The Shipwreck Coast — a stretch of shallow waters at the southern end of Lake Superior that’s littered with hundreds of doomed vessels — can be found in the shadow of the Au Sable Point Lighthouse.
How’s that for irony?
The history in this nook of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is grim. Sean Ley of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum estimates that of the 600 shipwrecks on Lake Superior’s floor, a third are clustered on the coast here between Munising and Paradise, Mich., where the museum sits on Whitefish Point.
But on the bright side of this dark reality: The artifacts are accessible. Masts from some of the shipwrecks protrude from the water a century after sinking. The remains of other wrecked vessels rest at the shoreline like beached whales. And those that are fully sunk require only a quick trip on a glass-bottom boat to inspect.
Couple that unusual accessibility to so many shipwrecks with the surroundings — Michigan’s magnificent Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore — and it’s enough excitement to make tourists forget that the water in which they’re splashing is the last resting place for hundreds of poor souls (not to mention a few rich pirates).
Here’s how it came to be: This stretch of the Great Lakes was a major thoroughfare for cargo ships hauling iron ore from Michigan’s Marquette mines to Cleveland, Chicago and beyond. Other ships ferried passengers, pine and, less nobly, freshwater buccaneers eager to raid other ships’ cargo. This part of Lake Superior, in the words of Great Lakes historian Fred Stonehouse, “can be especially snotty.” Strong northwest winds batter boats. Grand Island, which sits just a few miles offshore mainland Munising, would lure captains desperate to escape storms but offered few safe harbors. Hidden rock reefs lay in ambush just below the water’s surface. Visibility here can be low. And captains’ blood-alcohol counts were often high. (Don’t drink and steam, kids.)
Kate Faust of Glass Bottom Shipwreck Tours recounts the 1870 sinking of 150-foot wooden schooner The Bermuda, which had been docked safely in Marquette until its crew caused too much drunken trouble in town, prompting the sheriff to send them south. They docked near the Shipwreck Coast, where the honorable Captain Michael Finney dutifully went searching for another saloon while his crew remained on board to sleep it off. Their ship filled with water, snapped its mooring lines and sank, drowning three.
“When Captain Finney came back there were just two masts sticking up out of the water,” Faust says.
Mother Nature caused the majority of the shipwrecks here; she also preserves the remains like macabre trophies. Lake Superior is cold most of the year, which deters microbacteria that break down natural materials like white-oak hulls. There’s no salt, naturally, and none of the zebra mussels that have infiltrated other Great Lakes. Many of the wrecks remain in great shape, and the submerged vessels show no signs of going anywhere soon.
The cargo is a different story. When lumber or iron was salvageable, crews of wrecked ships — the surviving members, at least — would bring up what they could. Other cargo items have been looted over the last century by divers; not illegal back in the day, mind you, but contrary to the modern divers’ credo “Take only pictures, leave only bubbles.”
The most laughable account of finders-keepers is relayed during the tour that Faust leads. The toilet and anchor from steam barge Herman H. Hettler, which sank under Captain John Johnson’s watch in 1926, were snatched by a local diver in the ’60s, who proudly displayed them on his front lawn until he retired to Texas 30 years later. That’s when Munising locals retrieved the heavy items from the lawn (plucking flowers the wife had planted in the commode) and re-sank them amid the ruins of the ship. This explains why the toilet currently sits perfectly upright, as if awaiting the return of, ahem, Captain John.
Ogling wrecks is encouraged around here, as evidenced by the dozens of varieties of shipwreck magnets you’ll find in shops around town. But looting them is now illegal, thanks to the Alger Underwater Preserve, a collective that helped convince Michigan legislators to protect this area. So if you bump into, say, a century-old lantern while backstroking the cool waters, you have to leave it be.
“Shipwrecks are historical; they’re archaeological,” surmises Peter Lindquist of the preserve. “There is a certain mystique about them.”
The most intimate way to engage with that mystique requires neither a tour ticket nor a scuba kit. The beached wrecks of the Shipwreck Coast are reachable by just a (beautiful) half-hour hike east from the Hurricane River Campground, 12 miles west of Grand Marais. A simple sign directs visitors to trot down a set of sandy steps to the beach, where “you may see parts of old wrecks that washed ashore.” You will.
Here is propeller ship The Union, grounded in 1873. Nearby are remains of schooner The General Siegel, washed ashore in 1882. And most prominent is steam barge The Mary Jarecki, wrecked in 1883. The hull of this ship is nestled into the blond, lake-lapped sand, inviting you to walk atop the planks, snap pictures and grab hold of the rows of rusted iron bolts that defiantly poke skyward, like dozens of middle fingers to the forces of nature that caused this catastrophe.
Adding to the area’s ambiance is the fact that there’s often nobody around. While the shipwreck museum on Whitefish Point hosts crowds eager to study maritime legends, this graveyard where you can actually walk atop artifacts is usually desolate. Ghostly, you might say.
The nasty, biting stable flies no doubt help keep crowds away. (Locals recommend hanging dryer sheets through your belt loops.) And, sure, it takes a stretch of the leg and some rudimentary map skills to find this spot. But the reward is a private visitation with haunted history.
Chris McNamara is a freelance writer.
If you go
Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum: Open from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily, May 1 through Oct. 31. Among the highlights is the bell recovered from the infamous S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald. The bell is the centerpiece of a memorial to the 29 men who died when the vessel sunk in 1975 in Lake Superior. 18335 N. Whitefish Point Road, Paradise, Mich.; 888-492-3747, shipwreckmuseum.com.
Glass Bottom Shipwreck Tours: Two-hour narrated tours aboard boats that pass over two shipwrecks, giving passengers a look at what’s below. Tours held daily through Oct. 14. Cost is $33 for adults. 1204 Commercial St., Munising, Mich.; 906-387-4477, shipwrecktours.com.
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