The Tape Library - Archive of the Paranormal & the Unexplained - The Horrifying Legends of Lake Superior

Episode Date: June 13, 2025

Lake Superior is full of secrets. They call it Gitche Gumee — the Great Sea. But the waters of Lake Superior hide more than waves and wrecks. They hide the unexplainable. Stories of ghost ships seen in the fog… of voices heard in lighthouses long abandoned… of fighter jets that vanish from the sky. This isn’t just a lake, it’s a graveyard, a mystery, and maybe something more. From shipwrecks that vanish without a trace to haunted lighthouses, ancient copper miners, and ghostly figures seen along the frozen shores — Lake Superior is not just vast, it’s deeply haunted. In this video, we explore the terrifying folklore and true mysteries that have plagued this inland sea for centuries. You’ll hear stories rooted in Native American legend, high strangeness that links UFOs and spirits to the same remote places, and unsettling accounts like the Kinross Incident — where a military jet disappeared while chasing something unknown. Beneath the lake’s cold, black surface lies more than just shipwrecks… it holds stories that refuse to stay buried. ☠️ Haunted lighthouses 🛸 Disappearances and UFO encounters 👣 Ancient legends of spirits and monsters 🌲 The strange pull of cursed land and water 🎧 Ambient storytelling, no loud jumpscares — ideal for late-night viewing. 🔔 Subscribe for more haunted history and real paranormal cases. #lakesuperior  #hauntedhistory  #ParanormalDocumentary Support the channel with Patreon - www.patreon.com/thetapelibrary Do you have a supernatural story to share? Drop me an email at [e-mail] You can check out The Tape Library in audio form on all of your favourite podcast providers. Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/thetapelibrary Tiktok - https://www.tiktok.com/@thetapelibrary Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/people/The-Tape-Library/100094332411836/ Archive of the Paranormal, the strange and the unexplained. The Tape Library brings you the creepiest stories, to keep you horror junkies up all night. True scary stories of ghosts, cryptids, UFOs and true crime. Additional footage and audio from Evanto, Artgrid, Epidemic Sounds, Singularity, Midjourney and Pexels. Music by Karl Casey @ White Bat Audio and the youtube audio library.  All other footage used under fair use. Chapters 00:00 Flying Dutchman 04:43 Lake Superior 07:27 Welcome to The Tape Library 07:44 The Legend Begins 25:29 Haunted Lighthouses 32:43 High Strangeness 40:58 Ghost Ships 44:26 Edmund Fitzgerald 51:44 Wrapping Up Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

on the shores of Lake Superior. The young girl stood looking out at the calm waters with her grandfather. His name was Captain Robert Carlson, the keeper for the Whitefish Point Lighthouse, a brave, serious man who had been the keeper of this lighthouse for a number of years. Back in 1914 a small fishing boat had capsized, thrown around by the waves, leaving the 11 men on board in a precarious situation. It was Carlson who said, saw them, hopped in a small rowboat with two other fishermen, and fought against the waves to save the men. One of the rescued men later wrote, There is not one man in a thousand who would have attempted to launch a small boat in such

a sea, and few men who could handle a boat at all in such a wind with the seas running high. Needless to say, Captain Carlson was a respected man around these parts, that day was bright, calm. But Carlson spotted it quickly. Mist rising slowly from the water. He took his granddaughter down to the fog signal and began his work. His granddaughter watched on, describing the mist that was rising as almost like cobwebs blowing off of the still water. She called for him to look, but when he did, his reaction was very different. His face went white. He slowly marked out a crucifix over his body as he looked, Malfa Gap. He muttered under his breath, barely audible to the young girl. She turned to look back at the water and there it was.

There had been nothing there moments before. She saw what she described as the most beautiful sailing ship she had ever seen, gliding past them. Its sails billowed in the wind, although that instantly grabbed her attention. Because from where they were standing. They couldn't even feel a slight breeze. The ship sailed off into the growing bank of mist and vanished. Then they saw in the fog, blinking red lights, they heard the clanging of distant bells, and the tips of a large mast poking out. The sound of the radio brought them back to their senses. It was the Coast Guard, reporting that they too had seen blinking lights in the mist, but that they had now vanished.

The two men discussed it but didn't believe the ship was trying to signal danger. They didn't know where it had come from, nor where it had gone, but they didn't think they needed to take any action. For the next two days, the lake saw fog rolling across its waters. It was only patchy and the waters were mostly calm, but Captain Carlson worked day and night to keep in ships safe. The entire time he was worried. He knew what he had seen.

He knew somewhere deep down what seeing that ship had meant. When the fog finally lifted, the 18 mile long beach that runs from Little Lake to Whitefish Point was covered in debris. A Canadian lumber hooker and its two toes had sunk. It was unclear what has happened. Inspectors believed that its cargo had suddenly shifted, sending the ship into trouble. It must have happened so quickly because it was. no one even attempted to raise an alarm. They were there one minute and in the water the next.

Captain Carlson knew this would happen, as did others who saw that mysterious ship in the 48 hours before the disaster. He believed it was a flying Dutchman, a ghost ship that when sighted, spells death and destruction for sailors. Even though he knew this, all he could do was run the fog signal and hope for the best. But, it appears he could not stand in the way of fate. Lake Superior is a place of staggering size and beauty. The largest of the Great Lakes and the coldest. It stretches over 31,000 square miles deeper than any other freshwater lake on earth

and holds more water than all of the other great lakes combined. But there's something else about it. Something harder to explain. The water is cold. year round, so cold it can keep a body preserved for decades, and yet many who've vanished beneath its surface are never seen again. That's why the locals say, Lake Superior never gives up her dead. In fact, experienced divers in the area often have stories of stumbling upon their bodies, none creepier than the wreck of the Camloops that was

destroyed in the 1927 storm. If you make it into the lost ship's engine room, which is still sat at the bottom of the lake. You are said to be met with the headless remains of one crew member, still in place in the centre of the room, and several other bodies floating around their underwater tomb, so deep under the lake where only torches can light this horrifying sight. The weather here can turn fast. On calm mornings, the lake is like glass, perfectly still, perfectly silent. But by afternoon a storm can rise out of nowhere, with waves as tall as buildings, and winds

that cut through your body. Old sailors refer to that as the Witch of November. Over the years, more than 350 ships have gone down in these waters. Some were torn apart by storms, others simply vanished without explanation, and around them stories have grown, strange lights moving across the surface and in the skies. seen drifting long after they sank, voices heard through the fog, lost souls keeping the lighthousees lit, and things in the forest that watch from just beyond the tree line. These aren't just legends. Many of them are tied to real events, sinking's disappearances, and sightings

recorded by seasoned sailors, lighthouse keepers, and residents who have lived on these shores all their lives. In this episode we'll be exploring some of the strangest, darkest and most fascinating ghost stories and other creepy phenomena from around Lake Superior. Some are simply local legends passed down through the generations. Others are mysteries still unsolved, but all of them seem to come from the same place. Somewhere just beneath the surface of our world. Get yourself a warm drink, dim the lights and get comfortable. It's time to head with the surface. Back to the Great Lakes, this is the horrifying legends of Lake Superior. Welcome to the tape library. Long before ships crossed Lake Superior and before lighthouses marked its rocky shores,

the indigenous people of the region had already mapped out its dangers, not just with place names and canoe routes, but with stories, warnings really, of spirits that lived in the deep, of creatures that came in the mist and of things you don't speak of when the winds start to change. One of the oldest and most powerful spirits in the Ojibwe tradition is Mishi Peshu. The water panther are all great links. It is said to live beneath the surface of Lake Superior, guarding its copper and punishing those who take too much. Described as a great cat with scales like a fish, horns like a bison and a serpent tail.

Mishi Peshu wasn't. just a story. It was a source of genuine fear. According to early Jesuit records from the 1600s, Ojiabwe and other tribes would leave offerings before setting out on the water, ask in the spirit for safe passage. Some stories say the water panther stirs when storms rise too quickly, dragging down those who have angered it. Even today there are fishermen around the lake who won't speak its name aloud. Not unique to Lake Superior, but deeply rooted in the land, around it is the legend of the Wendigo, a spirit of hunger, ice and madness. Among the Algonquin speaking people, including the Ojiabwe, the Wendigo was said to appear during

harsh winters, when food was scarce and desperation would grow. It is said to be tall and gaud, with glowing eyes and insatiable craving for human flesh, but it isn't just a monster from folklore. It seems to be tied to a very real fear of the time. A person who gives in to cannibalism or who becomes consumed by greed or selfishness may turn into a wendigo. In remote northern communities, stories were told of travellers who return different after being lost in the woods, hollow-eyed, silent, and never quite human again. Some descriptions described the creature as a 15-foot-tall white spirit, with a star on its forehead, that would kill anyone who looked at it.

The more human flesh it consumes, the larger it grows. These legends seem to be mixed with actual verifiable accounts of cannibalism being practiced in the area around the lake, most notably Madeline Island, a place that once apparently had been home to numerous prehistoric communities, but overpopulation led to famine. This led to the leaders on the island, turning to cannibalism and human sacrifice. It seems that eventually the people turned together. the leaders, putting a stop to the practice, but the various communities scattered to different areas, leaving the island abandoned for a long time, seen as a place of genuine

evil by the local tribes. Ghost stories amongst the Ojibwe people were apparently few and far between at this time. This is in part because they believed that the soul lingered near the body for four days, before beginning its passage to paradise. During this time, family members would hold ceremonies, offer food and guide the spirits. After that a person's spirit began a journey towards the land of the setting sun. Not a place that resembled heaven or hell like in Christian beliefs, but a place only native souls could enter. Good or bad in life wasn't the deciding factor. It would be if they could navigate this journey and avoid the temptations presented to them along the way. Although some did believe that souls that suffered traumatic deaths or were not

properly honoured could get lost in some way, that they wouldn't begin the journey to paradise and would remain stuck. These became disembodied voices in the forest, strange visitors late at night, traumatic dreams of loved ones who were no longer there. But there was one ghost story I came across that I wanted to share with you all here. A young family was living in a lodge somewhere in the north of Wisconsin. When one cold wintry evening there was a knock on the door. Standing there were two frail skinny women. They looked starved, helpless. The wife invited them inside, let them warm themselves by the fire.

The husband returned soon after this, lugging the carcass of a deer into the lodge as he did. He was confused by who the two women were. But before his wife could explain, the starving women rushed to the deer and began to eat from it. Specifically eating the white tallow. something that was traditionally supposed to be eaten by the wife of the hunter. This was rude of the women to do so, but the husband and wife could see they were starved and didn't want to kick up a fuss. Strangely after this, the two women didn't want to leave.

They barely spoke to their new housemates. The two women kept themselves to themselves, but they didn't cause any issues, so the couple were happy to offer them shelter for the time being. But the process would repeat itself. The hunter would bring home a deer and the two women would gobble up the tallow before the wife could eat it. The hunter even began removing the fat

and storing it in a bag before getting home but the women just went straight to the bag instead. While they were growing frustrated the two women were helping around the house every day and the hunter couldn't help but notice that since they had arrived he was finding deer every single day. It seemed that the woman was the woman was helping the woman. women, while a little rude, were good luck. But the tallow issue was beginning to get to the hunter's wife.

One night she grew extremely angry with the women, but she kept her composure, simply venting to her husband instead. Later that night, the husband was awoken by the sounds of sobbing. He walked into the other room to find the two women hunched over and crying. The hunter asked them what was wrong. They told him they had to leave. They had upset his wife greatly with their behaviour, but that had been their intention all along. The two women claimed that they had come from the land of the dead. Their purpose was to test the living, and despite the growing anger from the couple,

they never once withdrew their charity and kindness from the two women. The two women informed the hunter they would be blessed with many children and a good life for their charity. Then the fire swayed in a sudden gust of wind, before extinguished. The room was plunged into darkness, but the hunter could still tell he was alone. The two women had vanished. One of the most famous legends from this Great Lake is the story of Father Berger. Father Frederick Berger was a real historical figure, a Savinian Catholic missionary known as the Snowshoe Priest.

He arrived in the mid-19th century to serve and convert the Ojibwe and other native people around Lake Superior in the Upper Midwest. Berger traveled extensively across the harsh frozen wilderness of the Lake Superior region on snowshoes, spreading Christianity, learning indigenous languages, and creating dictionaries and prayer books in the Oshabwe and other native tongues. The most famous tale of his was recounted by a man named De Roy, who was the cousin of a man named Louis Gordon, the Voyager who took Father Berger on his famous journey. Father Berger had heard he was needed as a settlement on the north shore of the lake. The Reverend turned to Lewis and told him he would need to cross the lake.

Lewis said his boat was ready, but it was impossible for the two men to sail to the settlement. It was over 70 miles away. No one had made such a journey in such a small boat. Lewis encouraged the Reverend to travel along the coast instead. It would take eight days but be much safer. But Father Berger insisted this was was too long and they had no choice. He was needed. Lewis expressed that a 25-mile trip on their boat would be a grand traverse. Seventy miles wasn't going to be difficult. It was impossible. But still the Reverend insisted and reluctantly Lewis agreed. Almost immediately upon losing sight of the shore a storm hit. Somehow Lewis managed to keep paddling through it but by the time the

clouds temporarily passed, they were well and truly lost. Rows of dark, jagged rock formation surrounded them on either side, but Vava Berger told the man to keep paddling forward. The waves and winds crashed around them to such a degree that neither man could hear one another, but still Lewis paddled forward, and soon they were met with calm waters, away from the jagged rocks that they had been pulled towards. Eventually, and against all odds, the two men made it to shore, completing the 70-mile journey. Father Berger turned to Lewis and said, did I not say I was called a cross, that I must go and vow would to be safe with me? The two men prayed, cut down a tree and placed a cross where they had landed. Over the years this cross

has remained, although it has been replaced numerous times. Just to northwest of Madeline Island is a small piece of land called Hermit Island. The first recorded white settler of this island was a man named William Wilson, a man who had been expelled from his community in the 1850s, after a battle with John Bell, a character that terrorised the Madeline Islands. Wilson began to live a quiet life of solitude, crafting barrels for the fishing industry to provide an income.

One day he agreed a deal with a resident from the nearby Oak Island, a man named Benjamin Armstrong to purchase a barrel of whiskey. When Armstrong helped Wilson to get the barrel back to his home, he pulled out four bags of coins and handed them to Armstrong, asking if this was enough to pay for the whiskey in his service. Armstrong said that it was actually too much and handed some back to Wilson. Wilson, a man who clearly had issues with this sort of thing, asked Armstrong if he would do him another favour

and help him count the money that he had. Armstrong was shocked to discover that the hermit had accumulated $1,300 in coins, a very large sum of money for that period of time. Some years later, Armstrong would raise the alarm. He could see Wilson's home from his own, and he had noticed that despite it being winter, he could not see the usual smoke rising from the house. Wilson hadn't been seen by anyone for two months, and when a group arrived on the island, they found out of the island. his body on the cabin floor. It appeared he had been murdered. They searched a house but found only $60 behind a clock in the home. There was no sign of the rest of the money that Wilson would hide around the cabin and in his clothing. Treasure hunters spent years

digging up the island, desperately tried to find Wilson's riches, but no sign of them were ever found. In 1890 the island was taken over by a wealthy man named Frederick Printence, who who established a quarry for brownstone and housed a hundred workers on the island. This seemed to disrupt the spirit of Wilson. Frederick had created a grand, beautiful home for him and his wife, but his wife spent one night on the island and refused to return ever again. Her reasoning for this is unknown. Rumours of sightings of Wilson's ghost have been made over the years, strange lights in the forest, voices that carry through the trees with no obvious source. Frederick's home became a resort,

but it was repeatedly destroyed by some unknown vandal, before finally being burnt to the ground. The island is now a protected site and nature has regained control of it, meaning that Wilson's spirit has the place to himself, once again. In 1882, Horatio and Abigail Adam Seymour moved into a beautiful home that overlooked Lakes of Superior in McKett, Michigan. Not wanting their children to become too involved with the local society that they looked down on. The couple built a cabin at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain. There they would take their son and daughter during their summer break from school, far away from the locals. However, they didn't shield them well enough seemingly.

Their daughter Mary grew up and fell in love with the caretaker of the cabin, a 55-year-old French Ojibway man. Obviously, the parents did not approve, and said that if the now 20-year-old Mary went through with the marriage, she could never return home. Mary, very much in love, left Lake Superior. She would return, though, in 1905, to care for her dying parents. Years later, after all the participants in this tale of forbidden love were long deceased, the cabin fell into the care of a man named Stuart. Stewart had been repairing the old cabin late one evening when he decided to stay the night rather than making the trip home in the dark.

Stewart had no reason to be scared of the cabin. He had never heard any strange stories about the place. But that night, he awoke to a sound. He couldn't figure out what he was hearing at first. But as his sleepy state faded away, he could make it out, the sound of a woman crying. outside the cabin, but there was no one else for miles. He approached the door, flashlight in hand, and shone the light out into the darkness. There was nothing there, but yet he could still hear it.

The man took a few steps outside the cabin. The sound was there, just slightly further away, out by the trees. He was sure of it. So he walked towards the sound. Every time he did it was though the sound moved. The woman was close but always just out of range of his light, hidden in the darkness. After several attempts, Stuart returned to the cabin, unsure how to explain what he had just experienced. This strange activity continued.

Stuart would stay in the property on multiple occasions with his wife, and both of them claimed to hear the sobbing late in the night, but also the occasional sound of muffled voices. But it was the screams that truly got to him. A loud, piercing scream that would come out of nowhere, reverberating around the cabin, as though a woman had screamed with all her might in the same room they were sleeping in. This scream was also heard by a visiting priest. Upon hearing it, the priest didn't want to stay in the cabin for a moment longer,

and suggested that Stuart and his wife shouldn't stay either. Desperate to understand what was happening, Stuart returned to the cabin, albeit alone this time. He packed himself enough supplies to last a week and brought a diary with him to record in the events. From the very first night he heard the peculiar sounds. He searched for clues, anything that could possibly explain what was going on here,

but he couldn't find anything. On the final night, Stuart was sitting. in the front room when he heard footsteps outside, crunching through the grass before unmistakably walking onto the decking outside the front door. The door he was sitting right by. Stuart jumped up to open it but found no one there, but then he could hear the voices again. He was sure they were coming from just down by the lake this time. He followed them but yet again there was nothing. As he reached the lake, The voices were replaced by the more familiar sounds of the sobbing woman. Stuart was kept awake by her cries all night.

He scribbled down all of his experiences and put his diary in his backpack, deciding he had pushed his luck enough in this place and wanting to leave at first light. But when he returned home, he opened his pack to discover. His diary was gone. He retraced his steps but never found any sign of it. Years later, in the late 70s, a group of students decided to hike through the forest and spend the night at the now abandoned cabin. But the night they slept there, the roof began to sag as a downpour of rain hit. The roof was already covered with snow and the weight of all the water was proving too much for the dilapidated structure.

Several of them pitched a tent outside instead, worrying about what might happen. But three stayed inside. Sure enough, the roof gave in. Two of the students made it out, but one wasn't so lucky. The students rushed to get help, but by the time they returned, they found the cabin a smouldering wreck. A fire had somehow broken out. Bring into an end the story of the crying cabin. Of course, as with any body of water, the most haunted places are always apparently the lighthouses,

Beacons of hope and safety that seem to draw in not just ships, but the unexplained as well. Maybe even spirits from beyond. It's hard to pick a lighthouse on Lake Superior and not find a ghost story. But one of the most well-known haunted spots is the Two Harbors Lighthouse in Minnesota. Commissioned back in 1992, it's still operational, but now hosts a bed and breakfast. Stories of strange activity has always been present at this location, but the most detailed record comes from the early 2000s, from Jeanne Hatch, a member of the local historical society who stayed at the B&B with her husband and her in-laws.

Within a few hours of falling asleep on the first night there, Jeanne was awoken by a strange noise. Potts and pans banging from down in the kitchen, then the sound of someone cutting food with a knife. She guessed it was the lighthouse keepers, up early to start their shift and preparing a quick breakfast. Assuming it was early but thinking it likely wasn't long until she needed to get up, Jeanne walked over to the curtains to open them. She was met with the inky blackness of the night. Jeanne turned to the clock. She was shocked when she realised it was only 3.45 in the morning.

Who on earth was preparing food so late? And with such little regard for the unlawful, other guests, frustrated she tried to ignore it and crawled back into bed. As she did, she heard another sound, in the room this time. She wasn't sure what it was, and then the flashlight on the table on the other side of the room just fell to the floor unexpectedly. That morning at breakfast she told the other guests about the noises, but when she saw the keeper, she said she had arrived at 7am, not 345. No one else had heard a sound. The keeper seemed hesitant to talk about it, simply stating that it wasn't her.

That afternoon, Jan and her mother-in-law were sitting in the kitchen talking. When one of the mother-in-law's hooped earrings seemed to suddenly jump from her earlobe and fall to the floor, almost as though someone had unattached it. Strange, but not anything that bizarre. But later, as they went to go and walk up the stairs, the other earring did the same. The pair joked that maybe it was the friend. Jan had heard the prior evening. The mother-in-law even sang out loud in a jovial manner.

Fine. Take them if you want them. She put the earrings away from the night. But in the morning, they were gone. She never found them again. Then there was the door to the wardrobe in John's room. that just seemed to keep swinging open. What made this extra strange was that it actually had a key lock on it.

Her husband Mike had locked it, but whenever they returned to the room, it would be wide open again. That night it was Mike who was awoken by the sounds. He heard them, clear as day, banging and crashing in the kitchen. He was too scared to go and see who it might be, but he did turn to look at the time. 3.45 a.m.

The following morning he told his wife that he believed her. He had heard it too. But again, none of the other guests had. As though it was somehow only audible in their room. If you read the guest book at two harbors, you will find that this family were not alone. Countless others have reported strange sounds, phantom footsteps, and missing items.

Then there is one of my personal favourite tales. the story of Talbot Island in Ontario. Decades ago, although the exact date seems to have been lost in the various retellings of this one, a fisherman was working late on his boat just by the coast of Talbot Island. He should have headed home hours ago. It was getting dark. He was just pulling the last of his nets in when he glanced up at the deserted island and saw her for the first time.

He didn't know exactly how to describe it, but there was a woman who seemed to be floating across the shoreline, a wispy woman with long white hair. She didn't look at the fisherman, just glided back and forth, back and forth. Then he heard her. He couldn't tell if it was humming or low talking, but she was making some sort of murmuring sound.

Words that he couldn't decipher. He quickly began to row, refusing to look back at her as he did. He wouldn't be alone. Countless other fishermen who stayed in that area too late would claim to see her as the sun began to set. They all described her in the same way. Most heard her strange, indecipherable murmurs

as she floated eerily around the island. Rumours were that this was the ghost of Mrs. Thomas Lampere, a particularly tragic lighthouse-related story. She had been the wife of the second lighthouse keeper, to be sanctioned at Talbot Island. The lighthouse was built in 1867 but didn't stay in operation for long. This was because an unnatural amount of its keepers during its short time being operational died at their posts. Apparently Canadian lighthouse keepers at the time were expected to get off the island themselves when the winter hit, something that had led to the death of Thomas's predecessor.

When he attempted the 25-mile road to Nipigon, his body had washed up on the nearby beach months later. So Thomas and his wife decided to stock up on food and spend the winter on Talbot Island. But it wasn't long into the winter period where Thomas fell sick and passed away, leaving his wife alone with his body. The island was made up almost entirely of solid rock, so she had nowhere to bury her husband. Instead she wrapped him up in canvas and left his body outside, where it froze until the following spring. That spring, a group of Ojibwe Canuas were passing the island when they discovered Miss Lampier, alive, but a shadow of her former self, forced to spend months in the freezing cold

with only the corpse of her husband for company. She was silent, traumatised and frail. Her once black hair had apparently turned white, the group took Thomas's body to another nearby island to bury it. What ended up happening to Mrs. Lampere seems to be lost to time. But seemingly, in death, her spirit decided to return to Talbot Island, the place that took everything from her. Just outside of Duluth in 2001, a man was driving through an area of woodland late at night. He was driving with a friend and they had gotten a little lost. The pair parked their car up, turning on the interior light to study their maps. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some sort of movement in front of the car, something big. He quickly turned on the headlights and gasped when he

saw what looked like a bear, right in front of their vehicle. That was until the bear turned to face them. The man couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he was seeing, but he saw what he was seeing, he claimed that its face looked more like a primate before the creature quickly took off into the darkened forest. This is just one of the many reported sightings of Bigfoot around the Lake Superior area. In the world of the unexplained, there's a recurring and unsettling pattern known as high strangeness. A term used to describe locations where multiple types of paranormal phenomena seem to overlap. In these places it's not a certain way. uncommon for UFO sightings, ghost encounters, cryptid reports, and other strange occurrences

to cluster together, defying easy explanation. The Skinwalker Ranch in Utah is a notorious example, where reports range from shapeshifting creatures to glowing or blouse and poltergeist activity, or Point Pleasant West Virginia, home of the Mothman legend, and also a wave of UFO sightings and strange men in black. These overlapping phenomena suggest that some areas act as windows or hotspots, where the boundaries between normal and paranormal appear unusually thin. When we discussed Lake Michigan, we saw that all of these types of phenomena were present there, and Lake Superior seems to be much the same.

Bodies of water especially seem to provide high quantities of UFO sightings. Of course, there are many who question whether these locations are for some reason attracting visitors from the stars, or if they are coming from the water, deep where no person can go. Sightings of UFOs over Lake Superior could be an entire episode itself. There were reports going back as far as 1856, right up to modern times. But let's discuss just a couple for today. The author of Haunted Lake Superior, a really important resource for this episode and a fantastic collection of many of these stories, Hugh E. Bishop, claims to have had his own experience while working for the Erie Mining Company in the late 1970s. Apparently crewmen on the railway line

transported materials from the mines would often report seeing strange lights in the sky. One particular night, an ore train was approaching the harbour, when one of the crews jumps on the radio to claim that something weird in the sky was coming up behind the train, and it was moving fast. The operator asked what it looked like. The man on the other end of the radio was audibly scared, claiming he couldn't see anything, just a bright light.

The lights hovered over the front of the train, keeping speed with it as it moved, leading to a terrifying and confused conversation over the radio, as the train crew desperately tries to get advice on what to do in this odd situation. They had no idea what this thing was. but all were worried that it meant them harm. The workers at the dock who were waiting to unload the train thought this was all a big joke.

Then they saw what they thought were the headlights of the train coming over the hill. It didn't take them long before they realised it wasn't the train at all. It was a rounded light in the sky. The light moved over the dock area before shooting off over the lake. It seemed to hover over the water for a few moments, but it was a little bit. before shooting up into the air at an incredible speed and vanishing from view, leaving a lot of speechless onlookers in its wake. Then there is one of the most famous unexplained mysteries to come out of Lake Superior.

It was a cold and quiet night over Lake Superior, November 23rd, 1953. At Kinross Air Force Base in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, the calm was broken when radar operators spotted something unusual in the sky, near the US-Canadian border. border, an unidentified aircraft had appeared over a restricted airspace, flying low above the vast black waters of the lake near the Seulocks. It wasn't responding to radio calls, and no flight plan had been filed. The Air Force scrambled an interceptor to investigate. An F-89C Scorpion fighter jet roared into the night sky. On board were two men, first lieutenant Felix Monkler, an experienced pilot, and a second-line-law.

Lieutenant Robert L. Wilson manning the radar. As Moncler guided the scorpion into the darkness, ground control watched closely on their radar screens. The blip representing the unknown object moved steadily. Monclare's jet closed in. Then suddenly the two radar signals merged into one. For a moment it seemed routine. Perhaps Monclare had passed over the object or was flying directly beneath it. But then the situation turned. The single blip continued on, without the F-89. Mungler and Wilson had vanished. There was no radio contact, no signal, no distress call, just silence. The unidentified blip continued on for a few moments before it then too vanished from the radar. Search and rescue teams were deployed from both the United States and Canada. Aircraft scoured

the skies. Ships searched the icy waters of Lake Superior. Not a single trace of the F-89 or its crew was ever found. No wreckage, no oil slicks, no bodies. It was as if the jet had just been erased from existence. The Air Force later issued a statement. The unidentified object had been a Canadian military aircraft, a C-47 Dakota, flying a route it wasn't cleared for. They They claimed Munkler was incepting it, when his jet crashed into the lake, likely due to disorientation or some sort of mechanical failure. But this raised more questions than answers. The Royal Canadian Air Force denied that any of its planes had gone off course at night.

In fact, the pilot of the closest C-47, Gerald Fosburgh, later insisted that no American jet had ever come near him and that nothing out of the ordinary occurred on his flight. The inconsistencies fed speculation, especially amongst UFO researchers. Prominent investigator Donald Kehoe argued that the official story didn't add up. It is 1955 book The Flying Sorcer Conspiracy. Kehoe suggested the scorpion may have collided with, or even been taken by, something not of this world. Years passed. In 1968, aircraft parts reportedly washed ashore near the same.

the eastern end of Lake Superior. Some believed they belonged to Montclair's jet, but the evidence was never confirmed. Then in 2006, a group calling itself the Great Lakes Dive Company, claimed to have found the wreckage of the F-89 at the bottom of the lake. Photos of the debris circulated online, adding fuel to the mystery. But shortly afterwards, the group vanished from public view. And their evidence was never verified. Many now believe, it was an elaborate hoax. To this day, neither the aircraft nor the bodies of Felix Munkler and Robert Wilson have ever been recovered. But of course, planes are not the most common transport that you will find at the bottom of the lake. As I've already mentioned, hundreds of

ships have been taken by the darkened waters of Lake Superior, and many of their crews were never seen again, preserved deep underwater in its icy clutches. Many claim to see ships that sunk long ago, somehow continuing their voyages across the lake. Much like in our opening story tonight, many sailors believe that seeing one of these ghost ships is a sign that tragedy is about to be full, those who sail on the lake. One of the most famous of these returning visitors is the Bannockburn, a steel steamer that vanished in 1902 just off the coast of Michigan. Curiously, the ship had been spotted by the captain of another nearby ship.

He turned just for a moment to look at his navigation, and when he looked back up, the bannockburn was just gone. The captain initially thought that the ship had simply sailed into one of the intermittent patches of fog on the calm waters that day. But soon after, the remains of the ship were found, along with a single life jacket. The full ship, however, was never seen again. The captain that saw it that day believes the only possible way it could have sunk so quickly as if there had been an explosion in the boiler room.

But if that was the case, why didn't he hear it? He believed he had been close enough. But over the years, many have claimed to see the Bannockburn sailing on Lake Superior, often on foggy days. If its 22 lost crew members are on board though, or if they are still at the same, they are still the bottom of the lake remains a mystery. As with some of our stories from Lake Michigan, there are some who claim to have actually interacted with these ghost ships. A fisherman tells a story of how in 1945 he had hailed down a passing ship just off of Kiwinau Point. The ship's crew

hadn't reacted to him signaling to them for help though. He was still able to climb on board as it passed him. When he got on deck he was confused to find not another soul. around. It was empty, silent. He entered the pilot's house and found two men standing with their backs to him. They looked frail and skinny. The fisherman began to chastise what he assumed was the captain, complaining that he was sailing through the shipping line with no signal, and that his ship was in a terrible condition and likely wasn't safe to be on the water. One of the two men turned to the fisherman. The look on his face sent the fisherman's blood cold. The man began to speak in a broken, guttural tone.

He informed the fishermen that they didn't have to worry about that. Not anymore. This was the Hudson. It sank 40 years ago. Ever since that day, the crew have suffered the same fate time and time again, and it was time for this ship to sink yet again. The fisherman took this very seriously and threw himself overboard. When he turned back, the ship was gone. He climbed on board his small fishing vessel and headed off home.

It was lucky he did. A vicious storm hit the area just shortly after. Of course, it would be silly of me to do an episode on Lake Superior and not talk about its most famous shipwreck. Of all the legends that haunt the world's largest freshwater lake, none echo louder than that of the Edmund Fitzgerald. A Leviathan of steel that vanished in the November storm, leaving behind no survivors and no clear answers. Launched in 1958 from River Rouge, Michigan, the Edmund Fitzgerald was the largest ship on the Great Lakes at that time.

729 feet of ore carrying pride. She was built to haul cargo from the mines near Duluth to steel mills across the Midwest. Sailors called her the pride of the American side. and for nearly two decades she weathered all the lake could throw at her. But the Fitzgerald had her quirks. Crewmen would report odd vibrations in the hole, unpredictable rolling in rough water, and a constant, eerie creaking.

On the afternoon of November 9th, 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald, under the command of Captain Ernest McSawley, departed Superior, Wisconsin, fully loaded with 26,000 tonnes of iron ore pellets. She was bound for Zug Island near Detroit, trailed closely by Arthur M. Anderson, another freighter under Captain Jesse Cooper. As night fell, a storm system intensified over the Great Lakes. By morning it had grown into a full gale. Winds howled at over 60 miles per hour, and waves swelled higher than 25 feet, some say over 35. The Fitzgerald was taking a beating. At 3,

30pm on November 10th, the Fitzgerald reported damage. Two vents had been lost. Water was coming in. Her radar had failed. Still, McSorley pressed on. His last message came at 7.10 p.m. We are holding our own. Less than 10 minutes later, she vanished from the Anderson's radar. No distress call. No flares. No wreckage on the surface. All 29 men aboard were just gone. The Coast Guard launched an intensive search, but not a single body was ever recovered. Days later, the wreck was located, 530 feet below the surface, broken in two. The bow and stern lay roughly 170 feet apart on the lake bed. It seemed straightforward. The ship was damaged by the storm, something went wrong and it sunk quickly. But for some reason, the sinking of the Fritzgerald

sparks people's imaginations more than any other sunken ship on the lake. Some believed the Fitzgerald hit a show or took on too much water through the damaged hatches. Others think a massive wave or a pair of them, known as rogue waves, struck over a force too great for any vessel to survive. Yet the strange details won't go away. There was no SOS. The ship was equipped with backup power and had reported damage hours earlier, yet nothing suggested imminent doom.

Could it have been a sudden structural failure? Or something more inexplicable. Some sailors talked about the Three Sisters, a rare series of three successive rogue waves. Survivors from other ships have described them as towering walls of water, each larger than the last. They believed that Fitzgerald was caught in this deadly rhythm

and crushed before anyone could respond. An old legend among local Ojibwe communities tells her the great water spirit, growing angry when her depths are disturbed. Some believe the constant gouging of the lakebed for all stirred something ancient and that the Fitzgerald was taken as an offering. Then there's the theory whispered by fringe researchers, suggesting the ship slipped into a dimensional rift, caused by electromagnetic anomalies in Lake Superior. It's the same theory that's been floated for plane disappearances over Lake Michigan. If true, the Fitzgerald may not be gone, only elsewhere, although I'm unsure how that squares with its wreckage under the lake. Then there are those who claim to see the Fitzgerald, or in some cases at least, feel the great ship, long after its destruction. None have felt its presence more than Coast Guard Captain Jimmy Hobar, who sailed with his crew for the wreckage,

on the fateful night the ship vanished. They waited there for three days and four nights, unable to do anything but watch for wreckage or bodies to surface. All they found was a life ring and a light. Six months after the tragedy, he returned so his ship could serve as a base for the underwater photography of the wreck. While there they were hit by a huge storm.

The winds blew so hard that the boys around the ship were pulled so deep under the lake that they resurfaced, crushed by the pressure. They remained there for days, as an unmanned submersible took photos, revealing the wreckage of the Fitzgerald, but no bodies. Captain Hobor thought this would be his last connection to the Fitzgerald. But years later, he was tasked with helping free ships through the ice at Whitefish Bay. They found themselves stuck there one night,

just 10 miles from the Fitzgerald's final resting place. The captain's ship had a doggerald's. on it, a black Labrador that had been out on many trips on the lake by this point. But that night, the dog acted strangely. The normally confident and attention-seeking animal was scared to enter parts of the ship who would normally run around, instead choosing to stay in the corner of one room, cowering, whimpering. That morning as light came up, the captain tried to figure out their position. The ice had shifted overnight. dragging them miles as it did. Sure enough, they now sat right over the top of the wreckage

of the Fitzgerald once again. In the years since the tragedy, the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald has grown into a folk myth. Gordon Lightfoot's haunting ballad gave voice to the Lake Sorrow, and every November 10th a bell rings 29 times at the marina's church of Detroit. Once for each man lost and on some occasions once more for all those who have died on the Great Lakes. But still the lake keeps her secrets. Beneath the mirror-black surface where the pressure would crush bone and the temperature never rises above freezing. The broken bone of the Fitzgerald, sleep in silence. Some say she still sails, just below the surface. A ghost ship crewed by phantoms. Others say she's gone for good.

But if you find yourself on Lake Superior, on a cold November night, when the wind screams and the sky turns black, listen closely, you might hear a whisper of still, a toll of a bell, or a captain's final words. We are holding our own. That's all for this entry into the tape library. I really do enjoy these episodes where I get to explore a single location and bring you a whole bunch of different tales from them. So where next do you want to go in this series? Let me know in the comments. The tape library travel show must continue.

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