SUPERIOR’S SCENIC HIGH
Thunder Bay’s Sleeping Giant said to be the biggest vertical rise in Ontario
You step out on a platform suspended high over a cliff and it’s like the world is spread out at your feet.
Hundreds of metres below, the clear, cold waters of Lake Superior lap at a rocky shore lined with lime-green trees. Off to the right you can see the purplish outline of Caribou Island. To the left you can spot Thunder Bay and the line of hills behind the north shore of the lake.
The platform at the Thunder Bay Lookout at Sleeping Giant Provincial Park is not for the faint of heart, extending as it does several metres out from towering cliffs above the largest freshwater lake on the planet. Luckily for folks who’d rather stick pins in their eyes than stand on a suspended platform with no visible means of support, there are plenty of spots where you can see the view while standing on more solid ground.
The dramatic cliffs of Sleeping Giant (named for the profile of the peninsula when seen from afar) feature what’s said to be the highest vertical rise in the province. Serious hikers will want to try the Lake Superior Lookout or other rugged spots reachable only by foot. More casual visitors can drive up a dirt road (perhaps passing white-tailed deer and camera-shy black bears) to the Thunder Bay Lookout.
As any good Canadian who knows Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald can tell you, Lake Superior can be a force in November. But on this June day this vast ocean of fresh water is as mild as a baby lamb. It’s a tad hazy, but the grey-silver sky casts a beautiful, almost metallic light over this northern arm of the lake as I gaze at it.
Back at the bottom of the hill, I steer my compact car (you don’t need an SUV or 4-wheel drive) to the Plantain Lane Trail parking area. It’s only a two-minute walk to a wooden bridge over a small waterfall that’s gushing over ancient rock, sending cold, clear water scurrying past forests of pine and birch.
A local tourism worker had suggested I visit Sea Lion Rock, so I pull into a parking lot and trek down a gentle hill towards the lake. I snake past a thicket of trees and stumble on a quiet bay lined with bleached driftwood and small grey rocks perfect for skipping on the placid water.
Romantic couples have etched their names into some of the small rocks and placed them on a small hill at one end. Just a few steps further is a massive rock formation called the Sea Lion Rock, named that way as it resembled a sea creature until erosion took part of the formation away a few years ago. Still, it’s a beautiful arch of goldenbrown rock that juts out into the water.
I look longingly at the unusually calm lake, wishing I had a kayak or canoe at my disposal. Instead, I simply sit and watch the water gently slap at the base of the rock and cliffs. I’d seen a couple and their German shepherd dog a few minutes earlier, but right now it’s just me and the rock and the water and a pale sky overhead.