.JPG) |
| Old Woman Bay, Lake Superior |
This lake is made famous by the shipwreck, The Edmund Fitzgerald.
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
.JPG) |
| Gitchee Goomee |
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 crew was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'.
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
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 crew was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'.
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!
Lyrics, By Gordon Lightfoot.JPG) |
| Wawa |
We stopped for lunch at Chippewa River along the lake. (Enough restaurant food) to empty our cooler of food. It was full when we left Panorama. We are a hungry pair of ski bums. Our appetites haven't diminished with us sitting in the car for hours at a time.
With our cooler near empty, except for a couple of cold beers and scraps of ham and goat cheese brie; we are back on the road.
We fill up our gas tank as well as our bellies. GAS, the prices are ridiculous!!!! $1.48.9. We ask why. A not so swift gas attendant replied: " Gas is expensive around these parts" I could have replies with the same intelligent answer all by myself! (we are not impressed) but have no choice in the matter but to curtail to the greedy gas companies as they strip our wallets with uneccisary prices.
Yes, I just did another rant!
Back to driving......
We bypassed Sault Ste. Marie. I have two aunts here, but could not contact them for a visit. We will try next time.
As I knit during our drive, I keep an eye out for splendid views and small towns along the way. We arrive at Blind River, where we will spent the night. Do you remember the song Neil Young wrote while driving through Sudbury and his hears named "Mort" a.k.a.Mortimer Hearseburg broke down in Blind River:
 |
| Blind River |
Lyrics by Neil Young
Long may you run.
Long may you run.
Although these changes
Have come
With your chrome heart shiningLong may you run.
Long may you run.
Although these changes
Have come
In the sun
Long may you run. Long may you run...In Blind RiverWe've been through
Some things together
With trunks of memories
Still to come
We found things to do
In stormy weather
Long may you run.
Long may you run.
Long may you run.
Although these changes
Have come
With your chrome heart shining
In the sun
Long may you run.
Well, it was
Back in Blind River in 1962
When I last saw you alive
But we missed that shift
On the long decline
Long may you run.
Long may you run.
Long may you run.
Although these changes
Have come
With your chrome heart shining
In the sun
Long may you run.
Maybe The Beach Boys
Have got you now
With those waves
Singing "Caroline No"
Rollin' down
That empty ocean road
Gettin' to the surf on time.
We found a cute motel on the waters of Lake Huron, " Old Mill Motel" Here we will enjoy a hot bowl of split pea soup and a glass of wine. No restaurant food Please!!!
We are one day away from home. Tomorrow we will be sleeping in our own bed!!!!
I wonder how much dust has found its way in and around literally...everything?
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