Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

by J. W. Tyrrell

Considerable ice was coming down the river, and on this account we felt some anxiety as to crossing, but we were now within a few miles of the boat of which we had been informed, and it seemed possible that we might yet cross the stream before nightfall. In the middle of the afternoon we found the boat drawn up at the mouth of Heart Creek, where the old Indian hunter had left it. It was a large heavily built sail-boat, capable of carrying our whole outfit in one load, but unfortunately the keel was deeply imbedded in the sand and there securely frozen. The only way to free it was to chop it out, and at this task as many hands were set as could find room to work. Long pries were cut and vigorously applied, but even with our united efforts we only managed to get the boat loosened by nightfall. We were obliged, therefore, to leave it until morning, and seek a place to camp.

During the night the wind, which had been blowing pretty strongly for two days past, increased to a gale from the north-west. This unwelcome guest did not come by himself, but brought with him his friend the snow-storm, and they two held high carnival all night, vying with each other as to which should cause the strange intruders in the grove the more discomfort. The gale shrieked through the trees and threatened to level our shelter, nor was he contented with this, but also entered the camp and played pranks with our fire and blankets. The more stealthy snow-storm, making less noise than his blustering friend, before daylight had filled the ravine with white drifts and almost buried us.

Such was our condition on the morning of the 14th. As this was the ninth day from Churchill, our supply of provisions was about exhausted, but we were now only one day’s march from York. After breakfast, despite the condition of the weather, all hands proceeded to the boat, and by a united effort managed to drag it out to the edge of the shore-ice, but the tide being low there was no water to float it. We therefore had to await the flood-tide, which would not be up till about noon. Meanwhile the boat was loaded where it rested upon the sand, and at twelve o’clock, being lifted by the water, a canvas was hoisted, and through a dense fog which rose from the river we sailed up the shore to find a narrow part of the stream and avoid the broad shoals which extended out from the opposite shore.

Having proceeded some three miles up, to the vicinity of Flamboro’ Head, a bold headland, our course was altered and we steered into the fog for the south shore—about two miles distant. The wind was piercingly cold, instantly freezing every splash as it fell, and still blowing fresh, so that our ice-laden craft sped swiftly away on her course. Some floating ice was met, but successfully passed, and for a time it seemed as if the crossing would soon be effected; but suddenly there loomed out of the mist right ahead a dense field of ice, broken and rafted and hurrying down with the current. By putting the helm hard to starboard, and quickly dropping our canvas, we managed to keep clear of the mass; but what was now to be done?

The south shore was still hidden by dense volumes of vapor, and nothing could be seen in that direction but the adjacent fields of ice. On the north shore the dark outline of Flamboro’ Head could still be discerned, and it was resolved thence to beat our retreat. We were, however, unable to sail against the wind, but taking to the oars we managed, after a prolonged and difficult struggle, to regain the place whence we had started.

Once more on land, a camp was made, and a fire kindled to thaw out our stiffened limbs, while we awaited an opportunity to cross. The mist continued the rest of the day, preventing us from making a second attempt, and so we lay up for the night.

Next morning the fog had cleared away, revealing a dismal sight. On the south side the river was frozen over, and the ice firmly set for a mile or more from shore, while the channel of open water to the north was running full of heavy ice, making it quite impossible to use the boat, and equally impossible to effect a crossing on foot.

We had no alternative but to remain where we were, and hope for a change in the condition of the river. Not the least unpleasant feature of this waiting was that our provisions were now gone.

The men were at once sent out to hunt, and returned in the evening with nine ptarmigan, with which a good bouillon was made for supper. Besides this, Eli, the Indian boy, gave us some comforting information as to the existence of a fish cache of his father’s, not far distant. With this consoling knowledge we rolled up in our blankets and were soon dreaming of better times.