Rochester Scuba & Snorkel Club

Thunder Bay Trip

Rich's boat got lots of comments from the locals -- and some scrutiny by the border guards.

story and photos by Roger Southwick

Rich Good, David Walters, and Roger Southwick headed to the Great White North in Ontario, Canada, for some wreck-diving and boating on Lake Superior. Here are some highlights.

The Border Incident

We decided to drive all the way to Terrace Bay (far northern Lake Superior) on the first day, about 10-11 hours of driving. That way we could head out early the next morning without having to drive 2 1/2 hours from Thunder Bay.

We made pretty good progress up to the Canadian Border, where we found a long line of vehicles being checked by customs officers. On our previous trips we simply showed our passports and answered a few questions. This time we had to pull over to a special truck-mounted machine, some type of X-ray thingie to check for "contraband". (I'd hate to be the driver of that truck, going forward & backward 20 feet in a straight line all day.) The first officer asked us if we had any firearms or ammunition. We said no and asked if the machine was safe for film. "Yah sure, eh? No problem for film."

The next guy asked us if we had firearms or ammunition. We said no, and he said "Good, this thing don't like bullets -- sets 'em off." But it's safe for film!? Hmm... maybe they're using psychology and the truck machine doesn't do a durn thing. Now I really feel sorry for that driver.

"We couldn't have done it without our corporate sponsor...."

The third officer (they always use 3, we've been told) was a young woman who had to manually search our stuff. She was mainly interested in the 8 ounces of Scotch and Irish whisky we told her about. Never mind the bins filled with dive gear, knives, computers, lead-acid batteries, lights, compressed air tanks....

All the customs officers were polite and friendly, but it was just so weird. After 30 minutes, we got underway again.

The Parking Lot Incident

We tried to stop for dinner at Boston Pizza, one of our favorite places in Thunder Bay. We kinda forgot about the boat trailer behind us and pulled into the parking lot -- dead end. Crap! Now what? Rich tried in vain to back up and turn around. The restaurant manager and some staff came out and offered their help. We eventually had to disconnect the 5000-pound boat & trailer from the truck. Of course, we didn't have the wheels chocked, and the slight incline of the parking lot made for an exciting dash to stop the boat from rolling prop-first into some cars. We connected the trailer again and drove off, too embarrassed to enter the restaurant after being watched by patrons through the large picture windows.

We stopped at Franki's Pizza across town (which is in no way as good as Boston Pizza) and noticed that the front bumper of the truck was cracked. It must have broken when the truck got caught on the chain-link gate of the trash bin at the restaurant. Oh well.

The Motel Incident

After a 13-hour trip (2 hours longer than planned, thanks to the previous incidents), we finally arrived at Terrace Bay at 10:30pm EDT, totally exhausted and a bit delirious. Rich had made reservations at the "Imperial Motel" and they were expecting us to arrive late that night. We pulled into the parking lot. Rich went into the office which was dark and closed. He rang the bell. A nice old lady said "Well, we normally don't take reservations, but my daughter was working today...." Rich got the keys and came back to the truck.

Dave and I pointed to the "Imperial Motel" sign across the street. Rich went back to the darkened office, rang the bell, and checked out. Then we checked in across the street for a well-deserved nap.

A freight train emerged from a tunnel as we anchored over the Rappahannock in Jack Fish Bay.

The Wreck of the Rappahannock

We arose on Saturday before dawn, hoping to get an early start so the waves wouldn't be so gosh-darned big like they were last year. The waterfall near the boat launch at Terrace Bay was hardly flowing; last time it was raging and caused lots of turbulence in the channel. We made an easy exit onto the lake and headed for the whaleback steamer off Pic Island, 20 miles out on Lake Superior. After about 20 minutes, the waves had built up to the point that we decided to turn into the shelter of Jack Fish Bay and dive the Rappahannock. Exactly the same thing happened last year, but this time it happened 4 hours earlier. (It's not a good sign to have big waves in the morning like this.) The bay was sheltered and very calm so we made haste at 40mph to the dive site.

Last year we recorded the GPS coordinates of the wreck, so finding it this time was pretty easy. We anchored near the bow and marveled at the clear water; this time there was no root-beer colored surface layer. Several freight trains circled us as we geared up. We splashed in, checked gear at 20 feet, descended, and secured the anchor line.

This wreck is really cool. It was carrying coal when it beached during a 75mph gale. It slipped back into deeper water and was later salvaged with a clamshell steam-shovel, so the deck is pretty well broken up, but the stern section is very interesting. Several lathed columns support the decks. Lots of wooden slat paneling has fallen into a pile on the deck. Even the steam engine is paneled. Unfortunately, this pile of loose wood is very unstable -- just swimming past it causes it to move. Venturing inside the wreck under this pile of loose debris would be a bad idea -- exhaust bubbles could easily dislodge something and cause a collapse.

Over the years divers have collected artifacts and placed them on the deck. On the stern rail were several metal washbasins and a really nice wooden block (pulley). The rear deck held large crockery, a wood-burning stove, and shelving for china cabinets.

We dropped over the stern rail to check out the rudder, passing some old mooring lines that are loose -- be careful here. The rudder is buried in silt up to the 7-foot mark, denoted by a neatly-chiseled Roman numeral VII. The prop is entirely buried in silt and isn't visible. A couple artifacts are scattered about the silty bottom at 80 feet, including what appears to be a brass lantern. I noticed a school of very small fresh-water shrimp scurrying near the bottom.

We ascended to the port rail and inspected the nicely turned wooden columns, a drinking fountain in the walkway, and doors that are missing their doorknobs -- apparently some early divers actually sawed them out. For shame!

We finished the dive and surfaced to find that our calm bay was now actively waving. We motored back through some 2-3 foot waves to Terrace Bay.

The Broken Boat Incident

During the boat ride back to the landing, I was sitting in the back seat behind Cap'n Rich. Suddenly his backrest gave way and wobbled back & forth. We always break something on every trip.

We landed the boat safely and drove back to Thunder Bay. Upon arriving at Wally's Thunder Country Diving shop, we found he wasn't there... but his daughter & other staff were very helpful, lending us tools to fix the boat and taking our tanks to be filled. We spent a fair bit of time in Home Depot trying to find stainless steel hardware that could replace the bolt anchors that pulled out of the fiberglass. The best we could do was some plain ol' steel toggle anchors normally used for securing picture frames to drywall. Rich and Dave spent the evening digging out holes for the anchors and bolting down the backrest. It seemed to work, but we're still skeptical that it will hold for long. Have you seen those flimsy toggle anchors?

We headed over to dinner at Montana's and turned in for bed around 10pm. Just as I pulled the sheets up, the phone rang. It was Wally. He was out in the motel parking lot with our tanks. Now that is customer service!

The Wreck of the Howard

On Sunday morning we enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the Husky truck stop, then we headed south to Little Trout Bay to dive the Howard. At the boat landing we talked with an older local guy who mentioned something about a place called "Pigeon Point", where there is a hidden cove that was used by bootleggers to dump illegal booze when they were chased by the authorities. He said people sometimes find bottles there. We noted its location on the charts and headed to the Howard.

We cruised out of Little Trout Bay to check out the "smuggler's cottage" at Pigeon Point.

Rich somehow managed to drop the anchor right next to the stern of the Howard. We had a nice leisurely swim around the hull, the large prop and rudder, and the steam engine & boilers. There are loads of bricks scattered about, including inside the boilers. Were the bricks part of the cargo or part of the firebox? We also checked out some wreckage that lies forward & deeper -- possibly parts of the deck or a barge that was being towed; the construction is considerably different from the hull.

After the dive we motored over to Pigeon Point. This area is truly secluded; there's even a hunting cabin here, and you can't see any trace of it until you get far inside the cove. In the middle of the cove, the depth was about 190' and rapidly rose to about 20'. The clear water allowed us to easily see the bottom but we didn't find any cases of whisky. Maybe next time we'll actually dive it.

We motored back, drove to Thunder Bay, got airfills at Wally's shop, and enjoyed a very nice dinner at an Italian restaurant called Porto Divino. They didn't kick us out when we started having giggle-fits. Those Canadians sure are nice! We headed back to the motel to look over nautical charts and smoke cigars on the deck.

The Rainy Day Incident

Monday was to be our last day of diving, but the weather included heavy downpours all day. We checked out the "Sleeping Giant" peninsula and Silver Islet, about an hour from Thunder Bay, hoping for a break in the weather so we could at least go out on the lake. But the rain persisted. We saw great scenery from narrow roads which weren't so good when towing a large boat.

Silver Islet is a rock out in Lake Superior, about 1km from shore. Back in the 1860s someone discovered silver there, and it turned into a busy area for silver mining - and a big challenge for miners and engineers, who had to keep water out of a mineshaft dug into the lake. The mine produced something like $3.25 million in silver in the late 1800s.

Sunset after a stormy day over Port Arthur marina.

There's a little marina there and a community of homes along the scenic shore. Wally said the boat launch wasn't very fancy. We hardly recognized it as a boat launch. It might work for a rowboat or canoe. We walked around on foot for a while, trying to take in the scenery while not absorbing too much of the water that poured out of the sky. We drove through the Sleeping Giant Provincial Park but its visitor center was closed, so we didn't get to learn about Silver Islet Mine.

Lunch: Boston Pizza! This time we left the boat trailer at the motel so we could safely park in the lot. Upon returning to the motel, we crashed for a 3-hour nap and awoke to clearing skies and rainbows around 6pm. Rich tried to convince us to do a night dive in the shipping channel, but we politely declined. Instead, we scouted out Port Arthur marina for a possible early-morning dive the next day. Then we went to the Prospector for some great steaks & seafood, sat out on the motel deck sipping Scotch & whisky, and made plans for a quick dive before our departure in the morning.

The Wreck of the Green River

On Tuesday we arose before dawn, checked out of the motel, picked up a light breakfast, and drove to the empty marina. We finished breakfast in the truck and started assembling gear in the dark and fog. There was an eerie, quiet calm over the lake -- a big contrast to Monday's storms.

Loading the boat at dawn on a foggy morning.

We departed the marina and crossed the glassy water at high speed, the thick fog condensing on my drysuit undergarment. It was quite disorienting to be out there in dense fog with no visual references. GPS sure is nice!

We got to the coordinates of the Green River and searched around for a while. The depth was only 60 feet, but the wreck is at 70 feet. And there was no sign of anything on the flat bottom. We decided to use natural navigation, since the Green River is located 450 feet from the wreck of the Robert L. Fryer, which is visible above water on the shore of a nearby island. We searched the shore and found nothing. On top of the island was a building and radio tower that we didn't recall from the trip 2 years ago.

I jokingly asked "Do we even have the right island?" Rich pressed a button on the GPS to zoom out on the map. We were next to the neighboring island. The GPS coordinates got messed up. Stupid GPS!

After motoring to the correct island, we quickly found the Robert L. Fryer, went 450 feet offshore, found the bottom at 70 feet, and then the wreck showed up on the sonar, rising 20 feet off the bottom. We dropped anchor, set the correct coordinates into the GPS unit, and patted ourselves on the back for doing such a good job. Then we saw the marker buoy about 150 feet away. Well, there's nothing wrong with doing it the hard way, just for practice.

Dave had left his wetsuit gloves in the truck by mistake, so it was just Rich and I on this dive. We splashed into nice clear water and descended to the Green River. The anchor was secure, the chain draped across the deck near the stern. We followed the port rail forward to the bow. Even with 30-foot visibility, we had a hard time seeing across the deck to the other side. This thing is huge -- 40 feet across, 20 feet tall, 2 levels of decks, huge cargo holds, and lots of sturdy wood construction with some steel I-beams as well. Visibility was great until we descended to 65 feet at the bow, then it went to almost nothing near the lake bottom.

One nice thing about fog: it's accompanied by calm water.

The majestic bow rises straight up from the cloud of silt. The port side is intact but the starboard side has broken up so you can see inside to the chain locker, where there are remnants of an old wooden barrel. There are a bunch of old mooring lines here, including the one that we found on the surface. (It turned out to be rather thin line, so it's good we didn't tie into it after all.)

We made our way aft along the starboard rail to the stern, which was a bit smashed up. We kept going past the breakage until I had to write "Holy xxxx!" to Rich on my slate -- the massive rudder had broken away from the stern and was standing alone, jammed into the lake bottom. This thing had to be at least 30 feet tall. I measured the thin trailing edge of the rudder to be about 19" thick, and it was made of large wooden timbers bound together. Impressive. We swam forward on the stern rail, then entered some of the aft cargo areas. They're so big that it's like swimming through a two-story warehouse.

We surfaced and cruised back at 40mph through the fog, suddenly emerging into clear air about one mile outside the breakwater of Port Arthur. It was a nice conclusion to a final day of diving, and we packed up for the long drive home.