#shipwrecks

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Marin County, California at dusk

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙙𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙞𝙩𝙯𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙙 by Gordon Lightfoot.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐚 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐎𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐞;

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐲.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲;

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 - 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 - 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐝

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞,

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧;

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭,

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝;

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠,

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧'?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞-𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠;

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨,

'𝐓𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧'.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧',

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧' 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤

𝐒𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧', "𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐚."

𝐀𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐏.𝐌. 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧;

𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, "𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐚."

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧' 𝐢𝐧

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥;

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝.

𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐲, "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐲

𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫."

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝,

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫;

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐎𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞-𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧,

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬;

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰,

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝.

𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐥;

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐰𝐚 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐎𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐞;

"𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫," 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, "𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲."

. . .

The SS Edmund Fitzgerald went down in Lake Superior during a severe storm on November 10, 1975, taking all 29 crew members with her.

. . .

Gordon Lightfoot recorded the song in December 1975 and released it on his 1976 album, Summertime Dream.

but what i havent seen any posts about is how the titanic wreck is a gravesite and this tourism is disturbing the graves of over 1500 people.

sometimes its kinda hard to remember that those on the titanic were real people; it was over a century ago, the story has been romanticised in so many ways (like the movie), theres conspiracies theories galore that cloud everything with misinformation, but at the end of the day, those who died were real people.

do you want their names? heres a list of them; its a long read. and for fun, heres another site where you can see photos of the children and babies who died aboard.

their bodies are long gone and their lives long forgotten. all we have to remember them and honour them is the wreck itself. its all we have of them and it is their gravesite. its their tombstone.

caitlin doughty/ask a morticians video on the great lakes discusses the topic well, and why we should leave these shipwrecks alone because again, they are the gravesites of all the souls who died aboard those ships. we rarely have bodies to recover so we really are left just with the wreck.

and what really upsets me about titanic tourism is how the majority of those who died that night were not the ultra-wealthy rich folks you might picture when you think of ocean liners.

61% of the first class passengers survived

42% of the second class passengers survived

24% of the third class passengers survived

24% of the crew survived **

the majority of those who died that night were regular folk; not to be cliche, but they were just like us. titanics wreck is not only a gravesite for over 1500 people, its also a majority working class gravesite.

and look at us now. look at what were doing. the ultra-wealthy can pay the equivalent of peanuts to them to disturb a mass gravesite of the exact kind of people they exploit today to hold onto all their wealth. 

its easy to point and laugh at these dumb idiots in their playstation controller submarine, seemingly held together with super glue and duct tape, but its also important to remember that what they were doing was simply disturbing a gravesite for fun. though the company does research, these guys werent down there to conduct research, they were there so they could brag about it to their friends. its like “climbing mount everest” while your sherpa does all the work.

I'd also like to suggest the music of Stan Rogers for anyone out there looking for more songs about the unforgiving sea. The year was 1778...