They asked if we would accept their time. Of course we did.”

There are the sweet onboard moments, too. While activity is steady (if nothing else, there’s always kitchen duty) crews also get to hang out and spend time together, like the brothers who hadn’t seen each other during COVID. If there’s a lot of downtime, crews get creative. 

Stacy completed the Trans Superior in 2013, the year before her daughter was born, aboard an Olson 40, the Screaming O.

“That home stretch can be a long haul,” she recalls. “Past the Apostles, by Two Harbors, everything funnels in. You can see the

antennae in Duluth for miles and miles, and you’re still not there yet. You can get a little squirrelly. We had two crew who had been dating for ages, and we had a fake wedding. We got her dressed up in paper towels for a dress, the crew made a wedding ring out of a hose clamp. You just gotta pass the time. Now, they’re married with kids.”

Racing isn’t the only charm of the event. Being part of the crew that delivers the boat to the starting line near Sault Ste. Marie is a hidden gem of the race, says Derek. “Getting to spend a week on a boat exploring the ports along Lake Superior and hopefully doing some leisurely sailing is the finest part of the adventure. In 2023, we anchored off Grand Island (north of Munising) for two nights and had a lovely time exploring the island and hanging out on a boat at anchor. There is nothing better.”

That’s why he and his crew are returning this year. “The race becomes a pilgrimage of sorts. My crew and I look forward to the delivery to Sault Ste. Marie and the race as the highlight of our year. It’s the high-water mark below which everything else resides. There is no greater journey.”