The path proved easier the next day, the 9th of July, the fifth day after leaving Jasper House, and in the course of our morning’s journey we were surprised by coming upon a stream flowing to the westward. We had unconsciously passed the height of land and gained the watershed of the Pacific. The ascent had been so gradual and imperceptible, that, until we had the evidence of the water-flow, we had no suspicion that we were even near the dividing ridge.
The next afternoon found us encamped at Buffalo-dung Lake, which the Iroquois assured us was well stocked with trout; and several Shushwap slants of bark, and frames for drying fish, bore out his assertion. The lake consists of two portions, connected by a short, narrow channel. The mountains appeared to rise immediately out of the water on the further or southern shore of the lake, whilst close behind us on the northern side, commenced verdant and swelling hills, the bases of loftier heights, which rose up further back in many a naked, ragged rock or ice-crowned peak. Two of these on opposite sides of the lake were particularly fine, one to the north-west, the other to the south-west; and the Iroquois assured us that they should be known from that time forth as “Le Montagne de Milord” and “Montagne de Docteur.” We, however, took the liberty of naming them Mount Fitzwilliam and Mount Bingley. The lake was drained by a small stream issuing from the western extremity, and ultimately falling into the Fraser.
On the 10th we struck the Fraser River, sweeping round from the south-west through a narrow gorge, to expand some miles lower down into Moose Lake. Our route now lay along the north bank of the Fraser, and the travelling was exceedingly difficult and harassing. The river had overflowed its banks up to the almost perpendicular sides of the straitened valley in which it is confined. The track was completely under water up to the horses’ girths, and we spent the greater part of the day in wading and the rest in toiling through swamps beset with fallen timber. It was impossible to stop, for there was neither dry place in which to camp nor pasture for the horses, and we therefore travelled on until dark, very thankful to find a place of rest at last. All agreed that it was the hardest day we had yet gone through, and Mr. O’B. had two of his hair-breadth escapes, which formed a text for him to discourse about the perils and sufferings which he encountered “on this most extraordinary journey.” Since his successful crossing of the Myette, he had been somewhat more reconciled to horseback, and on this day mounted his steed rather than wade on foot.
Soon after we set out, he dropped behind the rest of the cavalcade, and before long, Cheadle, who was driving some of the hindmost horses, was arrested by a most tremendous bawling for help from the rear. He ran back in haste, and found Mr. O’B., in rather muddy condition, and with very disconsolate air, leading his horse by the bridle. It appeared the horse had shied and pitched him off amongst the logs and débris around, and he imagined himself severely hurt. But no important injury could be found, and, by dint of great persuasion, and some assistance, Cheadle induced him to re-mount, and exhorted him to keep close up to the rest. But he was too much afraid of his horse to urge him on by any but the most gentle, verbal persuasion, and tender pattings on the neck. He was soon left behind again, and the ears of the party saluted by another succession of piteous cries from the rear. Cheadle again went back to his assistance, in very unamiable mood, but was unable to resist a burst of laughter when he came upon the unfortunate Mr. O’B. He was driving his horse before him, with the saddle under its belly, and the bridle trailing on the ground. He was covered with mud, his long visage scratched and bleeding, and his clerical coat, split asunder to the neck, streamed from his shoulders in separate halves. “Very nearly killed, Doctor, this time. I thought it was all over. ‘Semel est calcanda via lethi,’ you know. My horse fell and rolled on to me, tearing my coat, as you see. I’ve had a most providential escape.” He could not be persuaded to mount again, and had a wearisome time with his horse, which, if he offered to lead it, hung back and refused to budge, and when he drove it before him, persisted in going the wrong way.
But if this 10th of July was a hard and harassing day, the 11th was still worse. In the first place, we were delayed a long time in starting, for Bucephalus was not to be found. He was, at length, discovered by The Assiniboine on the other side the Fraser, and the man was obliged to strip and swim the ice-cold river to fetch him back. Soon after we started, we came to Moose River, which was somewhat difficult to ford, for the water was high and rapid, pouring over the horses’ shoulders in the deepest part. Mr. O’B. lost nerve and steered badly, his horse lost its footing, and nearly took a voyage into the Fraser; the rider, however, gripped mane and saddle firmly, and both got ashore together, adding another “hair’s-breadth escape” to Mr. O’B.’s list.
We reached Moose Lake before noon, and travelled along it until dark without finding any resting-place. The lake was high, and the sides of its basin mountains, up to the base of which the waters spread. It was again a day of marching through water, and the horses perversely wandered off into the deeps, and floated about, soaking flour and pemmican. Accumulations of driftwood barred the passage along the shore in many places, and we were compelled to scale the mountain-sides. Horse after horse rolled back in the attempt, and we had to cut off their packs in the water, and carry up the loads on our backs, to enable the animals to scramble up the steep ascent. We worked hard in the hope of reaching the end of the lake before dark, but the sun went down when we were still several miles distant, and we were compelled to spend the night in a bare sand-pit, where there was not a blade of grass for our hungry and tired animals, who ranged restlessly to and fro until the morning.
Moose Lake is a fine sheet of water, about fifteen miles in length, and not more than three miles in breadth at the widest point. The scenery was very wild and grand, and forcibly reminded us of Wast Water. On the south side, the hills rose perpendicularly out of the water for perhaps 2,000 feet, beyond which was the usual background of rocky and hoary peaks. Over the edge of this mighty precipice a row of silver streams poured with unbroken fall, the smaller ones dissipated in mist and spray ere they reached the lake below. This beautiful series of cascades we named the Rockingham Falls.
Continuing to follow the Fraser on the morrow, we reached an open space a few miles beyond the end of the lake, and stayed there the remainder of the day. The place was rich in grass and vetches, and our horses ate greedily after their long fast, whilst we overhauled our provisions. The flour and pemmican had been greatly injured by the repeated wettings of the last few days, but the greater part of it we rendered available by careful drying in the sun. Our desiccated vegetables were, however, past redemption, but we made the best of the misfortune by living almost entirely upon them for the next few days. Mr. O’B. was missing for some time after we arrived, and we learnt from The Assiniboine that he had heard frequent calls for help coming from “Le Vieux,” as he called him, who had, as usual, fallen behind, but he had utterly disregarded them. In course of time, Mr. O’B. appeared in his shirt sleeves, carrying his coat, blanket, and saddle, and most thoroughly disgusted with his horse, which had driven him to the verge of distraction by its vagaries, and the misfortunes into which it led him. He told us he had come to the conclusion that he should be much happier on foot, and wished to lend him to us to use as a pack animal for the rest of the journey.
The descent on the western slope was very rapid and continual, although nowhere steep, and a change in the vegetation marked the Pacific side. The cedar, the silver pine, and several other varieties now first appeared, and became more and more frequent. A species of aralea, a tall prickly trailer, many kinds of rosaceæ, and new deciduous shrubs, showed strangely to our eyes. The timber was altogether of a larger growth, and the huge trunks which barred the path rendered our progress very laborious. The pack horses wearied us by breaking away into the forest, rather than leap over the obstructions in the way, and from morning till night we were incessantly running after them to drive them back. Then they rushed about in every direction but the right one, crashing and tumbling amongst the timber, and often involving themselves in most serious embarrassment, jamming their packs between adjacent trees, trying to pass under an inclining trunk too low to admit the saddle, or jumping into collections of timber where their legs became helplessly entangled. On the afternoon of the 13th we came to a place where the trail passed along the face of a lofty cliff of crumbling slate. The path was only a few inches in width, barely affording footing for the horses, and midway a great rock had slipped down from above, resting on the narrow ledge by which we had to pass. This completely barred the way, and the perpendicular cliffs rendered it impossible for us to evade it by taking any other route. We therefore cut down a number of young pine trees, and using them as levers, set to work to dislodge the obstacle. After an hour’s toil, we succeeded in loosening it from its position, and with a single bound it rolled down with sullen plunge into the deep river, far below. We then led the horses past, one by one, with the greatest caution. The path was so narrow and dangerous, that we gave it the name of Mahomet’s Bridge.
The scenery at this point was very fine; the mountains shutting in the valley very closely on either side, and the river below tearing and roaring along over its rocky bed with great velocity. The cliff just mentioned was the first slate-rock we met with, joined with the carboniferous limestone, which indicated the approach to the auriferous region. Slate is the “bed-rock” with which gold is invariably found associated in the Cariboo mines, and therefore this first appearance of it, in passing from east to west, is of considerable interest. Bearing upon this is the curious fact, that east of the Rocky Mountains gold in any quantity has only been found, we believe, in those streams which rise on the western side of the main ridge, as in the Peace River, which rises far to the west, or those which come from the very heart of the range, as the North Saskatchewan.