I came to have a strong friendship with a person who was immensely curious about ships. The foundation of our relationship was laid with the cement of commercial vessels and grand adventures. We constantly discussed ships and she devoured everything I had on the maritime industry.  Photos, stories, manuals…she wanted to know it all. We soon grew tired of only talking about such things. In a brazen leap off the cliff of rationality we decided to combine them into our own high seas escapade. Since neither of us owed a boat, we quickly saw the wisdom in staying on land. And so in 1999 we shoved off.
 
We proclaimed our voyage of discovery an expedition. We designed a logo, flag and mascot (a toy wolf who wore an expedition t-shirt). With farcical intent I submitted an official expedition proposal to myself, as if I were the Royal Geographical Society. I was quite pleased to hear the news that I accepted the proposal and wished my friend and myself bon voyage.
 
We spent a week hopping from one town to another, from Michigan through Wisconsin and into Minnesota. As luck would have it one was adjacent to the next, which made for more efficient travel. One such hop landed in the beautiful, old fishing town of Bayfield, Wisconsin. Although my last visit there was the previous summer, it was still quite fresh in my mind. Honestly, I was so captivated by the town that I had to see it again. The memories remained a bit raw, but as we were coming from the east, I felt confident in avoiding any issues.
 
While there we decided to take a boat to the islands in the area and I called to make arrangements. The reservationist told me that if the water level was too low the boat would need to leave from the Red Cliff dock, but still follow the same tour route. I was suddenly inhaled by an immense fear. A panic attack was building and I told my fellow traveler that I might not be on the boat. I would pay for her ticket and hand her the car keys and map, but there was no way on this green Earth that I’d go to that dock. She was naturally concerned and begged to understand. I struggled to admit that I had no idea why I was terrified of Red Cliff, only that it represented a consuming horror. I delayed telling her that I wasn’t ready to talk about it. As luck would have it the water level was agreeable and we left from the Bayfield dock. I had dodged the Red Cliff bullet.
 
The next day we milled about town, soaking in the remaining minutes before hitting the road for Duluth. On the morning’s walk we came across a gift shop filled with nautical accoutrements and souvenirs. While she hunted for things to bring home, I meandered to the books. I’d developed an intense love for maritime history and considered adding to my library. One such book was “The ‘Unholy’ Apostles: Shipwreck Tales of the Apostle Islands” by James M. Keller. I smiled, what a brilliant title. The Apostles were the collection of twelve islands just off shore from Bayfield, the very same we just visited. Glancing through it, it seemed like a standard non-fiction piece with interesting accounts. I popped over to the ship index to see if I recognized anyone and saw a name long ago buried…Marigold. I nearly dropped the book. Suddenly my mind was awash in memories of Escanaba, the hardcover lighthouse book, the photo of a ship tied to the dock and the officers posing behind a lifering.
 
“Marigold 141”, it read. Jittery, I found the page and paragraph.
“1929:
MARIGOLD
    A freak accident took place on October 2nd, killing three men. The government boat MARIGOLD was moored at a light buoy off of Red Cliff point. A lighthouse tender was replacing the contents of an acetylene tank which furnished the light, when it blew up with tremendous force. The tender was literally ‘blown to bits’, while a second man was hurled against the vessel’s mast and a third flew right off the boat. All three were killed instantly.”
 
My heart thundered and breathing grew shallow. My hands shook and I closed the book, quickly putting it back. I couldn’t move. I tried, but as hard as my brain yelled the orders, they didn’t make it to my feet and I remained in front of that book. The voice of my friend shattered my disconnected orders. I grabbed the book and walked quickly to the cashier. I needed that book at any price.