Thunder Bay's 
Liquid Necklace

I Find Myself Looking In Silence
At the Remains of What Many Feel
Was Canada's Most Magnificent Hour.

They call it the "Kam" River today. But the first settlers called it the Kaministiquia.

Wife Jan, our Skipper Sam's first mate, finally expresses all of our sentiments. "If we're going to stay for the summer, why don't we just rent a house?"

This less than welcome inquiry comes on the fourth of a five-day stay tied securely to the main dock in Thunder Bay's Prince Arthur Marina, just below the Prince Arthur Hotel. Hiding from severe weather on Lake Superior, we've rented a car and explored, and we have made first call at the famous Hoito Downstairs Finnish Restaurant for their mysterious thin pancakes. They are, in a word, fantastic!

We bought quite an assortment of quality clothing that the residents seem to just take for granted, and I have even found a watch that keeps proper time after my faithful Seiko bit the dust.

The usual high quality Canadian weather forecast had explained and warned of the impending mess. Forewarned, we left Isle Royale in increasing seas, hid in the shelter of Little Trout Bay for a night and then came on quickly to Thunder Bay.

A mess it was, all right, rain and wind, wind and rain, cold and damp. We find ourselves reviewing just what is supposed to be attractive about Lake Superior cruising.

Guests Stan Salmi and Sally Brown take some kind of pleasure in noting the size of the southeast seas bursting over the harbor breakwater.

"Much bigger'n our front yard in Tofte," Stan says, referring to their summer lakeshore cottage.

It is Stan, looking at the harbor chart, who advances the next idea. "Hey, Jim," he says. "Why don't we go up the Kaministiquia River to Old Fort William?"

I remind him that the former tourist vessel Welcome made the trip for years, obviously safely. But how far would it be, we wonder?

"I'll go ask," I say, grabbing the bicycle and heading west to the tug boat yard.

Identifying the reason for my visit, the small group of seamen point to a gentleman nearby. "Ask him," is the comment. And I do.

Turns out he is a member of the Gurney family who owned the motor vessel Welcome for many years. He has taken the vessel up the Kam many times.

We have a good visit, which includes the admonition to "stay in the best and widest areas, and take it slow." To the surprise of the locals, our Skipper Sam II actually leaves the dock.

What an incredible trip. Turning west at the southern reaches of the Thunder Bay harbor, we enter the fabled river. You who know me understand the voices ringing in my ears. The sharp and admonishing yell of the courier du bois demands the deep canoe (though he called it a canott) be fully loaded. He yelled almost 200 years ago, but somehow I hear him.

The passing remains of the industrial docks, now almost dangerous, still create a picture in my mind. Over these tattered remains passed the materials which helped win a war, oh, so long ago. In my mind I see components of aircraft and aircraft engines, fabricated at Canada Car, finding space on the next available vessel. Temporarily piled high, steel components for hundreds of war-winning machines waited for the next vessel. As we move inland and the air warms, I find myself looking in silence at the tattered remains of what many feel was Canada's most magnificent hour.

There are few obstacles as we move up the river, but the famous Jackknife Bridge, a singularly historic site well worth the trip to Thunder Bay, brings our engines to idle. A brief radio call brings a pleasant response.

"No problem, Skipper Sam. We'll be quickly out of your way."

The photograph shows this one-of-a-kind mechanical marvel, built long ago and still working well.

Thunder Bay's Jackknife Bridge is a "mechanical marvel," according to publisher Jim Marshall. It has served the Lakehead for years by providing safe passage for vehicles over the Kam River.

We pass some idle ore boats and sneak under the famous clattering swing bridge that still serves the Mount McKay neighborhood. Sally points to the large but amazingly neat and orderly paper mill not far from the Highway 61 approach to Thunder Bay. "We drive by this each time we come to Thunder Bay," she says, "but I had no idea how carefully they protect their river frontage."

And then we enter the upper stretches of this fascinating river.

We are going well past the magnificence of Mount McKay, but its splendor and height periodically reappear as the many turns in the river lead us on. Still wide and deep, the wilderness side of the river alternates, but it is often reflected in the windows of homes across the river, ranging from modest to stately architectural works of art.

The excited waving of a family quickly gains our attention, and our excitement joins theirs when we realize that it is the Gurney group of homes, the owners of the Welcome. Our horn adds a stately "captain's salute," a long and two short blasts, to the joy of the moment. 

Finally, we arrive at the old fort dock. We have been cautioned not to go further up the river, and it is too late in the day to tie up for a visit. This is where hundreds of visitors would alight each summer, to spend hours at the fascinating and carefully restored fort.

Noting we are still in more than eight feet of water and have a wide river around us, we quietly turn around. A glance at our instrument panel reflects that we have come more than 14 miles.

Going back is first brightened with sunlight, but a glance over my shoulder confirms a quickly darkening sky. Remembering the severe weather we were escaping on this excursion, I realize it has just been waiting for us.

But we agree, the Kaministiquia River is just plain beautiful.