Fort McMurray to Smith’s Landing on the Slave River : The
_Grahame_ : Beauty of Northern Twilights : Fort Chippewyan : The
Slave River : The Peace River Basin.
We found the _Grahame_ a much larger and more comfortable boat than
the _Midnight Sun_, though constructed on the same lines, both being
flat-bottomed craft and propelled by stern wheels.
It was late in the afternoon of another very hot day, July 2, when we
resumed our journey, and sitting on the deck, I watched a panorama of
rare beauty unrolled to view as we descended the river. The Clearwater
mingled its contents slowly and reluctantly with those of the turbid
Athabaska. Islands clothed with green spruce receded from view as
others appeared in the distance.
It was after seven o’clock in the evening, when we left McMurray and
yet we sat for hours taking no note of time, till some one remarked
it was getting late, though the sun, away around in the north-west,
was still a little above the horizon, and seemed very loathe to sink
below it. As in “The Lotos Eaters,” it seemed “a land where it was
always afternoon.” There are two features that cannot fail to impress
the stranger on his visit to these regions, especially in mid-summer;
first, those northern twilights, and second, the profound silence that
always seems to fall like a pall on the wilderness as the gathering
shadows increase more and more till all nature is embraced in silent
slumber.
Frequently we tied up to the shore for the few dark hours we enjoyed at
this time and in this latitude, later we had none--and the deathlike
tranquillity of those approaching nights was almost bewildering in its
intensity. One actually seemed to have approached very near to the
heart of nature.
This sensation brought back to mind the words of George Eliot in the
scene from _Adam Bede_, where she pictures the absolute calm which
prevailed on that night when Adam was engaged long after midnight
in making a coffin for his father, and when resting for a moment,
he looked across the starlit fields where “every blade of grass was
asleep.”
Here, we beheld the wilderness in its lethean repose. Occasionally the
cry of a loon would float over the woods from some inland lake, or
the hooting of an owl would be heard somewhere in the forest. These,
however, seemed rather to add to, than detract from the loneliness that
surrounded us. Those who have seen nature in repose will sympathise
with me in my feeble attempt to convey an impression of that which is
really beyond description.
After the junction of the Clearwater, the Athabaska becomes a stream
varying from a quarter to half a mile in width. Some good spruce timber
is seen on the way. Asphalt and coal are found along the banks below
McMurray. Seams of soft coal of considerable thickness are found in the
neighbourhood of Fort McKay, which is used by the blacksmiths at some
of the posts.
During our stay at McMurray the first flood from the upper sources of
the river overtook us, and on leaving this post the water had risen
about two feet. This accelerated our speed, and from here on we were
running races with this mountain water. Sometimes we were with it, and
then after several hours’ run we would leave it behind till we made
another halt, when it would again overtake us. There was no mistaking
it, as the colour of the new water was much more muddy than that of the
original, which had in its slower course parted with a good portion of
its alluvial matter.
In the course of some twenty-four hours’ run from McMurray the
traveller finds evidences that he is approaching the mouth of the
river. The stream increases to double or treble the width it is above
McMurray. The banks become lower. Willows take the place of the poplar
and spruce. Islands on every hand seem almost to block the passage.
Then drowned land and great marshes, the home of wild fowl innumerable,
stretch away to the horizon and at last the waters of the Lake of the
Hills, now Lake Athabaska, are seen glistening to the east, while hills
of red granite stretch far away to the north and below these along the
shore, the whitewashed buildings of Fort Chippewyan appear.
[Illustration:
_Copyright Ernest Brown_
FORT CHIPPEWYAN ON ATHABASKA LAKE]
By reference to my diary, I find that it was July 4 that we reached
Chippewyan, and I remember rising before four o’clock, so eager
was I to catch the first glimpse of the lake. We had been for nearly
a month following down a river through a wilderness, where the range
of our vision was limited by the high banks on either side, and it was
like entering a larger world and was really restful when we beheld a
great expanse of blue water extending off to the east as far as the
eye could reach. But here, too, was “loneliness unbroken.” Another of
those excessively hot days, too, that had pursued us for some time, was
again with us. The lake was as smooth as glass, but the most powerful
telescope revealed nothing of life on its surface, save a few wild
fowl, perfectly secure, for no fowler was in sight.
Lake Athabaska is about 200 miles in length from Chippewyan on the west
to Fond du Lac on the east, while its average width is probably about
twenty miles.
The appearance of Chippewyan was quite picturesque as we approached it
from the south.
The Hudson Bay Company’s buildings are in the form of a quadrangle and
appear very attractive from a distance. Those of the Roman Catholic
Mission are quite imposing but lose some of their effect through being
painted a very dull colour.
We only remained at Chippewyan about twelve hours and then started for
the entrance of Slave River and Great Slave Lake. The distance from the
mouth of Athabaska River to the entrance of Slave River is only eight
or ten miles.
For the first ten miles after entering the Slave, the channel, or
rather the one we took, winds in and out between islands and submerged
land, covered with grass. These drowned lands and marshes extend
apparently a long distance west, between the Athabaska and Peace River,
which latter stream joins the Slave about twenty miles down the latter
from the Lake. This is a hunter’s paradise, and when the railway
reaches McMurray the wild goose will soon find its present security
disturbed by the sportsman from the south.
[Illustration: SPRUCE TIMBER ON THE SLAVE RIVER]
At 10 P.M. the steamer tied up for the night. This had been the
hottest day yet experienced. The mercury stood at 100 in the shade at
Chippewyan, but the appearance of the sky portended rain, and as we
retired we heard rumblings of thunder and some lightning was to be
seen. A little later, the welcome drops were heard pattering on the
decks. All welcomed a relief from weather that would be more suitable
to the tropics than to this latitude of 59 degrees north. On waking
the following morning, July 5, we found the air refreshingly cool. It
had rained nearly all night, and from this on we had no more such heat
as we had heretofore experienced. At a distance of some fifteen miles
from Chippewyan, the land becomes higher and is covered with timber,
considerable quantities of which are seen from the river; the varieties
being spruce, poplar, birch, tamarac and willow; some of the first
named being of good quality, running in size up to twenty inches at the
stump. This timber continues somewhat irregularly throughout the whole
course of the Slave from here to Great Slave Lake.
At about twenty miles below Lake Athabaska, the Slave receives the
Peace River, and the former at once becomes an immense stream,
averaging perhaps a mile in width. The Peace itself is really a great
river: rising on the eastern slope of that great Atlas chain of North
America, the Rocky Mountains, it flows easterly and northerly for some
800 miles till finally at this junction its waters mingle with those
coming from the same watershed via the Athabaska.
Ever since the mountain water overtook us, we had witnessed
considerable drift timber, but immediately after passing the junction
of the Peace this greatly increased; and cast up by previous floods
on the shores, sand bars and islands were thousands upon thousands of
spruce trees, sufficiently large for lumbering purposes.
The Peace River deserves more than a passing reference. It is much
the largest of the many tributary streams whose waters find an outlet
to the Arctic Sea through the Mackenzie. In fact, it and the Slave
might be regarded as the Upper Mackenzie with Great Slave Lake as an
immense expansion. It is something in the neighbourhood of 800 miles
from where the Finlay and the Parsnip, under the shadow of the Rockies,
join to form the Peace, and from here to its mouth it flows through a
valley containing a large percentage of exceedingly fertile land. There
have been different opinions as to the future of this valley as an
agricultural district, but it is probable that with the exception of
that portion near the source, where the elevation is considerable, the
basin of the Peace will not be behind that of the North Saskatchewan in
its yield of cereals and vegetables and quite equal to any portion of
the great west as a grazing country, though it must be remembered that
it is more or less wooded.
In the year 1902, I visited the Upper Peace, as before stated, and on
September 16, at a point nearly 500 miles above the mouth, wheat was
already cut, oats mostly cut, and I was informed that this was about
the usual time of harvesting. I also saw at the Roman Catholic Mission,
a few miles above Peace River Crossing, and almost opposite the mouth
of Smokey River, potatoes, cabbage, beets, onions, pumpkins, tomatoes,
muskmelons, etc., and also tobacco. The latter may not be equal to the
famed Havanna leaf, but it possesses sufficient nicotine to gratify the
appetite of those dependent on it for their supply.
The river at this point is considerably over a quarter of a mile wide,
and the water at this season was clear and blue. The valley, which is
here over two miles wide, about one mile on each side of the stream
itself, is six or seven hundred feet lower than the table land above.
[Illustration:
_Copyright Ernest Brown, Edmonton_
RAPIDS ON THE SLAVE RIVER AT THE SECOND PORTAGE]
On the way in from Lesser Slave Lake, I had been told to have my camera
ready as we approached the descent at Peace River Crossing. Even the
stolid half breed who accompanied me was almost enthusiastic in his
description of the view that awaited us, so that I was quite prepared
for what I apprehended would be something like the view of Niagara
River from Queenston Heights. It resembled more the Grand Canyon of
Arizona. All at once there appeared before us something so gigantic in
its dimensions and so bewildering in the beauty of the vista which it
revealed, that I feel any words that I can pen would rather conceal
than reveal any true conception of this wonderful picture. Looking
from the upland in every direction and on both sides of the valley,
the table land seemed to the eye as level as the proverbial billiard
table, while beneath and extending east and west for distances which I
hesitate to estimate, lay this great excavation, for such it really
is, and far below, the blue water of the river was seen threading its
way along the base, at times dividing itself between islands and sand
bars and then reuniting in its hurried flow ever onward and downward in
its course. A few miles above “The Smoky” was seen threading its way
through a similar valley, while farther and farther away were other
tributary streams flowing through other valleys till the vision was
only lost by the interception of the horizon. One can form but a feeble
conception of the energy that nature has expended in excavating this
great canyon, through which now flows a navigable stream with but one
obstruction in its course for some 700 miles. Evidently this has been
accomplished simply by the water from the mountains seeking ever a
lower level. The swift current of the stream was not only sufficient to
delve out the enormous quantity of earth embraced in this valley over
two miles wide and to the depth I have stated, but also to transport it
for hundreds of miles down stream where it was deposited, forming sand
bars and islands all the way to Great Slave Lake.
At the source of the Danube River at Donoueschingen stand two statuary
figures, the one representing the country and the other, the river.
The former is indicating to the latter the route to be taken, and the
injunction is “Go this way and open the wilderness.”
Here we have a valley even greater than that through which the Danube
flows, and the injunction is being obeyed in the opening up of a region
of inestimable value for the benefit of those who will yet seek their
homes in this part of our possessions.
We will now resume our narrative by returning to the Slave River, which
connects Lake Athabaska with Great Slave Lake. It is about 300 miles
in length, but navigation is obstructed by rapids that commence at
Smith’s Landing, 100 miles from Athabaska, and extend down stream to
Fort Smith, a distance of sixteen miles. For this reason, the steamer
_Grahame_, with the scows that she had in tow from McMurray, proceeded
no farther than the former place, and the cargo was freighted overland
to Fort Smith on wagons drawn by oxen, which delayed us about a week.
Most of the country passed over on this portage is very sandy, which
made very heavy drawing. This will be spanned one of these days by an
electric tramway, the motive power for which can easily be obtained
from the rapids near by.
[Illustration: SMITH’S LANDING ON SLAVE RIVER]
The prevailing rock formation between Chippewyan and Smith’s Landing is
granite; that about Chippewyan being of a red colour, while as Smith’s
Landing is approached it is grey, and the soil covering noted on this
section of our journey proved less inviting to the agriculturist
than that either above or below it, where there is a good deposit of
alluvial soil.
At La Bute, forty miles above Smith’s Landing, we saw a good deposit of
tar in the limestone rock on the west side of the river.
While we were staying at Smith’s Landing awaiting the transport of the
cargo across the portage to Fort Smith, a tug towing several scows
which we had passed farther up the river arrived. They were accompanied
by Bishop Grouard and were the property of the Roman Catholic Church
over which he presides in this district, and also in that of the Peace
River country. I was glad of having an opportunity of meeting him
again, especially as he had some years before made the trip which I
proposed to take from Fort McPherson to Fort Yukon.
On July 9, we crossed the sixteen mile portage to Fort Smith just below
the rapids. We had a comfortable carriage drawn by horses and made
the trip in about three hours. Here we boarded the trim-built little
steamer, _Wrigley_, which we found much smaller than the _Grahame_, but
on the whole fairly comfortable. She differed from the _Grahame_ and
the _Midnight Sun_, being built on a different model, the former being
like the Mississippi steamers, with flat bottoms, and drawing only
about two feet of water, while the _Wrigley_ is similar in construction
to the steamers of the lower lakes of Canada, with a screw wheel, and
drawing nearly six feet when loaded.
[Illustration: STEAMER “GRAHAME” AT SMITH’S LANDING]