Course of the Columbia River.--Canoe River.--Foot-march toward the
Rocky Mountains.--Passage of the Mountains.
On the 11th, that is to say, one month, day for day, after our departure
from the falls, we quitted the Columbia, to enter a little stream to
which Mr. Thompson had given, in 1811, the name of _Canoe_ river, from
the fact that it was on this fork that he constructed the canoes which
carried him to the Pacific.
The Columbia, which in the portion above the falls (not taking into
consideration some local sinuosities) comes from the N.N.E., takes a
bend here so that the stream appears to flow from the S.E.[AE] Some
boatmen, and particularly Mr. Regis Bruguier, who had ascended that
river to its source, informed me that it came out of two small lakes,
not far from the chain of the Rocky Mountains, which, at that place,
diverges considerably to the east. According to Arrowsmith's map, the
course of the _Tacoutche Tessé_, from its mouth in the Pacific Ocean, to
its source in the Rocky mountains, is about twelve hundred English
miles, or four hundred French leagues of twenty-five to a degree; that
is to say, from two hundred and forty to two hundred and eighty miles
from west to east, from its mouth to the first falls: seven hundred and
fifty miles nearly from S.S.W. to N.N.E., from the first rapids to the
bend at the confluence of _Canoe_ river; and one hundred and fifty or
one hundred and eighty miles from that confluence to its source. We were
not provided with the necessary instruments to determine the latitude,
and still less the longitude, of our different stations; but it took us
four or five days to go up from the factory at Astoria to the falls, and
we could not have made less than sixty miles a day: and, as I have just
remarked, we occupied an entire month in getting from the falls to Canoe
river: deducting four or five days, on which we did not travel, there
remain twenty-five days march; and it is not possible that we made less
than thirty miles a day, one day with another.
[Footnote AE: Mr. Franchere uniformly mentions the direction from which
a stream appears to flow, not that toward which it runs; a natural
method on the part of one who was ascending the current.]
We ascended Canoe river to the point where it ceases to be navigable,
and encamped in the same place where Mr. Thompson wintered in 1810-'11.
We proceeded immediately to secure our canoes, and to divide the baggage
among the men, giving each fifty pounds to carry, including his
provisions. A sack of _pemican_, or pounded meat, which we found in a
_cache_, where it had been left for us, was a great acquisition, as our
supplies were nearly exhausted.
On the 12th we began our foot march to the mountains, being twenty-four
in number, rank and file. Mr. A. Stuart remained at the portage to
bestow in a place of safety the effects which we could not carry, such
as boxes, kegs, camp-kettles, &c. We traversed first some swamps, next a
dense bit of forest, and then we found ourselves marching up the
gravelly banks of the little _Canoe_ river. Fatigue obliged us to camp
early.
On the 13th we pursued our journey, and entered into the valleys between
the mountains, where there lay not less than four or five feet of snow.
We were obliged to ford the river ten or a dozen times in the course of
the day, sometimes with the water up to our necks. These frequent
fordings were rendered necessary by abrupt and steep rocks or bluffs,
which it was impossible to get over without plunging into the wood for a
great distance. The stream being very swift, and rushing over a bed of
stones, one of the men fell and lost a sack containing our last piece of
salt pork, which we were preserving as a most precious treasure. The
circumstances in which we found ourselves made us regard this as a most
unfortunate accident. We encamped that night at the foot of a steep
mountain, and sent on Mr. Pillet and the guide, M'Kay, to hasten a
supply of provisions to meet us.
On the morning of the 14th we began to climb the mountain which we had
before us. We were obliged to stop every moment, to take breath, so
stiff was the ascent. Happily it had frozen hard the night before, and
the crust of the snow was sufficient to bear us. After two or three
hours of incredible exertions and fatigues, we arrived at the _plateau_
or summit, and followed the footprints of those who had preceded us.
This mountain is placed between two others a great deal more elevated,
compared with which it is but a hill, and of which, indeed, it is only,
as it were, the valley. Our march soon became fatiguing, on account of
the depth of the snow, which, softened by the rays of the sun, could no
longer bear us as in the morning. We were obliged to follow exactly the
traces of those who had preceded us, and to plunge our legs up to the
knees in the holes they had made, so that it was as if we had put on and
taken off, at every step, a very large pair of boots. At last we arrived
at a good hard bottom, and a clear space, which our guide said was a
little lake frozen over, and here we stopped for the night. This lake,
or rather these lakes (for there are two) are situated in the midst of
the valley or _cup_ of the mountains. On either side were immense
glaciers, or ice-bound rocks, on which the rays of the setting sun
reflected the most beautiful prismatic colors. One of these icy peaks
was like a fortress of rock; it rose perpendicularly some fifteen or
eighteen hundred feet above the level of the lakes, and had the summit
covered with ice. Mr. J. Henry, who first discovered the pass, gave this
extraordinary rock the name of _M'Gillivray's Rock_, in honor of one of
the partners of the N.W. Company. The lakes themselves are not much over
three or four hundred yards in circuit, and not over two hundred yards
apart. Canoe river, which, as we have already seen, flows to the west,
and falls into the Columbia, takes its rise in one of them; while the
other gives birth to one of the branches of the _Athabasca_, which runs
first eastward, then northward, and which, after its junction with the
_Unjighah_, north of the Lake of the Mountains, takes the name of
_Slave_ river, as far the lake of that name, and afterward that of
_M'Kenzie_ river, till it empties into, or is lost in, the Frozen ocean.
Having cut a large pile of wood, and having, by tedious labor for nearly
an hour, got through the ice to the clear water of the lake on which we
were encamped, we supped frugally on pounded maize, arranged our
bivouac, and passed a pretty good night, though it was bitterly cold.
The most common wood of the locality was cedar and stunted pine. The
heat of our fire made the snow melt, and by morning the embers had
reached the solid ice: the depth from the snow surface was about five
feet.
On the 15th, we continued our route, and soon began to descend the
mountain. At the end of three hours, we reached the banks of a
stream--the outlet of the second lake above mentioned--here and there
frozen over, and then again tumbling down over rock and pebbly bottom in
a thousand fantastic gambols; and very soon we had to ford it. After a
tiresome march, by an extremely difficult path in the midst of woods, we
encamped in the evening under some cypresses. I had hit my right knee
against the branch of a fallen tree on the first day of our march, and
now began to suffer acutely with it. It was impossible, however, to
flinch, as I must keep up with the party or be left to perish.
On the 16th, our path lay through thick swamps and forest; we recrossed
the small stream we had forded the day before, and our guide conducted
us to the banks of the _Athabasca_, which we also forded. As this
passage was the last to be made, we dried our clothes, and pursued our
journey through a more agreeable country than on the preceding days. In
the evening we camped on the margin of a verdant plain, which, the guide
informed us, was called _Coro prairie_. We had met in the course of the
day several buffalo tracks, and a number of the bones of that quadruped
bleached by time. Our flesh-meat having given out entirely, our supper
consisted in some handfuls of corn, which we parched in a pan.
We resumed our route very early on the 17th, and after passing a forest
of trembling poplar or aspen, we again came in sight of the river which
we had left the day before. Arriving then at an elevated promontory or
cape, our guide made us turn back in order to pass it at its most
accessible point. After crossing it, not without difficulty, we soon
came upon fresh horse-prints, a sure indication that there were some of
those animals in our neighborhood. Emerging from the forest, each took
the direction which he thought would lead soonest to an encampment. We
all presently arrived at an old house which the traders of the N.W.
Company had once constructed, but which had been abandoned for some four
or five years. The site of this trading post is the most charming that
can be imagined: suffice to say that it is built on the bank of the
beautiful river _Athabasca_, and is surrounded by green, and smiling
prairies and superb woodlands. Pity there is nobody there to enjoy these
rural beauties and to praise, while admiring them, the Author of Nature.
We found there Mr. Pillet, and one of Mr. J. M'Donald's party, who had
his leg broken by the kick of a horse. After regaling ourselves with
_pemican_ and some fresh venison, we set out again, leaving two of the
party to take care of the lame man, and went on about eight or nine
miles farther to encamp.
On the 18th, we had rain. I took the lead, and after having walked about
ten or twelve miles, on the slope of a mountain denuded of trees, I
perceived some smoke issuing from a tuft of trees in the bottom of a
valley, and near the river. I descended immediately, and reached a small
camp, where I found two men who were coming to meet us with four horses.
I made them fire off two guns as a signal to the rest of our people who
were coming up in the rear, and presently we heard it repeated on the
river, from which we were not far distant. We repaired thither, and
found two of the men, who had been left at the last ford, and who,
having constructed a bark canoe, were descending the river. I made one
of them disembark, and took his place, my knee being so painful that I
could walk no further. Meanwhile the whole party came up; they loaded
the horses, and pursued their route. In the course of the day my
companion (an Iroquois) and I, shot seven ducks. Coming, at last, to a
high promontory called _Millet's rock_, we found some of our
foot-travellers with Messrs. Stewart and Clarke, who were on horseback,
all at a stand, doubting whether it would answer to wade round the base
of the rock, which dipped in the water. We sounded the stream for them,
and found it fordable. So they all passed round, thereby avoiding the
inland path, which is excessively fatiguing by reason of the hills,
which it is necessary perpetually to mount and descend. We encamped, to
the number of seven, at the entrance of what at high water might be a
lake, but was then but a flat of blackish sand, with a narrow channel in
the centre. Here we made an excellent supper on the wild ducks, while
those who were behind had nothing to eat.