
It was April 17th, 1934 and
the Tug Harrison had been making ready for some time to open
navigation out of Owen Sound to Lion’s Head, Tobermory, Fitzwilliam
Island and the North Shore. It had been a winter of severe
frost penetration in the Bruce Peninsula because of the lack
of adequate snow cover. When our hockey team returned from
a game in Wiarton one night, there was a reading of -30F on
the thermometer on the corner of Bruin Brothers Hardware in
Lion’s Head.
The first frost had produced accumulations
of ice more than two feet thick on the inland lakes and the
harbours of Grey-Bruce. Spring navigation was delayed. Breaking
the ice out of Owen Sound Bay was not an easy task but the Tug
Harrison made its way to open water and headed north. A west
wind had cleared Isthmus Bay and the tug was soon at the Lion’s
Head dock and after a few minutes was on course for Cabot’s
Head and then west to Tobermory.
But the crew’s attention, normally
occupied with assessing ice conditions, was focused on the mainland,
for there was a visible change in this familiar landform west
of Halfway Rock. Several hundred feet of cliff face has lost
its bond to the escarpment and spilled down the talus slope
to the waters edge! It made front page news in the Owen Sound
Sun Times upon the tug's return. However, more detailed information
and photos had to wait till the drift ice was gone and the shoreline
afforded a closer look.
On June 6th, the M.S. Normac
left Owen Sound for its run to the north with Sun-Times staff
aboard. The jutting shoreline allowed the Normac to come in
close for visual examination and photographs.
Extracts from the Sun-Times
of June 7th and June 23rd, 1934 reflect the magnitude of the
slide and its visual impact on its first spectators:
"High up on the cliff that towered
above the green line of the shore there appeared a thin white
mark, just a brush mark on the dirty white of the limestone
cliffs. The MS Normac of the Owen Sound Transportation Co.,
bound for Tobermory from Owen Sound and now about half way between
her destination and Cabot’s Head, swung off her course and headed
for that tiny white mark on the cliff.
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Author Maitland Warder
stands against one of the boulders that fell to the shore
of Georgian Bay near Halfway Rock sixty years ago.
Photo:
Willy Waterton
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"Gradually, as the boat drew nearer,
the white mark seemed to grow wider. Then a strange thing became
apparent. The white, shining new against the dull white of weather-beaten
rock, did not stop at the green of the fringe of trees along
the shore; it extended right to the water’s edge.
"When the Normac had approached
nearer yet, it was evident that the white mark was the result
of a rock-slide; that the face of the cliff had fallen in. Viewed
from this distance, there was nothing impressive about the rock-slide.
It was just a mark on the face cliff.
"Glasses were
called to the aid of the naked eye. What had been merely a white
line became a mass of jumbled rock. Huge chunks as big as houses
could be seen piled on the water’s edge. The eye travelled back
along the route they had come, rolling to a stop on the
shore after bounding
through the fringe of trees above the beach. There, back of
the trees, was the cliff from which they had dropped.
"By this time the boat was near enough to shore
for the rocks to be seen with the naked eye. Passengers and
crew crowded to the rail, while the boat slowed down to allow
all a good look at the evidence of nature’s forces, an evidence
that was practically unnoticeable at comparatively trifling
distances but which was a forcible reminder of man’s insignificance
when brought into close-up.
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Warder examines
cedar log jammed between the rocks.
Photo:
Willy Waterton
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"There towered the cliff, 150 feet high, looking
down on a narrow strip of beach clothed with evergreens and
other trees. For the matter of about 200 feet there was a
white gash on the cliff. It’s face had been cleanly shaved
down for a distance of about seventy five feet, then came
the huge mound of displaced rock, covering the trees and the
beach and thrusting itself out into the waters of the bay.
"Up at the top of the rock to the
east, could be seen a huge mark as if a giant knife had been
driven into the rock and used to pry loose the chunks lying
on the beach below." It was suggested among those viewing the
sight, that lightning might have been responsible for the slide.
This mark seemed to lend strength to this theory.
Another suggestion was that the slide
was merely the result of the unusually hard winter experienced
in this section. "Whatever the cause, the slide made an impressive
sight at a distance of a few hundred feet, and a very small
and unnoticeable mark as it quickly disappeared astern when
the Normac’s engines started to throb once more."
Maitland Warder is editor of
"The Crofter", a newsletter published by the Lion's Head Pastoral
Charge, United Church of Canada, where this story was first
published.