Today, we dive into one of Lorain, Ohio’s most mysterious maritime legends — the tale of the ghost ship Upper Canada.
According to one story, back in 2003, this vessel mysteriously appeared on the Black River, drifting silently until it settled near the base of the West 21st Street Bridge. Since then, it hasn’t moved — and neither have the questions surrounding it.
No one knows how the ship arrived, and all attempts to reach its supposed owner have led to dead ends. With its rusted frame and eerie silence, the Upper Canada remains an unsettling fixture on the riverbank.
Once a proud vessel serving communities across Eastern Canada, the Upper Canada now rests silently in northern Ohio, a relic of maritime history.
History
Launched in May 1949 as the Romeo & Annette, the ferry was originally commanded by Captain Romeo Allard, who transported passengers and vehicles across the Bay of Chaleur between Bathurst, New Brunswick, and Quebec’s Gaspé Peninsula, and was built in Owen Sound, Canada
In 1966, the vessel was renamed Upper Canada and began service as a second ferry on the Kingston–Wolfe Island route. A decade later, in 1976, she was assigned as a backup to the Pelee Islander, later moving to LaSalle, Ontario.
From 1996 to 2000, Upper Canada was leased to the Beausoleil First Nation and provided vital service to Christian Island on Georgian Bay.
Eventually relocated to Lorain, Ohio, the ferry’s active life came to an end when her registration expired in 2008. She has remained abandoned ever since—a quiet testament to decades of service on Canada’s waterways.
Around a decade ago, the U.S. Coast Guard inspected the abandoned vessel for any environmental hazards. Finding none, they chose to leave it as it was. According to the Great Lakes Vessels Online Index, curated by Bowling Green State University, a man named Al Johnson acquired the former Canadian ferry in 1999. The ship’s weathered name, Upper Canada, is still faintly visible. Since then, ownership and responsibility for the ferry have been unclear. How it ended up deserted in American waters remains a mystery. For the vessel to be removed or salvaged, someone would need to formally claim it—but no one ever has. The Lorain Port Authority has made it clear they want no involvement, and neither does anyone else. So there it remains: slowly corroding in the mud, forgotten like an old wreck left to decay in an overgrown, long-abandoned lot.
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