On November 28, 1868, the two masted schooner NORTHERNER capsized off Port Ulao. While loading wood at the pier in Amsterdam, she was pounded heavily. It was discovered when she left for the open water that she was leaking badly. The captain sailed her to the pier at Port Washington where they attempted to lighten her by removing the deck load. The propeller CUYAHOGA was hired to tow the NORTHERNER to Milwaukee for repairs. Unfortunately she began to fill with water, capsized and had to be abandoned. Her crew was rescued by the CUYAHOGA.
The NORTHERNER was built in 1850 at French Creek, New York, by John Oades and was rebuilt in 1859 at Wells Island, New York. She measured 79 feet in length, 18 feet 9 inches in beam and 6 feet 8 inches in depth.
Our Shipwreck Ambassador Cal Kothrade tells his story and provides photos and his talents as an artist with the following tale of his love for the NORTHERNER.
It is impossible to over-state the importance of the NORTHERNER to my dive career. The seminal wreck that would forever influence how I look at shipwrecks, what I do with the images I take of them, and even the travel choices I made. It was a foundational seed that helped grow my home based business Milwaukee Dive Apparel, a purveyor of dive shirts, shipwreck artwork and underwater photography. The damn ship might has well have been crack. One dive and I was hooked. I love all shipwrecks, but I crave the very epitome of the age of sail, when ships were wooden and men were made of iron. The romanticism of it all is overwhelming. Though no lake schooners ply the inland seas today, divers can still touch the nineteenth century and make believe they are walking the decks of those grand boats by diving a schooner like the NORTHERNER.
I have been fortunate to have made many trips one hundred and thirty feet down to the bottom of Lake Michigan just a few miles southeast of Port Washington, Wis. There lies the remains of a small working vessel that sank in 1868, just three years after the Civil War concluded. Thankfully no lives were lost when the damaged NORTHERNER succumbed to a badly leaking hull while being towed to Milwaukee for repairs. To my knowledge, no photographs exist of her prior to the loss. The camera was introduced to America in 1839, a full 29 years prior to the sinking, so it is possible she was imaged at least once. In my opinion the odds are good that somebody caught her in a photo while in winter layup, or taking on cargo at a dock. However, if such an image still exists, it is more than likely in a long forgotten trunk, under half an inch of dust in a cellar or attic. Another possibility is loss due to fire, ironically not unlike so many boats of her ilk. Either way, I have searched for many years, as have others, for even just one photograph of NORTHERNER, to no avail.
Fast forward one hundred forty two years, when a youngish man with a penchant for taking pictures and exploring the watery deep first visits the barren patch of sand and clay where the NORTHERNER sits. Angels could almost be heard singing underwater. My life changed at that moment. I began by creating what I call an ‘impossible image’ of the vessel in its entirety, using photos taken by my friend Heiko Zuerker. It was the first of a great many future pictures that would help garner me a reputation in wreck photography for the difficult art of the multi-image mosaic. I created a drawing of the wreck and put the image on a tee-shirt, then sold them to many of my diving friends. I painted several paintings of the wreck, one given as a wedding gift to Mr. and Mrs. Zuerker. Next I sculpted a small three dimensional model of the wreck as it sits on the bottom, complete with debris field and divers. I molded and cast the original so I could offer limited edition replicas to several others with the same love of her as I. Naturally, my still photos evolved into short films, and I crafted a small video homage to the wreck. Then I felt compelled to make an archaeologically accurate line drawing of the shipwreck.
Yes, obsession is a pale description of my affliction. And with good reason, for if other schooners harbor just some of her photogenic traits, then my love of the schooner is bonafide.
A small two masted boat, upright and intact on the bottom, the NORTHERNER boasts the lower portion of her foremast still in place, albeit leaning on the starboard rail. Remnants of a partially lightered final cargo of cordwood still rests stacked neatly under portions of mostly present deck planks. The pièce de ré·sis·tance of this site however is her very rare ram’s head scroll supporting the still surviving bow sprit. NORTHERNER certainly ranks in the top half of all the schooners I have seen in terms of condition and photo opportunities.
My penultimate dive on the NORTHERNER proved to be one of the most significant of my career. I was executing a planned photoshoot with my long-time dive buddy Steven Wimer II. Our agenda included off camera lighting, and a bit of decompression obligation that would facilitate the needed time underwater to accomplish our photographic goals. Upon conclusion of the dive, I exited the water without loitering or taking any additional time decompressing beyond what was minimally required. This was uncharacteristic of my dive habits. Within an hour of shedding my drysuit, I began suffering from pain in my shoulder which progressively intensified and also migrated down toward my hand to include my entire arm by the following morning. It appeared that I had gone and gotten myself bent. I sought medical attention at my local hospital, and was subsequently transported to another, larger facility with one of the largest re-compression chambers in the country. I made a six hour dive to a maximum of 130 feet that Sunday evening, the only dive I have ever done without water. I emerged from the chamber after the full Navy Dive Table experience with little to no resolution to my pain. The attending bariatric expert told me he had good news, and he had bad. I asked for the good first, praying that I had not just ended my dive career prematurely. He told me I was NOT BENT. “What’s the bad?” I asked. He said, “I’m not sure what you did to your arm, but I recommend you get an MRI in the morning.” I slumbered that evening with mixed emotions, but mostly elated I had not violated the rules of decompression, and that at some point I would breathe underwater again. I had been vindicated of the stigma the Bends brings with it in the dive community. Upon the following morn, I awoke with nearly no pain, and being the Renaissance man I am, replete with vast medical knowledge, decided an MRI was not in my immediate future after all.
After everything the small wooden ship had given me over the years, it had finally given me perhaps the most precious gift of all…a harmless yet eye opening look at a possible future if I were not to continue holding the dangers of deep diving in the highest regard. After more than 500 career dives, it is possible I had become brash. I will forever spend more time at my safety stops and my final deco stops than the minimums required by my tables and computers. Thank you old girl.
Still images were taken with a Canon T1-I Rebel DSLR mated to a Canon 10-22mm super-wide rectilinear lens, in an Ikelite housing using natural light and Ikelite DS-161 Movie strobes X2. Post production was performed in Adobe Lightroom. Digital artwork created in Photoshop.
Dive the wreck of the NORTHERNER from your chair with this haunting three minute video: https://vimeo.com/45804503
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Cal Kothrade is the Shipwreck Ambassador of the Wisconsin Marine Historical Society, a diver, a photographer and an artist. His work can be viewed at www.calsworld.net and a wall of his photos are on display at Milwaukee’s Riverfront Pizzeria.
