Gichi Gummi

Debbie and I had always wanted to drive all the way around Lake Superior. Going around the world’s largest freshwater lake would have been a long way from where we lived in Farmington Hills, Michigan. But from our Ohio home it would really be a fur piece. Regardless of the starting point, we hadn’t thought about it for a long while. Then came the dueling weddings and all the hoopla. Then came the cleanup and then came the “what’re we gonna do now?” question.

So Saturday came the wedding (the last one – the Cleveland version), Sunday came the propovini breakfast, and Monday came the cleanup and the question. Surprisingly, the same answer came back to both of us independently: Circumnavigate Gichi Gumi. After a brief discussion Monday morning, and some last minute packing and putting up of garden produce, we did something we never, ever, ever do: started a several-day road trip on the spur of the moment. We always plan things out way in advance; this time we were impulsive and spontaneous.

Only made it as far as Mt. Pleasant, Michigan after 5 hours of driving Monday afternoon and evening. At the Mackinac Bridge we would need to decide whether to head clockwise or counter-clockwise around the lake. Debbie said clockwise would be better so that we could make all right hand turns. I couldn’t stop laughing. Not that she was wrong; it’s just that it’s a big lake.

Counter-clockwise it was. 50+ miles north of the bridge we crossed over the Sault Ste. Marie straights into Canada. Since the Soo is the eastern end Gichi Goomi, I had assumed that we’d start traveling west soon thereafter. But noooo. We continued north along the lakeshore for many, many more miles. This part of Canada is strikingly beautiful. The views of the lake are great, and there are hills that are nearly mountains everywhere. The best part is Lake Superior Provincial Park. In the park, Agawa bay and Agawa rock were great places to stop.

After 10 hours of driving, and stopping and walking and gawking along the way, we made it to the hamlet of Marathon and a no-tell mo-tell for the night.

I don’t know why, but I had always been fascinated with Thunder Bay, Ontario. Nothing particular, just the concept of it. A remote city on the north shore of Lake Superior. And that name! Well, it is remote. And the name is still cool. But nothing really special about the town itself. Some industry and a tiny bit of history. Did I mention remote?

The drive through Canada continued to be beautiful, even though there was a rare all-day fog. The 160 miles from the US border to Duluth were also pretty, but eventually not quite as nice as the Canadian shores. Duluth itself is a very nice town though. After being lost for a bit, we found the harbor-front, ate, had ice cream, and a very nice long walk.

The next day we drove the entire length, and then even the width, of the U.P. Then we went on to drive back to Mt. Pleasant for our last night. Start to finish, that amounted to 14 ½ hours in the car, but you’d have to subtract two hours or so for sightseeing. But that sightseeing was great. We visited Holland Lake to bring back camping memories – more for Debbie, but for me as well. We’ve seen it when it’s quite deserted, but there were 5-6 camping parties around. The worst part is the Off-Road Vehicles. They ruined the place for us, esthetically speaking. Other than that, the place looked about the same. Debbie says she won’t need to see it again. We’ll see.

Along the way, we stopped for Grandma T’s pasties. They were filling!

Munising was beautiful as always. Some day I’d like to see the Pictured Rocks. We never seem to have the time.

Our last stop before heading back down was Whitefish Point and Whitefish Bay. There we toured the lighthouse and the connected living quarters. The highlight there is the shipwreck museum. There they have the bell from the Edmund Fitzgerald along with information and artifacts from several other area wrecks. Of course we’d been listening to The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, by Gordon Lightfoot over and over, and of course they played it there, over and over. Sidenote: in November, 1975 I was in Atlanta on a business trip, when a hurricane came up from the gulf and (the remnants) went over our heads, heading north. It didn’t rain much, but I was fascinated by the clouds. This was the same storm that wrecked the Edmund Fitzgerald.

We looked out onto Gichi Gummi one last time (there’s a nice beach there), and then headed back.

We made 2,200 miles total.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.

With a load of iron ore - 26,000 tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconson
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.

Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.

The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind

When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7PM a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.

The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the words turn the minutes to hours
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.

They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the ruins of her ice water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.

And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early