Saddle, Sled and Snowshoe: Pioneering on the Saskatchewan in the Sixties

by John McDougall

The next morning we pulled our carts as far up the river as there was beach to move on, and then, crossing over several times, got the remainder of our freight, harness and camping outfit across. In the meantime we were making a raft of the carts. We took the wheels off and fastened them to the boxes, then tied the whole together, and as I purchased a long rope in the settlement, my plan was to fasten one end of this to the raft and carefully coiling up the rest, take a third man into the canoe to pay it out while we would paddle for the shore as fast as possible. Arrived there, we would jump out, and with the rope gently warp our raft to the shore. But that current was strong and treacherous, and when we, after a fearful struggle, did succeed in jumping ashore, to my dismay at the first strain the rope broke, and away with the rush of current went our raft of carts.

"We went at a furious rate on that swirling, seething, boiling torrent."

There was just one spot, about a mile down, where we could land those carts. If we missed that the current would sweep them to the other side of the river, and on into a series of rapids below. To jump into the canoe, to chase that raft, to hitch to it, and then to paddle for the shore as we went at a furious rate on that swirling, seething, boiling torrent was our instant action. How we worked! How I watched that one spot where it was possible for us to land! How I calculated the time when I would pay out line, and once more try to warp our raft in! How as by a miracle we did make the one spot, and held our raft, and, securing it, sat down on the shore and rested, and were thankful!

But our difficulties were not yet all mastered. At a glance I saw we had heavy work before us to take those carts out of the spot where we landed. A steep, almost perpendicular bank, covered with brush, must be climbed at the outset, and then a road of some two or three miles made in order to reach the spot where our goods were. Though I saw all this, yet as I lay there with the carts on the home side of the river at my feet, I felt profoundly thankful.

The first thing to be done was to take the carts out of the water and put them together, then, by wading and tracking and pulling and pushing, to take the heavy skin canoe up stream, and again cross, as our stock were still on the south side. Here came the tug of war, for those cattle were afraid of the wide stream and the strong current. We drove them up and started them in at the spot where the flow of water struck for the other side, but all in vain; they kept coming back on us. We shouted and waded in after them. Many times we gave them a fresh send-off. Finally we towed one over after the canoe, and rushed the balance in after this one, but they went back on us again. We took another, and still the rest would not follow; but we gave them no peace, and finally, after hours of the hardest kind of work, they struck out and swam across, some of them going a long distance down stream. Eventually all crossed, and at a late hour on Tuesday evening we were camped—goods and carts and stock and men—on the north side of the South Branch, and as yet no one drowned!

To say we were thankful is to say but little. Why, even the seemingly emotionless Scot of our party unbent that evening and became quite funny. But we also were very tired, and to add to this, in my case, the soles of my feet were badly cut with the sharp stones, and the fine sand had got into the wounds, causing me intense pain. The next morning my feet were badly swollen, and only with great difficulty could I put them to the ground, so I depended on Oliver and Jim to hunt up the stock. After being hours away they returned and reported the most of our horses lost. There was no other resource but to soak my swollen feet and moccasins in the river, and start out to look for them. By taking a big circle from the river, I finally found their track, and running or walking or crawling, as occasion required, I followed them up, my progress depending on the nature of the soil and the grass. Sometimes I was obliged to go on my hands and knees, in order to detect the faint tracks left by those unshod horses.

After hours of such tracking and of closest scanning of the track, I came to the summit of a hill, and was exceedingly fortunate in catching a glimpse of my horses disappearing over the brow of a hill in the distance. My seeing them as I did saved me hours of tracking, and enabled me to catch up on them fast, for I did not stop my race until I reached the spot where they had disappeared from view. Then, as they were not in sight, I began my tracking again, and very soon came to the truants in a swamp. I caught one, and jumping on bare-back, made those horses fairly fly back to the river, where I was gladly welcomed by my companions, who had become anxious at my long absence.

Working on into the night that evening, we succeeded in climbing the hill, and camped about three miles from the river. The next day we reached Carlton and the North Saskatchewan. Here we had a wider river to cross, but were fortunate in securing the loan of a boat which, although it was old and very leaky, yet enabled us to cross a cart and its load at each trip. Our cattle, too, did not give us so much trouble as at the South Branch. We were not quite two days in crossing. Here we had a long, high hill to double up with our loads, but finally were on the top of it, and on the home side of the two big Saskatchewans. I was a very glad man in consequence. The hundreds of miles yet to travel, the many smaller rivers and streams yet to cross, seemed as nothing to what we had passed; and we were all pleased that the backbone of the trip was now broken.