Visiting a trio of Superior's Shipwrecks - Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Lake Superior's "Graveyard Coast"

Lake Superior is famous for shipwrecks.

On yet another blustery September day on the shores of Lake Superior, not far from Twelvemile Beach, the Crippled Coots set off to visit some shipwrecks that can be accessed by foot at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.  Thankfully the weather was a bit more mild for this jaunt, Mrs Coot won't be so bundled up that  her face is lucky to be seen.

Canadian Gordon Lightfoot is best known in the United States, not so much as a musician who helped define the folk-pop sound of the 1960s and 1970s (as he's described at Wikipedia,) but instead more simply as the author and performer of the hit song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which details one ill fated freighter that fell victim to the deepest and roughest of the Great Lakes.

Mrs Coot and I hiked about two miles more than needed this day . . . It's a good thing the beach is beautiful!

The hike to the shipwrecks begins at a parking lot just outside the Hurricane River Campground, accessed via Alger County Road H-58 (the road that serves as the primary access for most of the park's attractions.)  Although there was a strong wind off the lake, the day was a comfortable one, with temperatures in the 60's, my ideal weather for a hike.

In the Hurricane River vicinity, there are a number of signs directing visitors to the beach for the shipwreck, taking the one nearest to the campground area will lead to a long walk along a very fine white sand beach.  It's a beautiful walk, and simply heading out along the beach until we encountered the wrecks might have been a more efficient plan than the way our day actually unfolded.

Dark hard red hsandstone shoals extend beneath the surface of Lake Superior to pose a navigation hazard for unwary and unlucky mariners.

The day of our hike, the Mrs and I headed out along the Lakeshore Trail, a beautiful walk that parallels the beach through some nice northwoods style forest.  Lower Hurricane Campground as well as the road and trail all sit comfortably above the beach on a flat sandy bench of land created by Lake Superior as it was falling from (higher) Ice Age levels to the lake we know today.

It's a comfortable walk along that trail (also the way to Au Sable Point Light Station) to a standard National Park Service style plaque directing visitors to take a left turn on the beach to view the shipwrecks.  I faithfully followed the directions so thoughtfully provided by my Park Ranger friends, confident they'd not steer me wrong.

Mr Coot studying the sandstone off of Au Sable Point which was the likely cause of these shipwrecks.

One thing to note about the National Park Service signage directing folks to the wrecks, it really does send you off in the wrong direction.  Current NPS signs directs visitors to turn left up the beach to view the wrecks, when in reality it's at least another quarter mile further down he beach to the right that the shipwrecks are found.

I found myself leading Mrs Coot back up the beach to within sight of our departure point before realizing that the park service signage was incorrect.  We trudged back along our tracks, determined to find our destination, but frustrated by the misdirection.

These shallow shoals and rocky shores served to create the ship graveyard we were hoping to encounter.

Experience has taught us that it's best to carry not only water, but also a snack when we head out on our excursions.  I'm diabetic, it's well controlled by diet at this time, but it's also an illness that can quickly lead to a scary situation if I find myself low on blood sugar with two miles left to hike back to a trailhead.

As a self proclaimed "Crippled Coot" I've found that the litany of diagnoses and accronyms I might otherwise become: Asthma, Emphysema, C.O.P.D., Diabetes, G.E.R.D., Fibromyalgia, Degenerative Disc Disease, Osteoarthritis, etc., don't need to prevent me from hiking and exploring, it simply means I need to be smarter and plan ahead to do things others might accomplish without thought.

Such forward thinking and planning is a small price for me to pay in order to trek and explore our continent's natural beauty with Mrs Coot!  But, there are also days (hopefully infrequent) when both Mr and Mrs Coot look at each other with a slight sense of panic and ask in near unison, "Did you throw lunch in the daypack?"

This was one of those days!

Beachside break on the way to the shipwrecks - Sorry no lunch!

Finally, after walking most of the beach between Hurricane River campground and Au Sable Point Lighthouse twice just to find our intended destination, we did find the shipwrecks.  It was worth the walk, not to mention all the sand that invaded our boots as we hiked.

Mrs Coot finds a shipwreck!

The ship remains here are remnants of ships from the 1800's, with hefty wood timbers and iron metalwork.  It seems amazing that they are still visible and accessible more than 100 years after their demise as working vessels, I guess that's a tribute to the lake's frigid cold waters.  It seems that the smashing of waves (and perhaps ice) will be the cause of the final demise of these ship's remains much more likely than the decomposers that cover and claim wrecks in more temperate climates.

The Missus, exploring wreckage that I didn't cause - Priceless!

Darling, look out for the bigger waves coming in . . . 

Too late, our boots (and socks) have just become soaked with cold lake water!

The wrecks were impressively sized and not far apart.  Lake Superior waves, driven by the same winds and storms that terminated these vessel's working career, having moved them along the beach together for our convenience.

Looking back at the wrecks as we continue to Au Sable Point
My hands were a little unsteady so the picture's horizon is not level!

When it was all said and done, the wrecks were finally found not far from the Au Sable Light Station, a historic lighthouse still operated by the National Park Service.  We continued another quarter to half mile down the beach to that attraction, but that's another story for a different time . . .