By Tracy Rusch, Editor

I once thought “getting your feet wet,” meant dipping my toes in the water of the deep end of the swimming pool—the one that mom and dad wouldn’t let me swim in until I was 11 years old. As a high school junior, I upgraded that definition to water skiing, then learning how to slalom. I never thought that as a college senior I could still get my feet wet. Physically, my toes have been prunes since I could walk, but metaphorically my cracked sponges haven’t been in water for years.

At age 21, coming from the small town of Herman, Wisconsin, I feel like I’ve experienced a lot; I fly in airplanes, swim in oceans and ski down icy hills beyond my level of expertise. And because I’ve been on boats and jet skis all of my summer life, I thought that sailing wouldn’t be any different. It wasn’t until Tugboat Capt. John Klein took me on my first sailing adventure aboard the Amante III that I thought otherwise.

The Real Deal
When most 5-year-olds were playing in sandboxes and splashing around the water fully secured in water wings and life vests, John’s parents sent him out to cruise the bay in their wooden dinghy with a gas can and a life jacket. John, 44, has been on the water ever since. “Look at all that water, he said. “This has been my playground all my life.”




He looks like he belongs there. I, however, couldn’t even tell you what a dinghy was before he told me (I spelled it “dingy”). His parents owned boats before he was born, so sailing quickly became second nature to him. John and his two brothers could sail simultaneously, too. “We always had one of each; a 19-, 16- and 14-footer,” he said of the many boats they owned during his years at home. Although he’s originally from Grafton, he is a Door County local. I wouldn’t have known any different, because his arm was constantly pointing as he named areas along the coastline—no need for a map.

To begin our journey, John stuffed two life vests into the space beneath the dinghy’s solitary, old wooden seat. An air pump, a sweatshirt, a beverage, sunscreen and snacks of crackers, cheese and sausage could be found sitting in the safety of the inflatable red raft as we took off toward Amante III.

Next, I learned that a mooring is a buoy securely anchored for each boat in the bay. “It’s like renting a spot in the water,” John said. Every time I heard a new sailing term, which was probably about every five seconds, I flashed back to my first day in sixth grade Spanish class, and that feeling forming in the pit of my stomach when I couldn’t answer a question. But that didn’t last long with fluent Capt. John there to rescue me. “You have questions, I have answers,” he said.

After the sails were hoisted, we set out from Firehouse Dock in Eagle Harbor to sail around Horseshoe Island and back. John said he likes to cruise around Horseshoe. “I like to see how fast I can do it, because it’s two miles there and two miles back,” he said. He’s up against his record of 45 minutes, but wouldn’t be trying to make the four-mile trip quickly today. At 4.1 knots, the 27-foot Ericson leisurely glided through the water. It was standing upright with its blue and white sails puffing out like the cheeks of a child holding his breath. By the time we reached the end of the bay, we were barely moving, just relaxing and soaking up the warmth of the sun.

“Look what you get away from, everything, out here,” John said. He relaxed and breathed easily as he steered, enjoying his freedom from all the cars and busyness on land. “You can go where you want,” he said. “You’re like the king of the highway.”

We rounded Horseshoe on the bay side that protects boaters from a north wind. I kept writing as fast as I could so I wouldn’t miss any important details. While I was jotting down information, John reminded me not to miss surroundings like Eagle Bluff and Nicolet Bay in Peninsula State Park, and all the beautiful scenery. “There are so many nice sites to see,” he said. Even at the young age of 44, John seems to have a good grasp on life. While many people constantly fret about not having enough time to do the things they want, John doesn’t worry about time. He just does what he loves.



He’s been working on remodeling his house for the last three or four years, but he said that completing it will be a lifelong project. “I can keep working on this till I die, I got sailing to do,” John said. “It’s more important to go sailing, you can mow your lawn when you’re dead.”  He did say that he should spend more time with his family. He lost one of his brothers to Leukemia, but still sees his remaining brother, who lives in Vermont, six to eight times a year. And his parents live 1000 feet from his home, so they frequently visit each other.

As John gazed into the distance through his sunglass-covered eyes, with rock ‘n’ roll music playing in the background, I’m told to brace myself by sitting on one side of the boat and keeping my feet on the seat of the other side. I didn’t understand why until the wind caught in the sails, tipping the boat almost on its side and pushing us up to a speed of 6.1 knots. “Now we’re sailing,” John said as I grabbed the edge of the boat, my heart racing and mouth open wide. And that’s when I learned what sailing really was. As natural as it is for me to walk, that’s how natural the boat “feels” when it’s heeling.

As the boat heeled, there was something about the way the sails captured the wind, the sun set on the horizon and the nerves, excitement and bottled up energy seemed to explode. I experienced something new again. Although it may take me a little getting used to, I understood at that moment why John loves to be on the water.

“I’m trying to give tourists something to look at out here,” he said. I could hear the smile as he spoke. But I know why he sails five days a week, just like I know why I write. It’s not something words can explain, but more of a feeling or observation. It’s that feeling I got when I was out there, like there’s so much more to life than I could ever imagine. And all of that came from what I referred to as, “just sailing.”

When John goes on a sunset cruise with friends, he likes to enjoy the sunset and grill out, but he said he will also sail solo. “You feel like you’re the only one out here, and you wonder, why?  I think other people should be out here having fun with me,” he said. The way he hopped up to help a friend back at the dock introduced me to that side of his personality. And it showed every time he lifted his arm in a slow motion wave at the other sailors we passed and said, “That’s my brother,” or “That’s Capt. Tom & Capt. Doug over there.”

Sailing makes John happy, and he said that’s his main goal in life, “Just to be happy.”  He would like a bigger boat, but he doesn’t need money to live life to the fullest. According to John, “Sailing is pretty much the most important thing.”

You can bet that with 145 sailing days a summer out of 180 a year, John’s probably the guy sailing past your window as you eat at restaurants like the Inn at Kristofer’s, or the Waterfront.

The next time you see a boat out on the water, remember John. So many people don’t get close enough to the waters of life to get their feet wet. John, however, doesn’t know what it’s like to keep his dry.