His plans, as finally worked out, were twofold: (1) To build forts and trading centres at various points along the St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi; and (2) to plant a colony at the mouth of the Mississippi. Wishing to get control of the rich fur trade for France, his forts and his colony would help to protect and further this trade, which could be carried on more easily by way of the Mississippi, than by way of the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence. For along the latter route lay the hostile Iroquois, who were friendly to the Dutch and the English; and, moreover, the St. Lawrence was ice-bound nearly one-half of the year.
Early in August, 1679, after long and weary efforts spent in preparation, La Salle launched on the Niagara River above the Falls, his little vessel, the Griffin, of forty tons burden, which was to bear him through the lakes on his way to the Mississippi.
Nearly a year before starting, La Salle had sent up the lakes fifteen men to trade for furs. He expected them to have ready, against the time of his arrival, a cargo of furs to be sent back to Canada. For La Salle needed a great deal of money with which to buy provisions, ammunition, and tools, and to pay his men for their services. Besides, he wished to get cables, anchors, and rigging for a new vessel to be built on the Illinois River, for the purpose of making his expedition to the mouth of the Mississippi. The expected cargo of furs, taken back and sold in Canada, would give him the money he needed to carry out his plans.
Having arrived at the head of Lake Huron, therefore, he collected the cargo awaiting him, loaded the Griffin with furs, and on September 18, 1679, despatched it in charge of six men to Niagara. La Salle himself pushed on to the mouth of the St. Joseph River, where he built a fort, and waited long and anxiously for the Griffin's return. But he waited in vain, for he never heard from his vessel again. It was a great loss and a keen disappointment. After waiting long he continued his way, careworn and weary, with eight canoes and a party of thirty-three men.
They rowed up the St. Joseph in search of the carrying-place leading to the head-waters of the Illinois River. On landing, La Salle started off alone to look for the pathway. In the midst of a blinding snow-storm he lost his bearings in the dense forest, and wandered until about two o'clock in the morning, when he found himself once more at the river, and fired his gun as a signal to the party.
Then his eyes caught the welcome sight of a fire burning in the woods. Believing he was near his friends, he quickened his steps, only to find himself mistaken. Near the fire, under a tree, was a bed of dried grass which was still warm, and showed plainly that a man had but a few minutes before been lying there. Very likely the man was an Indian, who had been frightened off by the sound of the gun. La Salle carefully placed brush for a sort of barricade on each side of the newly found bed, and then lay down by the blazing fire and slept till daybreak. He did not find his friends until four o'clock next afternoon.
On rejoining his party they made their way down the Illinois River, until their eyes fell upon some Indian wigwams on the forest-covered bank. The Indians, being friendly, received the Frenchmen with generous hospitality. They urged La Salle not to go down the Mississippi. They indeed said so much of the danger of the journey that six of La Salle's followers deserted, and another tried to poison him. These were sad days for La Salle and, like all his days, were beset with troubles and dangers. To protect himself from attack during the winter, he now planned the building of a fort which he called Crèvecœur, the French word for heartbreak, surely a fitting name.
Up to this time the iron-willed La Salle had not given up hope of hearing from the Griffin, but now he decided that his vessel was lost. There was but one thing to do. He must make an overland journey to Canada, 1,500 miles away, to get supplies for his expedition down the Mississippi. It was a dangerous undertaking. But on March 1, 1680, with an Indian hunter and four Frenchmen, the dauntless explorer started in two canoes.
The season was the worst in the year for such a journey. The ground was covered with melting snow, and the rivers in many places were frozen with ice, too thick to be broken by the boats. Much of the time the party had to pull the canoes on rough sleds overland or carry them on their shoulders until, a few days after starting, they hid them in the woods and pushed forward on foot to the head of Lake Michigan.
Reaching that point, it was now necessary for them to thread their toilsome way through the deep forests of Southern Michigan to the head of Lake Erie. For three days the undergrowth was so thick with thorns that it tore their clothing into shreds, and scratched their faces until they were covered with blood. Another three days were spent in wading, sometimes up to their waists, in the mud and water of the flood-covered marshes. At night they would take off their clothing and, covering their bodies with blankets, lie down to sleep on some dry hillock. One frosty night their clothes froze so stiff that in the morning they had to be thawed by the fireside before they could be put on. Amid such exposure some of the men fell sick, and thus delayed the party. But early in May, at the end of sixty-five days, they reached Canada.