We continued our journey, having horses to carry the loads. Occasionally we ourselves mount, but the trail is so rough that for the best part of the distance it was easier made on foot. The horses were fresh after a week’s rest, and for an hour they bounded over the logs and rocks with ease, but they soon settled down into their ordinary pack-horse walk.
Two miles from our dinner camp we crossed a stream of bright blue water from the north, nearly equal in volume to the Eagle River. Four miles further we met Mr. Joseph Hunter on his way to find us. He gave us the welcome news that to-morrow we would be on a waggon road, now being constructed over the western end of Eagle Pass, and that at Shuswap Lake we would find a steamer to take us to Kamloops.
Our trail did not improve. It continued on the hill side over rocky ground, partially through a brulé. Our march was tedious, for we were more on foot than in the saddle.
Eight miles from our noon camp we reached the north fork of the Eagle River, a stream about eighty feet in width. The water was turbid, indicative of a glacial source. We found some difficulty in fording it, owing to the rapidity of the current and the bed of the stream being full of large boulders. A mile further on we camped on the hill side among the charred remains of a forest fire, and had an excellent supper. The moon rose, nearly at the full, lighting the lofty hills in our front, and as we sat by the fire Mr. Hunter told us all he knew of the doings of the outer world, of which we had lost all trace for nearly four weeks. We learned that our camp is but four or five miles in a direct course from a working party constructing a waggon road in our direction.
As the morrow will be Sunday, Dr. Grant suggests that we should start as usual, and that he should hold a service when we arrive. Accordingly the following morning Mr. Hunter and he start off on foot in advance. We were so eager to reach the waggon road that all were up and at breakfast before sunrise and were under way as its early rays were peering over the mountains where, last night, the full moon came up. The sky was without a cloud. The trail was so imperfect and circuitous that, although the distance was given as from four to five miles, it took us from six until about twelve to reach the encampment of Mr. G. B. Wright, the road contractor. It was a tented village. Our hostess, Mrs. Wright, received us under a large tent, appearing to us with an additional charm as being the first white woman we had seen since we left Morley on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. One of our first luxuries was the use of soap and hot water, and certainly we all required it. After we had partaken of the bounteous hospitality of Mrs. Wright, Dr. Grant held a service, at which about forty men attended, together with the only woman of our race within a long distance—our hostess. The men wore the usual long beard, bearing no signs of the scissors, and their dress was rough, but they all listened with marked attention and reverence.
In the afternoon we left this canvass town, which comprised some sixty tents of all sizes. We were accommodated with a spring waggon and were driven some sixteen miles over an excellent road. The whippletree gave way more than once, but was speedily repaired by the help of a short stick and some cod line. At half-past five we reached Shuswap Lake, where a steamer was waiting for us, Albert having ridden ahead to detain it. We were soon on board and steamed through the Sicamouse Narrows, about three hundred feet wide with about six to eight feet of water, as the last rays of the sun were lighting the lake. The moon rose and we could see the country around us with the water channels from every point of view. The shore is still in a state of nature, without a settlement. There is not even a house at the steamboat landing, and the supplies for the waggon road construction parties find shelter from the rain under canvas. The steamer is about a hundred feet in length, with a stern wheel for navigating shallow waters. It was eleven o’clock before we turned in, and I could not but contrast our present mode of travel with that of a few days back, and it seemed almost like a dream as I thought of our advance from the first summit.
We had still, however, a most unpleasant recollection of our wearing journey through the mountains; the prickles of the devil’s club in their poisonous effects had become a great annoyance to many of us. Indeed, our swollen hands had to be wrapped in oatmeal poultices. In one case the swelling and pain were really serious, and as a consequence at least one of our party suffered from loss of sleep.
At eight next morning we were on deck. The steamer was sailing down the South Thompson. We stopped frequently at Indian ranches for passengers and freight. The effort of getting some pigs on board at one of the landings created some amusement; a scene in its way suggestive of our having entered again the realm of civilization. Breakfast had been delayed until our arrival at a spot where we were to obtain fresh milk and some butter. When we reached the place, a ranche by the river side, the fresh butter was not ready, so we waited until the churning had been completed. Affairs seemed to us rather primitive west of Kamloops Lake. Our cook is a Chinaman, comely looking enough, and the breakfast that he put before us was certainly a respectable proof of his skill.
We were now gliding through a country entirely different from that east of Shuswap Lake. We had left the lofty peaks behind us, and were surrounded by high hills covered with bunch grass, with groves of trees and sometimes with single massive trunks of spruce or Douglas pine. The landscape has a park-like character, and is highly picturesque. The hills are high and varied in outline. Some portions of the River Thompson recall the scenery on the upper portions of the Arno and the Tiber on the journey from Florence to Rome. No rocky bluffs are visible; the hills are smooth and rounded, but nevertheless of such variety as to take away any monotony in the landscape as we move down the river. About nine o’clock we arrive at Kamloops, some ninety miles distant from Shuswap Lake, our starting place of the previous night, where we had embarked.