While browsing the city from Google Map’s bird’s eye view, I notice something tagged off of the coast of Hyde Park in the lake. Zooming in to the harsh pixelation of the image, I see that there is a point sticking out of the water, and a geotag marked “Shipwreck of the Silver Spray.” After a bit of research, I immediately became hooked on the idea of exploring this incident. I reach out to a friend, Erik Basler, Div. 651, and he and I begin to devise a plan to go out and actually see this wreck for ourselves.

The ship, or what remains of it, claims as its rest-ing place part of Morgan Shoal, off the coast of 49th Street Beach. On July 15, 1914, the Silver Spray, a passenger steamer, was on its way to pick up University of Chicago students and they were in Lake Michigan. according to the Chicago Reader. The vessel ran aground on the shoal, and following two days of constantly pounding waves, the ship broke apart, leaving only the metal boiler, which remains mainly underwater to this day.

It takes quite a while to actually follow through with this plot, but a little over a year after our first idea, Erik and I begin packing our jumble of gear together into his dad’s old Chrysler minivan. Erik had originally attempted to explore the wreck the week before with a friend, but the clouds broke, “and we just decided to swim for it, which was not a really good idea,” Basler said. Eventually the two turned back when it started to hail.

This time around, we are better prepared. Accompanied by my brother, Edward Boyle, Div. 986, we drive down to 49th St. and snag a prime parking spot amongst all of the anxious lake-goers circling for an opening. Carrying our cumbersome load of snorkels, flippers, life jackets, and cameras (yes, two of them, as it was me, the photo editor, going into the lake), we scurry across the scorching pavement to reach an equally painful rock beach to set off from.

GoPro in hand, Edward films snippets of our choppy voyage out 200 meters or so. As we swim out in what we hope is the direction the wreck, we grow tired as the waves constantly beat against us. Just as I am about to stop for a moment to assure myself that we are heading in the correct direction, I dip my head underwater.

Startled, I immediately jerk my head out of the water. I see two dark, elliptical openings — with some sort of metal structure adjacent to the openings — and I briefly perceive an ominous face-like only to register that this is it! And thanks to the rising level of Lake Michigan in recent months, the structure barely protrudes from the undulating body of water — almost unnoticeable from the shore, let alone five meters away. Shouting out to Edward and Erik in excitement, I call them over.

My brother makes his way over to fasten a line to secure our gear, and we begin to explore what is left of the fateful ship: merely the metal boiler. I whip out my digital camera in its flimsy yet foolproof waterproof case and start snapping photographs. The excitement of this “discovery” rushes through us as we circle the metal structure, swimming through its pieces and documenting it from every angle before we make our way back to shore with the aid of an east wind.

The three of us climb onto shore, appearing as if we were lost at sea to the confused sunbathers. They will never know of the adventure that we had just experienced; rather they go back to their tanning and ignore the goofy gaggle of teenagers who just washed up onto the beach from who knows where.

“If you like adventure, like exploring or doing stuff outdoors” then this shipwreck is the place to be, according to Erik Basler.