Ah time. How sweet it is in its cruelty. We have moments we see as being ‘the good ol’ days;’ those we see through rose-coloured glasses. Time is cruel because nothing stops it. Neither person, structure, nor empire can stop taking its toll. Enough with the philosophy, we’ve got a tale to tell.
This year we’re taking our journey to Manitowaning, to the other side of the family, the Sizes and Leesons. The tale of the Norisle has been simmering in my mind for some years now. With the unfortunate departure of the Norisle, it’s time to commit it to paper.
The SS Norisle was built in Collingwood in 1946 and it served as one of two ferries that ran from South Baymouth to Tobermory. Her sister ship was the Norgoma and both ran until they were replaced in 1974 by the current MS Chi-Cheemaun. The Norgoma was moored in Sault Ste. Marie and the Norisle was moored permanently in Manitowaning. Our story takes place in the early ‘90s. I was around the age of 10 when my cousins Chris, Jo-Ellen and Michael Size had come to Gramma Moyra’s to get me.
“We have to show you the Norisle!” they exclaimed. Back then, you could tour the whole ship for a few bucks. After bugging my mother, she gave in and forked over the cash and off we went. We went into the museum to pay our fee. The lady at the counter was very nice as she told us about the history. As she was preparing to let us go board, her face darkened when she told us about the one rule—the stairwell down to the car hold was closed and off limits. We were not to go down there under any circumstances. We quickly agreed as we ran out of the museum.
We were finally aboard the Norisle and I couldn’t believe it! There was no one on this ship but us. No adults to say “no.” It was a kid’s paradise. You could jump off the side of the ship if you really wanted to! I also took note of a strange sound, “creak, creak… creak, creak.” I asked my cousins what the noise was and we all concluded it was either waves on the hull or the ship was pulling on its moorings. We ran all over that ship. We went to the captain’s quarters, the helm, the crew’s quarters, anywhere but the car hold. The four of us toured for a good hour, passing the closed stairwell several times. I still remember the creaking—everywhere you could hear it. We all met back at the stairwell to the car hold; soon it would be time to get going, “creak, creak, creak, creak.” We all looked at each other. It sounded like it was coming from the car hold. We debated breaking the rule. As we discussed it, one of my cousins noticed a closed hatch. We lifted the lid to the hatch and wouldn’t you know it, a ladder down into the abyss. The lady at the counter said very clearly that the stairwell was closed… she didn’t say anything about a ladder. Four assenting nods later, down the hatch we went.
At the base of the ladder we looked around and found amazing antiques, from spinning wheels to dressers, old lamps and chesterfields. “Creak, creak, creak, creak.” We were now down in the lowest point of the ship. That noise was not waves against the hull and it didn’t sound like the moorings. It was dark down there but at the end of the car hold there was light. We inched closer and halfway down we could see light shining in through a porthole. It was shining on what looked to be a rocking chair. We moved closer and we could clearly see someone or something in it. “Creak, creak, creak, creak!” the chair groaned as it rocked back and forth. My cousins and I turned white. We were the only ones on the ship, or so we thought. We backed up out of that hatch like scurrying ants.
To this day, none of us know what or who was in that rocking chair. It shall forever remain a mystery to us. A good story for the kids at Halloween.
I will personally miss the Norisle. Great Grandpa Wright Leeson was part of the committee that purchased the Norisle for a dollar so there is important history there and to pass on, the best I can. While it’s sad to say goodbye to the Norisle, never forget: time always wins. Perhaps that’s scarier than the tale itself.
– Jason Burnett
A Haweater living in North Bay
