What Happens To Put-In-Bay When The Last Ferry Leaves For Winter

For a few months each summer, Put-in-Bay is one of the rowdiest places in the entire Midwest, a tiny Lake Erie island packed with bars, boats, and tens of thousands of tourists who have earned it the nickname "the Key West of Lake Erie." Then the season winds down, the crowds thin out, and one day the last ferry of the year pulls away from the dock. When it does, the island changes almost beyond recognition. What is left behind is a quiet community of a few hundred people, alone on a rock in the middle of a lake that is about to freeze. Here is what happens to Put-in-Bay when the last ferry leaves for winter.

The Key West of Lake Erie

Put-in-Bay is a village on South Bass Island, about three miles off the Ohio mainland in western Lake Erie. In summer, it is tourism in overdrive: taverns, wineries, golf-cart traffic, and the towering Perry's Victory and International Peace Memorial, all fueled by a steady stream of visitors shuttled across by two ferry lines, the car-carrying Miller Ferry from Catawba Island and the high-speed Jet Express from Port Clinton and Sandusky. On a peak summer day, the little island can swell with many thousands of people. It is a full-tilt resort town, built almost entirely around the warm months of the year.

The Last Boat of the Season

That whole machine runs on the ferries, and the ferries do not run forever. As autumn fades, the seasonal workers pack up and head back to the mainland, the bars and shops begin closing their doors for the year, and the Jet Express ends its season. The Miller Ferry hangs on a while longer, running on a reduced, weather-dependent schedule, until the cold and the ice finally shut it down too. The departure of that last boat is a genuine turning point on the island's calendar, the exact moment the easy, constant link to the mainland simply switches off.

The Island on Its Own

Once the boats stop, Put-in-Bay shrinks back down to its true self. The year-round population is only around 500 people, and in some winters closer to 350, so with the tourists gone the island becomes a quiet, shuttered, almost empty place. From this point on, the weather dictates absolutely everything, and a simple trip to the mainland for groceries or an appointment turns into a real undertaking rather than a 20-minute ride. Islanders prepare the way people in remote places always have, stockpiling frozen and nonperishable food for the months ahead, though the Island General Store does stay open all year round.

When the Lake Freezes, You Fly

With the ferries done for the year, the island's lifeline moves into the air. Small charter planes from operators like Griffing Flying Service and Island Air Taxi run between the mainland at Port Clinton and the island's little airstrip, carrying residents, mail, and freight, though only in daylight and only when the weather cooperates. When Lake Erie freezes hard enough, some especially hardy locals cross the ice itself by ATV, snowmobile, or airboat, following a route marked out with old Christmas trees between the island and Catawba, always at their own risk. It is a precarious system, because when thick fog or shifting ice grounds the planes and locks up any boats, the island can be cut off entirely. In one recent winter, more than 100 ice fishermen ended up stranded for days when exactly that happened.

Winter Life on the Rock

For the people who stay, winter is less an ordeal than simply a different rhythm. The island runs a tiny K-12 school, one of the smallest in all of Ohio, with a handful of students who sometimes arrive from neighboring islands by boat or plane. Ice fishing becomes the season's main event, as anglers chase Lake Erie's famous walleye and perch out across the frozen lake, and their arrival actually gives the few open businesses a welcome boost. The locals are quick to tell you not to feel sorry for them, insisting they are never once bored. And then, as the ice finally breaks up and spring returns, the first ferry of the year noses back into the harbor, and the whole roaring summer machine begins to wake up all over again.