"After noon, more rapids and I got out above one of them to walk. I climbed up the river wall to the high, sandy terrace above. This great wall of packed boulders is one of the most characteristic features of the lower river. It is thrown up by the action of ice in the spring floods, and varies all the way from twenty feet at its beginning to fifty and sixty feet farther down. One of the remarkable things about it is that the largest boulders lie at the top, some of them so huge as to weigh tons. On the terrace, moss berries and blue berries were so thick as to make walking slippery. The river grows more magnificent all the time. I took one photograph of the sun's rays slanting down through a rift in the clouds, and lighting up the mountains in the distance. I am feeling wretched over not having more films. How I wish I had brought twice as many.
"While running the rapid George and Job were nearly wrecked. Job changed his mind about the course a little too late and they had a narrow escape. They were whirled round and banged up against a cliff with the bottom of the canoe tipped to the rock and held there for a while, but fortunately did not turn over till an unusually tempestuous rush of water reached up and lifted the canoe from its perch down into the water again. Then tying a rope at either end they clambered out to a precarious perch on a slope in the cliff. By careful manoeuvring they succeeded in turning the canoe round and getting in again, thus escaping from the trap. Joe and Gilbert came through without mishap. Practically the whole river from Indian House Lake is like a toboggan slide. I shall be glad for everyone and especially for Job, when we have left the rapids behind. He says be feels better to-night. Saw fresh caribou tracks upon the terrace. Have been finding beautiful bunches of harebell (Cornua uniflora) in the clefts of the rocks along the river. They are very lovely. Once to-day the lonely cry of a wolf came down to us from high up on the mountain side. The mountains are splendid. We are in the midst of scenes which have a decidedly Norwegian look. Have passed one river and several good- sized streams coming in from the east and one of some size from west, but we have seen nothing from the west which could be called a river. Much more water comes in from the east.
"As we turned northward this evening just above camp a wind came up the valley, that felt as if straight from the Arctic. Fire in an open place to-night, and I do not like to go out to supper. It is so cold. Thinking now we may possibly get to the post day after to-morrow. George says be thinks the river must be pretty straight from here. I rather think it will take us a little more than two days. All feel that we may have good hope of catching the steamer. Perhaps we shall get to tide water to-morrow. There have been signs of porcupine along the way to-day, and one standing wigwam. There is a big bed of moss berries (a small black berry, which grows on a species of moss and is quite palatable) right at my tent door to-night. So strange, almost unbelievable, to think we are coming so near to Ungava. I begin to realise that I have never actually counted on being able to get there."
The country grew more and more mountainous and rugged and barren. The wood growth, which is of spruce and tamarack, with here and there a little balsam, was for some distance below the Barren Grounds Water rather more abundant than it had been along the lake shores. At best it was but a narrow belt along the water edge covering the hills to a height of perhaps two hundred feet and dwindling gradually toward the north, till in some places it was absent altogether and our tents were pitched where no trees grew. The ridges on either side crossed each other almost at right angles, turning the river now to the northeast, again to the northwest. Down the mountain sides, broad bands of white showed where the waters of numberless lakes and streams on the heights came tumbling down to join the river, or again a great gap in the solid mountain of rock let through a rush of blue-green, foaming water. The hills have the characteristic Cambrian outline and it is the opinion of Mr. Low that this formation extends continuously eastward from the Kaniapiscau to the George. The mountains on the right bank were more rugged and irregular than those on the left, and Bridgman Mountains in places stand out to the river quite distinct and separate, like giant forts. On the morning of August 24th they had closed round us as if to swallow us up, and gazing back from our lunching place George said, with something of awe in his tone, "It looks as if we had just got out of prison."
And still the river roared on down through its narrow valley, at Helen Falls dropping by wild and tempestuous cascades, and then by almost equally wild rapids, to a mile below where it shoots out into an expansion with such terrific force as to keep this great rush of water above the general level for some distance out into the lake. Here we made the longest portage of the journey down the George River, carrying the stuff one and a quarter mile.
Below Helen Falls the mountains spread in a wider sweep to the sea, and the river gradually increased in width as it neared Ungava. Still it flowed on in rapids. So often we had asked each other, "Will they never end?" However, in the afternoon on August 26th, we reached smooth water, and had a few hours' paddling. Then darkness began to close in. If only we could keep on! I knew from my observation that day we could not be many miles from our journey's end now; but it was not to be that we should reach our destination that night, and camp was pitched at a point, which I thought must be about seven or eight miles above the post.
It was very disappointing, and when George said, "If the ship is there they will be sure to try to get off Saturday night," I felt rather desperate. Still it would not do to take chances with the George River in the dark.
In spite of anxieties I slept that night but felt quite strung in the morning. At breakfast I used the last of the crystalose in my tea. It seemed very wonderful that the little ounce bottle of this precious sweet had lasted us as long as sixty pounds of sugar. There was just a little of our tea left, and I filled the bottle with it to keep as a souvenir of the trip. The remainder I put into one of the waterproof salt-shakers and this I gave to George. I learned later that there was a bit of quiet fun among the men as I did it. They had no great faith in my calculations, and it was their opinion that the tea would probably taste quite good at lunch.
After what seemed an unnecessarily long time, the camp things were again in the canoe and we were off. About a mile below the camp we found that the rapids were not yet passed. Here a heavy though short one made a portage necessary and then we dropped down to where the river spreads out to two miles or more in width. For several miles we paddled on in smooth water, the river swinging a little to the west. How eagerly I watched the point where it turned again to the north for beyond that we should see the post. As we neared the bend there was an exciting escape from running into an unsuspected rapid. Nothing was to be seen ahead but smooth water. The wind was from the south and not a sound was heard till, suddenly, we found ourselves almost upon the brink of the slope, and only by dint of hard paddling reached the shore just at its edge. It was the first and only time we had been caught in this way. Again came the question, "Will they never end?"
The rapids stretched on before us turbulent and noisy, as before, first west then swinging abruptly to the north. Joe and Gilbert decided to portage across the point, but George and Job after much consideration prepared to run down in the canoe while I walked across to the little bay below.