A Rock By Any Other Name
Some liken them to mosquitos—an annoying but ubiquitous part of life on the River.
Some give them curious, occasionally affectionate names.
Some even say that unless and until you’ve encountered one directly yourself, right up close and personal, you’re not a ‘real’ River Rat.
What? Shoals!
Shoals!
They’re everywhere on the St. Lawrence. So numerous that it’s unknown how many there actually are. But just one glimpse of the waters near Gananoque delivers a sobering reminder of their widespread presence.
They are prominent and well-known features in some locations, sometimes even achieving landmark status. While in other spots, they lurk ominously and anonymously underwater, seemingly just waiting to capture a fishing lure, or a piece of a propeller, or even a whole hull.
Buoys mark many—but not all, by any means. Most are bare rock, but some sport foliage. One definition is that if a tree grows on it, a shoal graduates to true island status.
The names, and who knows them by which name, are a fascinating part of River lore.
“Hog’s Back”…”Elephant Ear”…”Red Horse”…“Eagle Wing”.
Why the popularity of naming shoals for animals? And why the consistent use of two words for these names? Who coined them? Does everyone who lives near them know and use those same names? Generations of River families grow up calling their local shoals by a familiar name for decades and longer. Do their neighbors do likewise? Navigation charts ignore the local nomenclature, simply representing them as features to be aware of—and avoided!
Names
Speaking of names, it appears that River shoals, like River islands, can sometimes share names. “Red Horse” is a particularly sneaky shoal that sits at the entrance to Aunt Jane’s Bay on Grindstone Island, where our family has summered for several generations. Until this article, we were unaware that there is also a “Red Horse Rock” shoal near Gananoque. Mary Alice Snetsinger wrote of this and another nearby shoal in an article in the July 2019 edition of Thousand Islands Life.
Shoals can also play a continuing role in River lives. Aptly named for its smooth, humped surface, “Hog’s Back” is a fairly large shoal just a short distance away from our family’s longtime summer home. The tradition over generations was that if a youngster could swim to Hog’s Back, she or he would no longer have to wear a life jacket (a “boat coat”) aboard a boat.
This was a true rite of passage! To be finally freed from those bulky, clumsy, apparatuses was a real incentive and a marker for the move from kid status to the next level of maturity. (Few may remember now, but in the earlier years of the 20th century, life preservers were made with several large rectangles of cork sewn into them for flotation—and the enclosed cork had a nasty habit of suddenly rising up and smacking the underside of a chin without warning!)
With the advent first of paper River charts, then electronic depth finders, and now the growing use of GPS navigation apps (a shout-out to Wavve Boating App!), shoals have lost a little of their sinister side. But they can—and do—still wreak havoc on the unsuspecting, or the blithely unaware, or the just downright foolish.
One year, a group of us were enjoying the last fading rays of another glorious St. Lawrence summer’s day, sitting on a dock in the middle of Aunt Jane’s Bay, opposite Clayton, as dusk descended. We noticed offhandedly as a small outboard-powered boat slowly entered the Bay. We paid even closer attention though, as it came perilously close to one of the several underwater shoals that lie just off the island.
The boat cruised toward us, and it became apparent that there was a family of four aboard; two adults and two children. They suddenly slowed and seemed preoccupied with looking down into the water for a long moment in the vicinity of one of the underwater shoals, but then continued on their path heading in our direction.
When they finally reached us, the driver father called out, “If we follow the shoreline, is Gananoque right on the other side?”
We were all dumbstruck by this. First, Gananoque was several miles away “on the other side.” Second, it would be dark soon—and it would require some genuine River skills and experience to navigate through the convoluted miles-long route to reach Gan—in daylight! For someone who was obviously unfamiliar with the area, trying to get there at night—safely—would be a fool’s errand.
“Do you have charts with you?”, I called out.
The father looked confused. “Charts?” he replied.
“There are shoals between here and Gananoque,” I explained. “Lots of shoals. Before you even get out of this Bay, you could hit one unless you have a chart. Plus, it’s going to be dark before long.”
“Can’t we just follow the shoreline?”, he repeated.
Dumbstruck again. Before any of us could process his response, the woman aboard called out. “We just saw the strangest thing over there,” she said, gesturing back towards the submerged shoal they had just missed hitting. “It looked like someone had built a stone wall underwater.”
Maybe they made it safely to Gan despite the odds, the dark, and the dozens of shoals that patiently, eternally await such blind faith.
We can only hope so.
(Readers! What are the names of your local shoals? Send them to info@thousandislandslife.com)
By Tom Robbins with Illustrations by Sarah Coate
A third-generation summer resident of the Thousand Islands, Tom Robbin's career has taken him from the White House to Madison Avenue, Hollywood, and now Silicon Valley. His lifelong love of the St. Lawrence parallels his personal and professional interests in film production, photography, and writing. See Tom's TI Life articles here.
Sarah Coate is a lifelong River Rat; she attended the Rhode Island School of Design and owns a marketing company for TV commercial production companies. Sarah is also Tom's big sister! (Lucky guy, eh!)
NOTE: Now is the time to learn more about, and how to support, the Thousand Islands shoal marking program.
See the Thousand Islands Association website which states: "
Did you know that TIA is the sole organization responsible for the spring placement, seasonal maintenance and fall removal of nearly 200 orange and white ROCK markers between the eastern tip of Howe Island and Brockville? Contrary to what many still believe, this work is done by TIA, NOT Parks Canada or the Canadian Coast Guard.
Beyond this, TIA also provides the funding for an additional 100 markers that are placed in American waters each season by Save The River between Cape Vincent and Morristown. Established in 1934, TIA is a not-for-profit organization that relies heavily on membership to fund the work we do each summer.
PLEASE BECOME A MEMBER TODAY