_ON THE LOWER TELZOA._
Until the evening of the 15th of August, we paddled on through varied
scenes of ice and open water, following the barren shore-line in search
of the outlet of Tobaunt Lake.
In addition to game already mentioned, two young broods of wild geese,
not yet able to fly, were seen. It is commonly said that the breeding
place of the wild goose has never been discovered, but here, at any rate,
was the breeding place of these.
On the morning of the 16th we were early aroused by the voice of a
howling gale and the pelting rain, which was freely beating through our
flapping tents. Of these, our meagre shelters, some of the guys were
broken, and the tent occupied by my brother and myself was only prevented
from being blown away by the unpleasant performance of scrambling out in
the darkness, exposing ourselves to the piercing wind and driving rain,
and securing it with new ropes and piles of stones. Upon this occasion,
also, blankets and clothing not yet dry since the last wetting were again
saturated. Everything in the way of instruments, photographic supplies,
note books, etc., were piled together at one side of the tent and well
covered by a rubber sheet, and at the other side we made ourselves as
comfortable as possible, which was in truth pretty miserable.
[Illustration: RAPIDS ON THE LOWER TELZOA.]
This storm continued with fury for two days, and during this time, wet
and shivering in the tents, we found our only spark of comfort in the
brewing and imbibing of hot chocolate prepared over the spirit lamp.
On the afternoon of the second day, the rain ceased and the wind fell
sufficiently to enable us to faintly hear to the north the roar of heavy
rapids. Stimulated by the sound, we struck camp at seven o’clock in the
evening and started out for what we hoped might prove to be the Telzoa
flowing out of the lake, and after a long and late pull we were gratified
to find our hopes realized. On account of the lateness of the hour we had
no opportunity that night of examining the river, further than to observe
that it was unobstructed by ice, which observation afforded us great
satisfaction.
On the morning of the 18th we launched in the clear, strong stream of the
Lower Telzoa, and very soon found ourselves at the head of the rapids we
had heard. At the second rapid the first unmistakable signs of the recent
habitations of Eskimos were discovered. They consisted of rings of camp
stones, an old bow, several broken arrows, a whip-stock and numerous
broken or partly formed willow ribs of a “kyack” or canoe.
About six miles or so down from Tobaunt Lake we arrived at the head of
a wild rapid, where the broad river rushes down through a narrow, rocky
gorge, not more than fifty yards in width, and about two and a half miles
in length. Over this entire distance the river forms one continuous
boiling, tumbling stream of foaming water, which at every rock in its
course is dashed high in air into myriad particles of spray. At the foot
of the rapid the river again widens out beyond its usual width into a
little lake, which was still more than half covered by the last winter’s
ice.
Past the entire length of this rapid a portage of everything had, of
course, to be made. Camp was pitched at the foot, and near it were found
bones of musk oxen. Later, on the opposite side of the rapid, two of
these animals were seen.
[Illustration: MUSK OXEN.]
On the morning of the 19th we started across the little ice-bound lake
in a northerly direction, and within a distance of about four miles
discovered to the left the mouth of another small river flowing in from
the westward, and, much to our delight, upon its sandy beaches found dead
willow drift-wood in such quantities that we were able to load the canoes
with it. Signs of Eskimos were also observed here. Three miles farther
north, just west of a remarkable white sand-hill or moraine, three
hundred feet in height, the Telzoa, now a broad swift stream, was again
entered.
Towards evening we sighted upon the right bank, some distance ahead of
us, the solitary lodge of an Eskimo. In front of the doorway stood a man
gazing toward us, and behind and around him excited women and children
were gathered. These were all quickly placed inside the “topick” or
lodge, and the doorway laced up securely. But he, remaining outside,
continued to watch us intently. Our canoes were no doubt taken to be
those of the “Ik-kil-lin” (the Indians) from the south—their hereditary
enemies—so they expected no good thing from us.
Our own men, recalling to mind the stories of the “savage Eskimos who
would undoubtedly eat them,” were scarcely less fearful than the solitary
native, who, as we drew nearer, was observed through our glasses to be
nervous and trembling. As soon as we had approached to within calling
distance, I stood up in my canoe and shouted, “_Chimo! chimo! cudloona
uvagut peeaweunga tacko Enuit_” (Halloo! halloo! we are white men, glad
to see the Eskimos). Before my words were finished the doorway of the
topick was torn open, and with great rejoicing and excited gestures all
the inmates scrambled out to meet us at the shore as we landed.
The Eskimo himself was a tall, well-built, stalwart man, with a shrewd,
intelligent face, and wore the pleasant characteristic grin of his race.
With him were his two wives and six children, and all joined in extending
to us a hearty welcome.
[Illustration: ESKIMO “TOPICK,” TELZOA RIVER.]
Their lodge was a large well-formed, clean-looking one, made of deer-skin
parchment, and supported by stout spruce poles, which must have been
brought from some distant place. Into this dwelling we were cordially
invited and most hospitably received. Seats of deer-skin were offered by
the hostesses and venison was placed before us, while we in return handed
around presents of beads, tobacco, matches, and such things. About us
were to be seen evidences of communication with traders, such as a large
tin kettle, two old guns, and a pair of moleskin trousers. Upon inquiry
I was told they had received them in trade from other “Enuits” (Eskimos).
We satisfied ourselves that this family were accustomed to meet with the
Eskimos from Hudson Bay who trade at Fort Churchill or Marble Island, and
for that reason the Telzoa must in all probability flow into the bay. We
were, moreover, soon convinced of this by getting the Eskimo to draw us a
sketch of the river’s course.
From the natives we also secured several articles, such as horn spoons,
personal ornaments, and two or three deer-skin coats, to do us service,
if necessary, later in the season. In exchange for these we were asked
for powder, bullets and gun-caps, all of which they were badly in need
of. About camp there appeared to be an abundance of venison for the
present support of the family, but the hunt for musk oxen was what had
brought this venturesome hunter far up the river in advance of his tribe.
As Eskimo interpreter I had little difficulty in conversing with the
natives, though I found that many of my words as used by the Eskimos on
the east coast of Hudson Bay and the north shore of the Straits were not
understood. It was not so surprising that many of their words were not
understood by me. In the main, however, I found the language to be the
same as that spoken by the Eskimos of various other districts formerly
visited.
Among those of us who for the time shared the hospitality of this native
family was our worthy cook, John, who also laid claim to the distinction
of being an Eskimo linguist. It was noticeable, however, at this time
that John was unusually silent and backward, more so indeed than anyone
in the party. After leaving the lodge I asked him if he had understood
what the natives were saying, and was not a little amused when he
replied, “Y-e-s, but,—b-u-t, t-h-e,—the trouble was I couldn’t get them
to talk.” After a pleasant but brief visit of less than one hour, during
which time we received some valuable information about our route, as
well as much assurance and encouragement, with many hearty “tabowetings”
(good-byes), we parted. As we did so Louis, my steersman, with an
expression of pleasant disappointment on his face, exclaimed, “They are
not savage, but real decent people.”
The current being strong, our friends at the topick were soon far behind.
They had told us that from there to the sea (Hudson Bay) was about a
twenty days’ journey, and though we thought we could likely make it in
half that time, we were impressed and spurred on by the knowledge of
the fact that we were now far into the interior of the country, and at
the least eight hundred miles by our road from the nearest Hudson’s Bay
Company’s post, Fort Churchill. This day and the next after visiting the
Eskimos we had beautifully bright weather, but the enjoyment of it was
marred by our encountering swarms of black flies.
As we glided down the river several white wolves were seen upon the
shore, gnawing at the carcass of a deer, and at a distance of about ten
miles below the topick we entered another lake.
While traversing the shores of this body of water, which is about twenty
miles in length, and which has been christened Wharton Lake, a number
of magnificent specimens of reindeer in prime condition were seen, and
several of them shot at ranges of from two to four hundred yards. By
this time—the 22nd of August—the skins as well as the carcases of the
deer were at their best, and the centres of several of the hides were
saved and dried for use as sleeping mats, while all of the fine fat meat
secured was applied to the replenishing of our severely taxed larder.
After describing nearly the entire circumference of this lake, the
outlet, much obscured by a labyrinth of islands, was discovered on the
east side, close to a conspicuous hill of white quartzite, 230 feet in
height.
At the foot of this hill an Eskimo cache, consisting of a “kometic”
(sled), snow-shovels, musk-ox horns, etc., was discovered, and here on
the night of the 22nd camp was pitched. As no moss or other description
of fuel could be found in the vicinity, some of the men considered they
had “struck a bonanza” in finding the “kometic,” and carried it to camp,
intending to utilize it for boiling the kettle. A slat or two had already
been knocked off when, happily, I arrived on the scene just in time to
prevent its destruction and preserve our good name with the natives.
To the Eskimo who owned the sled it was an invaluable possession, and
for us to have destroyed it for one “mess of pottage” would have been a
flagrant shame. It was therefore repaired, and carried back to where it
had been found; and for a peace-offering a plug of tobacco was left upon
it.[3]
From our camp at White Mountain, on the morning of the 23rd, we again
entered the river, which for ten or twelve miles carried us off to the
eastward; then turning sharply to the northward and flowing swiftly
between high, steep banks of sand, it widened out into what has been
named Lady Marjorine Lake, a body of water about ten miles long by three
or four wide. Through this we passed and at its north-western extremity
regained the river.
It began with a rough, rocky rapid, in running which my canoe struck a
smooth rock, was smashed in the bottom, and nearly filled with water; but
though in a sinking condition we managed to get it ashore. Though the
contents were soaked, everything was landed without serious damage. After
a delay of two hours we were again in the stream, and being borne away to
the westward—the direction opposite to that we were now anxious to follow.
The river was here a noble stream, deep and swift, with a well-defined
channel and high banks of rock or sand. Near the north bank there
extended for some miles a high range of dark but snow-capped trappean
hills, of about five hundred feet in height.
On the night of the 24th we camped at the base of two conspicuous conical
peaks of trap, named by us the Twin Mountains.
During the whole of the 25th our course continued to be westerly and
north-westerly, and because of this we began to feel anxious. We had
now passed the latitude of Baker Lake, where, according to information
obtained from the Eskimos, we were expecting the river to take us.
Instead of drawing nearer to it, we were heading away toward the Back or
Great Fish River, which discharges its waters into the Arctic Ocean, and
was, on our present course, distant only two days’ journey.
Towards evening, however, a marked change was observed in the character
of the river. The banks grew lower and consisted of soft, coarse-grained
sandstone. The water became shallow and the channel broadened out into
a little lake, containing numerous shoals and low islands of sand. Just
beyond this, much to our surprise and pleasure, we suddenly came upon
abundance of drift-wood—not little sticks of willow or ground birch, but
the trunks of trees six or eight inches in diameter, as heavy as two men
could carry. No growing trees were to be seen in the district, nor had we
seen any during the previous three or four hundred miles of our journey.
At first, therefore, the occurrence of the wood seemed unaccountable, but
the theory soon suggested itself that we must be close to the confluence
of some other stream flowing through a wooded country. No other could
account for its existence in this remote region, and accordingly this
theory was borne out by the discovery, within a short distance, of a
river as large as the Telzoa, flowing in from the westward and with it
mingling its dark-colored waters.
The abundance and condition of the drift-wood, which was not badly
battered, would indicate that upon the west branch few rapids and no
lakes exist between the confluence and the woodland district, which is
perhaps in the vicinity of Great Slave or Clinton Golden Lake. Lakes
occurring on the course of a river act as catch-basins to prevent the
further passage of drift-wood. According to information obtained from
the Eskimo, some distance up this river there were great numbers of his
people engaged in the building of kyacks. We would have been pleased
to visit them, but deeming it unwise at this late season to go out of
our way, we pulled on with the stream, which was now double its former
strength and flowing again to the northward.
Many geese were seen about the low grassy shores and islands, upon one
of which latter camp was pitched on the evening of the 25th, and a great
blazing, roaring fire of drift-wood kindled.
It was hoped that henceforward for some time this supply of fuel might
continue, for of late we had been entirely without fire for warming
purposes. The miserable smudges made of moss or ground birch mixed with
deer tallow or sprinkled with alcohol were useful for the purpose of
cooking our venison, but for nothing else.
From camp on the morning of the 26th, for a distance of four or five
miles, the river still flowed toward the Arctic, but in latitude 64° 41′
north it swerved around to the east, and then the south-east, and bore us
down to the western extremity of a magnificent body of water, which has
been named Aberdeen Lake, in honor of their Excellencies Lord and Lady
Aberdeen. It was a lovely calm evening when the track of our canoes first
rippled the waters of this lake, and as we landed at a bluff point on
the north shore and from it gazed to the eastward over the solitary but
beautiful scene, a feeling of awe crept over us. We were undoubtedly the
first white men who had ever viewed it, and in the knowledge of the fact
there was inspiration.
For two days following we enjoyed fine weather—something unusual in the
Barren Land districts—and this enabled us to carry on the exploration of
the large lake with very little delay. We found the total length to be
about fifty miles. Portions of the shore toward the west end were low and
sandy, and at one point of landing the remains of an old Eskimo camp, and
beside it parts of a human skeleton, were found.
Towards the east end other remarkable traces of Eskimos were seen in the
shape of stone pillars, well and uniformly built, but for what purpose I
confess I cannot tell. If they had been located at conspicuous points,
or upon hill-tops, I would say they were intended for landmarks. Several
were found on the shore of the bay forming the eastern extremity of the
lake, and others in more or less obscure places. I am inclined to think
the object in building these stone pillars has been in some way connected
with the hunting of musk oxen or deer, but they were evidently not
intended merely for shelters or hiding places.