MICHIKAMAU
It was the sun that did it, or else it was a scheme on the part of
George and Job to work in an extra pudding. However that may have
been, we found ourselves on Wednesday morning not yet on Lake
Michikamau, and we did not reach it until 5.15 P.M. that day.
We started, expecting to paddle straight away west into the great
lake. As we glided out on what proved to be, after all, another
lake instead of an arm of Michikamau, we saw that land, not water,
stretched across the western horizon. South from our island camp
the shore of the lake was a low ridge sloping to the water in three
distinct terraces, moss-covered and smooth as a carefully kept
lawn, with here and there a clump of stunted fir trees. Four miles
to the west the ridge terminated in a low point.
As we crossed the lake Job remarked that there was some current
here. On nearing the point we were startled by a sudden
exclamation from him. He had caught sight of a freshly cut chip on
the water. We stopped, and the chip was picked up. The two canoes
drew together, when it was examined closely, and an animated
discussion in Indian went on. It was all interesting to watch, and
a revelation to me to see an ordinary little chip create so much
excitement. How much a seeming trifle may mean to the "Children of
the Bush," or for that matter to any other "children," who see the
meaning of things. I could not tell of course what they were
saying, but I knew that the question was: "Who, beside ourselves,
is in this deep wilderness?" The conclusion reached was that the
wind had brought it here in the night from our own camp.
Passing the point the canoe again stopped some distance beyond it,
and another brisk conversation ensued. I learned they had
discovered a current coming from the south, and we turned to meet
it. Following it up, one mile south and one mile west, we came to
where the river flows in from the south in a rapid. This was
really funny. We had comfortably settled ourselves in the belief
that the rapids had all been passed. Job and Gilbert had taken off
their "shoe-packs" with the prospect of a good day's paddling, and
here were the rapids again. Our course for four miles above this
point was up a tortuous, rapid river. It seemed to flow from all
points of the compass, and, in almost continuous rapids. They were
not rough, but the currents were fearfully swift, and seemed to
move in all directions. These are more difficult to understand,
and hence more dangerous than many of the rougher rapids.
About 2 P.M. we came out upon a lake. It was not very large, and
its upper end was crowded with islands. Four miles from the outlet
the lake narrowed, and the water flowed down round the islands with
tremendous swiftness. Again it widened, and a mile west from the
rapids we landed to climb a hill. Everyone went, and by the time I
was half-way up, the men were already at the top jumping round and
waving their hats and yelling like demons, or men at a polo match.
As I came towards them, Gilbert shouted: "Rice pudding for supper
to-night, Mrs. Hubbard." It was not hard to guess what all the
demonstration meant. We could not see all the channel from our
hill-top, there were so many islands; but it could be seen part of
the way and what was most important we could see where it led
straight west to Michikamau.
Once more in the canoes our way still led among the islands up the
swift flowing water. It was not till 5.15 P.M. that we at last
reached the point where the Nascaupee River first receives the
waters of the great lake. Paddling against a rather strong head
wind we continued westward near a long island, landing shortly
before 7 P.M. on its outer shore to make our first camp on Lake
Michikamau.
It was a beautiful place, and had evidently been a favourite with
the Indians. There were the remains of many old camps there. Here
the flies and mosquitoes were awful. It made me shiver even to
feel them creeping over my hands, not to speak of their bites.
Nowhere on the whole journey had we found them so thick as they
were that night. It was good to escape into the tent.
Next morning I rose early. It was cloudy but calm, and Michikamau
was like a pond. How I wondered what fortune would be ours in the
voyage on this big water. The canoes seemed so tiny here. I
called the men at 6.30 A.M., and at nine we were ready to start.
Before leaving, Job blazed two trees at the landing, and in one he
placed a big flat stone on which I wrote with a piece of flint Joe
brought me,
HUBBARD EXPEDITION,
ARRIVED HERE, AUGUST 2ND 1905.
Underneath it I wrote the names of all the party. Then we embarked
and it was "All aboard for George River!" our next objective point.
Our way led among the islands through water which seemed to promise
good fishing. We put out the trolls, and waited hopefully to see
what might be the prospect for testing the namaycush (great lake
trout) of Michikamau for lunch. We had not long to wait. Soon I
saw Joe in the other canoe hauling in his line, and a few minutes
after there was a tug at mine. I got a nice little one. I had my
line out a second time for just a short while when there was a
harder tug on it, and I knew I had a big one. We had no gaff, and
Job said we had better go ashore to land him. We did, and I was
just pulling him up the beach when he gave one mighty leap and was
gone. When my line came in I found the heavy wire which held the
hooks had been straightened out, and he had gone off with them in
his mouth. Joe's fish was a big one, about fifteen pounds, the men
thought. Job said mine was bigger.
We had lunch on an island that day. The men boiled the whole of
the big fish, except a little that they fried for me. George ate
the head boiled, which be says is the best part. It was all
delicious. I cleaned my little one carefully, and placing some
willow boughs about it, laid it in the shade until we should be
starting. Then after all my care we went away and forgot it. On
the island we found the whitened antlers and skull of a young
caribou stag. Joe cut off one of the points, and I used it after
that to wind my trolling line.
During the afternoon there was more wind, and the lake grew
rougher. It was fine to see the way the men managed the canoes.
Sometimes we seemed almost to lose ourselves in the trough of the
big waves, but there was not a dipper of water taken in. There was
a head wind and hard paddling for a time, but towards evening it
grew calmer, and the lake became very beautiful. In the distance
we saw several large masses of floating ice, and lying far away in
the west were many islands. The sky above was almost covered with
big, soft, silver clouds and as the sun sank gradually towards the
horizon the lake was like a great field of light. Once we stopped
to listen to the loons calling [Great Northern Divers]. They were
somewhere out on the glittering water, and far apart. We could not
see them, but there were four, and one wild call answering another
rang out into the great silence. It was weird and beautiful beyond
words; the big, shining lake with its distant blue islands; the sky
with its wonderful clouds and colour; two little canoes so deep in
the wilderness, and those wild, reverberant voices coming up from
invisible beings away in the "long light" which lay across the
water. We listened for a long time, then it ceased.
We camped early that night south of the bay on the farther side of
which the hills reached out to the west, narrowing the lake to
about seven miles. The bay was between four and five miles wide,
and it was too late to risk crossing it that night. George said if
it were still calm in the morning they would take just a bite and a
cup of tea, and start. We could have breakfast on the other shore.
During the night a north wind sprang up, and though soon calm again
the lake was stirred up, and all the rest of the night and the
early morning we could hear the waves rolling in on the beach.
From dawn the men were out, now and again, to see if it were fit to
start, but it was 10 A.M. before we were on the water. On one of
the islands where we landed during the morning we found the first
"bake-apple" berries. They were as large as the top of my thumb,
and reddened a little. Though still hard they already tasted like
apples. We lunched on an island near the north shore of the bay.
While at our meal the wind changed and was fair for us, so we
started, hoping to make the most of it. Crossing through a shallow
which separated what had looked like a long point from the hills,
we came out to the narrower part of the lake. Here the hills on
the east shore were seen to recede from the lake, stretching away a
little east of north, while between, the country was flat and
boggy. A short distance further on we landed to put up sails. A
ptarmigan and her little family were running about among the
bushes, and the men gave chase, coming back shortly afterwards with
the mother bird and her little ones.
Towards evening we put out our trolls, and I caught one big brook
trout, one little namaycush, and a big one a twenty-pounder. This
time he did not get away, though I strongly suspect this may have
been because Job landed him. We camped late in a swampy place, and
while the men put up camp I cleaned my three fish. The big one was
so big that I could hardly manage him. I had just opened him up
and taken out the inside and was struggling to cut off his head
when somehow my hunting-knife touched his spinal cord in a way that
made his tail fly up almost into my face. I sprang up with a
shriek but suddenly remembered he really must be dead after all,
and returned to my task. Presently Job emerged from the bushes to
see what was the trouble. He suggested that I had better let him
clean the fish, but I declined. Finally I did get the head off,
and soon carried my fish to the camp in triumph. The big one was
boiled for supper, and, oh! how good it tasted, for all were
desperately hungry. The night was clear and cold, and after supper
I sat at the camp fire till quite late--reluctant to leave it.
Finally it died down, and leaving the glowing embers to burn
themselves out, I went to my tent.
We were off early next morning with a fine southwest wind, and were
at the head of the lake sooner than we had expected. From here we
had to cross almost to the west shore to reach the bay at the north
end of the lake. It had grown rough since we left camp, and it did
not seem to me that we could get to the point, for it meant running
into the wind part of the way. It was an exciting hour's work, and
the men were very quiet. There was none of the usual merry chat.
Evidently a storm was coming, and unless we could pass that long,
rocky point, and win the shelter of the bay beyond, we might be
delayed for days. The big waves came rolling up the lake, and as
each reached us the bottom of the canoe was tipped towards it a
little to prevent its coming over, and George's head turned
slightly to see how it was treating his charge. At the same time I
could feel my fingers which were just over the edge on the other
side run along the top of the water, and now and then it came over
and slipped up my sleeve.
It was squally, and anxiously five pairs of eyes watched the sky
and the point. It was a relief when the wind dropped a little, but
then we could see it had risen again, roughening the water in the
distance some minutes before it reached us. As I watched the other
canoe slip down the long slope of a big wave I wondered, often, if
it would come up again, for it looked as if bound straight for the
bottom of the lake. Soon, however, it was on the crest of another
wave and ready to dip again. The most exciting part of the
experience was watching its motions. The perspective made them
seem more remarkable than those of my own, which indeed were
startling enough at times.
With glad hearts we felt the wind drop a little as we neared the
point. Then, bending to their paddles with all the strength of
their strong arms, the men carried the canoes beyond the breakers
to where we could turn our backs to the wind, and we slipped into
the quiet bay.