Hurtling almost straight south from Lake Superior Provincial Park, the road gets easier with every passing mile as you leave the
high rugged wilderness behind. Those complex comforts of civilization that you couldn't
carry with you on the long trek up over the big lake are more readily available.
Then you reach the Soo. For me that's like hitting a rock
wall at full speed.
All the worse, because I know it's coming.
A drop of water fed Lake Superior by the Pigeon River near
Grand Portage circa 1831 is only now being caught up in the rapids at
Sault Ste. Marie.
There was no Minnesota, then. No Canada either,
least not as we know it today.
But there was a City of Sault Ste. Marie.
Established in 1668, "Sault" is a French-Indian
term for the impassable place where Lake Superior sends its water en masse to
Lake Huron, via the Saint Mary's River.
Or maybe Sault originally meant 'jump.' Depends on who you
ask.
Whichever, it's a considerable barrier to travel and trade because
at the Soo the greatest of Great Lakes sits twenty-one feet higher than
little cousin Huron, some miles downriver.
Before leaving Canada, there're two more stops to consider. Tucked
away alongside that -
Is this:
Yeah, it's just an obscure totem nestled on lawn along
a quiet street. Except the word restoration is a critical distinction.
The NW Company Headquarters at Grand Portage in Minnesota
and the Fort William that later became 'Old' in Thunder Bay are strictly recreations.
Historical amusement parks.
Think pirates of the Caribbean. Only with fur trappers,
missionaries and mostly noble savage natives.
Not so this old Bateau, which apparently is where it was and
(again, apparently) still contains authentic elements of the original lock
itself.
I mean, 1798. How cool is that?
Just before crossing the border, by all means visit the
Whitefish Island Indian Reserve @ St. Mary's Falls, if only to remind yourself of the wild places
you've just traversed.
Whitefish Island is special, perhaps unique. A spot rich in cultural
history, set amidst a resurgent natural landscape. Protected and nurtured since
1997, when the island was returned to the Batchewana First Nation People.
That's as close as you'll ever get to the 'real' Sault - inclusive historical narrative and the natural world that enabled it, combined.
After that it's off the North Shore and fast out of Canada. Happily,
we needn't portage:
And a glimpse of
Lake Huron too.
You can search for clear-eyed cultural context and bits of historic authenticity on the U.S. side of the Soo, but you'll not find much of that there.
For sure, they've a 'Tower of History.' That opened
in 1968 as the Shrine of the Missionaries.
Subsequently, the Tower features more history than just that.
But it's still a 20th Century edifice, populated with words and a handful of artifacts
that more easily celebrate rather than convey the full story of time, place and the diversity of peoples who've left lasting marks on the region.
As for authentic, this is called "The Captain's
House." At the time it seemed unoccupied if not utterly abandoned. The sign
on the door warns against trespass.
A little farther along:
Everything's downriver from that, all the way to Lake Huron.
One year, Heather and I rode Huron's northern shore. Admittedly that's far afield of where we're at, and a whole 'nother story to boot.
Yet on the Bruce Peninsula where the lake at one
side is shallow Georgian Bay and on the other the Niagara Escarpment drops straight off to cold nowhere, while working the edge
light I captured this:
What a right proper place for a couple of chairs, eh?
Anyway, I digress. Back to the Upper Peninsula, at the Soo…
Sault Ste. Marie MI's big attraction is the locks and the boats that pass through them. This remarkable feat of engineering
allows great lakes freighters to squeeze along what had been an all but impassible
barrier since forever.
The commercial locks at the Soo used to be on the Canadian
side. They relocated to the U.S., because ours are bigger. If just barely big enough,
these days.
This is also the way many invasive species slipped into
Superior, often from waters on the other side of the world. Just sayin'.
Near the famous locks, Sault U.S.A. sports a carnival
atmosphere. Folk come from all over to see the freighters up close. Schedules
are posted. People keep track. A variety of goods and services are readily available while waiting.
Sometimes the viewing platform gets crowded. Happily, it
wasn't the evening I visited.
Of course, once upon a time there were only native peoples
at either side of the Sault. They fished and hunted, laughed and cried, had sex, made babies, got
sick/injured/old and died.
Naturally, there's an Anishinabek burial ground located there.
A portion of that traditional gravesite is now more or less
returned to Native auspices. There's a stone monument. No mature trees.
No verdant paths. No wetlands. An industrial Sault looms in the background.
At least they finally got a friggin' fence.
On the brighter side, Lake Superior State has a
fish hatchery. I never pass on a fish hatchery. All the little
fishes and the people who look after them are awesome.
Plus, they've got an online fish cam.
Heading west from the Soo along Superior's southern shore,
you'll come to Bay Mills Indian land. They call it The Land of
the Pike, though of course pike live in water.
Past that and near where wildness begins again is a place named
Iroquois Point. There's a lighthouse there. People like
lighthouses, sort of how they like freighters. This one is well maintained.
On the lake near the light is a stone beach. To your right
is the great gathering place of Superior waters, each drop having taken its sweet
time migrating out of the freshwater sea.
Unless I miss my guess, to the left is the true north shore as
embodied by mighty Pukaskwa and the boreal forest.
You can't see that, but it's there.
Fed up with the Iroquois riding west on the coattails of the French, on this beach in 1662 the local Anishinaabe decided to send the encroaching world a message.
Early one morning, they fell upon the enemy's encampment.
Only two Iroquois were spared. Those were provided a canoe so
to carry the Ojibwa message eastward, beyond the Sault to Lake Huron and all
the way to the St. Lawrence River, as needed.
They say Iroquois bones and skulls littered the beach more than a century later. That's why even in the midst of Ojibwa land, this place is still called Iroquois Point.
Monument enough, I'd think.
Coda
Now we've returned to my home turf, that part of the Superior
Basin I know best.
Some miles still farther west, you'll come to the
Tahquamenon River of white folk Hiawatha fame, where Longfellow's powerfully
poetic fake news still echoes in the touristy woods.
People like to say "hope dies last."
Maybe so, but
I prefer to believe truth will outlive it.
*
The Future is out there. Way out there. Beyond the
curvature of Earth.
And yet somehow, still within our collective grasp.
