Introduction to Lake Champlain
By Michael Macdonald

Lake Champlain is a large freshwater lake which lies between Vermont and New York and is partially situated across the U.S.-Canadian border. Prior to European colonization, the lake was heavily used by Indigenous people and served as a border between Abenaki and Mohawk (Iroquois Confederacy) traditional territories. While not as large as the Great Lakes, Lake Champlain is often considered a cousin and was equally vital to trade and commerce. It is sometimes referred to as the 6th Great Lake. In 1998, a minor provision in a bill reauthorizing the National Sea Grant Program officially declared Lake Champlain a Great Lake, although its status was rescinded just 18 days later. Congress rewrote the legislation, revoking Lake Champlain’s short-lived status as a Great Lake but still allowing the University of Vermont to access Sea Grant funding.

The lake also has its own folklore centered around Champ, a legendary lake monster said to inhabit the lake. It is often described as a creature like the Loch Ness Monster. Tales of a mysterious giant serpentine date back to early Native American Abenaki and Iroquois tribal accounts.

In slightly more modern times, a 1609 sighting by Samuel de Champlain, the lake's namesake, firmly solidified the legend of the lake monster, and sightings surged in the 19th and 20th centuries with numerous eyewitness accounts. Over 300 sightings have been reported over the centuries, with descriptions varying but consistently describing a large, mysterious aquatic animal.

Despite being an inland lake, Champlain served a critical role in the founding and development of the United States. It was the site of many important battles in the French and Indian Wars, the American Revolution, and the War of 1812. Perhaps most notably, Lake Champlain is the home to the 1776 Battle of Valcour Island, generally regarded as one of the first naval battles of the American Revolutionary War.

The lake was also a major commercial and industrial hub during the 18th and early 19th centuries. With the completion of the Champlain Canal system in 1823, a 60-mile canal connected the southern end of Lake Champlain to the Hudson River in New York. It was constructed simultaneously with the Erie Canal and is now part of the New York State Canal System and the Lakes to Locks Passage.

In this age of commerce, where navigable roads and railways were non-existent or nascent, travel was often slow and perilous. Lake Champlain and the Champlain Canal system served as a vital and stable link in the “super-highway” connecting Lake Champlain to the Erie Canal system via the Mohawk River and finally the Hudson River, providing an outlet to New York City and the Atlantic Ocean. The Champlain Canal dominated early 19th-century commerce in the area until finally being surpassed by railway traffic beginning in the mid-to-late 19th century.

Today, the lake is home to over 300 known and unidentified shipwrecks, many of which are in spectacular condition and an immaculate state of preservation due to the deep and cold waters of Lake Champlain.

While the lake has seen the introduction of invasive species like zebra mussels, it currently remains clear of quagga mussels. As a result, most of the deeper wrecks are bare wood or metal. In some cases, vessels can still be seen with their paint and names intact, just as they were when they sank.

Unfortunately, visibility in the lake is often considered poor, rarely exceeding 15 ft or more. Deeper than 90 feet or so, ambient light is limited, rendering every dive akin to a night dive. Nevertheless, Lake Champlain has some truly fantastic shipwrecks but is often overlooked compared to its Great Lakes cousins. Consequently, the lake's deeper wrecks remain largely undisturbed, preserving artifacts from pilfering or damage caused by heavy diver traffic.

The Wm. H. McAllister, originally built as U.S. Army ST-243, was a stalwart of wartime and postwar maritime service. Constructed in 1943 by Levingston Shipbuilding in Orange, Texas, this 80.6-foot steel-hulled Diesel tug was designed for rugged utility, powered by a 720–900 BHP Alco Sulzer four-cylinder engine. Launched in September 1942 after its keel was laid in February, the tug served stateside during World War II, supporting Army operations with a cruising range of 1,500–3,500 miles and a fuel capacity of 14,000 gallons. In 1949, McAllister Brothers Towing of New York acquired and renamed the vessel, integrating it into their commercial fleet under Official No. 258975. With a cruising speed of 10 knots and robust features like a raked stem and elliptical stern, the Wm. H. McAllister was a workhorse on the inland and coastal waters of the Northeast.

Tragedy struck on November 17, 1963, when the tug, towing an empty gasoline barge south from Plattsburgh, NY, collided with Schuyler Reef in Lake Champlain at approximately 23:00. The vessel sank rapidly in 150 feet of water, though the crew safely escaped to the barge. Valued at $250,000, the wreck drew recovery interest, with diver examinations and discussions about raising it, but no attempts succeeded. Rediscovered by the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum in 1988 and surveyed in 1997 and 2010, the Wm. H. McAllister remains remarkably intact, its red and white hull paint still visible, though buried in mud up to its gunwales. Features like the pilot house’s “4470” marking, telegraph systems, and stern capstans offer divers a glimpse into its storied past, preserved as an archeological treasure under strict regulations by New York, Vermont, and the National Historic Preservation Act.

The Sarah Ellen, a 73-foot, two-masted schooner built in 1849 on Isle La Motte, Vermont, was a stalwart of Lake Champlain’s bustling trade, ferrying heavy cargoes like quarried stone, iron ore, and lumber. On December 19, 1860, under the command of 21-year-old Captain Henry Clay Hayward, the vessel left Willsboro, New York, bound for Burlington, Vermont, its hold brimming with stone for a new Vermont Central Railroad dock. Accompanied by the Daniel Webster, the Sarah Ellen faced brutal conditions—freezing spray, high winds, and ice-stiffened ropes. A sudden gale near the Four Brothers Islands overwhelmed her, likely causing water to breach the bow or a plank to give way under the cargo’s weight. Within 10 minutes, the ship foundered, forcing Hayward, his newlywed wife Lucy Whitney Hayward, and crewman Joseph LaPlante into an ice-laden lifeboat that capsized instantly. While LaPlante was saved by the Daniel Webster, the Haywards were tragically knocked into the 32°F waters during the rescue attempt, sinking without a trace, their loss cementing the Sarah Ellen’s place among Lake Champlain’s 300+ shipwrecks.

Discovered in 1989 by Robert Ballard’s team—searching for Benedict Arnold’s 1776 gunboat Spitfire—the Sarah Ellen lies 300 feet deep, remarkably preserved in Lake Champlain’s cold, dark depths. Initial ROV footage revealed an upright mast, a mud-buried bow, and the transom’s legible “Isle La Motte” lettering, with artifacts like dishes and tools likely entombed in silt. The wreck’s pristine state, free of invasive zebra mussels, faced peril in 1992 when treasure hunter Harold Maynard, mistaking it for a 1971 jet, entangled it with grappling hooks and ropes. Maritime historian Arthur Cohn, formerly of the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum, calls it an “intact legacy,” but its accessibility poses risks. The 2019 dive by Michael MacDonald and Tom Howarth, the first human contact in nearly 160 years, showcased the wreck’s haunting beauty but underscored the need for non-invasive exploration to protect this cultural treasure from plunder as diving technology advances.

The Sarah Ellen’s story resonates beyond its tragedy, weaving into Lake Champlain’s lore, including tales of the “Champlain Witch,” a vengeful spirit blamed for conjuring the fatal storm out of jealousy for the Haywards’ love. For technical divers, the wreck is a siren call, demanding rebreather expertise, meticulous decompression (100-minute ascents for 15-minute bottom times), and anchorless navigation to avoid disturbance. The 2019 dive’s high-definition video captured the ship’s eerie stillness, with Maynard’s ropes still draped across the deck. As of 2025, a 3D model shared by local divers offers a virtual glimpse, aiding preservation efforts. With Lake Champlain’s shipwrecks now more accessible than ever, the Sarah Ellen stands as both a technical triumph and a preservation challenge, urging divers to balance exploration with stewardship of this submerged time capsule.

Beneath the dark, frigid waters of Lake Champlain rests the Mule Wreck, a canal boat unlike any other. Nearly 90 feet in length, the vessel lies upright on the lakebed, its broad, flat-bottomed hull and square-sided form remarkably intact. Constructed for the dual demands of the Champlain Canal and open lake travel, its iron-banded bow, sturdy rub rails, and wide cargo hatches reveal a vessel built for years of labor. Yet, unlike the many canal boats deliberately sunk at the end of service, this wreck shows no trace of intentional scuttling—its preservation suggests a sudden and unexpected end during routine passage.

What makes the Mule Wreck so unforgettable is not its hull, but its cargo. Scattered across the deck and gathered in dense piles near the stern are the skeletal remains of animals—most likely mules, horses, or cattle—giving the site both its nickname and its ghostly reputation. In the 19th century, such livestock were indispensable to canal commerce, not only as working animals but also as trade goods. Their presence aboard speaks to a way of life where commerce, risk, and survival were inseparable. Behind them, the stern cabin, still standing with shattered windowpanes, hints at the human element—families who lived within the boat’s narrow quarters as they worked the waterways.

Every preserved detail of the wreck adds depth to its story. The massive wooden-and-iron windlass at the bow, the five yawning deck hatches, and the silty hold—where barrels protrude like half-buried relics—each testify to the vessel’s daily grind of hauling bulk cargo. Beneath layers of sediment, more secrets may rest hidden: provisions, tools, or even the personal belongings of its crew. The Mule Wreck is, in essence, a time capsule—an ordinary workboat transformed into an extraordinary archaeological site by the sudden disaster that sent it, and its unusual cargo, to the bottom of the lake.