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.