Split Rock Lighthouse stands on a cliff of dark rock one hundred and thirty feet above the lake, and it is one of the best-known landmarks on the Great Lakes. It exists because of a storm. In November 1905 a ferocious gale swept across Lake Superior and wrecked or damaged some thirty ships, and the shipping companies, after counting the cost, demanded a beacon on this treacherous, rocky shore. The light was first lit in 1910, and for nearly sixty years it guided ore carriers along the coast, until modern navigation made it redundant and it was switched off in 1969. Today it is a state historic site, and visitors can climb the tower, walk through the keeper's house and see the Fresnel lens.
Every year on the tenth of November, the beacon is lit for a few minutes in memory of the Edmund Fitzgerald, the ore freighter that sank in a storm on Lake Superior in 1975 with the loss of all twenty-nine crew, and a bell is rung for each of them. The ceremony draws crowds, who stand in the cold and listen to the names being read. It is a quiet, moving event, and a reminder that the lake is no gentle place. The water is deep, cold and capable of sudden fury.
The lighthouse is best seen from the shoreline below, where a trail leads to a rocky beach, and from the road, where the white tower appears through the trees like a postcard. The ride along Highway 61 here is smooth and pleasant, running along the shore with the forest close on the other side, and the curves are easy. Weekends in summer are busy, and traffic crawls near the park. Wind off the lake can be bitter, even in July.
Silver Bay, about thirteen kilometres to the north-east, is a taconite town, built around a plant that processes low-grade iron ore into pellets, and has fuel and supermarkets. Two Harbors, further back, has more. Take a warm layer, a spare pair of gloves, and a flask of something hot, and look at the lighthouse in the late afternoon, when the sun lights the tower from the side. The shoreline is a place to take your time, so give the day its pace.