"Deadliest Catch", the Newt Suit, and an amazing Edmund Fitzgerald exhibit at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum

Campus of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, looking out over dangerous waters.
Image taken from shipwreckmuseum.com.

Before starting to watch Deadliest Catch a few years back, I guess I thought shipwrecks were a thing of the past—which is silly, because we still have plane crashes and car crashes, so I don’t know why I would think that a ship would magically no longer be in danger or sink out at sea. I guess I just hadn’t really heard about it, so I hadn’t really thought about it happening.

A particularly rocky moment from The Deadliest Catch on Discovery Channel.
Image taken from in.com.

Then I started watching Deadliest Catch and I realized that it is definitely still happening. For those of you who may not be familiar, it's a show on the Discovery Channel that focuses on about six different boats during crab fishing season, and the hardships these men face in the Bering Sea. The weather conditions are insane, and the hours they're forced to work to make the necessary quotas (and still get back to port by deadline), push human endurance to their limit—and beyond—which is, of course, the fascination. It was while watching this show that I learned that vessels large and small sink quite regularly.

The USS Edmund Fitzgerald on the water.
Image taken from zotzelectrical.com.

The Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum has an exhibit focusing on the most significant recent shipwreck—and probably the most famous, thanks in part to the song by Gordon Lightfoot—to occur on the Great Lakes: the sinking of the U.S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald.

Local press coverage of the Fitzgerald loss.
Image taken from live.com.

The Fitzgerald was one of the largest freighters traversing the waters of the Great Lakes throughout the 1960's and 70's, and though it had been moving iron ore for a good 17 years, the ship was known for breaking speed records and carrying the heaviest loads (both qualities frequently attributed to the ships on Deadliest Catch, albeit on a smaller scale and with more edible cargo). CAPTAIN ERNEST M. SORLEY had thirty years of experience when he and his ship left Superior, Wisconsin and headed for Zug Island near Detroit, Michigan. En route, they were hit by a devastating gale with winds in excess of 55 miles an hour, as well as gusts of up to 75 mph. Because the locks at Sault Saint Marie were closed, and the waves in the bay to the south were known to be even stronger, the Captain took the ship on a path north, closer to Canada, to what he hoped would be safer waters. It was November 10, 1975.

Whitefish Bay on Lake Superior, looking north.
The land mass in the distance is Canada.

At 3:30 p.m. Captain Sorley reported to the Anderson that he had lost his radar and the freighter was listing slightly.

Radio communications between Sorley and the Anderson, which had been following not far behind the Fitzgerald, provide some clues to the fate of the Fitzgerald, as well as the recorded comments of Captain Bernie Cooper and First Mate Morgan Clark of the Anderson:

“He’s in too close to that six-fathom spot.”

Note: a fathom is six feet. This is in reference to the Carabou Shoals; a shoal is a sandbank.

“He sure does, he’s too close. He’s closer than I’d want this ship to be.”

At 5:30 p.m. Captain Sorley reports to another nearby ship, the Avafors, that he had a bad list, no radar, and seas washing over his decks. "One of the worst seas I've ever been in," Sorley said.

At 7:10 p.m. Sorley sent the message "We are holding our own," to the Anderson. This was the last message received.

At 8:32 p.m. the Anderson could no longer detect the Fitzgerald on the radar and Captain Cooper could no longer see her lights.

Image taken from pastforward.ca

Reading this text in the museum, I was reminded of Deadliest Catch and the tension of the boat captains when another ship is in danger or waiting for the U.S. Coast Guard to make it to a sick or injured man. It seems that being out to sea is similar to being in a war: the intensity, the proximity to peril, and the challenges of doing a job in those circumstances creates a brotherhood, a bond. There is a loneliness to life at sea, and yet they aren’t alone, because all those who work there share an understanding of the waters, her boats, and the kind of life it demands, and they all have each other’s backs. You certainly don’t want to be the one that goes down, but you also don’t want to be the one who, like Captain Cooper on that night 35 years ago, looks out where to the Fitzgerald had been holding her own, and, instead of her lights, sees only darkness.

Diver in a Newt Suit looks into the deck of the Fitzgerald wreck.
Image taken from epicfu.com

For many years these audio recordings were the only tangible evidence we had to try and piece together what forced the Fitzgerald's crew into Superior’s frigid waters. If she was indeed at the six-fathom spot, then she was in only 36 feet of water; the "depth" of the ship, from the bottom of the hull to the deck, was 39 feet. Hitting a shoal could have damaged the hull, allowing water into the hold. There are other hypotheses, however: one is that a rogue wave—or a series of waves known as a "Three Sisters"—may have been involved. A Three Sisters, where a big wave comes from behind followed quickly by one from each side, doesn't allow a boat time to right itself, driving it under. The Anderson reported being hit by two such waves. Another theory is that one of the hatches wasn't properly secured, and water from the waves coming over the deck gradually filled the hold, which already contained a heavy load of iron ore, resulting in a sudden catastrophic loss of buoyancy that plunged the ship to the lake bottom before the crew had a chance to react.

Newt Suit on display in the Edmund Fitzgerald exhibit at
the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum.

In 1995, a diving crew using the NEWT SUIT underwent a mission to retrieve the ship’s bell of the Edmund Fitzgerald (the Newt suit is an atmospheric pressurized diving suit, originally developed by Canadian engineer Phil Nuytten). In its place, they left a bell engraved with the names of the 29 men that were lost with the ship. A ceremony was held, ringing the bell for each of the 29 men, and then a 30th time for the 6,000 ships lost in the Great Lakes.

Original ship's bell rescued from the wreckage of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
On display at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum.

The wreck site of Fitzgerald will no longer be explored, and will remain a memorial to all those who have lost their lives in the Great Lakes., bell

Rain, Fog, Shipwrecks & Potential Moose

Image taken from wordcutter.com/MotorcycleRiderBasics

It took my typical three and a half hours from waking up, packing and load-in to get to the final step of entering the address into the nav and take-off. Last night the weather channel predicted rain, but the skies were clear when I loaded-in and so, I decided to wait to put on my new and yet untested rain gear (jacket and pants with suspenders from rideicon.com).

I stopped for fuel about ten miles out of town and managed to put in $7, the most to date! I didn’t get a chance to figure out if it was because the price of the Premium, which the Piaggio requires, was higher or if I was the most empty I had been to date, because then the rain hit. I figured I was pretty fortunate to have the covering of the the awning to suit up, since I wasn’t bright enough to have my gear on from the get-go.

When I was at the hotel I had checked my air pressure and was delighted that the new gauge I bought in Ann Arbor (at Motor City Harley-Davidson) actually works. The stem on the gauge is mid-sized and allows me to read the pressure on the back tire in 30 seconds instead of the 20-30 minutes (honestly) it would take me with a full-size gauge, trying to get it into the only micro-sweet spot where the pressure could be read. Now, I knew the back tire pressure was perfect, but both the front tires were under and I confess, I didn’t have it in me to go over to the air in the rain and put air in the tires. I knew I wasn’t going to be going very fast, and I know this is a big shame on me, but I’m telling you the truth, I just wasn’t up to it.

This morning was not only a test for the rain gear, but for this anti-fog potion called Cat Crap which I had gingerly applied and buffed as directed (I believed) on my clear goggles. Well, I don’t know if I didn’t use enough (they say use very little), or if I buffed too much, or if I was supposed to use it on the inside as well as the outside -- but unfortunately, the Cat Crap was... well, crap. I have another product en route to me which has some great reviews, so we will see how it does next time it rains.

Image taken from w3.clhosting.org

Just as I was pulling onto the road a couple other bikers pulled into the station to seek shelter under the awning. In general, my stress is less in these conditions, because I know that my Piaggio MP3 250 was designed to be ultra stable and this is the very kind of situation where Michi can show what she is made of, but riding in the rain can still feel arduous. I felt like I was in some Jedi Knight training on the slippery roads, which I couldn’t really see through foggy goggles and foggy air. Rain pelted my face and the cold temperatures chilled my bones, and my right hand began to feel numb. Every now and I again I wouldn’t be able to see anything at all, so I would pull over and wipe out my goggles with my sloppy soggy gloves and that would help for about 20 seconds. According to the drive report of the real-time tracker on my website, I chugged along at around 30 mph for most of the trip, finally reaching The Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum about three and a half hours later.

Light Tower at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, on a sunny day.
Built 1861. Image taken from shipwreckmuseum.com

Shortly after I arrived the power went out. I didn’t have much in the way of signal on my phone, so I asked Michael, my husband, to do an internet search for massage therapists in the area. Given that my body doesn’t have an abdominal muscular structure, I need to have occasional massages to unkink it from the inordinate taxation I put on other systems (like my back). Riding the scooter affects other things (like my wrists, ankles and neck), and riding in the rain compounds all of these issues. Getting chilled is my most dangerous fatigue issue, so just as soon as I was able to unload the scoot, I jumped into a hot shower and then under the blankets. If I get too chilled, or chilled for too long, I can end up bed-ridden for a couple of days. I was pretty sure that I managed to get warm fast enough, but many muscles were very cramped up from the long ride in the rain.

I was again incredibly lucky and found Mike Metzler of Northern Michigan Advanced Clinical Massage. He was kind enough to make an hour long drive each way to put my body back on track. He also left me with some water, an apple (which I really wanted! I haven’t had any real fruits or veggies since I left home) and a tennis ball, which he showed me how I could use the ball to fix my hip on my own when I’m on the road. He explained that at their clinic they place great importance on educating and empowering their clients to be able to take care of themselves. All way cool!

Amazing how tough a mere 35-mile ride can be when conditions are right (or wrong). Also, I suspect that the view along the coast from Sault Ste. Marie to Whitefish Point, where the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum is, would have been unbelievably spectacular had I been able to see it through the fog and the foggy goggles. I do have to push on, but I’m starting to accumulate a list of great places in Michigan I can look forward to revisiting in the future.

Image taken from statesymbols.org

When I checked into the Crew Quarters where I would be spending the night at the Shipwreck Museum, I was told to look out the back window during breakfast time, as there is often a visiting moose. It was presented very casually, like it might be just another interesting thing to see, but I’ve never seen a real moose in person, so if one appeared just outside the window, well, that would be a big deal to me. If only I could get up early enough for a moose-sighting.