|THE EDMOND FITZGERALD|
|A "THOUSAND FOOTER"|
Friday, 9:45 AM. 41 degrees F at the ferry dock, 35 on the back porch. Wind NE, blowing up a gale. Skies are rainy, misty and foggy, with a very low overcast alnd 93% humidity. The barometer is still falling, now at 29.74". The forecast is for the rain to turn to snow, with the prospect of mixed weather with cold and more snow next week. It became November in a hurry.
It is hard for me to believe that November Tenth was the forty-first anniversary of the sinking of the 750 foot laker, the Edmund Fitzgerald. It went down carrying twenty-six thousand tons of iron ore at the east end of Lake Superior in a monumental gale with 90 mile per hour winds and 25 foot waves. It lies broken apart 525 feet beneath the surface of Lake Superior, a watery grave for 29 brave souls. Exactly what happened is and shall remain a mystery, but all who live on the big lake know of its rapidly changing moods and violent storms. Gitche Gume, the Big Sea Shining Water, is as dangerous as it is beautiful.
The gales of November are blowing strong today, as the huge lake ships still ply the tempestuous waters of Lake Superior. If one listens closely to the Nor'easter as it roars outside the window a distant ship's bell may be heard, clanging faintly through the roaring of the wind. Perhaps it is the Edmond Fitzgerald, summoning "all hands on deck."