Chief Sagola's Tomb
Chapter 1 A Bridge to Somewhere
I'd spent the day checking for migratory bird use of bridges and culverts along M-41. I'd been on this section of highway more than a dozen times in the past on my way to conducting surveys of wetland mitigation sites. One thing that working for the Michigan Department of Transportation meant for someone like me with statewide responsibilities was a lot of travel. I knew I was approaching a bridge over a rail line, the only one in the county, so it was unique and memorable.
I slowed as the bridge appeared and prepared to take the small dirt road I knew was there. Once on the bridge, I saw a small wooden sign attached to a tree, the white crude letters read 'Chief Sagola's Tomb,' the lettering old and faded. I didn't remember having ever seen it before. Pulling onto the dirt road, I found it ended a little more than a hundred feet away near the railroad tracks. There were no fresh tire tracks, suggesting it wasn't used very often.
Opening the door of the van, I stepped out, and stretched. It felt good to be out of the vehicle again. I picked up my hard hat, binoculars, and data logger and started walking along the tracks to go under the bridge. I saw the bridge was perched between two hard rock outcrops that had been enlarged by the railroad to accommodate the tracks when the line had been built in the 1850s. The tops of the rails gleamed in the sunlight showing the line was being used.
Inspecting the steel girders, I found an Eastern Phoebe nest on one support and a mud nest of an American Robin on another. I leaned back against the rock ledge and started inputting the data. I felt the space behind me give and immediately attempted to regain my balance. I failed and found myself in a... well... I didn't know... a crevice.
I struggled to stand and as I did the space seemed to grow larger. Once up I was confused, thinking I must have turned myself around as the light had disappeared. It was shaded under the bridge, but it certainly wasn't pitch black.
Turning around I found my original path blocked. I felt fear fill me as confusion engulfed me. My heart rate shot upward as I used my hands to explored the hard rock. I couldn't see a hint of light anywhere. It was completely dark, as if I were in a cave. I stood for a minute and composed myself. Then I remembered the small penlight flashlight I used for inspecting nest contents was in my breast pocket. I pulled it out, turned it on, and looked about.
The flashlight didn't provide a lot of light, but as my eyes adjusted, I started to pick out details. None of them served to provide me any comfort and surely not something that calmed me. I searched for some indication of an opening and found none. I turned around and started down the passage way, my hard hat hitting the low ceiling with each step, my shoulders brushing against the sides. I'd gone about twenty feet when the room opened up into a larger space. I shined the light around and noted only an empty wooden bench with a wooden box sitting on it, petroglyphs on the wall behind it.
The box had writing on the sides and ends indicating it had once contained dynamite. I realized as I stood there the space wasn't like a cave—I'd been in those before. Caves were damp and cold, this space was comfortable and dry. The space certainly didn't have a musty odor.
Taking a deep breath, I'd seen petroglyphs before and knew such markings were ancient. I realized this space was known to Native Americans well before the arrival of European settlers. My hands were still trembling, and I took another breath to calm myself. I told myself if I'd gotten in, I would find my way out. I was thankful I'd put fresh batteries into my penlight the day before.
Stepping to the bench, I shined the flashlight at the box and found the lid was on tight, but there was no indication of its being nailed on. I placed the penlight into my mouth and used both hands to remove the lid to reveal the inside of the box. Inside was a large yellowed envelope made of heavy paper amid cedar shavings. The aromatic cedar filled the air. Picking up the envelope I opened the flap and saw what appeared to be a single photograph. I suspected it would be the image of the person the tomb was named for: Chief Sagola.
Pulling the photograph out, I was completely dumbfounded. It wasn't of a man, it was of a young woman in long black braids. I inspected the back of the photograph to see if anything were written on it. There was nothing. Turning the photograph over, I studied the image. She wore a stoic expression, like those you see of most people taken during that time period. I tried to imagine what she would look like with a smile, and found myself smiling. She would be quite pretty.
I started to push the photograph back into the envelope and felt it meet resistance. I pulled it out and opened the envelope wider. There was a smaller slip of paper I hadn't noticed. I pulled it out and found it was a simple note: She will be found when this is found.
I ran the words over in my mind and decided it didn't make sense. Even if the photograph had been taken seventy years ago, there would be no way to trace the girl in the photograph. If it had been left for someone, they hadn't found it. I pushed the note and photograph back into the envelope wondering what I should do with it.
Well, you aren't going to do anything with it until you find a way out. In fact, you and she could spend eternity together if you don't.
I decided to turn off the flashlight as I thought about what to do next. It was pitch black again and I strained to hear or feel something. Perhaps a hint of light, or air movement. I'd stood still for a minute and thought I saw a hint of light and started toward it.
I felt the pain as I rubbed my bared head. My hard hat lay on the ground a few feet away with a crack in it. I looked around from my vantage point on the ground. A large chunk of rock and a yellow envelope sat near me. I sat up slowly and focused my eyes. I was under the bridge. It took my eyes several seconds to adjust to the bright light. I placed the hard hat on my head and found it out of adjustment. It had done its job, even though I'd been knocked down.
Squinting as I stood, I heard a diesel horn. A train was approaching. I saw my data logger on the ground at the edge of the ballast and picked it up. I got to the van, opened the door, slid onto the seat, and placed the data logger and yellow envelope on the passenger seat. I looked out as the train passed, the engineer giving a wave.
I glanced at my watch, then checked the data logger time stamp. There was an eleven-minute difference, which shouldn't have been as my watch had showed the same time as the logger that morning. I could only guess I'd somehow messed it up while trying to check the time earlier.
Looking at the envelope again, I found it contained the photograph. Had I found it before the rock hit me? I must have, as there was no other logical explanation. If I hadn't looked at it then how could I have remembered it.
After the train had passed, I walked back under the bridge to inspect the rock on the ground. It had fallen from above where I'd been standing. When I checked for an opening in the rock face, I found none. I walked back to the van feeling as if I were missing something. No matter, I had to get going as it was nearing time for me to check into my hotel room in Baraga. Then, I would go for dinner and afterward relax outside where I could check for birds on Keweenaw Bay.
But, the memory of the tomb had seemed so real and the envelope had to have been with the chunk of rock that had fallen from the rock face.
I'd planned on eating at the hotel restaurant, but it was closed. There was the casino in Baraga, or I could drive into L'Anse, five miles distant. I'd done enough driving for the day and decided the casino restaurant was closer. I didn't like the idea of parking an MDOT vehicle there, but there weren't a lot of places to eat. I decided to take my chances.
I parked as close to the restaurant doors as I could, and walked in. The casino parking lot wasn't but a quarter full, so the van stood out more than I wanted it to. I walked inside and the hostess greeted me warmly, and immediately took me to a table. There were only three occupied tables as business was slow. It took but a minute before a waitress appeared. I was looking out the window at the time, and when I turned to look at her, I couldn't believe my eyes.
She was holding out a menu, a smile on her face. I sat looking, not moving. "Sir, are you alright?"
I pulled myself together, sure I was hallucinating. "Yes, sorry. I'm kind of lost in my thoughts."
She went over the daily special after setting a cold glass of water on the table. I decided the special sounded good and placed my order. I was surprised when she lingered.
"Have we met before? You look familiar."
I laughed. "You know, that should be my line."
She blushed. "Funny, but you do look familiar."
"I'm from down state and I've never been in here before. But, I need to ask you a question if you have a minute."
"Okay. We're not busy as you can see. Let me put your order in, and I'll be right back."
I watched as she walked away. She was trim and slim, her long, braided black hair, hung down her back. The resemblance was striking, but maybe that knock on the skull had scrambled more than I wanted to admit.
When she returned, she was smiling as she stopped at my table.
