Barring a single expansion of somewhat more than a mile in length the Michakamats River, which runs through a flat, marshy and uninteresting country, was too shallow to float our canoes, and we were compelled to portage almost its entire length.
In the wide marshes between these two lakes we met the first evidences of the great caribou migration. The ground was tramped like a barnyard, in wide roads, by vast herds of deer, all going to the eastward. There must have been thousands of them in the bands. Most of the hoof marks were not above a day or two old and had all been made since the last rain had fallen, as was evidenced by freshly turned earth and newly tramped vegetation. We saw none of the animals, however, and there were no hills near from which we might hope to sight the herds.
Evidences of life were increasing and game was becoming abundant as we approached the height of land. Some geese and ptarmigans were killed and a good many of both kinds of birds were seen, as well as some ducks. We began to live in plenty now and the twittering owls were permitted to go unmolested.
Lake Michikamats is irregular in shape, about twenty miles long, and, exclusive of its arms, from two to six miles wide. The surrounding country is flat and marshy, with some low, barren hills on the westward side of the lake. The timber growth in the vicinity is sparse and scrubby, consisting of spruce and tamarack. The latter had now taken on its autumnal dress of yellow, and, interspersing the dark green of the spruce, gave an exceedingly beautiful effect to the landscape.
Where we entered Michikamats, at its outlet, the lake is very shallow and filled with bowlders that stand high above the water. A quarter of a mile above this point the water deepens, and farther up seems to have a considerable depth, though we did not sound it. The western shore of the upper half is lined with low islands scantily covered with spruce and tamarack.
During two days that we spent here in a thorough exploration of the lake, our camp was pitched on an island at the bottom of a bay that, half way up the lake, ran six miles to the northward. This was selected as the most likely place for the portage trail to leave the lake, as the island had apparently, for a long period, been the regular rendezvous of Indians, not only in summer, but also in winter. Tepee poles of all ages, ranging from those that were old and decayed to freshly cut ones, were numerous. They were much longer and thicker than those used by the Indians south of Michikamau. Here, also, was a well-built log cache, a permanent structure, which was, no doubt, regularly used by hunting parties. Some new snowshoe frames were hanging on the trees to season before being netted with babiche. On the lake shore were some other camping places that had been used within a few months, and at one of them a newly made “sweat hole,” where the medicine man had treated the sick. These sweat holes are much in favor with the Labrador Indians, both Mountaineers and Nascaupees. They are about two feet in depth and large enough in circumference for a man to sit in the center, surrounded by a circle of good-sized bowlders. Small saplings are bent to form a dome-shaped frame for the top. The invalid is placed in the center of this circle of bowlders, which have previously been made very hot, water is poured on them to produce steam, and a blanket thrown over the sapling frame to confine the steam. The Indians have great faith in this treatment as a cure for almost every malady.
On the mainland opposite the island upon which we were encamped was a barren hill which we climbed, and which commanded a view of a large expanse of country. On the top was a small cairn and several places where fires had been made—no doubt Indian signal fires. The fuel for them must have been carried from the valley below, for not a stick or bush grew on the hill itself. “Signal Hill,” as we called it, is the highest elevation for many miles around and a noticeable landmark.
To the northward, at our feet, were two small lakes, and just beyond, trending somewhat to the northwest, was a long lake reaching up through the valley until it was lost in the low hills and sparse growth of trees beyond. Great bowlders were strewn indiscriminately everywhere, and the whole country was most barren and desolate. To the south of Michikamats was the stretch of flat swamp land which extended to Michikaman. Petscapiskau, a prominent and rugged peak on the west shore of Michikamau near its upper end, stood out against the distant horizon, a lone sentinel of the wilderness.
The head waters of the George River must now be located. There was nothing to guide me in the search, and the Indians at Northwest River had warned us that we were liable at this point to be led astray by an entanglement of lakes, but I felt certain that any water flowing northward that we might come to, in this longitude, would either be the river itself or a tributary of it, and that some such stream would certainly be found as soon as the divide was crossed.
With this object in view we kept a course nearly due north, passing through four good-sized lakes, until, one afternoon, at the end of a short portage, we reached a narrow, shallow lake lying in an easterly and westerly direction, whose water was very clear and of a bottle-green color, in marked contrast to that of the preceding lakes, which had been of a darker shade.