"The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early"
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early"
Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Gordon Lightfoot
1975
Today is an anniversary day. Not a happy anniversary, but an anniversary day none the less. It was on this date in 1975, that the Edmund Fitzgerald sunk in Lake Superior, taking all twenty nine crewmen down with her. For those of us who live in states who surround this magnificent, yet deadly lake, most will never forget it.
Tonight, my wife and I sit by this lake, as it pounds the rocks below us. This lake, which the Indians have called Gitche Gumee, can be as calm as a mirror, or as angry as any ocean I have seen. On this date in 1975, this lake was as angry as one could imagine.
On November 9th, the "Fitz" loaded up with taconite pellets from Superior, WI. She had done this many, many times before. Her destination was Detroit, MI where many of the pellets would be smelted into the iron and steel needed to build the cars of the 1970's. Even though the weather could be very changeable in November, the "Fitz" could handle it as she was a huge and stout ship. After all, she had been through the "Gales of November" many times before. Everyone, especially her Captain, knew the shipping season was drawing to a close, so every November trip was a bonus.
On November 10th, the weather worsened and the "Fitz" knew she was in trouble. As we know from history, she never made it to her destination. Many sailors who have voyaged this magnificent lake for years will tell you the same thing - Lake Superior can behave like an "inland sea". The sounds and fury of storms on this Great Lake can equal any on most of the oceans in the world. This terrible storm on that fateful night in 1975, unleashed waves over 35 feet high. The "Fitz", which was loaded down with thousands of tons of ore, was no match for the lake.
Tonight, my wife and I sit by this lake, as it pounds the rocks below us. This lake, which the Indians have called Gitche Gumee, can be as calm as a mirror, or as angry as any ocean I have seen. On this date in 1975, this lake was as angry as one could imagine.
On November 9th, the "Fitz" loaded up with taconite pellets from Superior, WI. She had done this many, many times before. Her destination was Detroit, MI where many of the pellets would be smelted into the iron and steel needed to build the cars of the 1970's. Even though the weather could be very changeable in November, the "Fitz" could handle it as she was a huge and stout ship. After all, she had been through the "Gales of November" many times before. Everyone, especially her Captain, knew the shipping season was drawing to a close, so every November trip was a bonus.
On November 10th, the weather worsened and the "Fitz" knew she was in trouble. As we know from history, she never made it to her destination. Many sailors who have voyaged this magnificent lake for years will tell you the same thing - Lake Superior can behave like an "inland sea". The sounds and fury of storms on this Great Lake can equal any on most of the oceans in the world. This terrible storm on that fateful night in 1975, unleashed waves over 35 feet high. The "Fitz", which was loaded down with thousands of tons of ore, was no match for the lake.
Every year at this time we hear Gordon Lightfoot sing his famous tune about this iron ore ship which will now lives in infamy. We think of the twenty-nine souls who were just trying to squeeze in one or two more trips before the shore water turned to ice. The song which honors them will never be forgotten; their story will be forever told.
As the song goes:
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
Well, tonight is a gloomy, stormy night. As the waves continue to smash against the rocks, I remember the brave twenty-nine souls who left us that dark, stormy night in 1975. I also remember all those who the lake claimed before them. To all of them I say, "Rest easy shipmates, your journey is now over".
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