Ghost Stories from the Northwoods

The Michigan Dogman, a ghost ship on Lake Michigan, and the strange stories that still haunt the woods and waters of the Great Lakes.

October in the Northwoods has always had its own special kind of beauty. The changing leaves against the turquoise lakes make for some of the prettiest days of the year, but as the sun begins setting earlier and earlier, there's an eeriness that settles over the woods. The same trails that felt so inviting in July suddenly seem a little less welcoming after dark.

Maybe that's why this time of year feels particularly suited to telling ghost stories. The Northwoods has no shortage of them, from creatures people swear they've encountered deep in the Michigan forests to ships that disappeared into the Great Lakes, only to supposedly be seen sailing those same waters years later.

Some of these stories have been told for generations, and with each retelling, it's become a little harder to know where the truth ends and the legend begins.

So, pull your chair a little closer to the fire and crack a cider, because we've gathered two of our favorite spooky stories from the North. And they're the kind that might make you think twice before heading back to the cottage alone.

The Michigan Dogman

There's an old story told around northern Michigan about something that lives deep in the woods.

People who've claimed to encounter it describe a creature that looks remarkably like a wolf, except much larger, with the ability to stand and walk on its hind legs. Some describe an almost human-like body, others speak of a terrifying howl, and nearly everyone who tells the story seems to agree on one thing: whatever they saw wasn't quite like any animal they'd encountered before.

This creature has come to be known as the Michigan Dogman, and depending on who you ask, it's either one of the North's greatest fictional legends or something that is actually wandering through the woods. The strange thing about the Dogman isn't necessarily the creature itself, but what happened when someone decided to make a joke about it.

Years ago, a radio DJ in Traverse City thought it would be funny to write a song about a mythical creature that he made up that was half man, half dog. He played the song on the air as a April Fool's Day prank

But not long after the song aired, the radio station received an unexpected phone call from a man who'd been listening and said he wanted to know more about the creature, because he'd seen something just like it fifty years earlier.

The DJ, who had expected a few laughs from his April Fool's joke, suddenly found himself listening to a stranger describe an encounter that sounded remarkably similar to the creature he'd invented.

Then more people began calling, claiming similar sightings. Some claimed they'd seen the creature themselves, while others recalled stories they'd heard from family members or people in their communities. What began as a fictional song had somehow stirred up memories of encounters that people insisted had happened long before it was written.

To this day, there's no verified evidence that the Michigan Dogman exists, but the stories haven't stopped.

And there's something particularly unsettling about someone creating a made-up monster story, only to have numerous reports saying the monster is real. Whether it was an animal mistaken for something else, a story that grew with time, or something no one has quite explained, the Dogman has found a permanent home in northern Michigan folklore.

Just try not to think about it next time you're driving a wooded road after dark.

The Ghost Ship of Lake Michigan

There's another story told along the shores of Lake Michigan, although this one begins with something we know was very real.

For years, a ship called the Rouse Simmons sailed the waters of Lake Michigan carrying Christmas trees from northern Michigan down to Chicago. Its captain (also known as Captain Santa) made the journey each holiday season, arriving with thousands of freshly cut trees for families waiting along the waterfront.

But one November, the Christmas Tree Ship never arrived.

The ship had set sail with its usual cargo when a massive storm swept across Lake Michigan. Those familiar with Michigan folklore know that the Witch of November comes in fiercely and typically without warning. As the winds grew stronger and the waves rose, the ship was spotted struggling through the weather and flying a distress signal.

Those on shore could see that something was terribly wrong, but the conditions made reaching the vessel close to impossible.

And then, somewhere in the snow and mist, the ship disappeared.

For weeks, people waited for news, hoping they had found shelter in another harbor, or the ship had been delayed by the storm. But as the days passed, it became increasingly clear that something terrible had happened.

Slowly, Christmas trees from the vessel were found along the Wisconsin coastline, but the ship itself hadn’t been found and continued to remain hidden beneath the water…or so they thought.

According to the legend, sailors traveling across Lake Michigan have claimed to have seen a mysterious schooner appear on the water, with its decks still piled high with Christmas trees. The ship would emerge almost out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly.

For decades, the Rouse Simmons remained missing, leaving plenty of room for the stories to grow. Then, nearly sixty years after its disappearance, a diver searching the bottom of Lake Michigan found the Christmas Tree Ship resting in the cold, dark water. But what was even more unexpected were the perfectly preserved Christmas trees, pine needles and all.

Even when the ship’s final resting place had been found, the stories of the ghostly vessel had already become part of Lake Michigan folklore.

More Stories Worth Passing Along

The Northwoods has no shortage of stories to tell, and we're always finding new ones worth sharing. Once a month, Letters from Loon Lane brings a collection of stories, places, traditions, recipes, and other things worth passing along straight to your inbox.

We'd love to send you the next one.

One letter, once a month.


Photo by Northern Michigan photographer Hans Isaacson

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