As a child, I loved to visit Porphyry Island. I don’t recall that we were there often; my parents preferred the relatively isolated anchorages of Loon Harbour and Otter Cove along the north shore of Lake Superior, but I have fond memories of visiting Porphyry and found inspiration there as a setting for The Lightkeeper’s Daughters.
The Island itself sits near the entrance to Black Bay with the light station marking the shipping channel to Thunder Bay, east of Isle Royale. Its name is derived from the volcanic rock common on the island. Even now, when I visit, I comb the beaches looking for “Thunder Eggs” – igneous stones with crystalized centers. The light was the second commissioned on the Canadian shores of Lake Superior and became operational on July 1st, 1873.
The Island itself sits near the entrance to Black Bay with the light station marking the shipping channel to Thunder Bay, east of Isle Royale. Its name is derived from the volcanic rock common on the island. Even now, when I visit, I comb the beaches looking for “Thunder Eggs” – igneous stones with crystalized centers. The light was the second commissioned on the Canadian shores of Lake Superior and became operational on July 1st, 1873.
One of the earliest lightkeepers was Andrew Dick who took up the position in August of 1879. Andrew Dick was born in Edinburgh Scotland in 1831 and served on the Rescue delivering mail and other items from Collingwood to Fort William (now Thunder Bay) until 1861. He then operated as a fur trader in Pays Plat where he met Charles McKay, filling in for him as lightkeeper at Battle Island in 1877 until McKay was able to get to his post. His short stint there must have been inspiring, and he settled permanently on Porphyry a couple of years later where he lived year-round with his wife and ten children. Dick kept personal journals from 1889 to 1905, providing a glimpse into his life as a keeper. (See blog post Listening to Voices from the Past 12/8/2016).
Cliff McKay when he worked as Assistant Keeper approximately 1937. Charles McKay began a legacy of lightkeeping that crept into my story in wonderful ways. The son of a Hudson’s Bay Company fur trader and an Indigenous woman, and the grandson of William McKay of the NorthWest Company, Charles served at Battle Island from 1877 to 1913. When navigation closed late in December of 1880, the last ship of the season leaving Port Arthur was to pick up the lightkeepers and transport them to Sault Ste. Marie. But a violent storm prevented the boat from landing and it continued on without them. Faced with spending the winter alone on the island, Charles decided to row his small skiff nearly 300 miles along the north shore of Lake Superior, and arrived home on Christmas Eve. His son, Edward, took over the position at Battle Island when Charles retired at the age of 75. Edward went on to become lightkeeper at Porphyry from 1922-1945, with his nephew, Cliff, serving as Assistant.
Cliff and Frances McKay circa 1940 standing in front of the original Point Porphyry Lighthouse and Fog Station. The Lighthouse was built in 1873 and was replaced in the 1960's. I had the incredible good fortune to be able to connect with the next generation of McKay lightkeepers when I was researching The Lightkeeper's Daughters. Bob McKay, former Senator with the Metis Nation of Ontario and Edward's nephew, served as assistant keeper starting in 1960 under his cousin Cliff. Bob grew up on the water and islands around Porphyry where his father ran a commercial fishing business. He filled in details about early fishing, the mining and logging operations on Edward Island, how the original light and foghorn operated, and the existence of the sacred rock “Shaminitou” that fell into the grasp of the lake some time in the forties.
After I had completed the first draft of the manuscript, I found out quite by accident that Cliff’s wife, Frances, at 96 years of age, was living in an apartment in town and would happily review my story. Frances and Cliff served at Porphyry from 1959 to 1979 where, for a number of years, Frances filled the role of assistant.
I vaguely remember meeting Cliff and Frances in the 1970’s out at Porphyry. They used a tractor to haul supplies from the boat harbour up to the point, and Cliff gave my sisters and I a ride and a tour of the lighthouse. I think that was when I first fell in love with lighthouses.
After I had completed the first draft of the manuscript, I found out quite by accident that Cliff’s wife, Frances, at 96 years of age, was living in an apartment in town and would happily review my story. Frances and Cliff served at Porphyry from 1959 to 1979 where, for a number of years, Frances filled the role of assistant.
I vaguely remember meeting Cliff and Frances in the 1970’s out at Porphyry. They used a tractor to haul supplies from the boat harbour up to the point, and Cliff gave my sisters and I a ride and a tour of the lighthouse. I think that was when I first fell in love with lighthouses.
 Me and Frances McKay, March 2017 | Frances has read The Lightkeeper’s Daughters a couple of times. She gave me valuable information about life on the island, feedback on the story (she remembers bears being a nuisance!) and told me her favourite places to sneak away to on the island. She paid me the greatest compliment a writer could every receive and brought me to tears when she said reading my story made her feel like she was back on Porphyry again. |
The light was automated in 1989 and the era of the lightkeeper came to an end. Soon, the grounds and paths and buildings on Porphyry fell into disrepair. A few years ago, Canadian Lighthouses of Lake Superior incorporated under the Ontario Historical Society and began fulfilling a mandate to preserve and provide public access to several lighthouses, Porphyry being one of them. It was wonderful to visit the island this past summer and see the work that’s been done to preserve the history of light keeping.
I'm sure I'll visit again soon. I'm not sure if it's the wind or the Lake or the light itself that keeps calling me, but I hear them whispering.
I'm sure I'll visit again soon. I'm not sure if it's the wind or the Lake or the light itself that keeps calling me, but I hear them whispering.
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