Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

A TYPICAL NORTHLAND FATHER.

On the following morning, though it was still raining, the wind had fallen, and we were able to go ahead. Because of the wet we had great difficulty in using our surveying instruments and in making notes. During the forenoon while ashore at Cypress Point, a long sand-beach timbered with jack-pine woods, and extending a mile or more out into the lake, we observed a sail not far ahead. A sail-boat in these waters was an unusual sight, but on this occasion we were able to guess its meaning. It was Mr. Reed with his party returning from Fort Fond du Lac (now a small winter post only) to Chippewyan with the last winter’s trade. We had been told we would likely meet him on the lake, and here he came before the breeze in his big York boat. As he approached and sighted us he made in to where we were, and ran his boat on the sand beach. Besides Mr. Reed, the young trader, there were with him two French priests returning from their season’s labor among the Indians. One of them, now an old man, had spent the greater part of his life in mission work in this district, and was about laying down his commission, to be succeeded by his younger companion. As it was nearly noon, our men were instructed, though it was raining heavily, to kindle a fire and prepare lunch for the party. Beneath some thick fir-trees a shelter was found, and the tea being made and lunch laid out on the ground, we all seated ourselves about, and spent a delightful half-hour together. But to us every hour was precious, and without further delay we wished each other God-speed, and continued our courses. By nightfall the log-reading showed our day’s travel to be thirty-two knots, equivalent to about thirty-seven miles. So far we had been fortunate in finding comfortable camping grounds. With a guide who knew the shore we should be expected to do so, but with a guide such as ours, who was commonly several miles behind, his connection with the party made little difference, excepting in the consumption of “grub.”

Three more days passed, and despite the unfavorable weather, seventy miles of shore-line were surveyed. Then a discovery of some interest was made. Just east of the Beaver Hills we found a veritable mountain of iron ore, and that of the most valuable kind, hæmatite. Coal to smelt it is not found in the vicinity, though there is plenty of wood in the forest. The shore of this part of the lake was very much obscured by islands, upon the slopes of which the remains of the last winter’s snow banks could still be seen.

We made an early start on the morning of the 18th, breaking camp at five o’clock, but before we had made any distance a fog settled over the lake so dense that we could not see ten yards from the canoes. For some time we groped along in the darkness, every little while finding our way obstructed by the rocky wall of some island or point of land, and finally, meeting with a seemingly endless shore, we were obliged to wait for the weather to clear. All hands landed and climbed the precipitous bank, with a view to discovering something about the locality, but all was obscurity. Toward noon the fog lifted, and we were able to make out our position, which was on the mainland and north of Old Man Island. On this point we observed a solitary grave, and near by the remains of an old log house. As to who had been the occupant of this solitary hut, or whose remains rested in the lonely grave, we knew not, but their appearance on this uninhabited shore made a realistic picture of desolation and sadness.

On the morning of the 29th of June, high west winds and heavy rain were again the order of the day, but venturing out, we made a fast run before the wind and reached the Fort in a heavy sea. Fond-du-Lac is a fort only in name, and consists in all of two or three small log shanties and a little log mission church, situated on a bare, exposed sandy shore, without any shelter from the fierce winter storms which hold high carnival in this country six or seven months of the year. Having already met the white residents of Fond-du-Lac on the lake, most of their houses, few though they were, were locked up or deserted. Two or three Indians and their families were living at the place, and with one of them letters were left with a hope that they might be taken safely to Chippewyan, and thence forwarded by the Hudson’s Bay Company’s autumn packet to Edmonton. This was undoubtedly the last chance, though only a chance, of sending any news to our friends until we should return to civilization.

From Fond-du-Lac eastward the lake is quite narrow, having much the appearance of a broad river. It is only five miles in width, but extends a distance of fifty miles. On the south shore could be seen a large group of Indian lodges, and at this camp was the home of our guide. It was here that his family were to be left, so we all went across to the Indians’ encampment. Moberly now appeared to be very indifferent as to whether or not he should go any farther with us. Indeed he seemed more inclined to remain with his friends, for to accompany us meant more exertion for him than he was fond of. Various reasons were given why he must remain at this place; but after much parleying, and the offer of liberal inducements, he promised to secure a companion canoeman, and follow our track in the morning. With this understanding we parted, and proceeded along the south shore until evening, when, finding an inviting camping-ground in the open jack-pine wood, we went ashore, while the cooks soon prepared supper, with us the principal meal of the day.

So far our fare had been exceedingly good, for it had been the policy to dispose of luxuries as soon as possible, in order to reduce the weight of the loads on the portages. Our limited stock of canned fruits was, therefore, used with a free hand at first.

June closed with a bright, clear and unusually calm day, which was also marked by the absence of mosquitos and black flies. Under these unusual circumstances, at noon-hour, an event transpired which was seldom repeated during the remaining part of our journey, viz., the taking of a bath.

Just as lunch was ready we were again joined by Moberly and his companion, an old Indian named Bovia. We were glad, if not a little surprised, to see them, for we had a suspicion that the guide had no serious intention of keeping his promise. During the afternoon, however, as before, his canoe lagged far behind, not so much because of his inability to keep up with us, as because of his serene indifference and laziness. The paddles used by him and his comrade were like spoons as compared with our broad blades, and the position of old Bovia, as he pulled with one elbow resting on the gunwale of his canoe, was most amusing. By this way of travelling it was very evident that the guides were going to be a drag rather than a help to us, so it was resolved that before proceeding farther a definite understanding must be arrived at.