CHAPTER XXII.
Ascent of the Mississippi above Queen Anne's Lake—Reach the primary forks of the river—Ascend the left-hand, or minor branch—Lake Irving—Lake Marquette—Lake La Salle—Lake Plantagenet—Encamp at the Naiwa rapids at the base of the Height of Land, or Itasca Summit.
A short halt was made on entering Queen Anne's Lake, to examine an object of Indian superstition on its east shore. This consisted of one of those water-worn boulders which assume the shape of a rude image, and to which the Chippewas apply the name Shingabawassin, or image-stone. Nothing artificial appeared about it, except a ring of paint, of some ochreous matter, around the fancied neck of the image.[ [161] We were an hour in crossing the lake southwardly from this point, which would give a mean rate of five miles. At the point of landing, stood a small, deserted, long building, which Ozawindib informed me had been used as a minor winter trading station. I observed on the beach at this spot some small species of unios, and, at higher points on the shore, helices. We here noticed the passenger pigeon. The forest exhibited the elm, soft maple, and white ash. Proceeding directly south from this spot a short distance, we entered the Mississippi, which was found to flow in with a broad channel and rapid current. This channel Lieutenant Allen estimated to be but one hundred yards long, at which distance we entered into a beautiful little lake of pellucid water and a picturesque margin, spreading transversely to our track, to which I gave the name of Irving. Ozawindib held his way directly south through this body of water, striking the river again on its opposite shore. We had proceeded but half a mile above this lake, when it was announced that we had reached the primary forks of the Mississippi. We were now in latitude 47° 28´ 46´´. Up to this point, the river had carried its characteristics in a remarkable manner. Of the two primary streams before us, the one flowing from the west, or the Itascan fork, contributes by far the largest volume of water, possessing the greatest velocity and breadth of current. The two streams enter each other at an acute angle, which varies but little from due south, as denoted in the diagram.
Primary forks of the Mississippi River, in lat. 47° 28´ 46´´.
Ozawindib hesitated not a moment which branch to ascend, but shooting his canoe out of the stronger current of the Itascan fork, entered the other. His wisdom in this movement was soon apparent. He had not only entered the shallower and stiller branch, but one that led more directly to the base of the ultimate summit of Itasca. This stream soon narrowed to twenty feet. We could distinctly descry the moving sands at its bottom; but its diminished velocity was apparent from the intrusion of aquatic plants along its shores. It was manifest also from the forest vegetation, that we were advancing into regions of a more alpine flora. The branches of the larches, spruce, and gray pines, were clothed with lichens and floating moss to their very tops, denoting an atmosphere of more than the ordinary humidity. Clumps of gray willows skirted the margin of the stream.
It was found that the river had made its utmost northing in Queen Anne's Lake. From the exit from that point, the course was nearly due south, and from this moment to our arrival at the ultimate forks, which cannot exceed a mile and a half or two miles, it was evident why the actual source of this celebrated river had so long eluded scrutiny. We were ascending at every curve so far south, as to carry the observer out of every old line of travel or commerce in the fur trade (the sole interest here), and into a remote elevated region, which is never visited indeed, except by Indian hunters, and is never crossed, even by them, to visit the waters of the Red River—the region in immediate juxtaposition north. This semi Alpine plateau, or height of land for which we were now pushing directly, is called in the parlance of the fur trade Hauteurs de Terre. It was evident that we were ascending to this continental plateau by steps, denoted by a series of rapids, presenting step by step, in regular succession, widespread areas of flat surface spotted with almost innumerable lakes, small and large, and rice-ponds and lagoons. Thus, after surmounting the step of the Packagama Falls, we enter on a wide and far stretching plateau which embraces the great area of Leech Lake, and its numerous lacustrine beds. This step or plateau may, in the descending order of the Mississippi, be called the fifth plateau, and is, by barometrical observation, 1,356 feet above the Gulf of Mexico. The next, or fourth step, is that of the plateau of Cass Lake, caused chiefly by the lively waters of the Leech Lake, the Upper Red Cedar, and the Winnepek outlets. The Cass Lake level extends west of this lake to the foot of the Metoswa rapids. This is forty-six feet above the Leech Lake level. The third plateau, on which the Mississippi spreads itself, is that of the Queen Anne summit, which is elevated by the Metoswa rapids sixty-four feet above the former. We had now entered on this third plateau, on which we found the river flowing with a just perceptible current, and frequently expanding itself in small lakes. On the first of these, after ascending the left hand, or minor fork, I bestowed the name of Marquette; and on the second, that of La Salle. We proceeded beyond these to a third lake of larger dimension, which the Chippewas call Kubba-Kunna, or the Rest in the Path, being the site of crossing of one of their noted land-trails; I named it Lake Plantagenet. Lt. Allen deemed this lake ten miles long and five wide. At a point a short distance above the head of this lake, we encamped at a late hour. It was now seven o'clock P. M., and we had been in our canoes sixteen hours, and travelled fifty-five miles. It was not easy to find ground dry enough to encamp on, and while we were searching for it, rain commenced. We had pushed through the ample borders of the Scirpus lacustris and other aquatic plants, to a point of willows, alders, and spruce and tamarack, with pinus banksiana in the distance. The ground was low and wet, the foot sinking into a carpet of green moss at every tread. The lower branches of the trees were dry and dead, exhibiting masses of flowing gray moss. Dampness, frigidity, and gloom marked the dreary spot, and when a camp fire had been kindled it threw its red glare around on strange masses of thickets and darkness, which might have well employed the pencil of a Michael Angelo. Tired and overwearied men are not, however, much given to the poetic on these occasions, and they addressed themselves at once to the pacification of that uneasy organ, the stomach. Travelling with men who strangely mix up two foreign languages, one falls insensibly into the same jargon habits, of which I convicted myself of a notable instance this evening. I had on landing and pushing into the forest, laid a green morocco portfolio on the branches of a little spruce, and could not find it. Kewau bemuasee, I said to one of the men, en petite chose ver, mittig onsing? Have you not seen a small green roll in a sapling? not recollecting that the middle clause of the sentence, though in regimen with the Ojibwa, could have only been construed by one familiar both with the Canadian French and the Algonquin. Such, however, proved to be the case, and he soon handed me the missing portfolio.
I observed, as the crews of the several canoes threw down their day's game before the cook, there was a species of duck, the anas canadensis, I think, which had a small unio attached to one of its mandibles, having been engaged in opening the shell at the moment it was shot. With every aid, however, from the tent and the tea-kettle, and our cook's art in spitting ducks, the night here, in a gloomy and damp thicket, just elevated above the line of the river flags, and quite in the range of the frogs and lizards, proved to be one of the most dreary and forlorn. It was felt that we were no longer on the open Mississippi, but were winding up a close and very serpentine tributary, nowhere over thirty feet wide, which unfolded itself in a savanna, or bog, bordered closely with lagoons and rice ponds. Indian sagacity, it was clear, had led Ozawindib up this tributary as the best, shortest, and easiest possible way of reaching to, and surmounting the Itasca plateau, but it required a perpetual use of hand, foot, paddle, and pole; nor was there a gleam of satisfaction to be found in anything but the most intense onward exertion. Besides, I had agreed to meet the Indians at the mouth of the Crow-Wing River on the 24th of July, and that engagement must be fulfilled.