_RUNNING THE RAPIDS._
Before leaving the Grand Rapid several good photographs of it were
obtained, and then on the morning of the 7th of June, bidding adieu to
Inspector Howard, and leaving our supplies in the freighters’ hands, we
started down the river for Fort McMurray. The first object of special
interest passed was a natural gas flow, occurring on the left bank about
fifteen miles below the Rapid. At this place a considerable volume of
gas is continually discharging, and may be seen bubbling up through the
water over a considerable area, as well as escaping from rifts in the
bank. The gas burns with a hot pale blue flame, and is said to be used
at times by boatmen for cooking purposes. Eight or ten miles farther
down stream came the Brûle Rapids, the first of the long series, and
though they might easily have been run, we did not try it, as my brother
wished to remain on shore for some time to collect fossils. Meanwhile
our stuff was portaged, and without difficulty the empty canoes run
down to the foot of the rapids, where camp was made. Just at this place
commence the wonderful tar sand-beds of the Athabasca, extending over
an enormous area. These certainly present a very striking appearance.
During warm weather, in many places, the faces of the river banks, from
three to five hundred feet in height, presents the appearance of running
tar, and here and there tar wells are found, having been formed by the
accumulation of the viscid tar in natural receptacles of the rock. Thus
collected it has been commonly made use of by workmen in the calking of
the scows on the river.[1]
Sixteen miles farther down, the Boiler Rapid, so called from the fact
that in 1882 a boiler intended for the steamer _Wrigley_ was lost in it,
was successfully run on the following day, and early in the afternoon
the third rapid was reached. In attempting to run it on the left side,
we found, after descending perhaps half-way, that there were too many
rocks in the channel ahead, and therefore an effort was made to cross to
the right side, which looked to be clearer. My brother’s canoe, steered
by old Pierre, avoided all rocks and was taken successfully across, but
mine was not so fortunate. In attempting to follow, we struck a large
rock in mid-channel, but happily the collision occurred in such a way
that my canoe was not seriously damaged. It was merely whirled end
for end in the current and almost filled with water, though not quite
sufficiently to sink us. Leaving the two Indians to pull for the shore,
I seized a tin kettle and lost no time in dashing out some of the water.
After a sharp struggle we managed to land. Of course all we had in the
canoe—instruments, blankets, provisions and clothing—was soaked, and it
was therefore necessary to unload and turn everything out. My brother,
seeing that something had happened, went ashore also, and with his men
returned to assist us. The weather was fine, and our goods soon became
sufficiently dry to allow us to re-embark.
An examination having been made of the rapid below, a short run was made
down and then across to the opposite side, where we landed, and, because
of the extreme shallowness of the channel and the many rocks that showed
ominously above the surface, the canoes were lowered for the remaining
half mile with the lines. The whole length of this rapid is perhaps a
mile and a half, and it is sometimes designated as two, the Drowned and
Middle Rapids. Following these in quick succession, at intervals of from
two to ten miles, we passed through the Long Rapids, which occasioned
no difficulty; then the Crooked Rapids, well named from the fact that
they occur at a very sharp U shaped bend in the river, around which the
current sweeps with great velocity. Just below this the Stony Rapid was
passed, and then in turn the Little and Big Cascades, both of which are
formed by ledges of limestone rock, about three feet high, extending in
more or less unbroken lines completely across the river.
At the Big Cascade a portage of a few yards had to be made, and below
this, smooth water was found for a distance of eight or nine miles, until
the head of the Mountain Rapid was reached. Judging from the name that
this would be a large one, we decided to go ashore to reconnoitre. For a
considerable distance the rapid was inspected, but no unusual difficulty
appearing, we resolved to go ahead. About a mile farther on, a bend
occurred in the rapid, and so high and steep were the banks that only
with great difficulty could we see the river beyond. As far as the bend,
though the current was swift, there appeared to be but few rocks near the
left bank, and plenty of water. We therefore decided to go ashore at that
point, if necessary, and examine the stream beyond.
As we proceeded the stream became fearfully swift and the waves
increasingly heavy. At the speed we were making the bend was soon
reached, but just beyond it another bluff point came in view. We would
have gone ashore to make a further inspection, but this was impossible,
as the banks were of perpendicular or even overhanging walls of
limestone. So alarmingly swift was the current now becoming that we
eagerly looked for some place on the bank where a landing might be made,
but none could be seen. Retreat was equally impossible against the
enormous strength of the river; all we could do was to keep straight in
the current. My brother’s canoe, steered by old Pierre, being a little
in advance of my own, gave me a good opportunity of seeing the fearful
race we were running. Suspicions of danger were already aroused, and
the outcome was not long deferred. As we were rounding the bluff, old
Pierre suddenly stood up from his seat in the stern, and in another
instant we likewise were gazing at what looked like the end of the river.
Right before us there extended a perpendicular fall. We had no time for
reflection, but keeping straight with the current, and throwing ourselves
back in the canoes in order to lighten the bows we braced ourselves for
the plunge, and in a moment were lost to sight in the foaming waters
below. But only for an instant. Our light cedars, though partly filled by
the foam and spray, rose buoyantly on the waves, and again we breathed
freely. It was a lucky thing for us that the canoes were not loaded, for
had they been they never would have floated after that plunge, but would
have disappeared like lead in the billows. We afterwards found we had
taken the rapid in the very worst spot, and that near the right side of
the river we might have made the descent free of danger. Without a guide,
however, such mistakes will sometimes occur in spite of every precaution.
Poor John, my bowman, was badly unstrung as a result of this adventure,
and declared that he did not want to shoot any more waterfalls; and for
that matter, others of us were of much the same mind. One more small
rapid, the Moberly, completed the series, and then for a few miles we
enjoyed calm water until, toward evening, we reached Fort McMurray.
[Illustration: SHOOTING THE MOUNTAIN RAPID, ATHABASCA RIVER.]
This settlement, containing in all five small log buildings—a warehouse,
a store, the traders’ dwelling and two Indian houses—is situated on a
cleared tongue of land formed by the junction of the Clear Water River
with the Athabasca, and is about two hundred and fifty miles below the
Landing. The site of the post is at an elevation of forty or fifty feet
above the water, but in the immediate background, and on both banks of
the river, the ground rises abruptly, and is covered by a thick growth of
poplar, spruce and birch trees. At the time of our arrival two parties of
Indians, one Cree and the other Chippewyan, occupying in all a dozen or
more lodges, were encamped at the place, and were to be seen in groups
here and there idly putting in the time, while everywhere their mangy
canines skulked and prowled about, seeking what they might devour—old
moccasins, pack straps, etc., apparently being their favorite dainties.
[Illustration: STORE, FORT McMURRAY.]
Naturally, our first inquiry upon arriving at the Fort was whether or
not our two men and canoe from Isle-à-la-Crosse had arrived; but the
appearance of an upturned “Peterborough” on the shore soon answered
the question, and a few minutes later two stout half-breeds made their
appearance, and informed us they were the men who had been sent by
Mr. Moberly to meet us. My brother had expected the two men who had
accompanied him on his trip of the previous year, but they having been
unable to come, these two, Jim Corrigal and François Maurice, had been
engaged in their stead. Jim was a man of middle age, tall and of muscular
frame; while his companion was probably not more than twenty years of
age, and in appearance rather short and of heavy build. Jim spoke English
fairly well, though Cree was his tongue; but François, while speaking
only very broken English, could converse in French, Cree and Chippewyan,
his knowledge of the last making him subsequently very useful as an
interpreter.
[Illustration: CHIPPEWYAN CAMP.]
Our party, consisting of eight men, with three canoes, was now complete,
and thus assembled, the cleanest available ground remote from Indian
lodges was chosen, and camp pitched to await the arrival of the four
hundred pounds of supplies left with Schott at Grand Rapid. We soon found
we were not the only ones waiting, and that anxiously, for the arrival
of the scows from the south. The entire population then at Fort McMurray
was in a state of famine. Supplies at the post, having been insufficient
for the demand, had become exhausted, and the Indians who had come in
to barter their furs were thus far unable to obtain food in exchange,
and were obliged, with their families, to subsist upon the few rabbits
that might be caught in the woods. We were also out of supplies, but now
the scows were hourly expected. Expectations, however, afforded poor
satisfaction to hungry stomachs, and no less than five days passed before
these materialized. In the meantime, though we were not entirely without
food ourselves, some of the natives suffered much distress. At one Cree
camp visited I witnessed a most pitiable sight. There was the whole
family of seven or eight persons seated on the ground about their smoking
camp-fire, but without one morsel of food, while children, three or four
years old, were trying to satisfy their cravings at the mother’s breast.
We had no food to give them, but gladdened their hearts by handing around
some pieces of tobacco, of which all Indians, if not all savages, are
passionately fond.
In addition to the unpleasantness created by lack of provisions, our stay
at Fort McMurray was attended with extremely wet weather, which made it
necessary to remain in camp most of the time, and to wade through no end
of mud whenever we ventured out.
On the evening of the 14th the long-looked-for scows with the supplies
arrived. It will readily be imagined we were not long in getting out the
provisions and making ready a supper more in keeping with our appetites
than the meagre meals with which we had for several days been forced
to content ourselves. The cause of delay, as Schott informed us, was
the grounding of some of the boats in one of the rapids, in consequence
of which the cargoes had to be removed by his men, and carried on
their shoulders to the shore, the boats then freed, lowered past the
obstruction, and reloaded. Such work necessarily entails considerable
delay, and is of a slavish character, as all hands have to work in the
ice-cold water for hours together.
[Illustration: STARVING CREE CAMP, FORT McMURRAY.]
Receiving again our four hundred pounds of supplies from Schott, we
lost no more time at Fort McMurray, but at seven o’clock next morning
the little expedition, consisting now of eight men and three canoes,
pushed out into the river, and with a parting salute sped away with the
current, which being swift, and our canoemen fresh, enabled us in a short
time to place many miles between us and the Fort. At five o’clock in
the evening, having then descended the river a distance of about sixty
miles we were delighted to meet the steamer _Grahame_ on her up-stream
trip from Fort Chippewyan to McMurray to receive the goods brought down
the rapids by the scows. The steamer, being in charge of Dr. McKay, the
Hudson’s Bay Company’s officer from Chippewyan, who had been informed of
our expedition, was at once brought to a stand in the river, and we were
kindly invited on board. When I commenced to clamber up the steamer’s
deck, whose hand should be offered to assist me but that of an old friend
and fellow-shipmate for two years in Hudson Straits, Mr. J. W. Mills. The
acquaintance of Dr. McKay and of the Bishop of Athabasca, who happened
to be on board, was also made, and with right genial companions an hour
quickly and very pleasantly passed. Mr. Mills, who was attired in the
uniform of a steamboat captain, had lately been appointed to the command
of the steamer _Wrigley_, plying on the lower section of the river
below Fort Smith, to which place he was to be taken by the _Grahame_ on
her return trip from Fort McMurray. Before parting company, the Doctor
promised to meet us again at Chippewyan on the 19th inst., and after this
short meeting, and many parting good wishes, as well as blessings from
the Bishop, we resumed our separate ways.
[Illustration: A DANDY OF THE NORTH. A VOYAGEUR.]
Notwithstanding the hour’s delay, and the fact that rain fell all day,
we made the very good run of seventy-two miles. As we swept along with
the winding river, the most beautiful and varied scenes were continually
presented. The banks, though not so high as above Fort McMurray, were
bold and thickly draped with spruce and poplar woods. Taking advantage
of the discovery of some straight spruce saplings, we landed as night
approached, and a number of our men were sent to select a few for the
purpose of making good tent-poles, to take the place of the rough ones
we had been using. Besides spruce and other varieties of timber, balsam
trees, the last seen on the northward journey, were found at this camp.
On the morning of the 16th, though the weather continued showery and
a strong head wind had set in, we were early on our way, for we were
anxious to reach Chippewyan a day or two before the return of the
_Grahame_, that we might rate our chronometer and make all necessary
preparations for a good-bye to the outermost borders of civilization.
In descending the Athabasca we were making no survey of the course, nor
any continuous examination of the geological features of the district,
but were chiefly concerned in getting down to Chippewyan, where we were
to receive our full loads of supplies, and from which place our work was
really to begin. Despite the unpleasantness of the weather, therefore,
our canoes were kept in the stream and all hands at the paddles, and by
nightfall another stretch of about sixty miles was covered. We had now
reached the low flat country at the delta of the river, where its waters
break into many channels, but still a strong current was running, and
this we were glad to find continued until within a distance of six or
eight miles from the lake. Some parts of the river were much obstructed
by drift-wood grounded upon shoals; the banks, too, were low and marshy,
and landing-places difficult to find. Several flocks of wild geese were
seen, but none secured.
During the morning of the 17th some gun-shots were heard not far distant
across the grassy marsh, and turning our canoes in that direction we soon
met several bark canoes manned by Chippewyan Indian hunters. François,
being the only man in our party who could understand or talk with them,
was much in demand, and he was instructed to ask them the shortest way
through the delta towards Chippewyan. Indian like, he entered into
conversation with the strangers for ten minutes or so, doubtless chiefly
about their wives and daughters, and then with a wave of the hand said,
“We go dis way.” So that way we went, and by three o’clock in the
afternoon found ourselves in the open waters of Lake Athabasca. Two hours
later we had crossed the end of the Lake and drawn up our canoes on the
rocky shore in front of Fort Chippewyan. It was Saturday evening, and the
distance travelled thus far since launching the canoes, was, according
to Mr. Ogilvie, 430 miles. As we were already aware, Dr. McKay, the
Hudson’s Bay Company’s agent, was not at the Fort, but we were received
by the assistant trader, Pierre Mercredie, a half-breed, and shown to
a camping-ground in front of the Fort, or otherwise on Main Street of
the town. During the evening we had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. McKay
and her children, and also Mr. Russell, an American naturalist, who was
sojourning at this place on his way down the Mackenzie River.
[Illustration: AN ENGLISH-CREE TRAPPER.]