Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

On the following morning the water of the Bay was out of sight, and it was not until about noon, when the tide flowed in, that we were able to float the canoes. We were so obstructed by the new ice and a strong head-wind, that we were not able to make more than a mile or two before being again forced to struggle to the shore. At this rate we would be a long time in reaching Churchill. We had now been more than three weeks on the coast, and were still at least two hundred and fifty miles from our haven.

Some different mode of travel must be adopted or we should never get in. The shore ice was forming rapidly and might now block us at any time. We had not more than enough meat for another day or two, and the game had all left the country. What was to be done? My brother and I talked the matter over during the night. The plan suggested itself of abandoning everything but rifles and blankets, and starting down the shore on foot. But then, how could the numerous large rivers, which were still open, be crossed? Again, to this plan there was the objection that having been in canoes all summer, our party, though still strong enough to paddle, was in very poor condition to walk. The only other feasible plan was then suggested. It was to abandon dunnage, instruments, rock collection, etc., everything except note-books, photographs, plant collection, rifles, blankets, and two small tents, and with these to start out in only two light canoes, and with the increased force in them to travel for our lives.

This plan was decided on, and in the morning the men were set to work to cache all our stuff excepting the articles above mentioned. This occupied the whole morning, and to us it was a sad and lonely task, but as it seemed to be the only way by which we might hope to escape from this dreary ice-bound coast, it was felt to be a necessary one. As secure a cache as we could build was made, and then with heavy hearts we turned our steps toward the shore.

After launching the two canoes it was with great danger and difficulty we were able to force a way through the broken but heavy shore-ice to the open water beyond. Having once gotten clear, we were able to make good progress, and even at great risk of being smashed upon some of the many rocks, we paddled far into the night; but at a late hour, being sheathed in ice from the freezing spray we landed, and, without supper, lay down to sleep upon the snow.

Eight more dreary days passed, six of which were spent in battling with the elements and two in lying storm-stayed in our tents. During this interval our party suffered much from cold and lack of food, and to make matters worse, dysentery attacked us, and it appeared as if one of our men would die.

The ice had been all the while forming, rendering it more and more difficult to launch or get ashore. Our frail crafts were being badly battered, and often were broken through by the ice, and the low character of the coast had not improved. Still with hollow cheeks and enfeebled strength we struggled on, sometimes making fair progress and at others very little, until on October the 14th, as we advanced, the ice became so heavy, and extended so far out to sea, that in order to clear it we had to go quite out of sight of land.

Towards evening we began to look about for some opportunity of going ashore, but nothing could be seen before us but a vast field of ice with occasional protruding boulders. We pushed on, hoping to find some bluff point or channel of water by which we might reach the shore, but the appearance of things did not change in the slightest. We stood up in the canoes or climbed upon boulders, vainly hoping to at least get a glimpse of the land. Of course, we knew the direction in which the shore lay, but it was so low, and we were so far out, that it was beyond our view.

Soon the shades of night began to fall about us, our canoes were leaking badly and the weather was bitterly cold. Failing to reach the shore, we resolved to wait for high tide, about ten o’clock, hoping we might with it do better. The tide came, but left us still in the same condition, no more able to penetrate the ice or gain the shore than before. It had become intensely dark, and we were in great danger of being smashed on the ice or rocks. We were utterly helpless and could do nothing but remain where we were, or go where the tide chose to carry us, until the return of daylight.

The hours of that night were the longest I have ever experienced, and the odds seemed to be against us surviving until morning; but at last the day returned and found us still alive. My brother was nearly frozen, having been obliged to sit or lie in icy water all night. Poor little Michel had both of his feet frozen, and the rest of us were badly used up. Still we were in the same position as on the night before. We could not hold out much longer; we must gain the shore or perish. At the time of high tide, the ice being somewhat loosened, our canoes were thrust into the pack, and by great exertion as well as much care we succeeded about one o’clock in reaching solid ice, upon which we were able to land and, for the last time, haul out our noble little crafts. We had been in them just thirty hours, battling with the ice, exposed to a chilling winter blast, our clothing saturated and frozen, and our bodies faint and numb with starvation and cold. But we were now within reach of the land, and all of us who were able gladly scrambled out upon the ice to stretch our cramped and stiffened limbs. My brother was in a perishing condition from the exposure of the night. He had been barely able to keep his canoe afloat by bailing, and had sat in the icy water for seventeen hours. I wrapped him up as warmly as I could and administered half a bottle of Jamaica ginger, the last of our stock. We then set about hauling the canoes over the ice to the shore, which we soon reached, and where we were so fortunate as to find drift-wood. A fire was quickly made, camp pitched, and better still, a meal prepared. On the previous day a seal, the only one secured on the trip, had been shot, and we were now in a position to appreciate it. The three western men were still fairly strong, but the remaining five of us were very weak and badly used up. We knew now, however, that we could be no great distance from Churchill, for we had again reached the wooded country, and two or three miles back from the shore could be seen dark clumps of spruce trees. This was a most consoling fact, for besides having meat for several days, we felt that we would have shelter and fire.