Wednesday, September 2nd.—West wind. Fixed moccasins in A.M. and started portage west. Camped in swamp.
Thursday, September 3rd.—Rain all day by spells. Wind west. Got up in rain, hating to leave blankets. At breakfast, bread and tea and venison. I took no tea. Am trying now just venison and fish broth. May agree with me better than tea. Don't miss sugar much any more, though I do plan little sweet feeds when I am out. Very nasty work in rain. Am well again and strong. Worked well. Portaged and paddled west 4 1/2 miles. Wallace turned round again and carried pack back to starting point. George and I carried canoe. Sky cleared in evening. Saw all day big spruce trees. Country here not burned I think.
Friday, September 4th.—Rain. West wind, Portaged west 1 1/2 miles, with two little lakes to help. Rain all time. Stopped to let George scout best way to big lake ahead. Thinks it is 3 miles away. Hope it leads to Michikamau. George and Wallace mending moccasins. George reports big water about 3 miles ahead. Hope Low's Northwest River lake expansions. Cannot be far now from Michikaman. Spent much time over map in P.M. Think we must start back 1st October to the St. Lawrence, if we can get guides. Otherwise to Northwest River and then snowshoe out.
Saturday, September 5th.—Rain by spells. West wind, cold. Awoke in rain. Last three nights have been as clear as crystal, beautiful moon. Then rain in the morning. Very disappointing. We waited a little while about getting up, hoping rain would stop. Slackened, and we started. Poor day's work. Portaged about 2 1/2 miles west. Came out on barrens and ate lot of blue berries. Saw big waters to west, big blue hill, blue sky-line where we hope Michikamau lies hidden. Pint berries raw for supper. Otherwise, venison and broth, thickened with three spoonfuls of flour, each meal.
Sunday, September 6th.—Temp. 5 A.M. 38 degrees. First snow came, mixed with nasty cold rain. Nasty, raw, west wind. Worked in it most of day, portaging 2 1/2 miles N.W. Tried carrying all stuff at one trip. Grub low. Big water ahead. Believe this big water will lead to Michikamau. Almost a desperate hope. If it does not and we find no water route, I scarcely see how we can reach the caribou grounds in time to see the crossing and meet the Nascaupees. Without that I am doubtful of the success of this trip, and failure makes me shudder. Besides it is liable to make us all very hungry. We must push on harder, that's all. And get there somehow.
Monday, September 7th.—Temp. at 5 A.M. 48 degrees. N.W. wind, slight. Rain by showers. On portage crossed worst swamp of trip. In to my knees and fell down with heavy pack on my back. Floundered out in nasty shape. Found small stream flowing N.W. toward our big water. I caught about thirty trout, not big, while Wallace and George brought up outfit and canoe by stream. Very slow work. All very hungry in P.M. Stopped for pot of soup. Found it getting dark and stopped to camp. Last meal of venison in bag. Must get fish. Ate half our trout to-night, boiled and thickened with flour. Drank last bit of cocoa. No sugar. Boys not scared. No talk of quitting. Don't just see where we are coming out.
Tuesday, September 8th.—Cold raw N.W. wind, no rain, partly clear. Observation noon, 54 degrees l minute 21 seconds. Aired and dried blankets. Followed stream down to very shoal bay of our big water, which like the will-o'-wisp has led us on. Only ten trout, mostly small. Weather too raw. Very depressing to have it so when meat is out. On to caribou grounds is the watchword. Gave up trouting and started west on our big lake. Stopped to climb mountain. Ate some cranberries. Saw a few old caribou tracks. Big mountain to west of us. Islands or something between, many low, flat, wooded.
Wednesday, September 9th.—BIG DAY. Warm, clear. Temp. 5 A.M. 29 degrees. Ice in cups. Slept without sweater or socks last night. Cold but slept well. Beautiful cold crisp morning. Up at first dawn. Inspiring, this good weather. George boiled a little bacon and rice together, and a little flour made sort of porridge for breakfast. Very, very good. No fish or game ahead. Went to big hill mentioned yesterday. George and I walked about 4 miles and back getting to its top through spruce burnings. Awful walking. Very tired when about to top. Wondering about next meal and thinness of soup mostly to blame, I guess. Then things began to get good. First we ran across a flock of ten ptarmigan. They were in the burned-over semi-barren of the hill-top. They seem to lack entirely the instinct to preserve themselves by flying. Only ran ahead, squatting in apparent terror every few feet. We followed with our pistols. I killed eight and George one, my last was the old bird, which for a time kept away from us, running harder than the rest, trying to hide among the Arctic shrubs. George says they are always tame on a calm day. Their wings are white, but the rest is summer's garb. "Not rockers, but the real kind," says George. Then we went on across the mountain top and looked west. There was MICHIKAMAU! And that's what made it a BIG DAY. A series of lake expansions runs east from it. We can see them among flat drift islands, cedar covered, and a ridge south, and a hill and the high lands north, and apparently a little river coming from the north, and pouring into the lake expansions some miles east of Michikamau. There is one main channel running east and south, in this expansion. It is north of the waters we are now in, and we can see no connection. However, there looks as if there might be one about 5 miles east of our big hill. Behind some barren ridges, about 50 feet high. So we are making for them to see what we can find. If no connection, we must portage, but we will not mind a little portage now, with Michikamau waters just over it. Westward from our hill are dozens of little lakes, and a good deal of low burned land. S.E. more lakes. Must be an easy portage from the lakes on which we were muddled two weeks ago. That's where we missed it, in not finding that portage.
Thursday, September 10th.—Wind west, cloudy. Temp. 5 A.M. 46 degrees. Rain in evening. Cut legs from old drawers and pulled them over pants as leggings. Went east looking for opening in N.W. River. Think we saw it in ridge to northeast, came S.W. Believe that we saw also opening into Michikamau's Bay which runs out of lake on S.E. side. Wind delayed, and we only got to foot of mountain from which we expect to see it. Camped. Rain commenced. While scouting I shot a large spruce partridge with pistol.
Friday, September 11th.—Raining in morning. Wind southwest. Temp. 49 degrees. Ate last meal of mother's sweet dried apples. We are on the verge of success apparently, in sight of Michikamau from which it is not far to the caribou grounds and the Nascaupees. Yet we are sick at heart at this long delay and the season's lateness and our barefoot condition. Yet no one hints at turning back. We could do so, and catch fish and eat our meal, for we know the way to within easy walking distance of Grand Lake, but the boys are game. If we only had a fish net we would be 0.K. My plan is to get a few fish if possible, push on at once to Michikamau somehow. Get to the George River, and find the Nascaupees. Then if the caribou migration is not over, we will kill some of the animals, dry them up and get as far back as possible before freezing up and leaving the canoe. Then, unless we can get some one to show us to the St. Lawrence, we will probably go to Northwest River Post, get dogs and provisions, and snowshoe S.W. to Natishquan or some such point. If we don't get to the caribou grounds in time—well, we'll have to get some fish ahead, or use our pea meal in a dash for the George River H.B.C. Post. After breakfast George and I went in rain to climb mountain. No water into S.W. bay of our lake as we hoped. Trolling back, I caught one small namaycush. Then we all started to hunt for a rapid we heard on the south side of this lake. Caught one 2 1/2 lb. namaycush. Found rapid. Good sized stream falling in from south. Big hopes, but too shoal and rapid, no pools. Only one mess of trout. Very much disappointed. While Wallace and I fish, George gone to troll. When he gets back, we will go to look for inlet into Low's "Northwest River." Not finding that we will start on a portage for it in the morning. Later by camp fire. Weather has cleared. All bright and starry. Caught a 7-lb. namaycush and so we eat to- night.