CHAPTER XIX.
Six Hundred Miles in a Birch Canoe.
The following summer, I hired a number of men to pack some supplies from Duluth to the shores of Lake Vermilion. I had with me one white man to assist me in a reestimate of the pine timber that I had bought at the land sale in December. Canoes were purchased of the Indians, and I employed some of them to go as packers and canoemen.
The work first took the party eastward a distance of fifty miles. Not only was the timber reexamined, but the character of the streams was carefully noted, with reference to their feasibility for floating out the timber, whenever the time should come for it to be cut and brought to market. All of that country is very rugged and much broken. The shores of the lakes are bold and rock-bound. Islands exist in nearly all of the lakes, and at that time they were thoroughly wooded, many of them containing fine bunches of pine timber. The country was picturesque and the scenery most enchanting. Aquatic birds of various species were frequently startled from the water as our canoes came in sight of them. Fish were abundant and could be taken in almost any one of the lakes, by throwing out a line. There were caribou and moose in the country, but no deer at that time.
Bands of Indians were living along these waters, most of them belonging to the United States, but, as we turned and went westward, on the waters of Lake La Croix we met many Canadian Indians. They all spoke the same language, though sometimes with great difference in accent. There were many waterfalls, and around these, in every instance, a portage had to be made of all our supplies and of our canoes. One day's experience was much like that of its predecessor or like that of the one to follow. On the whole, the work was less arduous than that in a country which is mostly land and not cut up by numerous lakes, as is the condition in all of the northern woods in Minnesota. A camping ground would be selected on a shore of a lake, and, from this one camp, it was often our experience that several days' work could be economically accomplished before it was necessary to again move. The timber that we wished to examine often lay on either side of the lake on the shore of which the camping ground had been selected. Thus the work continued until the party reached Rainy Lake. This lake is fifty-five miles long, and at its foot, at that time, on the Canadian side, was Fort Francis. Much of this water route was then known as the Dawson Route. It had been used by the Canadian government to reach the Canadian Northwest with its soldiers, at the time of the Riel Rebellion. The shattered remains of a number of French batteaus were seen on the rapids between different lakes, where an attempt had been made to navigate the waters, which had disastrously failed.
"We have seen the moose standing out in the bays of the lakes". (Page [172].)
Just below Fort Francis, which is at the beginning of the Rainy River which flows into Lake of the Woods, we found a Canadian farmer. He had been an engineer on board a Canadian steamer that plied from Rat Portage to Fort Francis. When the rebellion was over, and there was no longer use for steamboating, this man determined to take a homestead under the Canadian land laws. This was at the latter end of July. While our party was preparing dinner on the bank of the river at the edge of the settler's meadow, he came down to see us. It was seldom that he saw any of the white race, and, when one chanced to pass by, he was always glad, he said, to see him and learn something of the outside world. He invited us to go back into his meadow where, he assured us, we should find an abundance of ripe, wild strawberries. This we found to be true, and the berries were indeed a luxury to a lot of men who had been living on nothing better than dried peaches or dried apples, stewed and made into sauce.
The work of examining lands was now completed for this trip, but the easiest way out was to continue down Rainy River into Lake of the Woods, and across Lake of the Woods to Rat Portage, where a train on the Canadian Pacific could be boarded and the journey continued to Winnipeg, and from thence by rail back to Minneapolis. At that time no logs had been driven down the Rainy River to mar the beauty of its shore lines which were the most beautiful of any river I have ever seen in Minnesota or in Canada. In some places for half a mile at a stretch there would be a continuous gravel shore. Its waters were deep and clear.
Near the mouth of Rainy River, our party overtook Colonel Eaton and his helper, a man from Wisconsin, whose name, I believe, was Davis. Colonel Eaton was United States government inspector of lands, and was on a tour of inspection to ascertain to what extent the land laws relating to homestead entries were being complied with. Each was glad to meet the other, and in company, we traveled from that time until we finally arrived at Rat Portage.
Lake of the Woods is a very large body of water, and not everywhere is it safe to venture out upon it in small boats or canoes. Colonel Eaton had a staunch rowboat. At Rainy Lake I had paid off and dismissed most of my helpers, so that I had but one canoe remaining. This was occupied by myself and the white man, my assistant, whom I had taken at the beginning of the journey. For a considerable distance, the party was able to keep behind the islands and away from the open lake, until it arrived at a point that is known as a traverse, a wide opening between islands, where the westerly winds, if blowing heavily, have a tremendous sweep. Our party found the whitecaps rolling in across this traverse, on the top of waves so high that neither of our crafts could possibly live, if out in them. Here, on this island, we went ashore and made our camp as comfortable as possible while waiting for the wind and waves to subside.
Both parties had been long from home, and were practically without food to eat. We were obliged to stay on that island three nights and two days before the water had calmed sufficiently for us to cross the traverse. In the meantime, we had eaten the last of our supplies, and were subsisting wholly upon what blueberries we were able to find growing on the island. Some public work was about to begin up the Rainy River, and we had been informed that a steamer from Rat Portage, loaded with various articles of merchandise, was liable to come up the lake to enter the river at almost any time; consequently we were continually on the lookout for the steamer, it being the only source from which we could hope to get anything to eat, before we should arrive at Rat Portage. Finally the steamer was spied on the afternoon of the second day of our unforeseen residence on the island. With towels tied to poles, our party, hoping to be able to signal the passing steamer, went to the shore of the island. It was well out on the lake from our shore, and our hopes began to wane as we saw it steam by us, not having given us any indication that it had seen our signal. Suddenly, however, our fears were turned to hope and joy as we saw its bow turning in our direction. It made a long sweep on account of the high sea, and came in behind our island where the water was deep, and the nose of the steamer was brought almost to our shore. We quickly told the captain our plight, and asked only that we might purchase of him a little flour and a little meat, a little tea and a little coffee, sufficient to take us to Rat Portage, including a possible longer delay on the island because of the wind that was yet blowing. This he gladly gave us, refusing to accept any compensation; and with grateful hearts, we waved him adieu as the boat resumed its course. The following morning, early, the lake was quite calm; and, after a hasty breakfast, we pulled out from shore, crossed the traverse, and once more got behind the friendly islands. From this time on to Rat Portage, our journey was without special interest, the party returning together by rail to Minneapolis.