Death's Door

Lake Michigan is a fickle mistress. From boat crushing waves to zero visibility fog, its essentially a freshwater ocean. Inside this monstrously beautiful lake lies one area that has a particularly dicey past. Its treacherousness has led many to their demise as wind and wave have taken an untold number of casualties.

In a time when the lake and land were still wild, sailors in the weaning hours of the day, regarded the long shadows cast by the strait’s dotted islands as unmarked graves of wrecks past. The native tribes named it first as Death’s Door.

The narrow strait that runs between the tip of Door County, Wisconsin and Washington Island, giving access to Michigan’s upper peninsula has quite an illustrious past. It separates Green Bay from the rest of the big lake and feels like its own world amongst the landscape of the mainland Midwest.

The 1600’s were a tumultuous time between the Indian tribes of the upper Midwest. The knowledge of settlers moving west along with constant fear of neighboring tribes had the whole area on edge. Still a relatively wild region, this lore lies in a war between the Potawatomi and Winnebago tribes.

The Winnebago lived on the mainland of door county but wanted to expand to the islands: Potawatomi territory. Having little to worry about with the protection of their watery shield, the Potawatomi extended a peaceful invitation to the Winnebago to settle their recent disputes.

After a long uneventful discussion, the Winnebago laid siege to Washington Island, the very top of Door County. Eventually the brutal conflict moved to the sea. War by canoe doesn’t seem like the most intuitive way to kill your enemy but as the weather turned it became extenuatingly deadly.  Mother nature thrashed canoes against the rocky cliffs of the lake Michigan coast, drowning countless warriors on both sides.

Mother Nature’s treachery was enough to make both tribes forget about the fighting all together and the Winnebago gave up the idea of conquering the outer islands. Word of such a brutal loss of life spread throughout the region. The French settlers coined the strait “Porte des Morts” – translating directly to the door of the dead. 

Death’s Door’s legacy stretches far beyond the days of warring tribes. Stories of the short passage are still told around campfires and spoken of through whisky glasses at local watering holes. It’s a stretch of sea that captains still pray over before entering in rough water. A land where death is as common as the rocks that lurk beneath the water’s surface. A place that will forever tame man.