Explorers and Travellers

by A. W. Greely

In April, 1767, the Santees descended the Minnesota in order, among other things, to bury their dead near a remarkable cave on Lake Pepin, known to the Indians as the “dwelling of the Great Spirit.”

Finding that supplies had not been sent to the Falls of St. Anthony, Carver returned to Prairie-du-Chien in order to get sufficient stores to enable him to reach Lake Superior, whence he hoped to be able to cross the continent from Grand Portage. Obtaining such supplies, he proceeded up the Mississippi to the Chippeway River, and, after ascending to its head, made portages to the St. Croix, and reached Lake Superior, possibly by the river now known as the Bois Brule.

From this point Carver, in his canoe, skirted the coast of Lake Superior to the Grand Portage, where he awaited the arrival of the Hudson Bay or northern traders, from whom he anxiously hoped to obtain supplies that would enable him to journey west; but he was destined to disappointment, as nothing could be obtained from them. Carver coasted around the north and east borders of Lake Superior, and arrived at the Falls of Ste. Marie the beginning of October, having skirted nearly twelve hundred miles of the shores of Lake Superior in a birch canoe.

The Sault Ste. Marie was then the resort of the Algonquin Indians, who frequented the falls on account of the great numbers of whitefish that filled the waters, particularly in the autumn, when that fish leaves the lakes in order to spawn in shallow running waters.

In November, 1767, Carver arrived at Mackinac, having, as he says, “been sixteen months on this extensive tour, travelled nearly four thousand miles, and visited twelve nations of Indians living to the west and north. His picture of Detroit on his return, in 1768, is of retrospective interest.

“The town of Detroit contains upward of one hundred houses. The streets are somewhat regular, and have a range of very convenient and handsome barracks with a spacious parade at the south end. On the west side lies the King’s Garden, belonging to the Governor, which is very well laid out, and kept in good order. The fortifications of the town consist of a strong stockade, made of round piles, fixed firmly in the ground, and lined with palisades. These are defended by some small bastions, on which are mounted a few indifferent cannon of an inconsiderable size, just sufficient for its defence against the Indians or an enemy not provided with artillery. The garrison in time of peace consists of two hundred men, commanded by a field-officer, who acts as chief magistrate under the Governor of Canada.

“In the year 1762, in the month of July, it rained on this town and the parts adjacent a sulphurous water of the color and consistency of ink, some of which being collected in bottles, and wrote with, appeared perfectly intelligible on the paper, and answered every purpose for that useful liquid. Soon after, the Indian wars already spoken of broke out in these parts. I mean not to say that this incident was ominous of them, notwithstanding it is well known that innumerable well-attested instances of extraordinary phenomena, happening before extraordinary events, have been recorded in almost every age by historians of veracity; I only relate the circumstance as a fact, of which I was informed by many persons of undoubted probity, and leave my readers, as I have heretofore done, to draw their own conclusions from it.”

It is beyond question that certain chapters of Carver’s work, supplementary to his account of his personal explorations, and especially devoted to Indians and to the natural history of the Northwest, are practically translations of the accounts of Charlevoix, Hennepin, and particularly of Lahontan. It does not appear from the first part of the work that Carver was a man endowed with those powers of observation and assimilation which are essential traits for the successful traveller and author.

When the brief recital of his personal travels is examined, it seems difficult to determine on what grounds his truthfulness has been questioned by a few hostile critics. His story is simple and straightforward, devoid of boastfulness, free from any exaggeration as to his personal prowess, and the statement that he passed a winter of five months in the valley of the Upper Minnesota is, in my opinion, worthy of entire credence.