Archaeology
For the past century, someone standing on the Canadian side of the upper Niagara River and looking out toward Gull Island— a little stack of rocks with a couple of scraggly trees and a couple of feathered locals– has been likely to spy a mangled mass of iron, partially immersed in the rapids. With a part sticking up in the air, “it practically appeared like was trying to eliminate its way upriver,” says Jim Hill, senior manager of heritage at the Niagara Parks Commission.
It’s a 20 th-century shipwreck, sitting about 650 feet from the Canadian shore, and 1,800 feet from the brink of the popular Horseshoe Falls.
The wreck has suffered there because August 1918, when a scow ended up being untethered from the tugboat that was towing it and ran aground while drifting toward the falls. (Designed to be transported, the large flat-bottomed sand barge did not have power and a rudder, leaving it rather defenseless on its own.) The two team members on board were rescued, however the scow had no such luck. Even if the boat might be salvaged for scrap, the possible benefit for individuals or companies wasn’t worth battling the existing to bring it ashore, particularly with so much hydroelectric infrastructure neighboring.
So, day in, day out, come storms and toppling water, the 98- foot boat sat lodged in place– exactly where the team had actually abandoned it.

Then unexpectedly, this past Halloween, it moved. Stimulated by a storm that felled trees, knocked out power, and deluged the already-brimming Lake Erie (whose waters sat at a record high last summertime), the boat broke out and went on a little journey downstream.
The trip was short and fast. The boat “appears to have sort of flipped on its side and spun around,” states Hill. Indicating when it moved, it proceeded an angle– one side took a trip 108 feet, the other 141 feet.
Or a minimum of what remains of it did. The boat has actually been progressively weakening throughout the years; a century in white-tipped water, barreling past at approximately 30 miles an hour, has actually done a number on it. “It was getting bombarded by rapids,” says Hill. “Much of it was currently gone.”

The romantic vision of shipwrecks is among peaceful, undisturbed rest– artfully decomposing vessels resting elegantly on a sandy bottom. In truth, shipwrecks are vibrant environments. “Every shipwreck is unique,” states Della Scott-Ireton, associate director of the Florida Public Archaeology Network in Pensacola
Some wrecks are more secure or more unstable than others, due to a variety of elements. Numerous ships, for circumstances, fare pretty well in cold, fresh water, where there’s no salt to corrode their metal bodies. (Then once again, even the shipwreck-studded Excellent Lakes have their share of issues: The aggregate weight of varieties of zebra mussels– an intrusive species– can overwhelm the ships and jeopardize their structural stability) Shipworms can make Swiss cheese of wooden hulls, Scott-Ireton says, while generations of oysters can colonize a ballast and cap it with their shells, developing a natural protective layer, as occurred to a 16 th-century Spanish ship in Pensacola Bay.
In general, a shipwreck that’s close to coast– in warm, shallow, oxygen-rich water– will break down, says Chris Southerly, North Carolina’s deputy state archaeologist, who focuses on underwater archaeology. “Colder, deeper, siltier waters use much better conservation,” he says.

In any occasion, wrecked ships do not tend to wander. “For the most part, once [wrecks] settle in place, they don’t frequently move naturally,” Southerly states. However they can be pushed by salvage efforts or clean-up jobs, and by fierce storms and floods. In 2005, Hurricane Dennis roared past Key Largo with enough force to right the USS Spiegel Grove, a deliberately sunk ship that was working as a synthetic reef however had rolled on its side. (When storms strike North Carolina’s Outer Banks, Southerly states, large fragments of wrecks can migrate approximately two miles along the shore).
Scott-Ireton glimpsed the wrecked scow back in 2005, on a journey to Niagara Falls, and was struck by how precariously it was perched. “I was questioning when it was lastly going to break out,” she remembers, believing, “‘ Sooner or later, this thing is going to rust away to the point where a storm is going to press it over the falls.'”
Lodged in the middle of the rocks, she states, the wreck had “no possibility to enter into the muddy bottom of the river and get covered by sediment, which is what would have protected it.” Had it been nestled down there, it “most likely would have been great and stayed there on and on.”
It’s hard to say how long the scow will remain in its brand-new environs. Hill figures the scow might sit tight for a while, because from a hydrodynamic standpoint, it has never ever looked worse. “It’s actually now a crumpled mass,” Hill states. The tie-off points, still intact on the hull, are now reaching into the riverbed, like unintentional anchors.
However there’s no doubt that the boat will continue to disintegrate. After the scow’s little jaunt, the Parks Commission released a drone to fly over it and take aerial images, which revealed big leaks and gashes in the hull. Portions are missing, and water is pouring through. “Our finest guess is it’s going to continue to separate,” states Hill, “which [it] will be scattered in the rapids.”
Prior to particles reaches the verge of the falls, he adds, it will travel through other shallows, where it could find itself wedged. (Hill believes that some of the pieces that have come off for many years are spread there already.) “It’s anybody’s guess what its next move is gon na be,” Hill says. If portions of the boat do remain intact long enough to topple over the falls, he includes, he anticipates them to sink.
Whether it vanishes from view or plunges down the falls, the wreck will not be around forever. However Hill mentions that it’s quite exceptional it’s endured this long. Another stranded ship– a wooden-hulled surplus Sunbeam, developed as a World War I-era Navy patrol boat— had given up the ghost not long after it got stuck on a sandbar, and after that a neighboring shoal, in1923 The hull “disappeared in about 10 years,” Hill states,” and the metal left behind got swept away.”
The scow, on the other hand, “appears to be literally made of harder stuff.” Lashed by the rapids, set down amid rocks, “it’s a tiny miracle that this thing has held on.”