We outlined as carefully as possible the course that we should follow through the maze of lakes, with the round peak as our objective point, for just south of it there seemed to be an opening through the ridge: beyond which we hoped lay Michikamau.
The next day we portaged through a marsh and into the lake country and made some progress, portaging from lake to lake across swampy and marshy necks. It was Sunday, but we did not realize it until our day’s work was finished and we were snug in camp in the evening.
Monday’s dawn brought with it a day of superb loveliness. The sky was cloudless, the earth was white with hoarfrost, the atmosphere was crisp and cool, and we took deep breaths of it that sent the blood tingling through our veins. It was a day that makes one love life.
Through small lakes and short portages we worked until afternoon and then—hurrah! we were on big water again. Thirty or forty miles in length the lake stretched off to the westward to carry us on our way. It was choked in places with many fir-topped islands, and the channels in and out amongst these islands were innumerable, so Pete called it Lake Kasheshebogamog, which in his language means “Lake of Many Channels.”
As we paddled I dropped a troll and before we stopped for the night landed a seven-pound namaycush, and another large one broke a troll. The “Land of God’s Curse” was behind us. We were with the fish again, and caribou and wolf tracks were seen.
The next day found us on our way early. A fine wind sent us spinning before it and at the same time kept us busy with a rough sea that was running on the wide, open lake when we were away from the shelter of the islands. At one o’clock we boiled the kettle at the foot of a low sand ridge, and upon climbing the ridge we found it covered with a mass of ripe blueberries. We ate our fill and picked some to carry with us.
At three o’clock we were brought up sharply at the end of the water with no visible outlet. The nature of the lake and the lateness of the season made it impracticable to turn back and look in other channels for the connection with western waters. Former experience had taught me that we might paddle around for a week before we found it, for these were big waters. Five miles ahead was the high, round peak that we were aiming for, and I had every confidence that from its top Michikamau could be seen and a way to reach the big lake. I decided that it must be climbed the next morning, and selected Pete and Easton for the work. A fall the day before had given me a stiff knee, and it was a bitter disappointment that I could not go myself, for I was nervously anxious for a first view of Michikamau. However, I realized that it was unwise to attempt the journey, and I must stay behind.
That night Stanton made two roly-polies of the blueberries we picked in the afternoon, boiling them in specimen bags, and we used the last of our sugar for sauce. This, with coffee, followed a good supper of boiled partridge and owl. It was like the old days when I was with Hubbard. We were making good progress, our hopes ran high, and we must feast. Pete’s laughs, and songs and jokes added to our merriment. Rain came, but we did not mind that. We sat by a big, blazing fire and ate and enjoyed ourselves in spite of it. Then we went to the tent to smoke and every one pronounced it the best night in weeks.
On Wednesday rain poured down at the usual rising time and the men were delayed in starting, for we were in a place where scouting in thick weather was dangerous. It was the morning of the famous eclipse, but we had forgotten the fact. The rain had fallen away to a drizzle and we were eating a late breakfast when the darkness came. It did not last long, and then the rain stopped, though the sky was still overcast. Shortly after breakfast Pete and Easton left us. I gave Pete a new corncob pipe as he was leaving. When he put it in his pocket he said, “I smoke him when I see Michikaman, when I climb hill, if Michikamau there. Sit down, me, look at big water, feel good then. Smoke pipe, me, and call hill Corncob Hill.”
“All right,” said I, laughing at Pete’s fancy. “I hope the hill will have a name to-day.”