Lake Superior at Thomsonite Lodge in Minnesota
This image was taken during “The Gales of November”, (11/10/22) during a nor’easter on Lake Superior. A nor’easter is a storm of great magnitude and has claimed many ships, their cargo and the lives of the crews. This date on the calendar is significant to all who know the story behind the famous song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot.
On November 10, 1975, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, one of the many large ore ships that sailed the ocean-like waters of Lake Superior, sank during a ferocious storm. The entire crew of 29 people died when the vessel sank. No bodies were ever recovered from the wreckage. You haven’t seen Lake Superior until you’ve seen what the gales do to the lake. During the Gales of November, waves can get to, or even exceed, 30 feet high!
As a (former) fresh-water diver and professional photographer, I have two reasons to revisit Lake Superior on November 10th each year. One is to ‘remember’ those lives lost, to say a prayer for the families that lost loved ones on that terrible day in 1975. I’ve seen many of the shipwrecks in Lake Superior from beneath its icy-cold waters. It’s a sobering experience.
My other reason to visit Lake Superior during that stormy season is to capture the beauty and ferocity of the lake, in its powerful presence during a storm. The location I was at in 2022 was at the northern part of the lake just a few miles south of Grand Marais, MN. The waves were mild, never getting higher than 3 or 4 feet.
However, further south near the Split Rock Lighthouse and Shovel Point, folks experienced the full fury of the storm with waves 30 feet high and when crashed into the ancient basalt rocky cliffs, the spray carried well over 60 feet high and far into the forest that tops those cliffs.
I missed that event due to icy roads between there and the Thomsonite Inn. So, we stayed close to the cabin we rented, photographing here and there, looking for anything of interest. Linda stayed fixed on closeups and macro images while I was searching for larger, more dramatic scenes.
While capturing this image I was transported to a timeless place in my heart and mind, thinking of the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald certainly, but also of my own dear son, Adam. Adam died August 4, 1997, on a perfect weather day while doing what he most loved to do – fly airplanes. In fact, Adam was a flight instructor of the highest caliber. I know that because he was not only my son, but he was also MY flight instructor.
Coming upon this scene of the bench facing the now calmer waters of the lake and a hint of the sun struggling to break through those angry clouds, I found myself remembering my personal journey of grief after the loss of my son over a quarter century ago. And as I wrote in my book, From Mayhem to Miracles, in the chapter My Grief – The Villain, he appeared to me again like so many years later to again taunt me, challenge my faith, and accuse me, to bring on fear and doubt… “unannounced, like a Thief… relentless.”
I’m much stronger today than I was over 25 years ago, where The Villain “…was relentless and untiring in his pursuit of my sanity and peace… to wage war within me.”
And as I looked at the scene and began composing it in my mind’s eye, he started to attack me again even after all this time using the very elements of the scene. Every time I noticed something interesting or even beautiful in the composition, he would rant on about it being ugly or frightening or worthless. But it didn’t work!
I’m much stronger today and I composed this scene with a heart of gratitude for being here at such a time as this, where the Sunbathed its softer version of itself onto the lake that had nearly spent energy and now had become gentle and kinder. I noticed that someone had thought of me (and others as well) and placed a most comfortable bench for me to sit and view the lake and to ponder.
After I captured this image, I sat for a while on that bench, just listening to the muffled drumbeat of the waves, catching the sweet scent of pine trees on the wind and looking up to witness the peace in the storm as it slowly made its way southward.
This image is likely one of my favorites simply because of the deeper meaning behind the photograph. I hope you enjoy it as well.