There's a Whole Michigan Town Buried Under the Sand

Just up the Lake Michigan coast from the cute resort town of Saugatuck, there used to be another town. It had two hotels, three sawmills, a wildcat bank, general stores, and what is sometimes credited as Michigan’s first schoolhouse. It was called Singapore — yes, named after the exotic Asian port to attract ship trade. It thrived as a lumber boomtown for decades. And then the sand swallowed it whole.

Singapore was founded in 1836 by a New York land speculator named Oshea Wilder, who hoped it would rival Chicago or Milwaukee as a Lake Michigan port. For a while, it nearly delivered. Lumber shipped out by the schooner-load. Then the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and a series of other Midwestern fires created a desperate demand for lumber. Singapore’s mills cut everything in sight, completely deforesting the dunes around the town.

That was the killing stroke. With no trees and no dune grass to hold the sand in place, Lake Michigan’s relentless westerly winds began moving the dunes — by some accounts about 10 feet a year — right on top of the town. By the mid-1870s the people had mostly fled to nearby Saugatuck. By the turn of the 20th century, Singapore was almost entirely buried.

Local legend holds that one stubborn resident refused to leave even as the dunes climbed his house. As the first floor filled with sand, he moved upstairs. As the second floor filled, he went up again. He only finally left when the dunes reached his roof. (It’s likely a tall tale, but it’s a great one.)