I have just finished the rough version of my new book. It is off to the publisher awaiting publication. Whew! It always feels like a long haul when you finish a book. Though I feel all of my books are worth a read, this one is special. If you are a fan of this website, then this book is for you.
In this book the romance is gone. It tries to show many of the true hardships and facets of trying to settle a frontier that was sandwiched between three Great Lakes. There are stories from across the Peninsula from first hand accounts to revelations from the news of the time. As always there are heroes and villains. There are feats of great good and dirty deeds of the worst kind. There are adventures of the most extraordinary men as they struggle for the riches of the U.P. well before gold was discovered in California. There are accomplishments of those that braved the wrath of the Great Lakes in leaking ships and frozen waters. The intensity of storms killed thousands on land and lakes. Over 200 died in one season just between Marquette and Whitefish Point. Often the Edmund Fitzgerald is memorialized, but few remember the hundreds of wrecks before it. You will find some here.
These pages are populated by Native Americans, miners, loggers and mariners that consisted of Germans, Italians, Finns, Swedes, French and English. People came from everywhere looking for their personal promised land. Some to raise families, some to avoid the law or to start a new life. Some to get rich no matter what it took. The Upper Peninsula frontier called to all.
This book is the first installment in what will be a larger work that chronicles the rare and forgotten stories that make the history of the U.P. what it is. Through research and investigation I hope to bring back many of the tales that time and historians forgot.
The U.P. of today was created by individuals that rose up to meet challenges that broke lesser folks. Their mental and physical stamina was that of finely honed athletes accomplishing feats unheard of in the modern world. They hacked homes out of a dense wilderness and raised families with danger at every turn. Many of these feats have gone unsung throughout history and through this book many come to light.
It is my hope that the stories contained within this book not only celebrates the struggles of the individuals that first braved this formidable and raw land , but honestly portrays their efforts to overcome the incredible obstacles that stood in the way of the beloved peninsula we now know. It was once a very different place.
The old buildings at the Whitefish Point Harbor are remains of an era gone by and a village that once was.
Whitefish Point in Chippewa County, Michigan, is known for a lot of things, not the least of which is the shipwrecks like the Edmund Fitzgerald that made the point famous. The lighthouse, which was one of the first on Lake Superior, houses the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum (For more on that, check out my book Points North). Whitefish Point also is the eastern boundary of the legendary Shipwreck Coast. All else seems to have gotten lost.
This is one of the old homesteads from Whitefish Point. One of the few remaining buildings.
Whitefish Point is actually one of the very early fishing villages on Lake Superior. As early as 1840, a small trading post and fish packing operation was set up by Peter Barbeau of Sault Ste. Marie. Barbeau had a general store where he would outfit hardy souls to establish posts along the shoreline on Lake Superior. They traded for furs and barrels of salted whitefish. Barbeau would then ship them out to places like Chicago and the east coast. Barbeau’s trading posts went as far as Minnesota. Whitefish Point was one he paid close attention to.
This old fishing boat sits next to the harbor another relic of the point’s past.
When the lighthouse was established in 1849, fishing here was going hard and heavy. Tons of barrel packed salted fish were being sent to the Sault every year from Whitefish Point. It was a very profitable enterprise. Occassionally the fish wouldn’t be packed right and the fish would spoil leaving Barbeau to smooth out relations and make amends.
This old band saw blade and belt are in the woods near Whitefish Point.
Though many have Whitefish Point’s beginnings at 1879, documents at the Sault plainly show that there was lots of activity here long before 1879, including some logging enterprises. Whitefish Point was used as a resupply point for the logging companies. There was a small population of approx. 60 people. There was a school and hotel. Also a general store and a post office was established. The population grew to 200.
The former Whitefish Point post office as it is today. It its earlier days it had a different front on the building.
One of the local commodities was cranberries. They grow wild in the region and eventually were cultivated. There were more than a dozen growers registered at Whitefish Point. There was a daily stagecoach that ran from there, south to Eckerman. It was a thriving community by all standards. But as time went on, it all faded.
Th Whitefish Point Lighthouse brings thousands of visitors to Whitefish Point and the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum which is housed in the lighthouse buildings.
Because of the Whitefish Point lighthouse and the life saving station, the village’s decline was a slow one. Fishing dwindled to one commercial fishery, Brown’s, which still is in operation. Most of the small town’s remains have disappeared but much of the property associated with the village is in private hands and still occupied as residential. But if one looks carefully, on the east side of Whitefish Point Road, between the harbor and the former post office, hiding in the trees, a few of the remaining relics of Whitefish Point can be seen.
An old fishing boat has seen better days as it sits being buried by the sands of Superior.
A turn into the Whitefish Point Harbor can be very rewarding. The harbor is shared by the State of Michigan and Brown’s Fisheries. There is a fence that divides the public land from the private. Brown’s Fisheries has old boats and buildings that date back to the early days of Whitefish Point and some of it can be seen from the parking lot of the Harbor. A couple of old fishing boats are beached on the shore and old storage barns are there too. It is a snapshot of not only Whitefish Point’s past but commercial fishing on the Great Lakes in general.
For a vision of the past, take a walk out towards the breakwall on the marina walkway. Go out as far as the last dock and turn around and look back. With the old fishing boats and storage buildings, the old dock, an image of the village of Whitefish Point appears, or a small part of it anyway.
The view of Brown’s Fisheries from the marina walkway showing what Whitefish Point would have looked like as a fishing village.
When visiting the lighthouse, it is good to note what was around it. A trip into the shipwreck museum leaves one with the idea that Whitefish Point is all about death and tragedy. It is so much more. It was a tiny place that provided food and lumber for the country in the harshest of conditions. It took people with tenacity and guts to face Lake Superior at its worst and create one of the earliest settlements. The village of Whitefish Point should be remembered alongside of its legendary lighthouse. It has its place in history too.
I was armed with two antique maps and a full tank of gas. How was I to fail? I felt confident as I drove down H-40 which runs through Chippewa and Mackinac counties. It’s a back route that’s between U.S.-2 and M-28. Formerly, it was a railroad route which had a string of towns along its way. Most of them now are gone or shadows of what they once were. The railroad still runs along the highway. The place I was looking for was Wilwin.
The old railroad building that stands at the corner of Wilwin Road. Part of the loading platform is still seen.
About five miles west of Trout Lake are a couple of old buildings marking the entrance to Wilwin Road. The old buildings are the first things to attest to the fact that Wilwin was once there. A railroad siding once ran where Wilwin Road is now bringing lumber to the main railroad trunk from the sawmills of Wilwin.
This old storage building is another of the relics at the corner of Wilwin Road.
I turned up Wilwin Road. The maps were showing the town’s location a couple of miles and then left for a mile or so. Seemed simple enough. I drove passing a couple of houses. The trees started getting thicker and the road began to wind through the woods. I love doing these kinds of drives, but it was beginning to seem like I had gone too far. I should have come across something by now, a clearing or old remnants, but the trail went on and there was no evidence of anything resembling a town site. Now the road was turning to soft sand.
I looked at the road ahead and concluded that I had gone too far and had completely missed the location or maybe a side road that I’d missed. I wasn’t sure, but I knew if I went further, getting stuck was likely. I turned around. Backtracking, I found a turn missed. I started down that road. not far in I came across a burned patch of ground and a small log with smoke coming out of it. (More on that here.) After dousing it with water I went further down the trail and there it was, the site of Wilwin!
The entrance to the Wilwin Lodge, fenced. A large portion of the towns former location is now a Graymont Quarry.
I turned my truck around at the entrance to the Wilwin Lodge, now apparently owned by Graymont, a Canadian cement company. To the south of the road was a large area where the town had one stood. There was nothing left. The old townsite had been cleaned up leaving next to no trace of Wilwin. I expect part of the old town is now Graymont property which is fenced in.
A small portion of Wilwin’s town site is visible along the trail near the gate.
The history of Wilwin is that of a logging town. Its history wasn’t long, but it was fast and furious. The beginning was around 1914 and was founded by a man named Frank Chesborough. The name Wilwin is a contraction of his two sons names William and Elwin. They raised a large sawmill and platted out a community. They bought a train and laid track intersecting with the main line. They built a boarding house along with a store. Single story homes were built to house the sawmill employees. A boardwalk connected it all. The town thrived, they were even selling the bark from the mill to a leather company.
The only signs left that part of a town was even here are the places where the ground is disrupted.
A huge lodge was built. It was reputed to be two storys with a balcony that stretched the length of the building, and full of leaded glass windows that contained nearly 2000 panes. It had a huge kitchen and a living room with fireplaces at both ends. Built by the Chesboroughs it was reputed to be the height of luxury at the time.
Then, in 1921, it was all over. Just seven years had gone by. The price of lumber fell and the costs at the Wilwin mill were too high. As quickly as it had begun, Wilwin was through. The houses were salvaged and removed. Some of them are still homes in Trout Lake and nearby Ozark. All of them and the boarding house were completely removed. The machinery for the sawmill was resold to a company in Dollar Bay in the Keweenaw. The mill itself was burned and then the debris removed. The lodge, as far as I know, still stands somewhere behind the fence put up by Graymont.
The black and white in this picture makes it easier to pick out the outline of where a building once stood.
It was time to head home. I had almost got lost and stuck, put out a potential forest fire and found what I was looking for. I was pleased with that. My day had been successful and eventful. That is always a good day.
Garnet Lake Campground – Finding a Lost Past in Mackinac County
A Point North
Sunset over Garnet Lake on my first night. It was a fantastic evening. I saw it as a good omen.
I came here on a whim. I didn’t know what to expect. The sign, “Garnet Lake State Forest Campground” had an arrow pointing down a sideroad. Those are the kinds of things that arouse my curiosity when I am cruising the U.P. I had never heard of the place which added more incentive. What I found was a little known secret place revealed.
It was remote yet there were a few residences I passed on the way in. When I drove into the campground, there was only one other camper. I spotted a shoreline site which drew me in. Surrounded by pines and hardwoods, the campsite was comfortable and spacious.
The campsite at Garnet Lake as twilight sets in and the beginning of a glorious sunset.
What I saw before me was a beautiful little lake. Flat and serene, cattails along the edges, it was the quiet place I had been looking for. I pitched my tent near the shore and unloaded my kayak. The small lake was an ideal place to paddle. That would be tomorrow’s fun. In the meantime I set up my camera on a tripod. I was on the east end of the lake and had an ideal view of the upcoming sunset. Already the sky was beginning to tint. It was the beginning of what would be a spectacular sunset.
Morning mist on Garnet Lake rises and moves to the quiet breeze.
The campground here is nice, but basically primitive. Though you can camp here with camper or trailer, there are no hookups, so it needs to be self sufficient and functional off-grid. The entire time I was here, there were only two other campers.
When I arrived, I knew nothing about Garnet Lake and the immediately surrounding area. I thought it was just a remote campground, but I was about to find out exactly how wrong I was.
Kayaking Garnet Lake is not only fun but chances of seeing some wildlife is good. This is a beaver lodge I paddled past.
It all began with my Kayak. It was a beautiful day and I couldn’t wait to get out on the water. There was a light breeze which kept the bugs away on the water. I began to paddle and the water was very clear and the bottom could be seen easily. I paddled near the reeds where I had seen flashes of red moving through them. They were dragonflies, thousands of them, bright red and flying everywhere. They moved so quickly it was nearly impossible to get a picture of them. It made me wonder if these were the reason for the name “Garnet” lake.
The garnets of Garnet Lake. These red dragonflys flit and fly everywhere around the water.
I paddled out towards the deeper part of the lake. I kept looking at the bottom. It was so clear that everything was visible. As I paddled towards the west end, I started seeing trees on the bottom, large trees. Then I saw they’d been cut. The trees were saw logs. Garnet Lake had been at one time a sawmill pond. There could be no other conclusion. That meant that this had been a stream at one time and had been dammed to hold logs for a mill. I paddled to where it looked like there might be a stream outlet. I found it, but it was brushy, grown over and small, so I couldn’t take the kayak further. It was just too much of a mess, so I turned around and headed back to camp, but now I was really thinking about what my paddle on the lake had revealed.
Somewhere down that creek should be the ruins of an old sawmill, maybe even more, like a ghost town or logging camp. Being a historian, the more I thought about this more intrigued I became. It was time to take a hike.
The ruins of the old sawmill at Garnet ghost town.
I grabbed my camera, some water and snacks and headed around the lake. The first thing I came to was the railroad which was still being used, though I hadn’t seen or heard a train since my arrival. The tracks shined with little rust. I turned west towards where I knew the sawmill creek exited the lake. It wasn’t long before I saw how right I was. First was the ruins of the old mill, then the remains of the old town of Garnet, Michigan. I realized the railroad was paralleling a black-top highway which I hadn’t realized was there either. It was H-40 which runs between US-2 and M-28. Garnet is between Rexton another ghost town and Engadine. To get to the lake I had taken a backroad from US-2 and had completely missed Garnet, the ghost town. There were remnants of the old town still standing while a few of the houses were still occupied, though Garnet today has little resemblance to Garnet of the past.
Old homestead near the sawmill. This is another remnant of the days of the ghost town.
Originally called “Welch,” The town of Garnet at one time had around 500 residents. There was a sawmill which produced mostly shingles. A general store and hotel was there along with a harness maker. There was a saloon, a boarding house, school, and a doctor. They even had their own Justice of the Peace.
This is a historical photo pf the old post office of Garnet.
1897 is the first year Garnet appears on a census showing 500 residents. The population would decline beginning in 1910. In 1915 there was only 150 people left. By World War II, there were just a few houses and a sawmill operating there now making handles for axes, shovels and hammers. The sawmill operated until at least the late 1970’s but now is a crumbling ruin.
Hubie’s Place, not sure what that was, but it sounds like it was a good time.
The layout of the town is still visible and a couple of the old original buildings can be seen, some empty, a few still being lived in. As I walked, I was pleased with myself for having deduced the old town had been here from the clues from my paddling. If I had come in from the north, M-28, I would have seen the remains of the town first and knew it was there from the beginning. But I hadn’t and I felt I had solved a mystery, added an extra layer to my stay at Garnet Lake.
The crossing at the railroad and H-40 where the heart of Garnet was. A couple of homes still occupied can be seen.
Back at my campsite I was treated to another nice sunset. I would have to leave in the morning, but it had been an adventure of discovery. I would go back now and learn more about the little place named Garnet.
This is an old deserted mansion at the ghost town of Garnet.
Those of you that know me, know I love a good ghost town. This is one of the best I’ve seen. In 1880, Silver was discovered in the north of the Black Range Mountains. The ore was discovered by a Brit by the name of Henry Pye. A few months after he filed his claim, he was killed by Apaches. but Pye’s discovery had gotten out. The town of Chloride was born and eventually swelled to nearly 3000 people.
Heny Pye’s cabin is pictured above. There were 12 producing mines and nearly 500 holes that had been dug by prospectors throughout the surrounding hills.
Chloride had 9 saloons, 3 general stores, restaurants, butcher shops, candy store, lawyers, doctors, Chinese laundry, 2 hotels, livery stable, smelter and sawmills.
Chloride began as a tent city. Hard Rock miners came from all around to try their hand at finding a motherlode in the mountains and canyons to the west of the town. The town grew as fast as it could be built.
Much of the town still remains and the words “Ghost Town can be applied loosely here. There are still a few hardy souls living here. They take care of the town and recognize it for the historical treasure that it is. A few locals keep it open for those of us that like to visit these kinds of places. There is no shortage of visitors to Chloride.
Main street in Chloride goes through the one tree that makes up the Chloride National Forest. It’s a 200 year old oak that was there when the town began. I believe this tree was Chloride’s “Hangin’ Tree.” Though I haven’t found out how many men met their end here. For it to be named as it is, there had to be a few.
There is a museum at Chloride which is kept open most of the time. It is run by volunteers and is inside one of the old General Stores. The Pioneer Museum is housed in one of the original 1880 buildings and the interior is full of era correct artifacts. The building was originally built by a James Dagliesh who had the old timbers logged out of the nearby mountains. Eventually it became the local post office, pharmacy, and the local newspaper, The Black Range, was printed in the top floor beginning in 1882. Eventually, when the town becan to die, so did the store.
When the store finally closed up for the last time, the owners boarded it up and covered it with metal roofing leaving the inside just as it was in 1923. They left everything including all of the stock, newspaper equipment, postal records, town records, original records of some of the early businesses, and even some of old copies of “The Black Range” newspaper. The building was sold in 1989 and after 4 years of restoration and cleaning, bats and rats had been living quite happily inside, the old store was turned into the Pioneer Museum. The items inside were a treasure trove. The end result is a great step back into time. I was also able to pick up a great map of New Mexico ghost towns for 10 bucks.
One of the things I really like about Chloride, is that the look and feel of the old silver mining town is still here. When the silver panic struck in 1893, Chloride began to die. The miners and settlers basically packed up and left everything as it was. A few stayed for a few years hoping that silver would recover but it never did enough to make it as profitible as it once was. An entire town was left behind. The dozen people that still live here, keep the town going for ghost town buffs and visitors. There is a small picnic and rest area in the heart of town next to the museum, visitation is encouraged. I recommend it.
The drive to Chloride is well worth it. Located between Socorro and Truth or Consequences just off New Mexico 52. The road goes through Cuchillo and Winston which are both ghost towns as well and worth checking out. A sign at Winston points left and Chloride is two miles down the road.
I don’t know why ghost towns hold such a fascination for me, but when I go to places like Chloride where people are working hard to preserve a quickly vanishing past, I always get a sense of wonderment and my imagination shifts into overtime. I can picture the town of old, people filling the streets in their search for riches and prosperity. I can almost hear the racket from the saloons and smell the manure and mud that made up the streets. I have to admit the horses in a nearby corral didn’t hurt that effect. It was a different world then, though seemingly romantic, it was also hardship and often, death. The Apaches didn’t want settlers digging up their land and they retaliated. The mud and the manure created typhiod and scarlet fever. Tuberculosis was rampant. It was a harsh life. Only the hardy made it. Looking around Chloride, it is easy to see.
Writing and photography by Mikel B. Classen. Copyright by Mikel B. Classen 2020.
For more information on Mikel B. Classen, his writing or his photography, visit his website at www.mikelclassen.com