From the Marathon Courier from Jan/Feb 1951:

We left Charleton, Quebec, which is on the boundary between Quebec and New Brunswick, on November 2nd, 1950, at 1723 hours, in company with the Steamer Englescliffe Hall and Capt. A. Cyr, 82 years young (and I do mean young) as our sailing master as far as Gaspe.

The weather was fair and everything looked quite rosy. However, it wasn't to last too long. At 0400 hours Alvin Lavigne at the wheel aroused us and said the wind was increasing slowly but steadily, so we hauled in closer to the shore for a better passage, and everything was again fine until 0600 hours, when the one engine started acting up and had to be stopped. At that time it was hard to say whether the trouble was serious or not, so we hauled around and went for shelter, but with both Chief Conrad and Second Engineer Breu on the job, they corrected the fault by 0640 hours and we again hauled around on our 1800-mile journey home.

All this trouble took place just at Perce Rock, which is quite a famous Canadian landmark, but by then we were taking so much water aboard it was impossible to take any pictures.

By 0900 hours we had to reduce our speed to just barely steerage-way, as we were not going over the waves anymore, but through them. There must have been three inches of water in the wheelhouse, with Capt. Cyr kneeling in it and trying to caulk the cracks in the door and windows with rags. The water was running down into the galley and crew's room, wetting their beds and blankets. We made Gaspe light by 1100 hours, and if you have never seen a happy crew you should have seen the grins and thankful expressions on our faces, even to hardy Capt. Cyr, whose experiences would many times equal that or worse.

The rest of the trip to Montreal proved very favourable for us, with the exception of not being able to run at night owing to snow forecasts.

Lake Ontario was at its very angriest by the time we arrived there. We stopped at Clayton, N.Y., and Presqu'ile Point and waited for the storm to to moderate. You may have read in the paper about a barge being lost and a C.S.L. freight boat shifting her cargo and having to run to port. That was the same blow we were waiting to abate.

Nov. 18th, at 0610 hours, we left Presqu'ile for the Welland Canal and made it by 1630 hours. Our passage through the Canal was uneventful and we arrived at Port Colborne just in time for a south-west storm. We made three attempts to leave, but were turned back each time after about four hours of trying. When the weather did moderate we left and had a rough trip for six hours and then it got real nice. We were up through Detroit at 0135 hours in the morning and arrived at Sarnia 0900 hours November 23rd. There were a few ships waiting for weather, as all the gale warnings were displayed. We went to the show and came out at 9pm into a blizzard, that piled up the snow five and six inches deep in three hours, because there wasn't any snow when we went into the show. We left there the next morning and made Harbour Beach, Mich., on the fly to beat another hurricane from the east, which lasted all the next day.

The next day seemed favourable for us when we left with only a short 70 miles to get to the Soo, but the winds came up and with 60 miles to go and wide open to all winds. This jump scared me the most, as it was a beam sea running so that the tug rolled very heavily. It was snowing lightly and visibility was very poor. It was impossible to steer by compass, owing to the boat moving about so quickly so that the compass couldn't keep up to it. We were signalling a friend on the Steamer Laketon, trying to get his attention to standby until we made the Soo river. I guess he didn't see our frantic signals, but an American steamer did and stood by us for three quarters of an hour, in which time our Galley stove upset with a coal fire in it, but our chief Chef and chief Engineer had water on it before any fire could start.

Again smiles broke out on our faces as we arrived safely in the Soo River. From the Soo to Marathon was actually our best lake crossing. If we had had the same kind of weather on the rest of the lakes as we had on Lake Superior, our trip would have only taken half as long. But such is sailing at this time of year.

The crew was comprised of myself, Capt. Lavigne, Bernard Conrad, the Chief Engineer, Fred Breu, Second Engineer, and Jas. Mair, Jr., the Chief Chef.

On Dec. 6th, 1950, Capt. George Matheson brought the Tug Allagash into Peninsula Harbour, Marathon, after a trip of 34 days. They left Charleton, P.Q., which is on the Bay of Chaleur, November 2nd, with Marathon as their goal. The trip would have been good if the weather this fall had been moderate, but as we know, this has been one of the worst seasons for some time.

They stood the test of strong winds and rough seas on quite a number of occasions. The Captain said "the boat is seaworthy" but he still missed his Tug Peninsula.

I met the Tug and the boys as they came into Marathon dock, and as I saw them one after the other they were turning their noses up in the air and taking a deep breath remarking: "Boy, does this smell good!" We were wondering what this was all about, and Capt. Matheson told me that his crew, plus himself, had made a strong pledge when they were down on the Lower Lakes getting tossed all over the place that if and when they got to Marathon they would never again say it stinks there.

On arrival at Marathon all the crew were in good health and humour, having had two days of real good sailing on our good old Lake Superior. None of the crew had improved any on their French, although some of them had been down amongst the French-speaking people about seven weeks. (But some boys just won't learn!)