With the World's Great Travellers, Volume 1

by Unknown

While at the Northwest River Post we had learned from a reliable Indian that the old trail, long disused, led from this point on the river to a chain of lakes on the table-land. By following these lakes and crossing the intervening “carries,” the rapid water which extends for fifteen miles below the Falls could be circumvented, and the traveller brought finally to the waters of the Grand River, many miles above the Grand Falls. Our plan was to follow this old trail for several days, and then to leave the canoe and strike across country in a direction which we hoped would bring us again to the river in the vicinity of the Falls. It was deemed best to follow this circuitous canoe route rather than to attempt to follow the banks of the river on foot, in which case everything would have to be carried on our backs through dense forests for many miles.

After a long search the old trail was found, and, leaving Geoffrey in charge of the main camp on the river, the other members of the party took the canoe and a week’s provisions, and began the ascent of the steep path which led up to the edge of the elevated plateau, which here approaches the river. Making a “carry” of three miles to the north along the old trail, we reached the first of the chain of lakes, where we erected a rude shelter and camped for the night. A violent storm arose during the night, and next day we lost much time in seeking for the continuation of the trail on the opposite side of the lake. Having been disused for twenty-seven years, the path, where it came out on the lake-shore, was distinguished by no “blazes” on the trees, or recent choppings. This necessitated a careful examination of the shores on all the lakes, and caused considerable delay.

We were now on the great table-land of the Labrador interior, and, wishing to get a good outlook, climbed a conspicuous hill near by to scan the adjacent country. A view truly strange and impressive was before us. As far as the eye could reach extended an undulating country, sparsely covered with stunted spruce-trees, among which great weather-worn rocks gleamed, while on all sides white patches of caribou moss gave a snowy effect to the scene. A hundred shallow lakes reflected the fleeting clouds above, their banks lined with boulders, and presenting a labyrinth of channels and island passages. Low hills arose at intervals among the bogs and lakes, but the general effect of the landscape was that of flatness and bleak monotony.

The continuation of the old Nascopie trail remaining invisible, to escape the discomfort of another rainy night on the plateau we returned to the shelter of the camp on the river. On August 30 we returned to Geoffrey Lake, where our patient search for the trail was at last successful.

Next day we advanced along the trail, which led us over four “carries” and across five lakes. For convenience of reference, we applied names to some of these small sheets of water. Thus, the third one of the chain was designated “Gentian Lake,” from finding the closed variety of the blue gentian growing on its borders. The next day we turned aside from the dim trail and paddled to the northwestern extremity of the sixth lake, where we drew the canoe ashore and prepared for the tramp across country. Arrayed in heavy marching order, and carrying nearly all that remained of our provisions, we were soon advancing westward on a course which we hoped would soon bring us to the river in the vicinity of the Falls. The country we were now passing through was of the most desolate character, denuded of trees and the surface covered with caribou moss, Labrador tea plants, blueberry-bushes, and thousands of boulders. By keeping to the ridges fair progress was made; but when compelled to leave the higher ground and skirt the borders of the lakes, dense thickets of alders and willows were encountered, and these greatly impeded our advance. Language seems inadequate to describe the desolation of this upland landscape. No living thing was encountered, and the silence of primordial time reigned supreme.

Just before sunset we went into camp on a hill-side near a large lake, and soon after, from the top of a high rock, beheld a great column of mist rising like smoke against the western sky. This we knew marked the position of the Falls, and, needless to say, our spirits rose—oblivious of our bleak surroundings—as we contemplated the near attainment of our journey’s end. During the night the thermometer registered a minimum temperature of forty-one degrees, and we were treated to a superb display of Northern Lights.

September 2 was a day memorable as marking the date of our arrival at the Grand Falls. A rough march over the rocks and bogs intervened, however, before we reached this goal. As we approached the river, spruce-forests of a heavier growth appeared, and, pressing on through these, although we could no longer see the overhanging mist, the deep roar of falling waters was borne to our ears with growing distinctness. After what seemed an intolerable length of time—so great was our eagerness—a space of light in the trees ahead made known the presence of the river. Quickening our steps, we pushed on, and with beating hearts emerged from the forest near the spot where the river plunged into the chasm with a deafening roar.

A single glance showed us that we had before us one of the greatest waterfalls in the world. Standing at the rocky brink of the chasm, a wild and tumultuous scene lay before us, a scene possessing elements of sublimity and with details not to be apprehended in the first moments of wondering contemplation. Far up-stream one beheld the surging, fleecy waters and tempestuous billows, dashing high their crests of foam, all forced onward with resistless power towards the steep rock whence they took their wild leap into the deep pool below. Turning to the very brink and looking over, we gazed into a world of mists and mighty reverberations. Here the exquisite colors of the rainbow fascinated the eye, and majestic sounds of falling waters continued the pæan of the ages. Below and beyond the seething caldron the river appeared, pursuing its turbulent career, past frowning cliffs and over miles of rapids, where it heard “no sound save its own dashings.” The babel of waters made conversation a matter of difficulty, and after a mute exchange of congratulations, we turned our attention to examining the river in detail above and below the Falls.

A mile above the main leap the river is a noble stream four hundred yards wide, already flowing at an accelerated speed. Four rapids, marking successive depressions in the river-bed, intervene between this point and the Falls. At the first rapid the width of the stream is not more than one hundred and seventy-five yards, and from thence rapidly contracts until reaching a point above the escarpment proper, where the entire column of fleecy water is compressed within rocky banks not more than fifty yards apart.

Here the effect of resistless power is extremely fine. The maddened waters, sweeping downward with terrific force, rise in great surging billows high above the encompassing banks ere they finally hurl themselves into the gulf below. A great pillar of mist rises from the spot, and numerous rainbows span the watery abyss, constantly forming and disappearing amid the clouds of spray. An immense volume of water precipitates itself over the rocky ledge, and under favorable conditions the roar of the cataract can be heard for twenty miles. Below the Falls, the river, turning to the southeast, pursues its maddened career for twenty-five miles shut in by vertical cliffs of gneissic rock, which rises in places to a height of four hundred feet. The rocky banks above and below the Falls are thickly wooded with firs and spruces, among which the graceful form of the white birch appears in places.