First real winter trip--Start--Extreme fatigue--Conceit all
gone--Cramps--Change--Will-power--Find myself--Am as capable as
others--Oxford House--Jackson's Bay.
During our first winter I accompanied father on a trip to Jackson's
Bay and Oxford House. This is about 180 miles almost due north of
Norway House, making a trip of 360 miles.
Our manner of starting out on the trip was as follows: William
Bundle, father's hired man, went ahead on snow-shoes, for there was
no track; then came John Sinclair, the interpreter, with his dogs
hitched to a cariole, which is a toboggan with parchment sides and
partly covered in, in which father rode, and on the tail of which
some of the necessary outfit was tightly lashed; then came my train
of dogs and sleigh, on which was lashed the load, consisting of fish
for dogs and pemmican and food for men; kettles, axe, bedding--in
short, everything for the trip; then myself on snow-shoes, bringing
up the rear.
[Illustration: MY FIRST WINTER TRIP]
Now, the driver of a dog-sleigh must do all the holding back going
down hill; must right the sleigh when it upsets; keep it from
upsetting along sidehills, and often push up hills; and, besides all
this, urge and drive the dogs, and do all he can to make good time.
This was my first real winter trip with dogs, and I very soon found
it to be no sinecure, but, on the contrary, desperately hard work.
Many a time that first day I wished myself back at the Mission.
The hauling of wood, the racing across to the fort--all that had been
as child's play; this was earnest work, and tough at that.
The big load would cause my sleigh to upset; my snow-shoes would
likewise cause me to upset. The dogs began to think--indeed, soon
knew--I was a "tenderfoot," and they played on me.
Yonder was William, making a bee-line for the north, and stepping as
if he were going to reach the pole, and that very soon, and Mr.
Sinclair was close behind him; and I, oh! where was I, but far
behind? Both spirit and flesh began to weaken.
Then we stopped on an island and made a fire; that is, father and the
men had the fire about made when I came up. Father looked
mischievous. I had bothered him to let me go on this trip.
However, the tea and pemmican made me feel better for a while, and
away we went for the second spell, between islands, across portages,
down forest-fringed rivers and bluffs casting sombre shadows. On my
companions seemed to fly, while I dragged behind. Oh, how heavy
those snow-shoes! Oh, how lazy those dogs! Oh, how often that old
sleigh did upset! My! I was almost in a frenzy with mortification
at my failure to be what I had presumed to think I was. But I did
not seem to have enough spirit left to get into a frenzy about
anything.
When are they going to camp? Why don't they camp? These were
questions I kept repeating to myself. We were going down a river.
It was now late. I would expect to find them camped around the next
point, but, alas! yonder they were disappearing around another point.
Often I wished I had not come, but I was in for it, and dragged
wearily on, legs aching, back aching, almost soul aching.
Finally they did camp. I heard the axes ringing, and I came up at
last.
They had climbed the bank and gone into the forest. I pushed my
sleigh up and unharnessed my dogs, and had just got the collar off
the last one in time to hear father say, "Hurry, John, and carry up
the wood." Oh, dear! I felt more like having someone carry me, but
there was no help for it.
Carrying ten and twelve foot logs, and you on snow-shoes, is no fun
when you are an adept, but for a novice it is simply purgatory. At
least I could not just then imagine anything worse than my condition
was.
By great dint of effort get the log on to your shoulder and then step
out; snow deep and loose; bushes and limbs of trees, and your own
limbs also all conspiring, and that successfully, to trip and bother.
Many a fall is inevitable, and there are a great many logs to be
carried in, for the nights are long and cold.
William felled the trees and cut them into lengths, and I grunted and
grumbled under their weight in to the pile beside the camp.
At last I took off my snow-shoes and waded in the deep snow.
Father and his interpreter, in the meanwhile, were making camp, which
was no small job. First, they went to work, each with a snowshoe as
a shovel, to clear the snow away for a space about twelve feet
square, down to the ground or moss; the snow forming the walls of our
camp. These walls were then lined with pine boughs, and the bottom
was floored with the same material; then the fire was made on the
side away from the wind. This would occupy the whole length of one
side; except in the case of a snow-storm, there would be no covering
overhead.
If the snow was falling thick some small poles would be stuck in the
snow-bank at the back of the camp, with a covering of canvas or
blankets, which would form the temporary roof of the camp.
At last we were done; that is, the camp was made, the wood was
carried, the fire was blazing.
Then the sleighs must be untied and what you wanted for that time
taken from them, and then carefully must you re-wrap and re-tie your
sleigh, and sometimes even make a staging on which to hang it to keep
it and its contents from your dogs.
Many a time when provisions were short, and our dogs were very
hungry, I have had to hang up not only all eatables, but the sleighs
and harness also, for these were largely bound and made of leather
and rawhide, and the hungry dogs would eat all of this if they had
the chance.
Now comes supper, and while this is cooking we stand our frozen
white-fish around the fire in order to thaw them, before we feed them
to the dogs.
These we feed at night only; the poor fellows must go the twenty-four
hours on one meal.
The ration at this time is six white-fish to each train of four dogs.
Each driver takes his dogs apart and stands whip in hand to prevent
them robbing one another.
Supper and dogs fed, those who smoke light their pipes, and we dry
our moccasins and duffils if these need it, and accounts of old trips
and camp storms, etc., are in vogue.
Our fire is a big one, but our room is a big one also, being all out
of doors, and while your face and front are burning, your back is
freezing, and you turn around every little while to equalize things.
While all this is going on, my legs, unused to the snow-shoes' strain
and the long tramp, are every little while causing me great pain by
taking cramps. I do not say anything about this, but I think a lot.
I know father understands the case, but except a twinkle of his eye
he gives no sign that he thinks of it.
Presently we make up our beds, and sing a hymn, and have prayer.
We lie down as we travelled, except our belts--coats and caps all
on--and in order to keep warm, we should lie perfectly still. The
least move will let the cold in.
But how was I to remain still when my legs refused to remain quiet.
Every little while a cramp would take hold and the pain would be
dreadful, but with desperation I would strive to keep still, for I
was sleeping with father. I could not sleep, and when my legs ceased
to pain, and I was about to fall asleep, father lit a match, looked
at his watch, and said, "Hurrah, boys, it is time to get up."
There was no help for it, and up we got.
The extreme cold and the dire necessity there was to brace up kept me
alive that morning.
It was now about three o'clock, and we made a slight breakfast on
pemmican and tea, had a short prayer, and tied on our bedding and
camp outfit and harnessed our dogs--and mind you, this lashing and
tying of sleds, and catching and harnessing of dogs, was hard on the
fingers, and often very trying to the temper, for those cunning dogs
would hide away in the bush, and sometimes we had to catch and tie
the worst ones up before we made any move towards a start, or else
they would run away.
It was now about four o'clock or a little after, and we retraced our
track to the river and again turned our faces northward.
My companions seemed to leave me almost at once.
The narrow winding river, with its forest-clad banks, was dark and
very cold and dreary. My legs were stiff, and my feet were already
sore with the snow-shoe strings. My dogs were indifferent to my
urging. They knew I would not run out of the trail to get at them
with my whip. I verily believe each dog thought he had a soft thing
in having this "tenderfoot" as a driver.
Many a time that cold, dark winter's morning I wished I was at home
or in Ontario.
I became sleepy. Even my slow-going dogs would leave me, and I would
make a desperate effort to come up again, and thus the hours passed
and we kept the river. After a long time, a terrible time to me, the
day sky began to appear. Slowly the morning dawned, the cold
intensified. I was in misery. I began to wonder where my friends
would stop for breakfast.
Presently we came to a large lake. Out a mile or two, I could
discern an island. Oh! thought I, there is where they will stop.
They were near it already, and I began to hope for transient help and
rest. Again I looked, and straight past it William took his course,
and away yonder, like a faint streak of blue, was a point he was
making for.
How my hopes were dashed, and it seemed for a little I would have to
give up.
I was now a considerable distance behind my dogs, when, all of a
sudden, a feeling took hold of me, and I began to reason in this wise
to myself. What is the matter with you? You are strong, you are
capable. What are you doing behind here, ready to give up? Come! be
a man. And I stepped out briskly--I began to run on those
snow-shoes. I came up to those lazy dogs, and gave them such a shout
they thought a small cyclone had struck them. Soon I was up opposite
the island, and I ran away to its shore, broke a long dry pole, and
after my dogs I went, and brought it down alongside of them with
another shout, and made them bound off; then picking up the pieces of
broken pole, I let them fly at those dogs, and away we went.
Presently I was in a glow, and the stiffness in my limbs was gone,
and soon I came up to my companions, and said, "Where are you going
to have breakfast?" And they said, "Across yonder," pointing to the
blue streak in the distance. "Well, then," said I, "why don't you
travel faster, and let us get there?" William looked at me, and
father turned round in his cariole to see if I was in earnest, and
from thenceforth, on that trip as ever since, I was all right.
I had found the secret. I had the capability to become a pioneer and
frontiersman, and now I knew this a complete change came over me and
has remained with me ever since.
No more whining and dragging behind after that. My place was at the
front, and in all the tripping and hardship and travel of the years I
have kept there.
When we stopped for breakfast, father smiled upon me in a kind, new
way. I had come up in his estimation. I overheard William say to
Mr. Sinclair, "John is all right, he has found his legs."
Across Lake Winnipegoosis, over the portages, through the forests, up
and down rivers, steadily we kept on our course.
At one of our encampments we made a "cache" of some fish and some
pemmican.
This was for our return journey.
The manner of our doing so was to rake away the embers and coals from
where we had the fire during the night and morning, and then dig a
hole in the thawed ground, and put our provisions in this hole; then
cover with a few sticks, and put the earth back, until the place was
full; then make a small fire just over the spot, and in going away
kick some snow into the fire-place. This would soon freeze hard, and
the ashes and embers would destroy the scent, and thus the cunning
wolverine would not find our "cache."
We saw tracks of moose and cariboo; also a few foxes, and hundreds of
white partridge.
At the southerly end of Oxford Lake we found a single camp of
Indians, and stopped with them for the night.
They feasted us on young beaver, which was an agreeable change from
pemmican.
There were seventeen of us in that camp for the night. It was
circular, and may have been twelve feet in diameter. On the ground
we lay, with our feet to the fire.
During the night I felt my foot very hot, and springing up, found
that my part of the blanket was burned through, and my duffil sock
was on fire.
This was another "tenderfoot" experience.
These people were Christians, and delighted to see father and listen
to his counsel and exhortation.
The next day we reached Jackson's Bay, where we received from Mr. and
Mrs. Stringfellow, the missionary and his wife, a very hearty welcome.
If Norway House, with its one mail in six months and its small
community of English-speaking people, is thought out of the world,
where would you place Jackson Mission? This little man and his good
wife (and for a good part of the year many of the Indians away from
the mission) and the Hudson's Bay Company's post, with its small
company, are fifteen miles distant in winter, and, I should judge,
twice that in summer.
Why, Norway House is on the front compared with this!
We spent Saturday and part of Sunday here. Mr. Stringfellow went
with us to the fort, and father held a service in the evening. His
address, which was in English, Mr. Sinclair afterwards gave almost
verbatim to those who understood only Cree, which seemed to me a
remarkable feat of memory, seeing he had not taken other than mental
notes.
We returned on Monday to Jackson's Bay, and left on Tuesday for
Norway House; found our "cache" all right, and reached home on Friday
afternoon, averaging forty-five miles per day, which, considering
there had been a good deal of storm and our down track in many places
could not be seen, was very fair time.