I have written 10 books but published two of them. My fist book was called "Sea Stories" written about ten years ago. It was a good seller for me but the readers and book stores wanted to know if I could write a second book to help explain sailing in layman's terms instead of using sailing terms/language. So I wrote my second book called "Life aboard a Laker: 1964 to 1999" using land lover language and that book sold good as well.
My other book that I have written were :
Ships that I sailed,
Sea Stories II with pictures,
The Soo River & P&H shipping company,
Isle Royale Shipwrecks,
Diving the wrecks of Isle Royale,
Boats & Planes,
The Metz Family,
Deutschland
These book I wrote were all in color & hard cover mostly for my family & friends and for myself. I tried to publish a couple of them but the cost of each per book was almost $90 which was too expensive to sell.
When I order my new books I'll make sure I ask you your name and give you a signed copy.
Thank you all. Capt R. Metz
"Sea Stories"
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Denny
Re: "Sea Stories"
Not sure how many books he did c ships as I believe I have two of them but, I would have to double check on that and see. I am sure that others or perhaps Captain Metz himself can tell us how many?
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Denny
Re: "Sea Stories"
I have all of the books from Captain Metz and glad to hear that a new and updated color version will be coming out later this year in 2016. Will definitely have to update my collection and order one at some point. Hey Captain, is there a way for us boatnerds to have an autograph copy of one? I would love to have mine signed by the Great Captain Metz. Just let us know where and how to get a signed copy of your new book when it is released later this year.
Re: "Sea Stories"
Just broke out my copy of "Sea Stories" again and read it from cover to cover. Thanks again Captain for bringing to life these stories for us Boatnerds.
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c ships
Re: "Sea Stories"
Yes I have one, your stories keep ya in suspense and exciting. Look forward to a new edition. Life aboard a laker! nice work capt.
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captrmetz
Re: "Sea Stories"
I had a thousand published. I have one left for my self as a souvenir.
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lahey
Re: "Sea Stories"
I will be ordering as well. The book has been on my list for a while now.Odysseus wrote:This is GREAT news! Please let us know how we can acquire a copy when the re-print is available. I'm all in on getting a copy for myself.captrmetz wrote:I just found out that a book publisher would like to re- print my Sea Stories hard cover and all colored photos. It should be out next fall .
Re: "Sea Stories"
This is GREAT news! Please let us know how we can acquire a copy when the re-print is available. I'm all in on getting a copy for myself.captrmetz wrote:I just found out that a book publisher would like to re- print my Sea Stories hard cover and all colored photos. It should be out next fall .
Re: "Sea Stories"
I always like your navigation stories Capt. Metz. This is a good one since harbor entrances can always be challenging specially the coastal harbors.
Glad to hear of your republishing. I think I need to upgrade my original to color.
Happy New Year!
Paul
Glad to hear of your republishing. I think I need to upgrade my original to color.
Happy New Year!
Paul
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captrmetz
Re: "Sea Stories"
I just found out that a book publisher would like to re- print my Sea Stories hard cover and all colored photos. It should be out next fall .
Re: "Sea Stories"
Great Story Cap, as usual! By the way, I was able to find a copy of your book, "Sea Stories." I enjoyed reading it immensely! I wish more Captains would relate their stories of shipping on the Great Lakes. Thank you for writing it.
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captrmetz
"Sea Stories"
Make Love to That North Shore
We departed the Soo Locks and headed for Thunder Bay with east gales blowing. I remembered what old Captain Bill Smith had once told me: “Make love to that North Shore; she will be your friend.” With this in mind, I headed the bow of the old ship up the north shore of Lake Superior,
Once on top of the big lake, I would haul around and set course for Thunder Bay. At the same time, the wind would back to the northeast and then further back to the north. Sometimes, the weatherman was way off in his prediction. This was one of those times.
The east gale turned into an easterly storm, and would stay that way for at least 18 hours. We reduced speed to half ahead, as we were in no hurry to get to the top of the lake. We sailed up on the inside of Michipicoten Island, and the sea was picking up. We could hear the wind whistling through the wheelhouse doors and windows, as it must have done for over 76 years on the old Soo River Trader. A thousand-footer was right behind us on his way to Duluth. Even that huge ship had to stay in the lee of the Ontario land.
A few hours later, and still going half speed, we were nearing the top end of the lake, and there was no way that I was going across to Thunder Bay in an easterly storm. Although I would have the wind and sea on my stern all the way across, when I reached Battle Island Light, I would have to turn and expose my port side to the elements. What if we had an engine failure? No, sir! It was too many “ifs” for me. I decided we would stay put where we were, and we would have a comfortable ride out of it.
Soon our easy ride was in jeopardy. The wind was really howling, and we were getting a backwash from shore. Being in ballast, we were rolling pretty good. I talked to the thousand-footer, who was still behind me, and he reported that he was also rolling. The situation had deteriorated to the point that I did not like the spot which we were in, so I got out the harbor charts for the east side of the lake.
I looked at Marathon and the possibility of anchoring in the bay there until the storm blew itself out. A few years before, I had taken D. C. Everest out of the harbor for Thunder Bay, so I knew the area somewhat. After a close study of the chart, I made up my mind that we would go into Marathon Harbor and ride the hook. My first mate, Peter Columbus, drew the course lines on the chart for entering the harbor. I checked the courses, and decided that was the best course of action to take.
“We’re going to anchor in Marathon Harbor,” I told the thousand-footer captain.
He replied, “I wish we were smaller, because I would follow right in behind you. Good luck, Cap!”
When we turned to make the harbor entrance, I could make out the large mountains on both sides of the entry. While looking from one side to the other through the field glasses, I saw white shoal water just ahead of me! Terrified, I told Peter what I saw. He looked through his glasses and confirmed what I had seen.
I ran to the radar. I rechecked our position. I ran to the table to recheck the chart. We were certainly in the right position to make the entrance to the harbor. What was that white water?
We were too close inside to stop or back her up, so we had no choice but to continue. I had the feeling that I was right and I was wrong - all at the same time. But we kept going. The white water grew nearer and nearer. We were close enough that I could see the lights of buildings inside the harbor. My hands were sweaty. I felt little beads of salt water running down my backbone.
Peter yelled, “Cap, it’s foam!”
“What?” I looked through my glasses again, and now I could see a ridge of thick, white foam. It was being held across the entrance by the east wind and current coming back into the harbor. What a relief! But I lost some of my hair that night.
Safely inside, we picked out a good, deep spot and let go the anchor. Even inside the harbor, the ship was still rolling lazily.
We rolled all that night and half of the next day before we could finally pick up our hook and head for Thunder Bay. The thousand-footer was moving, too.
I sailed Soo River Trader for the rest of that season and laid her up in Toronto, never to sail the old girl again.
She was my favorite ship.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two years later, I made a trip to Port Maitland, Ontario, to watch the scrapper’s torch cut my favorite ship into two-foot square blocks.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the foreman asked
“This was my favorite ship,” I told him. “Two years ago, I was captain of her.”
“Well, okay, Cap, go aboard, and if you find anything you want to take home for a souvenir, you can have it. Take your time.”
I walked around the gaps where pieces of steel had already been cut away and made my way into the dining room, where Glenna served me many fine meals. I found a salt shaker standing alone inside a bulkhead. I reached over, picked it up, and stuck it into my pocket.
Then I worked my way forward and up to the bridge where I went to the front window and stared out. I remembered the storm-tossed night that I brought her into Marathon Harbor, and the white “shoal” water.
We departed the Soo Locks and headed for Thunder Bay with east gales blowing. I remembered what old Captain Bill Smith had once told me: “Make love to that North Shore; she will be your friend.” With this in mind, I headed the bow of the old ship up the north shore of Lake Superior,
Once on top of the big lake, I would haul around and set course for Thunder Bay. At the same time, the wind would back to the northeast and then further back to the north. Sometimes, the weatherman was way off in his prediction. This was one of those times.
The east gale turned into an easterly storm, and would stay that way for at least 18 hours. We reduced speed to half ahead, as we were in no hurry to get to the top of the lake. We sailed up on the inside of Michipicoten Island, and the sea was picking up. We could hear the wind whistling through the wheelhouse doors and windows, as it must have done for over 76 years on the old Soo River Trader. A thousand-footer was right behind us on his way to Duluth. Even that huge ship had to stay in the lee of the Ontario land.
A few hours later, and still going half speed, we were nearing the top end of the lake, and there was no way that I was going across to Thunder Bay in an easterly storm. Although I would have the wind and sea on my stern all the way across, when I reached Battle Island Light, I would have to turn and expose my port side to the elements. What if we had an engine failure? No, sir! It was too many “ifs” for me. I decided we would stay put where we were, and we would have a comfortable ride out of it.
Soon our easy ride was in jeopardy. The wind was really howling, and we were getting a backwash from shore. Being in ballast, we were rolling pretty good. I talked to the thousand-footer, who was still behind me, and he reported that he was also rolling. The situation had deteriorated to the point that I did not like the spot which we were in, so I got out the harbor charts for the east side of the lake.
I looked at Marathon and the possibility of anchoring in the bay there until the storm blew itself out. A few years before, I had taken D. C. Everest out of the harbor for Thunder Bay, so I knew the area somewhat. After a close study of the chart, I made up my mind that we would go into Marathon Harbor and ride the hook. My first mate, Peter Columbus, drew the course lines on the chart for entering the harbor. I checked the courses, and decided that was the best course of action to take.
“We’re going to anchor in Marathon Harbor,” I told the thousand-footer captain.
He replied, “I wish we were smaller, because I would follow right in behind you. Good luck, Cap!”
When we turned to make the harbor entrance, I could make out the large mountains on both sides of the entry. While looking from one side to the other through the field glasses, I saw white shoal water just ahead of me! Terrified, I told Peter what I saw. He looked through his glasses and confirmed what I had seen.
I ran to the radar. I rechecked our position. I ran to the table to recheck the chart. We were certainly in the right position to make the entrance to the harbor. What was that white water?
We were too close inside to stop or back her up, so we had no choice but to continue. I had the feeling that I was right and I was wrong - all at the same time. But we kept going. The white water grew nearer and nearer. We were close enough that I could see the lights of buildings inside the harbor. My hands were sweaty. I felt little beads of salt water running down my backbone.
Peter yelled, “Cap, it’s foam!”
“What?” I looked through my glasses again, and now I could see a ridge of thick, white foam. It was being held across the entrance by the east wind and current coming back into the harbor. What a relief! But I lost some of my hair that night.
Safely inside, we picked out a good, deep spot and let go the anchor. Even inside the harbor, the ship was still rolling lazily.
We rolled all that night and half of the next day before we could finally pick up our hook and head for Thunder Bay. The thousand-footer was moving, too.
I sailed Soo River Trader for the rest of that season and laid her up in Toronto, never to sail the old girl again.
She was my favorite ship.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two years later, I made a trip to Port Maitland, Ontario, to watch the scrapper’s torch cut my favorite ship into two-foot square blocks.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the foreman asked
“This was my favorite ship,” I told him. “Two years ago, I was captain of her.”
“Well, okay, Cap, go aboard, and if you find anything you want to take home for a souvenir, you can have it. Take your time.”
I walked around the gaps where pieces of steel had already been cut away and made my way into the dining room, where Glenna served me many fine meals. I found a salt shaker standing alone inside a bulkhead. I reached over, picked it up, and stuck it into my pocket.
Then I worked my way forward and up to the bridge where I went to the front window and stared out. I remembered the storm-tossed night that I brought her into Marathon Harbor, and the white “shoal” water.
- Attachments
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- Soo River Trader ahead of the hull of the Elmglen
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- Soo River Trader