Today, as I write, marks the 45th anniversary of the wrecking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a disaster that took 29 lives and one ship. But November also marks the anniversary of one of the biggest storms to hit the Great Lakes in recorded history – the great storm of 1913.
Late fall brings the shipping season to a close and commercial lakers are under pressure to maximize the season’s profits, but it is in November that the weather changes dramatically on our Lakes– air masses bearing moist warm air from the Gulf of Mexico flow north, where they meet with dry cold air that has travelled down from the northern part of Canada. These currents collide over the Great Lakes, and when the warmth of the waters rises up into the air, the winds begin to spin. This is known as a November gale, or a November witch, and can produce winds in excess of 145 km/h, waves over 11m, and significant levels of snowfall. A witch can last for days before the winds blow themselves out.
Before 1913 there was no consistent or effective storm warning system, and many ships would set out for one last run of the shipping season without adequate information. As a result of one particular storm, forecasting techniques and response time to alerts were improved and the architectural design of the ships themselves was enhanced.
The fierceness of this particular storm was, and remains, unrivalled, due to both the strength and the duration of the winds. At the most intense period of the tempest– that point where most gales reach their maximum strength and last for a period of about four hours– this witch screamed for 16 hours. When the storm had finally passed, 19 ships had been stranded, 19 ships had been lost, and more than 250 people had perished.
THE GREAT LAKES STORM OF 1913
When November skies turn bruised and grey
When the Great Lakes cease to sleep
Then the north winds bring their icy rain and churn the waters deep
Brave sailors know the hazards and keep a watchful eye
On the mounting waves,
the gale force winds,
the danger from the skies
November 7 that fateful year
the storm started just the same
By the time it left the damage done
had granted it a name
The “Big Blow”, the “White Hurricane”, the “Freshwater Fury” too
By whatever name they called that witch
It was the worst that any sailor knew
Signal flags were run up poles, storm warnings on the mast
Lakers tried for one more trip –these winds would surely pass–
But the gusts drove from the north and south
They twisted when they hit
With icy air, warm lakes below,
it was disaster’s perfect fit
The winds roared on and stronger still
the waves stacked up, they rose
then snow squalls came and blizzards too
–machinery just froze
No stars above to guide them, no buoys and no light
The ships were tossed, the brave men
fought on into the night
For sixteen hours the gale raged on–most times they last for four–
From Whitefish Point to Goderich, vessels wrecked at Huron’s door
Nineteen ships gone–some vanished–and more stranded in the foam
And sailors too, two hundred more, called to their eternal home
The shores were filled with wreckage,
it washed up for many days
Ships’ timbers, barrels, boots and men, as is the Great Lake’s way
Not all were found, nor all the ships, too heavy was the loss
The worst disaster of these lakes,
this storm levied such a cost
November storms come howling,
they visit every year
Some men are filled with courage, and some are filled with fear
The gales cannot be outrun,
they cannot always be forecast
But such devastating loss of life, may this storm never be surpassed
Lorraine Campbell, Tobermory
