A brief escape

Getting away from the daily grind can be the perfect way to not only recharge one’s batteries, but also to rediscover one’s passion and appreciation for hydrography.

After weeks of seemingly non-stop obligations – in the daytime and evenings – I recently treated myself to a brief ‘escape’ in a cottage in the woods: no deadlines, no computer screens, no to-do lists, no thoughts of work… not even about Hydro International. At least, that was the plan. One of the books I had taken with me was De Ramp met de Phoenix by Dutch podcast maker and writer Joske Meerdink. She tells the true story of the tragedy of the Phoenix steamship on Lake Michigan in 1847. When fire broke out on the ship, nearly 200 people lost their lives and only 47 were rescued, despite being just a few miles off the coast of Sheboygan, Wisconsin, with the harbour in sight. Many of those on board were Dutch emigrants from Meerdink’s hometown in the east of the Netherlands, heading for a new life in America.

The book unfolds like a detective story as Meerdink tracks down descendants of the passengers, meets relatives of survivors and eventually visits Wisconsin in an attempt to locate the wreck of the Phoenix. About halfway through the book, my professional curiosity was sparked by the description of a dive to investigate a long, narrow object on the lakebed near the location of the disaster.

Years earlier, in 2014, the same object had been detected by an American shipwreck hunter called Steve Radovan. He is somewhat of a living legend in the upper Great Lakes, having located at least a dozen wrecks since the 1970s. When his sonar picked up the object, he lowered an underwater camera to take a look, but the footage was murky. He dismissed it as a log – which was a feasible conclusion, as Lake Michigan has a long history of timber transport.

In the book, Meerdink describes how she had found someone else – Tamara Thomsen, an archaeologist at the Wisconsin Historical Society and part of a diving team – willing to investigate the suspected wreck site with her own eyes. The mysterious object turned out not to be a log at all, but rather the smokestack from the Phoenix. Thanks to Meerdink’s perseverance – combined with the database of Radovan, who had kept careful records of all his voyages – an evident trace of the doomed steamship was uncovered, more than 175 years after the tragedy.

At that point, I realized that my plans to take a complete break from work had quietly unravelled. Even during a weekend meant for rest, I found myself captivated by the very topics that regularly feature in Hydro International: shipwrecks, sonar, deliberate searches and accidental discoveries. Far from feeling like I had failed in my attempt to get away from it all, however, I was instead reminded why such stories continue to fascinate me: my work is simply too interesting to ever feel routine. Moreover, despite the book being a true page turner, reading it helped me to slow down and unwind.

My weekend in the woods brought the serenity I was looking for, while also rejuvenating my thirst for knowledge. And, ultimately, perhaps that’s the best kind of escape: taking a short break from everyday life to return with fresh energy and appreciation for the stories that are hidden beneath the surface.