The Wild Northeast Corner of Lake Superior

Parks we explored.

Words and even pictures are inadequate to describe the beauty of the northeast shores of Lake Superior.  We cruised and hiked in the four parks circled on the map.  Lake Superior Provincial Park was covered in my last blog.

Pukaskwa National Park is wild and remote and covers an area of roughly 700 square miles.  The highlight here is cruising 2.5 miles up the White River to the rapids and hiking and crossing the suspension bridge over the gorge.

Dick on the suspension bridge, 75 feet above the White River gorge

Looking upriver from the suspension bridge

Looking downriver from the bridge

Our boats, Betty Sue and Salty Paws, anchored just before the base of the White River rapids.

The Pukaskwa River forms the southeastern border of the National Park.  The river was a little tricky to enter but opens up to a nice anchorage.  We then dinghied up to the beginning of the rapids and hiked further up the river to a beautiful spot.

Ron, Dick and I on the trail.

A trail follows the coastline for much of the National Park.  From five different anchorages, we hiked roughly 10 miles on the trail.  A typical scene is below.

One of our stops in the National Park was Otter Island, location of one of the key lighthouses in this section of the Lake.  The facility was manned until 1988 and was fairly extensive with a dock, power station, helicopter pad and more.  We were surprised to find the old lightkeepers' quarters unlocked.  Inside was a table covered with old logbooks, newspapers and even a guest book for cruisers to sign.

Below is a picture of the last November entries in 1985.  On November 21st it was -11 degrees Celius (12 degrees F).  There was snow on the 22nd.  The last entry on the 23rd reads "Lift Off" indicating that they left by helicopter.  This had to be a lonely assignment even with an assistant lightkeeper.

Blueberries are found on nearly every
open ledge throughout the region.

Fire on Pic Island

The picture at the beginning of the blog shows our two boats anchored in Neys Provincial Park off Alouez Island with Pic Island in the background.  The left face of the first peak on Pic Island burned in a 2023 fire, likely caused by lightning.  Ron and I bushwhacked to the top through burnt trees, blooming wildflowers and the largest lowbush blueberries we had ever seen.

We also anchored in and cruised through the Slate Islands but were disappointed not to see any of the declining caribou herd that is still on the island.  Even in the National Park, where we saw scat and footprint evidence of beaver, moose, black bear and otter, our wildlife viewing was limited to a few loons, ducks and fish.

100-yr remnants of the Abitibi Lumber
Camp, now in the National Park.

The Slate Islands and much of what is now the national park were heavily logged in the late 1800s and the first half of the 20th century.  In time, lumbering operations migrated further west in search of more and larger trees.

A movement began to protect forests and natural habitat from development on Lake Superior’s shores and islands.  That effort led to the creation of Lake Superior Provincial Park (our first week of cruising on the Lake), the more remote Pukaskwa National Park (roughly 60 quare miles) and island provincial parks, Neys and Slate Islands.  Amazingly, the trees have grown back, and there is little evidence of any of the prior logging activity.

One thing that all these parks have in common is a lack of visitors.  In more than the 150 miles of combined shoreline and during our almost daily hikes we have seen one wilderness kayak party of 5, two campers and two backpackers. In theory the completion of the TransCanada Highway in 1960 opened these parks for exploration, but they are really only accessible to those with time, means and interest in wilderness experiences.

Our travel route is always available at 
https://share.garmin.com/CruisingonSaltyPaws

Now we are in Rossport beginning to reacclimate to civilization.  The town has a nice wharf and a population that just went from 85 to 86 with the birth of a new baby.  Cathy came up and gave us the keys to her car so we could eat at a restaurant only 15 miles down the road!

NOTE TO FUTURE CRUISERS

For the few of you that may be interested in doing at least some of our travels, I want to caution about inaccuracies that are in gold standard cruising guide, Bonnie Dahl's Superior Way.  The book was updated in 2025, but many of its entries are outdated and likely just carried over from its prior update, way back in 2008.  The book is still a great resource, but be cautious.  Here are three examples -

• there are no hiking trails, caribou pens or caribou on Pic Island;
• the lumbering camp display at the old Abitibi Lumber Camp was taken down years ago.
• there is no trail on one side of the White River gorge

The Ojibwe, Giants and Lake Superior’s Eastern Shore

Looking toward Bruele Harbor, one of the prettiest anchorages in the Provincial Park

Four of the boats in Spanish were
Rosboroughs.

Salty Paws finally hit the water in Spanish, Ontario, after a two-week delay caused by boat and tailer problems.  I breathed a huge sign of relief.  All of that was now behind us.  Life on the water is so much simpler - and so firmly rooted in the present.  I like this.

Ron on Anchor Island, where we anchored
on our 2-day trip to Sault Ste. Marie.

Dick and I were joined by Ron aboard his boat, Betty Sue, and the three of us departed the following morning, heading west toward Sault Ste. Marie and the entrance to Lake Superior.

The name Sault Ste. Marie is shared by the Canadian and the Americian cities that straddle the junction of Lake Superior and the St. Marys River.  Boath are commonly known as "the Soo," a major transit point for frieght moving between Lake Superior and ports to the south. 

The river drops approximately 21 feet through the St. Marys Rapids. “Sault” is an old French word for rapids. Before locks were constructed, freight had to be portaged around them. The first American lock opened in 1855. Most of the early freight traffic was American, but Canadian nationalism—fueled in part by legitimate concerns about relying on an American-controlled passage—eventually led to the opening of the Canadian lock in 1895.

In the Canadian lock.  My rearview
camera picks up Betty Sue and the larger
yacht behind Salty Paws.

Both the American and Canadian lock systems have been expanded and altered over the years. Today, the Canadian lock primarily serves recreational boats and smaller tour vessels.

Salty Paws and Betty Sue arrived about 20 minutes before the lock’s 9:00 a.m. opening. We locked through with two large yachts and were soon on our own, following an 80-mile course north through very thick fog.

We did have several things in our favor. The lake was calm, and both boats had radar, current electronic charts and other navigational aids. We were also traveling through open water with very little boat traffic. Our destination was Sinclair Cove, on the traditional territory of the Ojibwe and near the southern end of Lake Superior Provincial Park.

Dick and Ron and our boats in Sinclair Cove.

The ancestors of the Ojibwe lived around Lake Superior for thousands of years. When French explorers and traders reached the lake in the early 1600s, the Ojibwe became important intermediaries in the fur trade, connecting French traders with Indigenous peoples farther inland. Over time, the Ojibwe expanded throughout the Lake Superior region. Traditionally, families spent winters in the forests hunting caribou and other game and summers near river mouths, where fish and berries were plentiful. Spiritual beliefs were deeply connected to the landscape. Pictographs were painted on cliff walls, while important teachings and ceremonial knowledge were recorded on birchbark scrolls.

We arrived at Sinclair Cove by midafternoon. In fact, it felt as though it should have been early afternoon, but even after traveling nearly 1,000 miles west from our Maine home, we were still in the Eastern Time Zone. Most of Ontario observes Eastern Time, despite the province being roughly one and a half times the size of Texas.

Serpent pictograph

The fog lifted slightly as we lowered the dinghies from the roofs of our boats and went ashore. Soon we were standing on a cliff overlooking Salty Paws and Betty Sue at anchor.  From there, we set out in search of the nearby Ojibwe pictographs at Agawa Rock. We eventually viewed them from both land and water. 

Below is the sign showing the location of all the pictographs on the rock face.

Sign showing the location of the pictographs on the Agawa Cliffs

Approaching the Agawa Cliffs by water.  If one looks very closely, all the pictographs are visible.

Top of the Columbus' boiler.

The fog returned in full force the following morning so once again our radar was turned on. Late in the morning, we briefly anchored in Gargantua Bay and took the dinghies over the wreck of the Columbus.  In 1910 ship was docked in the Bay, and caught fire from the night watches cigarette.  

The propeller of the Columbus.

We then continued to our planned destination, Pantagruel Bay, near the southern end of Cape Gargantua.

My boatmate, Dick, is a little rusty, but he was educated as a French scholar. He told me about the French Renaissance writer François Rabelais, whose satirical stories followed the adventures of the giants Gargantua and his son, Pantagruel.

Rabelais repeatedly ran afoul of religious and political authorities, and some of his works were condemned. Clearly, however, whoever named these landmarks held his writing—or at least his giants—in high regard.

Exploring the large cave we found.

From Pantagruel Bay, we first dinghied to Devil’s Warehouse Island, which is associated with Ojibwe spiritual traditions and stories about the cultural hero Nanabozho. We were pleased to locate the cave mentioned in my cruising guide, although we later learned that there are several caves on the island.   According to local accounts, birchbark scrolls may once have been stored there. Scrolls were reportedly discovered on the island during the 1970s, although their subsequent fate is unclear. 

We then motored to a beautiful cove in Warp Bay, beached the dinghies and hiked about four miles round trip to Indian Harbour, on the north side of the cape. Upon our return, I took a quick dip in water that had been slightly warmed by the sun beneath a now-clear sky. Much of Lake Superior remains in the 50s even during summer. I tried to shame Dick and Ron—who lives in South Carolina—into joining me, but without success. To his credit, Dick did go swimming from the boat later. 

The Devil's Chair

The next day, we slowly motored through Tugboat Channel, surrounded by twisted volcanic rock, and passed the formation known as the Devil’s Chair. Both Devil’s Warehouse Island and the Devil’s Chair received their English names from Christian missionaries. The names were intended to cast Indigenous spiritual traditions in a sinister light. In Ojibwe tradition, the places are associated with Nanabozho, who was said to be able to step from the island to the chair in a single stride and to rest upon the great stone seat.

We continued to beautiful but exposed Old Woman Bay, where we could see trucks passing on the Trans-Canada Highway. Brulé Harbour, our destination for the night, was just around the corner. 

Approaching Old Woman's Bay

Once anchored, we dinghied to a nearby cobble beach to see our first Pukaskwa pits. The Pukaskwa pits are circular or oval depressions built into raised cobble beaches along the Lake Superior shoreline. Some may predate the Ojibwe, although their age and purpose remain uncertain.

We found 10 or so pits.  This one was the largest.

The larger pits may once have supported shelters, while smaller ones might have been used for fires or for smoking fish. Other theories suggest ceremonial or spiritual purposes. After walking across the loose and unsteady cobble, I found it difficult to imagine the pits serving an everyday practical purpose. Perhaps they did have a spiritual significance. Of course, after hundreds—or perhaps thousands—of years, erosion, frost and the movement of the stones have likely flattened or erased much of whatever structures once stood there.

View from my kayak  Our anchored baots are at the far end.

Later we half-succeeded in bushwhacking around a nearby island, and I enjoyed a solo kayak paddle along each shore of the two bays that make up Bruele Harbor.  I saw a loon, three unidentified ducks and a beaver dam, but never saw any moose that are common here. 

After a very peaceful night, I made delicious blueberry pancakes for everyone (the blueberries were mostly picked by Ron on a nearby island).  We relaxed that morning to await our scheduled arrival to Buck's Marina on the Michipicoten River.  This marina is the only place for over 120 miles in either direction where one can arrange in advance for gas delivers.  Arrivals are scheduled because a guide boat must guide visiting boats up the very shallow river.  

Dave, the owner's son, guided us up river.

We almost didn't make our appointment as Ron's anchor got stuck under a deadhead, which is a sunken tree.  Fortunately, after slowly dragging the tree toward shore, the anchor was freed just as Ron came on the radio to report he was about to dive his anchor.

Our gas tank is now full, and tomorrow we will venture into Pukaskwa National Park.

Trailering: The Most Dangerous Part of Boating

 

We discovered that the passenger-side front trailer wheel was sitting at an alarming angle.

Salty Paws, a semi-displacement Rosborough RF-246, once reached 30 knots while riding the tide up New York City’s East River, but we almost always travel at less than half that speed. Contrast that with 60 or 65 mph while trailering on the highway, and there is little argument that trailering is the riskiest thing we do.  In addition to the speed difference, hard land is a lot less forgiving than water, although I will admit to hitting at least three submerged rocks in my cruising lifetime.  One other big difference is an additional complex piece of equipment, the trailer, that needs its own maintenance and inspection, before and during any trip. 

My latest inspection was at a filling station in Sherbrooke, Quebec, roughly 250 miles into our 800-mile trailering trip from Maine to Spanish, Ontario.  I had just begun when I stared at the front passenger-side tire on my tandem trailer carrying Salty Paws.  The wheel was sitting at an angle and was covered with grease. Smoke was rising from the hub, and the bearings connecting the hub to the spindle were essentially gone..

I hurried back to my tire system monitor.  All four trailer tires were at an appropriate 105 PSI, three at a temperature of 90 or so, and the bad tire was at 125 degrees, but still far less than the heat coming off the axle.  My tire monitoring system hadn't gone off because the temperature sensor is on the tire stem, a foot or so away from the bearings and axle/spindle assembly.  I hadn’t thought about this before.  I also had put too much reliance on the alarms and had not established a routine of frequently checking the monitor while underway.

Ready for the new spindle assembly,
if we can find it!.

We gingerly drove the boat to the back of the gas station and awaited the arrival of AZP Road Service.  They were highly recommended and run a fleet of vans that service large trucks and trailers.  After a 5-hour wait, and then watching the technician on his back for most of two hours, the whole wheel assembly was disassembled, leaving just the spindle sleave.

If we had caught the problem right away, the bearings could have been replaced, and we would be right back on the road..   Our continued travel along with the heat generated, however, had damaged the parts enough that everything would have to be replaced.  As to why this happened, I may never know although bearing failures can be the result of loss of lubrication.  

While we waited to determine whether the trailer could be repaired, I found myself thinking about the lessons accumulated over more than 15,000 miles of trailering.  There has been an evolving list of learning experiences.  The lug nuts on my first flat tire were so tight that they could be removed only with the help of a kind stranger carrying an impact wrench. I soon bought my own and upgraded the trailer tires from Load Range D to Load Range E.

I never heard or felt this rear tire blow.

Thirty miles from home on my first trailering trip from Maine to Florida, I was oblivious to my second flat tire until a motorist passed me with a couple of honks and pointing to the trailer.  I pulled over and found one of the rear trailer tires shredded.  I changed the tire and returned home to bang out the fender before restarting the trip south..

I had also begun carrying an infrared thermometer and a tire-pressure gauge., but I made a mental note to purchase a tire monitoring system for both pressure and temperature. 

The impact of my hitting the curb.  The remnants of the earlier
blowout are still visible on the boat.

My annual trailer maintenance has always included inspecting and repacking the bearings, replacing them when necessary, and testing the lights and electric-over-hydraulic brakes.  My next mishap added an annual check and tightening of all the trailer bolts.  On this same trip to Florida, I was slowly navigating through a tight gas station in Delaware when a tire hit the curb, pushing the whole tire and axle assembly backwards and also buckling the fender assembly.

This was followed by a trip to hell when I had three flat tires on our second Maine to Florida trip.  Nails were found in one of the tires, but I am clueless on the other two.  They were at the proper pressure.  With this experience, however, I decided I wanted to further upgrade my tires to the highest possible.  I learned that my 16” E tires weigh 32 lbs.  An F tire has another ply and weighs 38 lbs. and a G Load Range tire weigh a whopping 60 lbs.

Trailer tire worn down to the steel belt, but still holding pressure.

I wasn't about to handle a 60 lb G tire so I purchased the F tires.  As of now, I have not had an F tire flat.  In fact, the tire impacted by my bearing failure still maintained its pressure even after losing tread down to the steel ply.  What I do need to purchase is a monitoring system that tracks temperature of the bearing.

Axle label.  I later learned that the part
number is unique to SeaLion, which
explains why no distributor or online
trailer part outfits could find it.

Those earlier mishaps had changed how I maintained and equipped the trailer, but none had prepared me for a bearing failure. Now we needed to find a replacement spindle assembly.

We got a picture of the axle/spindle label, and began to source suppliers, but first AZP Road Service wanted us to move the boat and trailer to their garage, 10 miles away, where they could either install a new assembly or arrange to have something fabricated.  Dick and I decided to try to limp over to their garage with our flashers on. 

My Garmin InReach only tracks every
10 minutes,  but our backtracking is clear.

I subscribe to Hammer, one of the best travel apps for trucks.  It helps  ensure that we are on roads with sufficient clearances and stay off those residential shortcuts that Google or Apple may direct you.  What it doesn't do is provide real-time monitoring of road construction and travel conditions.  After running into three dead ends due to road construction, we switched to Google and finally arrived, having covered 20 miles for the 10-mile trip.

AZP Road Service  checked all its suppliers and came up empty.  I then contacted Dexter, the axle manufacturer.   They don’t sell retail, but gave me a list of a number of distributors including three in the Sherbrooke area.  We called, and I also left messages with where I bought the trailer and SeaLion, the trailer manufacturer. 

 Without any resolution, Dick and I decided to head back to Maine.  The next day I was on the phone for the better part of the day.  Finally, SeaLion called me back and put me in touch with one of their Connecticut distributors.  He was able to locate the spindle assembly we needed, and four days later it arrived at my home!  

Tomorrow Dick and I head back to Canada!

Here We Come, Lake Superior!

Dick and I preparing Salty Paws for our Lake Superior adventure.

Salty Paws in Newfoundland

I am fortunate that Molly allows me to continue having one or two cruising adventures each year with other willing adventurers.  I am not sure where I got this urge, but I do recall that the quote given me in my High School Yearbook was "When I rest, I rust."

I found a great boat mate in Dick Klain.  We last cruised together in 2023 when Molly departed Salty Paws in Quebec City, and Dick came aboard.   We then spent two months cruising from Quebec City to Maine, including a side trip to the Bras d'Or Lakes, Cape Breton and southwestern Newfoundland.

The OSV Bold

Our brief time in Newfoundland was a trip of a lifetime, but I was also ready for more.  Near the end of the trip, I suggested that we trailer Salty Paws to Alaska and cruise waters surrounded by glaciers and mountains. “Not interested,” Dick said. “I spent some years up there crewing on the OSV (Ocean Survey Vessel) Bold, and I don't need to go back."

Dick then offered, "I would do Lake Superior!"

Molly at Pictured Rock in 2005

I had never given much thought to Lake Superior. My only direct experience was in 2005, when our family returned from a five-week trip out West through Michigan's Upper Peninsula and stopped at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.

A younger Dick on the OSV Bold

Now I am 76 years old and halfway through my 77th year on earth. Dick is 2 1/2 years older.  Yet, we will trailer Salty Paws from Maine to Spanish, Ontario, launch her and spend close to two months circumnavigating Lake Superior.  I am pleased that we will be joined by Ron Sanga on Betty Sue.  I need to ask Ron how old he is, but he may be the youngster of the group.

This raises a perfectly reasonable question - Why?

The Great Lakes with Lake Superior the northernmost.

Well, I started researching Lake Superior, and many might have quickly ended the thought right there.  Having cruised on three of the Great Lakes, I already know about the old adage that goes something like "The Great Lakes will help prepare you for cruising the world's oceans, but the oceans will not help prepare you for the Great Lakes." 

 Each lake is its own giant bathtub, where waves frequently come from multiple directions.  Waves can also be more challenging than those in the ocean because the waves waves tend to be sharper in shape and closer together.

 

Image of the Edmund Fitzgerald, split in two on the lake bottom.
While cruising, Dick and I will listen to the best seller -
 The Gales of November - The Untold Story of the
Edmund Fitzgerald by John Bacon.

 Estimates vary widely, but the number of shipwrecks lining the bottom of the Great Lakes is likely much greater than 10,000.  It's also the grave of over 30,000 sailors.  Thanks to Gordon Lightfoot, the 1975 sinking of the Edmund Firtzgerald on Lake Superior is the most well-known.

Lake Superior is the most challenging of all, and it is the largest freshwater lake in the entire world.  The lake is deep, cold, susceptible to fog and erratic weather. 

The lake has a reputation, and anyone operating a small boat on it would be foolish not to respect it. The Edmund Fitzgerald was 729 feet long. Salty Paws might be 29 feet from the tip of its motor to the anchor on the bow.  I am not sure that comparison is particularly reassuring, although the Fitzgerald may have buckled when its bow and stern were lifted by separate waves, leaving the middle of the ship unsupported. We don't need to worry about that on Salty Paws. 

My interest was growing!  I purchased a copy of Bonnie Dahl's Superior Way.  This may be the best cruising guide I have ever used, and one interesting place led to another and another.  There were Ojibwe pictographs painted on cliffs above the lake, mysterious Pukaskwa pits on its rocky beaches, and evidence that Indigenous people mined native copper thousands of years before Europeans arrived. There are abandoned lumber settlements, old mines, remote lighthouses, shipwrecks and enormous stretches of wild shoreline with cliffs and waterfalls best seen from the water.

Soon I had plotted a route of nearly 1,700 miles, with more anchorages and places to explore than Dick and I could possibly visit in two months.  

Lake Superior - Stars are marinas, Eyeglasses are can't miss sights, and Anchors are possible anchorages.

Those who know me probably will not be surprised by what happened next. I co-moderate two online groups for Rosborough owners and like bringing Rosborough boat owners together. 

This is one of my favorite pictures - the 2022 Rosborough Maine Cruising Rendezvous.

The Apostle Islands look very
interesting!

Once I knew Dick and I would be cruising through the Apostle Islands, I connected with Erik Scott, a Rosborough owner in Bayfield, Wisconsin. One thing led to another, and we organizedoo the Rosborough Apostle Islands Rendezvous, August 24–28. 11 Rosboroughs are signed up, and Molly and Dick's wife, Ellen, will fly to Bayfield and join us for four days.

Thank you, Dick, for suggesting Lake Superior.