The Ominous Light

As it eerily came into view through the fog, the Grand Island East Channel Lighthouse mesmerized this photographer
15
The Grand Island East Channel Lighthouse, built in 1868, was deactivated in 1913. The iconic Upper Peninsula sentinel is a favorite sight, even in fog. Photo By Nick Irwin.

The fog thickened and the view became more like a gray blanket as the captain navigated the ship farther from the dock in Munising and into Lake Superior’s South Bay. Soon, the mist was so dense you could almost taste it, clinging like a cool, clammy hug from the ghosts of Lake Superior — a reminder of the many ships that have gone down in this very area. Gitche Gumee (Lake Superior) is stunning, but it can be unforgiving to those who dare to challenge it. And on this sunset cruise, we were sailing along what’s known as Shipwreck Coast.

The conditions on Lake Superior made this an unsettling yet exciting voyage, and I hoped to see the Grand Island East Channel Lighthouse for the first time. Although I felt safe, imagination can run wild when one realizes that history has a way of repeating itself.

After all, just outside this lighthouse the 150-foot schooner Bermuda lies in 12 to 30 feet of water. She wrecked in 1870, only two years after the light was first turned on. In 1903, the 252-foot wooden freighter Manhattan struck a reef and burned, and the crew sought refuge at this lighthouse. There are 32 known shipwrecks in the area, and my goal was not to be part of the next one.

Time passed and my mind drifted into a kind of hypnosis, lulled by the noise of the boat’s deep, rumbling engine mixed with the treble of the stream-like wake as we churned forward. Suddenly there was a soft tug as the throttle stopped, and my senses jolted awake. As the bow swung left, I grabbed my camera on my right. I was using a compact Sony A6000 with a 30mm Sigma prime lens. Prime lenses have no zoom, so I hoped the focal length was the right choice and I made sure the shutter speed was fast, because I was on a moving boat.

Then, out of the blanket of fog, the lighthouse slowly appeared, revealed in the most ominous yet beautiful way. Where the setting sun touched the fog, the mist shimmered with a glorious golden glow. In that moment, I was reminded that even when things don’t look promising, it’s still worth going, anyway.

P.S. The Grand Island East Channel Lighthouse is a wooden structure that’s 45.9 feet tall. It was built in 1868 on the southeast shore of Grand Island, and guided vessels from Lake Superior through the channel into Munising Harbor. Deactivated in 1913, today it’s privately owned and inaccessible by land, but it’s a picturesque subject for those on boat tours such as Pictured Rocks cruises or shipwreck tours.

Nick Irwin, Destination Marketing photographer, showcases and sells his photography at nickirwinimages.com. You can also follow him on Facebook at Nick Irwin Images and on Instagram: @irwin.nick.