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Drowned Towns, Lost Ships: A Spooky History of Lake Ontario

The unknown is alive in those dark waters

I’ve always been afraid of water. Not the water itself but what lurks beneath it—those unseen depths where my imagination runs wild with dark and terrifying possibilities. As a child swimming at Windy Lake northwest of Sudbury, Ontario, I’d picture either a hand reaching up to grab my ankle or perhaps the razor-sharp teeth of some predator like in the movie Jaws. I knew, logically, that sharks didn’t swim in freshwater lakes. But logic has never been a match for imagination, and I’d find myself scanning the surface for fins anyway. Or perhaps something worse, like some nameless creature rising from the depths. It’s a fear I’ve never fully shaken.

And yet, as an adult, I find myself drawn to water. Any kind of water, but especially big water. I’m happiest sitting at the edge of a lake, watching the surface, whether it’s still and glassy or churned by wind into whitecaps.

We revere and respect water. We can sometimes also fear it. When we look out over a large body of water, elements of all sorts of feelings—emotions, memories, rituals, legacies, and legends—are present. And we are led to wonder at the powerful mysteries hidden beneath. What secrets remain in those murky depths? What might reach up to grab an ankle?

Just as water affects human emotions and behaviour, it is also believed to conduct and amplify spiritual energy. Some believe its intrinsic power makes it easier for spirits to interact with the living world. Others theorize that water, like certain types of stone, can act as a storage or recording medium for paranormal energy—holding and perhaps relaying psychic impressions across time. Many cultures have rich mythologies of water spirits and aquatic creatures, both monstrous and humanoid, drawing upon our intrigue.

There’s something especially compelling about standing beside so much water that isn’t the ocean—water that seems to live and breathe with its own pulse, yet remains hemmed in by surrounding land. As we gaze across the vast blue horizon, we feel both the enormity of the world and our own smallness reflected back at us. The Great Lakes were carved into these lands over thousands of years, vast and deep scars left by the slow retreat of glaciers during the Last Glacial Period some 14,000 years ago. Their basins filled with meltwater to become the massive inland seas of North America we know today.

They are the largest group of freshwater lakes in the world by total area, second largest by volume, and contain roughly 20 percent of the world’s surface fresh water. They sustain between 3,500 and 4,000 species of plants and animals and provide drinking water for a quarter of Canadians and one-tenth of Americans. But the Great Lakes also whisper to that primal part of us that, regardless of technological advances and scientific knowledge, still fears and reveres the unknown.

These inland oceans present peace and tranquility, yet with the right conditions, storms arise without warning and massive ships vanish without a trace. There’s much below those surface waves—things we cannot see, many at depths that elude sunlight but still haunt our minds, hearts, and souls. Entire towns drowned under reservoirs. Lost ships preserved in the cold like macabre time capsules. Underwater currents that shift and twist of their own accord. The unknown is alive in those dark waters. And it calls to us like the relentless waves lapping the shores.

Where mystery dwells, imagination follows. We continue to share, in whispered voices, tales of those who have disappeared into these depths, of apparitions floating on or above the surface, of lights dancing upon the water, of voices and ship horns echoing through fog before dissolving into mist. These lakes have birthed legends, mysteries, ghostly tales, and unexplainable phenomena still rippling across generations.

Just consider a few associated with........

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