_A GREAT FROZEN LAKE._
Before leaving “Reindeer Camp” a cairn of rocks was built on the top
of an immense boulder, conspicuously situated on the summit of a point
reaching out into the waters of Carey Lake. A record of our journey to
date was placed in it, and the “flag that for a thousand years has braved
the battle and the breeze,” left floating overhead.
On the 2nd of August the journey was resumed, and during the day a
remarkable grove was found on the north shore of the lake, in latitude
62° 15′ north. As a whole the country was now a treeless, rocky
wilderness, but here by a little brook grew a clump of white spruce
trees, perhaps thirty in all, of which the largest measured eight feet in
circumference at two feet above ground. Such a trunk would be considered
unusually large in a forest a thousand miles to the south, but here it
and its fellows stood far out in the Barren Grounds with their gnarly,
storm-beaten tops, like veritable Druids of old.
In this grove many varieties of plants were found—among others wood
violets, which were here seen for the last time on the trip. Not the
least enjoyable feature of this little oasis was that it afforded us an
opportunity of having a good noon-day fire, which of late had been a
rare luxury.
Pushing out our canoes, we continued the traverse of the coast to the
westward in search of the Telzoa, but it could not be found that day.
[Illustration: ICE ON THE SHORE OF MARKHAM LAKE.]
On the morning of the following day, at the north-western extremity of
the lake, our course was again discovered. It commenced with a wild
rapid of about thirty feet fall, and this we found to be followed within
a distance of twenty miles by seven others, all of which together
aggregated a fall of about 120 feet, which took us to the level of
Markham Lake, named in honor of Admiral A. H. Markham, R.N.
While traversing this lake a decided change in the climate was observed.
For the first time since the early part of the season snow-banks were
seen on the hillsides, and the weather, which had been as a rule wet
and cold since leaving the woods, became decidedly colder. Toward the
north end of the lake we passed great piles of rafted ice on the shore.
Such conditions during the month of August were highly suggestive of the
character of climate which must exist here in the winter season.
Near the outlet of Markham Lake was found an exceptionally interesting
little island. For weeks we had seen nothing but Laurentian or Huronian
hills, but here was a solitary out-lier of white Cambrio-Silurian
limestone. The size of the island was perhaps not more than ten acres,
but its whole composition was quite different from anything in the
district, and growing on it were found many entirely new varieties of
plants. Several hours were spent here with fruitful results, and then as
the shadows of evening were stealing from the rocky hills far across the
lonely plains, we discovered, at the north end of the lake, our river,
upon the bare high rocky bank of which we pitched camp.
It is worthy of note that at this point some very old moss-grown “tepee”
poles and fragments of birch bark were found, indicating clearly that
in days gone by the spot had been visited by Indians, though it was now
known to them only in legends. We had seen no recent traces of Indians
since entering the Telzoa, but at some time they had descended thus far,
and had camped on the same bald hill which we now occupied. There was
more than sentiment to us in the fact, for from the old rotten poles, few
and small though they were, we built a fire that gave us not a little
comfort and cheer.
On the 5th of August, after partaking of a hurried breakfast of
venison—of which, by the way, our supplies now almost entirely
consisted—the canoes were again launched in the swift stream, in which
during the day rapid after rapid was run, until six were successfully
passed and a descent of over a hundred feet had been made.
At about six o’clock in the evening, having made twenty miles, a
fortunate incident occurred. As we were approaching a seventh rapid we
suddenly found ourselves enveloped in a dense chilling mist, which so
obstructed the view that we were unable to proceed. As we went ashore
at the head of the rapid we discovered, much to our delight, a little
patch of stunted black spruce trees. They were twisted and gnarled,
and not more than four or five feet in height, but as fuel they were
the source of much comfort, and beside them we decided to camp. It was
Saturday night. During the day’s run we had been soaked by the spray of
the rapids, and were therefore in good condition to again enjoy the warm,
cheerful blaze of a fire, around which we all huddled and sat far into
the night, drying our clothing, rehearsing adventures of the day and
discussing the prospects of the future.
The morrow being Sunday we had a further opportunity of enjoying the
camp-fire, cooked provisions, and dry clothing, all which are rare
luxuries in the Barren Lands. Our fishing nets, which had been set in the
river the night before, were taken up loaded with magnificent whitefish
and trout, the former ranging from six to ten pounds in weight, and the
latter up to twenty-five pounds.
During the afternoon, as my brother was tramping in the interior he
reached the summit of an adjacent hill, where a most dreary and chilling
scene opened to his vision. To the east and northward not many miles
away, and extending as far as the eye could reach, there appeared a vast
white plain shrouded in drifting clouds of mist. It was evidently a great
lake, still covered in the month of August with a field of ice, and was
probably the Doobaunt or Tobaunt Lake, known in a legendary way to the
Athabasca Indians, and sighted over one hundred years ago by Samuel
Hearne when on his journey to the Copper Mine River. Its re-discovery
was now a matter of the deepest interest to us. Was it to form an
insurmountable obstacle in our path was the question at once suggested,
and judging from appearances, most of the men were of opinion that it
would.
[Illustration: TOBAUNT LAKE.]
On Monday morning, the 7th of August, all undismayed, we broke camp
early, and bidding good-bye to the last vestige of growing timber to be
seen, continued down the river toward the frozen lake. Four more rapids
were passed, and about 10 a.m., retarded by a strong east wind, we went
ashore on a little island in the broad mouth of the river. Here we built
another cairn of rocks, upon which was painted, with red enamel, the
latitude of the spot and the date and name of the expedition.
In the afternoon, the wind having moderated, we started out for the
mainland to the north. We followed it for some miles to the eastward, and
then struck across to a long point, which appeared to be the outermost
point of the river shore. Up to this time we had seen nothing of the
ice-field, but here it was, tight in against the shore and defying
farther advance by canoe. Towards the edge of the pack the ice was
much broken and honey-combed, but it was far too heavy to be tackled
by canoes or even stout boats. It was decided, therefore, to turn into
what we supposed was a bay just passed, and from the shore get a view of
the pack. We had no sooner altered our course than a deer was sighted
close by, shot, and taken on board for fresh meat. It was found that the
point was that of a long island, and that the supposed bay was a channel
through which we might pass unobstructed by ice.
By this time, however, the wind was again blowing strongly, and a cold
heavy rain setting in drove us to camp. During the night the wind
increased to a gale, accompanied by torrents of rain, which flooded the
tents and saturated our clothing and blankets. Not a vestige of fuel was
to be found in the country, but with a spirit lamp we made hot tea and
appeased our sharp appetites with some remnants of boiled venison. For
three days the storm continued. On the fourth it turned to snow and the
temperature went down to freezing—rather inhospitable weather for the
10th of August.
Next morning, the gale having sufficiently subsided, camp was called
about four o’clock, and we continued on our way through the channel we
had entered, and along the west shore of the lake in open water until
8 a.m., when we again found ourselves hemmed in by heavy floating ice,
which in several places was measured and found to be seven feet in
thickness. To advance here in the canoes was impossible, so a favorable
spot for landing was selected, at the base of the point where the ice was
hard ashore.
Just as we were landing, a small band of deer was seen feeding on a
grassy plain not far away, and as our supply of fresh venison was nearly
gone, we made plans for a hunt. It was arranged that my brother and I
should take up our positions in concealment on a low neck of land between
the shore and a small lake, and that the men should so place themselves
as to drive the band within range of us. We managed to reach our vantage
ground unobserved, but one of the canoemen in attempting to carry out his
instructions awkwardly exposed himself and alarmed the deer, causing them
to speedily scatter. Some of them, however, bounded past within range
of our rifles, and three were brought down, which were sufficient to
replenish the larder.
Not far from the landing place was a high hill, so providing ourselves
with field-glasses we set out for its summit. As we proceeded across
the country we found the ground frozen and all the little ponds covered
by new ice. Such a condition of things was not the most enlivening, and
it was a point of discussion with us whether the season of this land was
spring or autumn. Upon reaching the hill-top we were well repaid for
our labor. Away to the south and the east, as far as we could see, the
ice-field extended, but to the north there lay much open water, and near
the base of the hill there was a comparatively narrow neck of land across
which we might portage our outfit and get to the open water. This we
decided to do.
Having accomplished this task we were once more free, but before
nightfall were again blocked by the pack. In a deep bay by the mouth of a
small river we went into camp, feeling somewhat disheartened by our ill
fortunes. Neither wood nor moss could here be found with which to make a
fire, but with alcohol some hot tea was made, and from it as much comfort
was extracted as possible, for there was little elsewhere to be found.
Meeting with so much ice at this season of the year made the prospects of
farther advance northward anything but encouraging, but we were resolved,
if it were possible, to push on and see the end of the great river we had
thus far descended.
The morning of the 12th broke cold and dreary. New ice everywhere covered
the ponds, but camp was astir early, and it was with much pleasure we
discovered that the ice-pack, which had forbidden our advance the night
before, had now moved off the shore and left in its stead a channel of
open water. Into this we gladly made our way, and once more the paddles
were plied lustily. During the day we encountered much ice, solid fields
of which extended out from the land, but we were able to get along
without much obstruction. Several white wolves were seen on the shore as
we passed, and at some places, where landings were made, numerous little
ermines were observed darting about among the rocks. The formation of the
coast was found to consist largely of a remarkable looking ferruginous
conglomerate, and despite the extremely barren and dreary aspect of the
country, a large variety of beautiful little flowers were collected.
At nightfall, after a long day’s struggle with the opposing elements,
as we were hauling the canoes ashore towards the shelter of some rocky
cliffs, we were suddenly set upon by a pack of huge grey wolves. A great
gaunt, hungry-looking brute with dilated eyeballs led the attack. He was
the largest wolf in the pack and a daring brute, but for once, at least,
he met with a surprise, as he was promptly bored from end to end with a
slug from my brother’s rifle. The leader of the pack having been thus
treated, the others fled, but revenged themselves by howling at us all
night long from the surrounding hills.
With the pack several little wolves had been noticed, and when the old
ones beat their retreat an effort was made to capture some of them, but
unsuccessfully, for just as young partridges suddenly and mysteriously
disappear in the leafy woods when danger threatens, so did these young
wolves disappear among the rocks, and though we searched carefully and
must have been within a few yards of them, we could not get sight of one.
I have said the wolves here encountered were grey. This seemed a little
peculiar, since any that we had seen for some time had been of the white
Arctic variety, which do not travel together in packs, like those of the
timber country.
At this locality, which was close to the north-west extremity of Tobaunt
Lake, the country was more than ordinarily broken, and was distinctively
marked by the existence of several great hills of sand. The highest of
these sand mountains I became ambitious to climb, in order to obtain a
view of the surrounding country and have a look for the outlet of the
lake. In the open country one can often, in an hour or two, obtain more
information in this way from a prominent elevation than would otherwise
be possible in two or three days’ travel. So it was on this occasion,
when in company with two canoemen I obtained a variety of information.
From the summit one could get a grand view of the whole surrounding
country, and thus an opportunity was afforded of gaining much interesting
topographical information. In the performance of this work my binoculars
were of invaluable assistance, enabling me to trace the natural features
of the country for a considerable distance.
While thus scanning the broad dreary plains from my vantage point,
scattered bands of deer could be seen here and there, also two or three
wolves and a wolverine. This latter animal, also known as the glutton,
being not very far distant, afforded us some amusement. We had no rifles
with us, but I had my revolver, and seeing that François was keen for a
chase, I offered him the use of it.
Opportunities for excitement were seldom neglected by our dare-devil
young Westerner, and on this occasion, quickly availing himself of my
offer, he started down the steep hill at a break-neck pace, followed by
John, in a bee-line for the wolverine.
No sagacious Indian cunning, of which we so often read, was brought to
play in the hunt. It was merely a question of which could run the faster
and keep it up the longer. The wolverine is not a swift animal, nature
having provided him with only short limbs, but on this occasion he used
such as he had to the very best possible advantage, and with a rolling
gait made his way off across the rough stony plains at a record-breaking
pace. His pursuers were, however, soon observed to be gaining on him, and
as the distance between the runners gradually lessened, the race became
exciting, even to me, looking on from the hill-top.
Once or twice in their wild chase the men had bad tumbles, but recovering
themselves, continued to gain on the wolverine until they had almost
overhauled him. Then “bang” went the revolver, and the glutton, unhurt,
dodging around some rocks, was almost run upon by François, who in his
excitement fired again, and at the same time took a header. It appeared
as if he had shot himself instead of the wolverine, but he had done
neither; he had only experienced another bad tumble on the rough, rocky
ground. Gathering himself up again, François followed in hot pursuit,
making a most determined chase, but just as he was about to do the tragic
act, Mr. Wolverine disappeared among the broken rocks, and could not any
more be found.
Thus ended the hunt, and the men, greatly disgusted, wearily recrossed
the plain and climbed the hill.
Finding great quantities of moss in the neighborhood, several large piles
of it were collected, tied up into bundles and taken back with us to camp
for fuel. Two varieties of this moss fuel were commonly found growing
upon the stony hill-tops, the one, reindeer moss (_lichen rangiferinus_),
being almost white, and the other, black and wiry looking, and the better
fuel of the two. Either variety, of course, had to be dry in order to
burn, and that was a condition in which we seldom found it, as incessant
wet weather had been experienced since entering the Barren Grounds.
When dry moss was found, therefore, it was our custom to keep the kettles
boiling all or most of the night, in order to cook enough meat to supply
camp for several days.
[Illustration: FRENCH-CREE HALF-BREED.]