_THROUGH THE EAGLE PASS._
The Kamloops Men at Last--No Supplies--On Short Allowance--An
Indian Guide--Bog-wading--The Summit of the Pass--Bluff
Lake--Victoria Bluff--Three Valley Lake--Eagle River--Shooting
Salmon--The _Cached_ Provisions--Pack-horses Again--Road
Making--The South Thompson--Indian Ranches.
Our anxiety passed away when five men appeared coming from the woods on
the flats of the Columbia, a short distance from our camp. We saw them
approach with more than usual satisfaction, for we felt certain that
they were the men we were looking for, and we hastened to meet them as
they came towards us.
McLean was in charge, with four Shuswap Indians, and without delay he
gave me letters from the Hudson’s Bay Company’s agent. And among them
was a sheet of foolscap setting forth a list of the provisions sent us,
which, in the condition of our own stores was peculiarly acceptable.
On inquiry we learn that the sheet of paper alone represented the
provisions, for it was all that the party had brought with them. The
stores entrusted to them to bring to the Columbia had been _cached_
at a point five days distant from us, and they had brought with them
barely enough food to supply their own wants. It was neither welcome
nor looked for intelligence with our slender stock of pork and flour.
We had already put ourselves on short allowance, and in view of our
resources we had not a moment to lose in making a start.
The non-appearance of the Kamloops party at an earlier day was
accounted for by the well-meant but ill-advised attempt to bring horses
with them to the Columbia, and by the exceedingly rough character of
the ground through the Eagle pass itself, even for foot travel. Many
parts of the valley were blocked up by fallen trees of gigantic size;
and the obstructions, owing to masses of rock, the lakes, swamps and a
general ruggedness, had proved to be formidable. No attempt had been
made to bring on any of the provisions beyond the point which the
horses could not pass. At that spot the whole was _cached_, and one
of the Indians had been detailed to remain behind in charge of the
animals. The main object of their mission had, therefore, not been
fulfilled: that of being at the Columbia on the 8th of September with
provisions. They had neither observed the date of meeting, nor had
they brought with them the food which we looked for at their hands.
Fidelity to an engagement of this character is indispensable in the
wilderness. It ought to be felt that failure might lead to privation
and suffering. Had any one of us or our party slipped on the rocks or
trees, had forest fires impeded our progress, had we lost our way, or
had we, through any other unforeseen cause, been delayed, our stock
of supplies would have been exhausted when we reached the Columbia.
Fortunately we had met with no misadventure. We had been exceedingly
careful with our provisions, and hence we had a small reserve of pork
and flour, which, with careful management, could be made to serve for
a couple of days longer. There was nothing left for us but to make an
effort to extricate ourselves from the false position in which we found
ourselves.
We discovered that the Fort Colville Indians encamped near us were well
acquainted with the country for some distance back of the Columbia.
It had been their hunting ground; accordingly we engaged one of their
party, old Baptiste, as a guide, to take us on our way by the least
difficult route, to the extent of his knowledge of the country.
After the usual delay incident to a start with a new set of men we
march off in Indian file, headed by old Baptiste. None of us had been
impressed either by the knowledge of the country which the Kamloops
party possessed or by their skill in combinations. The Indian knew the
route well as far as Three Valley Lake, and we felt safer under his
pilotage, and assigned him the advanced post of our party.
We imagined that we were making the best of starts. We all started
forward in Indian file with that springy gait which marks men having
confidence in themselves. The guide, however, led us to his own camp.
He did so without explanations or remark. He entered his wigwam and we
remained outside. The proceeding was inexplicable until we learned that
he had to repair his moccasins before he could start. We halted three
quarters of an hour, while the squaw deliberately plied her awl and
leather thong, the Indian in the meanwhile sitting motionless, smoking
his pipe and looking into the embers of the fire. We could only imitate
his patience and await the result. At length in the same silent way he
re-appeared, and started without comment on the trail. We submissively
followed. The thought crossed my mind that in this case knowledge was
power.
Our guide took us by a circuitous route round the shore of the “big
eddy,” avoiding a mile of exceedingly painful walking, which the
Kamloops men had passed over last night.
We find our way over ground almost clear of trees. Some years back
the country had been ravaged by one of the great forest fires, often
extending over immense distances. The trees had not again grown, and
we rapidly reach the green wood in the pass, where we take our mid-day
meal.
We start again, skirting a large marsh. It seemed to us at first to be
a beaver meadow. It was full of water holes, skunk cabbage and deep
black muck. McLean and his men had waded through this bog up to their
middle for the greater part of the way. It was the one part of their
return they most dreaded to encounter. Do any of my readers know what
it is to wade through a marsh of deep oozy mud, covered with stinking
water? It is not an experience they may long for. The path we pass
along is the one taken by the Indians for carrying cariboo and game
over the mountains. The various wild berries we saw on the route were
unusually large. They more resembled small grapes in size than the
ordinary berry, and were pleasant to the taste. There was an abundance
of black huckleberries and blackberries. Is not this presence of a
luxurious growth of wild growing fruit an indication that garden fruits
might find their home in these sheltered valleys?
We are fast ascending towards the summit. The valley leading to the
Eagle pass is about a quarter of a mile wide, walled in by parallel
mountains generally wooded to the top. We pass through a vast grove of
fine timber, mostly hemlock, fit for purposes of railway construction.
We cross several times the stream we are following, and about five
o’clock encamp on its eastern side. The site we select is the freest
we could find from the formidable devil’s clubs. Cedars, four feet in
diameter, rise up around us like the columns of a lofty temple. We
counted some forty or fifty in a circle of a radius of a hundred feet,
and a striking appearance they presented.
We have travelled seven miles and have reached the summit of the Pass.
Our journey has been in every way satisfactory. We thoroughly recognize
all we owe to our guide. He has saved us labour, time and much
painful experience, and we are proportionately satisfied with our own
forethought that his services could be utilized.
As night came on we lit up a hollow cedar. It is some distance from
us, and when it falls it will be away from us, as it inclines in
the opposite direction to our camp ground. It burns rapidly, and
illuminates the scene around us for the whole evening. It was moonlight
also, but the dense forest intervened, so the camp remained in shadow.
The vegetation around us was rank, with a green, luxurious growth of
mosses. Indeed the mosses extended in all directions, the surface of
the lower branches of the lofty trees not excepted. Some of the ferns
we saw were striking, and the abominable devil’s club was in profusion
all around us.
It rained during the night; we were comfortable in our tents, but the
men were exposed to the rain, having brought with them no protection
against it. Before starting their blankets had to be dried, so it was
nearly eight o’clock before we got off.
In less than two-thirds of a mile we gain Bluff Lake on the summit;
the steep rocky sides have given it its name, and the walking is so
difficult that we deem it expedient to form a raft on which we can
float to its further end.
We have now entered into the third range of mountains and have passed
beyond the waters flowing into the Columbia. We have reached the
waters of the Eagle River, which find their way to the Fraser. Our
raft carried the tent and baggage, but was not large enough for all to
find a place upon it. Accordingly some had to clamber over the rocks
as best they could, and a difficult walk they had. We reached the end
of the Lake and continued on our journey. Another three-quarters of a
mile brings us to a second Victor Lake. We did not construct a raft to
navigate it. Baptiste took us by what he called an easy route. We had,
however, to clamber over rocky precipices the whole of the way, and it
is the afternoon before we sat down to take our meal at its western
end. The Lake is about three-quarters of a mile in length; the water is
like a mirror, in which the lofty peaks are reflected in every variety
of shade. Directly in our front there is a magnificent bluff rising
vertically sheer from the water seven hundred feet. Its image appears
in the mirror-like lake as well defined as in the atmosphere. On behalf
of the Canadian Alpine Club we name the bluff after Her Majesty, and
give three cheers for the Queen in honour of the occasion. We all
feel in good spirits, for we are satisfied with the progress we are
making. Our advance, however, was not without its difficulties. We
had a seemingly endless number of prostrate trunks of trees and rocks
to surmount, and on the lower ground we had from time to time to wade
through troublesome marshes.
Three and a half miles from Victor Lake we arrived at Three Valley
Lake. Our Kamloops men, on their way to meet us, had constructed a
raft at this point, which is again available. It is large enough to
take the whole party. So we embarked upon it. Baptiste followed in
a small, birch-bark canoe, which he had taken from its _cache_. We
move slowly through this beautiful lake, nestling in the mountains,
where three valleys meet. Its shape is somewhat that of a three-corner
staff officer’s hat. It has lofty, wide banks, with bold rocky bluffs
standing out from the spruce and birch wood, here and there visible.
It is a beautiful sheet of water, dark in color and exceedingly deep.
It has been said that it is fathomless. Few Swiss lakes, which I have
seen in my limited wanderings, rise in my mind as superior to it in
wild, natural beauty. This sheet of water has a character of its own.
We reach the outlet in about an hour, somewhat chilled by sitting
immovably in one position on the raft. We soon are ourselves again as
we arrange our camping ground. Every spot is bright green, but there is
not a blade of grass. Possibly, owing to the excessive moisture of the
locality, the ground is brilliant with rich mosses of the thickness of
three or four inches, and you walk on them as on a Turkish carpet.
We encamped on a small tree-covered promontory at the outlet of the
lake. Eagle River has now become a good sized stream of clear water
flowing over a rocky bottom. The scenery is striking in all directions.
The central of the Three Valleys branches into four subordinate
valleys, between each of which high peaks, covered with snow, are to be
seen. To the north and west the peaks are less lofty. Baptiste tells us
that much game abounds, and that from the lake large fish are taken, as
we infer, salmon. The evening was very pleasant; we were all in good
humour, not by any means the worst resource to the wanderer in his
travels.
It did not rain last night. I do not hold my own experience as
sufficient for any generalization, but from all I can learn, at
this season of the year, it is seldom that such is the case in the
mountains. Certainly the nights during which we have escaped rain since
entering the Selkirk Range have been few.
We had now to part with our Indian guide, who had fulfilled his
contract, so we settled with him and found he had a cool way of his
own in reckoning the value of his services, whatever he might know of
arithmetic. As a “lucky penny” we supplied him with enough matches to
last him a month, a mine of wealth to him; and he paddled away to the
east to find his way back to the Grand Eddy.
The Kamloops Indians, now on their own ground, are unusually active
this morning. A tree is felled on which we can cross the river, and
we get off by eight o’clock, trudging through the woods, passing over
alder swamps and dry rocky ground, encountering prostrate trees of
giant growth until we reach Griffin’s Lake, a mile in length, with
rough and rugged sides. We constructed a raft of light timber and
formed our paddles of split cedar. It took an hour and three-quarters
to make the raft, but by paddling through the lake we made up the time
and reserved our strength for further efforts. We had an excellent
opportunity of seeing the country from the middle of the lake. Snow
covered peaks were here and there visible, but I question if this snow
be permanent; it struck me that it was only the deposit of the late
storms which we had experienced. We took our mid-day meal, it was now
bread and water, on the raft, so there was no delay in our starting
westward when we landed. The ground was smooth for some distance, but
we soon reached a part of the valley where it was entirely swamp to the
base of the hills. We had, therefore, to clamber along its side, which
was encumbered with large fallen trees and huge stones. Our progress
was as slow as in the valley of the Ille-celle-waet; and soon, from
sheer fatigue, we were forced to accept the first available camping
ground which offered: a small plateau near a mountain stream.
As arranged, Albert and McLean started next morning at day-break
towards the point where the horses and supplies had been left, to get
everything in order, so that when we came up no time would be lost
and we could at once proceed. We shall not reach the spot a minute
too soon, for we are out of everything in the shape of food. McLean
and the four Indians, despatched from Kamloops with supplies, have
helped to finish the remnant of stores which we have carried across
three mountain summits from the Bow River. Without our forced marches
our provisions would certainly have been insufficient, and but for
the accident of meeting a guide we might have been in an unenviable
situation. Yet the failure of our plan was in itself so ridiculous that
I cannot look back upon it without a smile. We were in the heart of a
desert and asked for bread. We did not even get a stone, but we met
five hungry Indians ready to devour the little store we had brought
with us.
We started soon after seven, every member of the party carrying his
own pack, except Albert and McLean, who had been already despatched
without loads. Our advance had much of the character of that of
yesterday, along a steep hill side, among fallen trees from four to
six feet in diameter. Our progress was exceedingly slow through these
difficulties; at length we reached the _cached_ provisions at eleven
o’clock. The hour of short commons was passed, and at our mid-day meal
we had a sumptuous fare. We found tinned oysters, potatoes, coffee,
bacon, flour, onions and such delicacies; we also had an example of the
saying that “it never rains but it pours,” for my son fortunately shot
a salmon in the Eagle River. We were thus in the very lap of luxury;
but our business was to do more than revel on good fare. We had to be
up and moving. The Indians expressed great astonishment when the order
was given to march. They expected we should remain here for a few days
to feast on the good things till they were done: as they term it in
British Columbia, to have a regular “potlatch.”
We continued our journey, having horses to carry the loads.
Occasionally we ourselves mount, but the trail is so rough that for the
best part of the distance it was easier made on foot. The horses were
fresh after a week’s rest, and for an hour they bounded over the logs
and rocks with ease, but they soon settled down into their ordinary
pack-horse walk.
Two miles from our dinner camp we crossed a stream of bright blue water
from the north, nearly equal in volume to the Eagle River. Four miles
further we met Mr. Joseph Hunter on his way to find us. He gave us the
welcome news that to-morrow we would be on a waggon road, now being
constructed over the western end of Eagle Pass, and that at Shuswap
Lake we would find a steamer to take us to Kamloops.
Our trail did not improve. It continued on the hill side over rocky
ground, partially through a _brulé_. Our march was tedious, for we were
more on foot than in the saddle.
Eight miles from our noon camp we reached the north fork of the Eagle
River, a stream about eighty feet in width. The water was turbid,
indicative of a glacial source. We found some difficulty in fording
it, owing to the rapidity of the current and the bed of the stream
being full of large boulders. A mile further on we camped on the hill
side among the charred remains of a forest fire, and had an excellent
supper. The moon rose, nearly at the full, lighting the lofty hills in
our front, and as we sat by the fire Mr. Hunter told us all he knew
of the doings of the outer world, of which we had lost all trace for
nearly four weeks. We learned that our camp is but four or five miles
in a direct course from a working party constructing a waggon road in
our direction.
As the morrow will be Sunday, Dr. Grant suggests that we should start
as usual, and that he should hold a service when we arrive. Accordingly
the following morning Mr. Hunter and he start off on foot in advance.
We were so eager to reach the waggon road that all were up and at
breakfast before sunrise and were under way as its early rays were
peering over the mountains where, last night, the full moon came up.
The sky was without a cloud. The trail was so imperfect and circuitous
that, although the distance was given as from four to five miles, it
took us from six until about twelve to reach the encampment of Mr. G.
B. Wright, the road contractor. It was a tented village. Our hostess,
Mrs. Wright, received us under a large tent, appearing to us with an
additional charm as being the first white woman we had seen since we
left Morley on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. One of our
first luxuries was the use of soap and hot water, and certainly we all
required it. After we had partaken of the bounteous hospitality of Mrs.
Wright, Dr. Grant held a service, at which about forty men attended,
together with the only woman of our race within a long distance--our
hostess. The men wore the usual long beard, bearing no signs of the
scissors, and their dress was rough, but they all listened with marked
attention and reverence.
In the afternoon we left this canvass town, which comprised some sixty
tents of all sizes. We were accommodated with a spring waggon and were
driven some sixteen miles over an excellent road. The whippletree gave
way more than once, but was speedily repaired by the help of a short
stick and some cod line. At half-past five we reached Shuswap Lake,
where a steamer was waiting for us, Albert having ridden ahead to
detain it. We were soon on board and steamed through the Sicamouse
Narrows, about three hundred feet wide with about six to eight feet of
water, as the last rays of the sun were lighting the lake. The moon
rose and we could see the country around us with the water channels
from every point of view. The shore is still in a state of nature,
without a settlement. There is not even a house at the steamboat
landing, and the supplies for the waggon road construction parties find
shelter from the rain under canvas. The steamer is about a hundred
feet in length, with a stern wheel for navigating shallow waters. It
was eleven o’clock before we turned in, and I could not but contrast
our present mode of travel with that of a few days back, and it seemed
almost like a dream as I thought of our advance from the first summit.
We had still, however, a most unpleasant recollection of our wearing
journey through the mountains; the prickles of the devil’s club in
their poisonous effects had become a great annoyance to many of us.
Indeed, our swollen hands had to be wrapped in oatmeal poultices.
In one case the swelling and pain were really serious, and as a
consequence at least one of our party suffered from loss of sleep.
At eight next morning we were on deck. The steamer was sailing down the
South Thompson. We stopped frequently at Indian ranches for passengers
and freight. The effort of getting some pigs on board at one of the
landings created some amusement; a scene in its way suggestive of our
having entered again the realm of civilization. Breakfast had been
delayed until our arrival at a spot where we were to obtain fresh milk
and some butter. When we reached the place, a ranche by the river side,
the fresh butter was not ready, so we waited until the churning had
been completed. Affairs seemed to us rather primitive west of Kamloops
Lake. Our cook is a Chinaman, comely looking enough, and the breakfast
that he put before us was certainly a respectable proof of his skill.
We were now gliding through a country entirely different from that
east of Shuswap Lake. We had left the lofty peaks behind us, and were
surrounded by high hills covered with bunch grass, with groves of trees
and sometimes with single massive trunks of spruce or Douglas pine.
The landscape has a park-like character, and is highly picturesque.
The hills are high and varied in outline. Some portions of the River
Thompson recall the scenery on the upper portions of the Arno and
the Tiber on the journey from Florence to Rome. No rocky bluffs are
visible; the hills are smooth and rounded, but nevertheless of such
variety as to take away any monotony in the landscape as we move down
the river. About nine o’clock we arrive at Kamloops, some ninety miles
distant from Shuswap Lake, our starting place of the previous night,
where we had embarked.