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This occurred not far from Bay Mills Indian Community. Lots of people are familiar with the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Rightfully so. It was tragic.
But, that same night, there was another story unfolding on @LakeSuperior just a few miles away involving tribal fishers. https://twitter.com/NWS/status/1326139039980793856
But, that same night, there was another story unfolding on @LakeSuperior just a few miles away involving tribal fishers. https://twitter.com/NWS/status/1326139039980793856
That night, there were hurricane force winds on eastern Lake Superior. Tough for any vessel to handle - even 750 ft long freighters.
There were Bay Mills Indian Community fishers on the Lake that night trying to pull their nets. In boats like these. (This is my friend Jacques)
There were Bay Mills Indian Community fishers on the Lake that night trying to pull their nets. In boats like these. (This is my friend Jacques)
The air temperature was in the 30s that night, and the water temperature wasn't much better. With 20 ft (and up) waves. It was a dangerous situation.
Oh. It was also dark.
Oh. It was also dark.
Some of our tribal fishers took refuge on an island in Whitefish Bay. Circled below.
It is nearly 5 miles from shore, and only sticks above the water by a few feet. Better than nothing, but not great.
It is nearly 5 miles from shore, and only sticks above the water by a few feet. Better than nothing, but not great.
One of those fishers was L. John Lufkins, a former U.S. Marine and (later) Bay Mills Indian Community Tribal President.
They intended to ride out the storm on that island, as the Edmund Fitzgerald was sinking 20 miles away.
They intended to ride out the storm on that island, as the Edmund Fitzgerald was sinking 20 miles away.
Out in the water, father and son fishing crew Peanut Parish and Chris Parish were struggling to get back to safety in their 16 ft. aluminum fishing boat.
They capsized.
In the dark. 20 ft. waves. On @LakeSuperior In November. In 35 degree waters.
They capsized.
In the dark. 20 ft. waves. On @LakeSuperior In November. In 35 degree waters.
Chris was a very big dude. His dad, "Peanut," was not. They were in trouble & Chris was working hard to hold on to their capsized boat and his dad.
If you've ever been wet at that temperature, you know how quickly you lose your strength and control of yourself.
Chris held on.
If you've ever been wet at that temperature, you know how quickly you lose your strength and control of yourself.
Chris held on.
Chris & Peanut were difting past that small island where other tribal fishers were sheltered. But, the waves were high and it was dark. And windy. Nobody could hear.
At precisely the right moment, there was a break in the clouds and the moonlight shone through. From the island, Lufkins thought he spotted the hull of a fishing boat at the crest of a wave. At the next wave, he saw it again.
He and others pushed a boat BACK into Lake Superior.
He and others pushed a boat BACK into Lake Superior.
They made their way through the waves & out to Chris and his dad, Peanut. They pulled them into their own aluminum fishing craft & fought their way back to the island.
They were able to save Peanut from hypothermia, and ride out the storm that took down the Fitzgerald miles away
They were able to save Peanut from hypothermia, and ride out the storm that took down the Fitzgerald miles away
L. John later became Tribal President. Chris had three beautiful daughters (one of whom was my classmate and friend). And Peanut became a great grandpa. And their story became a local legend, but a little-known part of the story of the night the Edmund Fitzgerald went down.
