Rognvald was close reaching in a light southeasterly as it approached the old harbor. There was a rolling three foot swell from the north after several days of gale force winds. Its stern lifted and rolled in a rhythmic dance as they passed underneath. The sun was bright with scattered cirrus clouds that disappeared out into the lake. It was the terminus of a long reach before they jibed and headed north to return to the marina at day's end. The vision was juxtaposed and apocalyptic -- from the salt encrusted tropical palms of old Zihuatenejo Bay to the looming, desolate, abandoned smokestacks from a long forgotten power plant on the western shore of Lake Michigan.
