© By Kathy Doore for Labyrinthina.com

“July 1978: a perfect night for a sail with 7-10 knot winds, flat seas, and as it was mid-week, we had the lake to ourselves!”

Chicago, Belmont Harbor, Lake Michigan, 1978

I was aboard one of three classic wooden sailboats, part of an active racing fleet that competed every Sunday, and practiced several times a week. Around dusk on this sultry July evening, we set sail for what should have been an idyllic cruise; as fate would have it, the gods had something different in mind.

Not an hour out of port, and quite unexpectedly, a dense fog rapidly descended upon us. Visibility dropped to zero. We became disoriented, and feared we'd crash into one another. The winds were erratic, filling the mainsail from two opposing directions, a phenomenon no one had ever experienced before this evening. Suddenly, I was extremely cold. In fact, I was freezing.

I turned to ask my crewmates if they were cold, and to my utter astonishment, they were no longer standing next to me! One moment we had been packed into the tiny cockpit like sardines, and the very next instant, I was alone at the helm. Dumfounded, I called out and located them on the back deck, where it was several degrees warmer. They seemed perplexed, and urged me to join them. That's when I noticed that no one was steering the boat.

The Captain raised his arms high over his head, gleefully wiggling his hands and fingers in the air, and stated he hadn't been steering for the past ten minutes. Yet not a minute before, I was certain he had been standing behind me at the helm. Draped in dense fog, the vessel began a curious, aquatic dance. Slowly, but deliberately, she turned on her axis, completing three perfect, 360-degree pirouettes, never crossing the wind. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fog dissipated. To our utter astonishment, we saw the other two boats pirouetting in exactly the same manner. A moment later, we regained control of the vessel, and pulled out of the vortex. In unison, all three boats turned and headed for port.

Sailing home over a placid, glass-like sea, beneath the newly-risen full moon, I found myself enfolded in the tangible presence of my recently-deceased father. My crewmates, also, seemed lost in some kind of inexplicable rapture; the only sound was an occasional splash on the rail.

We noticed the lead boat enter the anchorage; it had once belonged to our Captain, and we knew it well. As we approached the tiny inlet, we found our old mooring empty, the sistership nowhere in sight. All was quiet. We scanned the horizon for mast movement. We were the only vessel underway.

We couldn't imagine where the other boat could have gone. In fact, there was no place they could go. We set out in search of them, but to no avail. A few minutes later, we circled back and were astonished to see that they were not only tied up with sails stowed, but rowing ashore. Nothing added up. Time either stood still, or sped up.

After the third boat arrived, we met onshore. This usually boisterous group seemed dazed, and wanted nothing more than to go home, and go to sleep. It seemed we'd been out for no more then two, or perhaps three hours, instead of six. It was now well past midnight. As the weeks passed, I realized we couldn't account for a good portion of that evening.

The following Sunday, as we readied ourselves for the big race, I brought up the unusual events from our extraordinary sail. To my utter astonishment, no one would talk about it. Worse yet, they behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened! The vortical winds alone would have given them fodder for years. It became evident that I was the only one in remembrance.

Our Captain has since passed away, and I've lost contact with the old sailing gang. However, I've told the story many times, calling it my “Lake Michigan Triangle” story. Years later, I would learn of a book written about the mysterious appearances, and disappearances, of boats and airplanes in the Great Lakes.

Today, as I awaken to my own path of remembrance, I've come to realize that the events of that night may very well have been for my benefit alone; another chapter in a series of extraordinary occurrances, earmarking this remarkable journey of life.



Watch for the “Lake Michigan Triangle”
featured on Discovery Kids “Great Lakes” , Mystery Hunters.

*For the record -- “Discovery Kids” simulation of a whirlpool turning the vessel was added in the post-production editing process and without my knowledge, or consent. At no time did I observe a whirlpool. The sea was perfectly flat; in fact, it was clear as glass with nary a breeze, and no wave motion. Similar phenomena have been reported on Lake Michigan for over 100 years. The energy that turned the vessel was not due to the wind, nor a whirlpool, but possibly something else, perhaps a spiral vortex, an “energetic envelope” that encompassed the vessel from the moment the fog descended upon us until we returned back to port. This “envelope” may explain the oddity of the disappearance of the other boat, and the fact that we were not experiencing time in the same manner. We had, literally, entered parallel realities, reemerging back into present reality when we found the other crew rowing their dinghy ashore.

- Kathy

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