Rochester Scuba & Snorkel Club

Wreck Diving in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

story and photos by Roger Southwick

Part 3 of 3

You can review part 1 or part 2 if you'd like.

In the last episode, our heroes had just loaded the boat at Rockport Marina.

Motoring out from the dock into a stiff headwind, we agreed that it wasn't going to be pleasant but shouldn't be too bad. Then we realized we were in the shelter of the breakwall which protected us from both the waves and the wind. Outside the breakwall the water was pretty rough, with 3-foot waves and a 25mph wind. I guess we were delirious from all those breakfastses since we decided to continue, with the option of chickening-out later.

Sitting down on the boat was not an option. We stood alongside the center console and clung to the handrails, bending our knees to absorb the shock of being dropped 3 feet every 10 seconds. Spray from the waves prevented us from zipping our drysuits, but I tried to sneak the zipper open and point myself into the wind. This ram-air method allowed me to dry out the legs inside my suit.

After an hour of these pounding waves, we reached a channel between some islands that helped to block the wind. The channel was several miles wide but was only a few feet deep in many places, so Cap'n Rich had to follow a zigzag course on what appeared to be open water. We could see rocks below us and proceeded with caution until reaching a very narrow channel, which was actually over 180 feet deep. Thirty minutes later we arrived at the site of the Neebing. As we searched for the wreck, a Canadian Conservation boat approached us. They asked where we were from, where we launched the boat, if we had any fishing gear, and if we knew that there was a small craft advisory for boats like ours -- "There's 2-meter seas out there, eh?" We thanked them for their concern and they left.

I glanced at the fuel gauge and got worried. "Um, Rich, will we have enough fuel to get back?" The gauge read distinctly less than 1/2. Rich was confident that we'd be fine, so we continued searching for the Neebing. After a 30-minute search we got a blip on the sonar.

Ready for the ill-fated trip to the Neebing.

Joseph and I splashed in to investigate, leaving Rich and Dave tossing on the boat. We didn't want to leave the boat unattended in these conditions. The surface water was quite murky again. We descended and things got dark quickly. I thought "wow, we're descending pretty fast this time". At what I thought was 40 feet, I looked at my depth gauge -- 9 feet! We could no longer see the surface. We continued down the line anyway, expecting visibility to improve as it had done on the Rappahannock. It didn't.

The anchor finally appeared, not hung up on the wreck as we expected, but coiled up on the silty bottom. I aimed my 50-watt halogen light (it's bright) to look for the wreck. The beam went about 3 feet and disappeared. A gentle kick over this way... a big looming shadow, but I still couldn't see the wreck. I turned around and lost the anchor! A careful search pattern enabled me to find it about 4 feet away. I signalled "up" to Joseph. He responded with "question: left or right?". I signalled "up" again and he agreed, as if he woke up to the fact that conditions sucked.

Rich and Dave were surprised by our early return but were pleased none-the-less. I don't think they enjoyed sitting on a small boat at anchor in those waves. We reported our non-findings and they agreed to head home without trying the dive themselves.

The trip back to Rockport Marina was somewhat harrowing. Conditions had worsened with 4-foot waves, but this time we had the 25mph wind behind us, helping our fuel economy which was now vital to our survival. Heading with the waves was easier, and with all the practice from the ride out we managed ok. However, now we're in zipped drysuits and there's no apparent wind. With stationary flags on the stern, and the boat going only 25mph over these waves, things got pretty stifling.

Then the boat started to break under all the stress of crashing into waves. First it was little things, like the PVC tube holding the flags. Then a marker light broke off. Then a big wave hit and caused the inflatable pontoon to slide forward along the hull. It separated from the bow just enough to let waves crash into the boat and make us worry about the force of the waves hitting a loose pontoon. Just like last year! There was nothing to be done out here but proceed with caution.

About 10 miles out from the marina we noticed huge patches of light brown water flowing in from 2 different bays, where more rivers contributed to the poor visibility over the Neebing. The fuel gauge at this point hovered around E but at least was bouncing up every so often. At 6 miles out the gauge was pegged at E -- solid, not moving. The engines kept running anyway. About 2 miles from the marina we saw the Canadian Conservation boat heading out. They were waiting for us to return to our port of departure, since we were the only fools out there. At that point I wish they would have checked in with us again so we could buy some of their fuel, but they headed out to the open lake. If we had become stranded near the marina, I doubt any other boat there would be able to go out in those conditions to rescue some guys who ran out of gas. Even the boat itself sighed with relief as it glided to the dock with the engines running.

After packing up we drove back into Thunder Bay, just in time to find the chart store closed again. Dinner was at the Prospector for some great steaks (MEAT!). Rich needed to gamble at the Charity Casino -- yes, that's the real name, and it has nothing to do with charities. I sat at the bar drinking free Cokes and chatting with Dave. After about 30 minutes Rich had lost his money so we headed back to the Kingsway Motel.

While enjoying our parking-lot scotch we noticed some weird lights over Thunder Bay, heading quickly toward our motel. They started to get loud too. It was a B1 bomber and a fighter escort on a landing approach for the airport on the other side of the motel. We ran to the street to get a better view of the landing, then sat back down to the scotch.

A while later the door to one of the neighboring rooms opened and a lady emerged with two large and elegant dogs, taking them for a walk around the parking lot. We asked her what breed they were and she replied "Weimaraners". Just then the big jet noise started up again -- Rich and Dave bolted for a better view near the street, right where the lady was holding her dogs. Those poor dogs were scared to death and the lady wasn't too pleased by having 2 grown men rush at her like that. But it was pretty funny to watch.

Our old pal Cap'n Mark and the Superior Diver.

Monday: No breakfastses at Husky's today. After the failure to dive the Neebing on Sunday, we wanted to try a dive on the Hesper back in Silver Bay MN, and that implied an early start on the trip back. We passed through US Customs at the border with only 2 questions asked: "where did you go" and "where are you going". Enroute we stopped in Grand Marais for breakfastses. I suggested avoiding the big places like Perkins and finding something with a small-town atmosphere. We chose the Blue Water Cafe, where the pancakes were tougher than any of the steaks we had all weekend but the service was excellent.

Then it was off to Silver Bay. Rich launched the boat and we met up with Cap'n Mark and the Superior Diver, the boat I've been aboard several times for charters to Isle Royale. The owners, Jackie & Ron, are no longer doing charters but they still dive there. Rich motored our boat around the breakwall to the site of the Hesper, where we enjoyed a fantastic dive to finish the weekend. The nearby sound of a 1000-foot freighter filled our ears as we descended.

There's a lot to see on the Hesper. Its wooden hull is splayed open in 3 sections, making it very easy to see the structure of the hull and the wooden "knees" that held the deck. The keel alone is about 3 feet wide, made of 2 wooden timbers clad with steel on the sides. The engine was salvaged so all that is left in that area is the large mounting bolts. One of the propeller flukes is easily visible near the stern, with a strange hole in the end of the blade -- this was part of the GLSPS's Put It Back program. The Owatonna Dive Club returned the 1200-pound prop blade to the wreck site in 1997. You can read about it here.

Our trip home was uneventful, except for our lunch at the Perkins just south of Duluth. The food was very good but the service was almost non-existent -- and this was in the middle of the afternoon when only two other tables were occupied. I preferred the tough pancakes at the Blue Water Cafe.

So, that was our trip to Canada, eh? We ate meat, Rich gave money to "Charity", Joseph didn't vomit for a change, and we broke Rich's boat again.

And all the Canadians smiled when Rich said "Thanks Canada -- we're going now!"