Sandstone and Concrete
We have often discussed the two faces of the Keweenaw. The difference between the west and east shores of the peninsula is almost as stark as night and day. The shoreline along the east side is relatively protected from the onslaught of the lake’s wind driven waves. There the shoreline gently slides into the lake, creating a gradual transition between land and sea. The west shore, however, is not so lucky.
Here the shoreline takes the full brunt of a relentless lake. Crashing waves and driving winds erode away the shore, creating often dramatic and sudden transitions between the lake and sea. While the rugged Copper Harbor conglomerates of the north manage to stand their own against this onslaught, the soft sandstone at Freda fares not so well. High sandstone cliffs drop suddenly into an angry lake here, and the red ridges that result are strong physical reminders of the power of water and wind.
It was under one of these same red ridges that we stood at Freda. Ahead of us stretched a rocky beach, backed by a 20 foot sandstone ridgeline. At our feet the lake gently rolled over a large red and grey streaked sandstone ledge, speckled with small dimples formed by the crashing waves. An array of white and red sheets of rock laid about the cliff base, including some flat pieces of sandstone large enough to make a good-sized table. But something less natural also populated the shore – something man made.
It was concrete, broken into rugged chunks, which were littered between the stones. As we made our way across the rocky beach, we stumbled across not only concrete but also metal. Brackets, rods, and even large gears caught our eyes. Finally a series of large concrete pilings tossed out into the lake caused us to take a look above us. The sandstone cliff had turned into a concrete ruin, precariously perched above our heads. We had found the Champion Mill, at least what was left of it.
