ON THE EVE OF INLAND.
The arrival of the _Harmony_ was, as usual, the signal for a fusillade
of welcome from the guns of the Eskimos, and before our anchor was fast
a number of boats were being sculled excitedly towards the ship. The sun
had gone down and the mosquitoes were every moment reinforced from the
land, where, in the neighbourhood of the crowded Eskimo huts, they always
exist in their thousands. The first boat to come alongside was that
belonging to the mission station, and in it were Bishop Martin, Brother
Kristian Schmitt, and Mrs. Perrett. From them we learned to our great
regret that my friend Brother Perrett was not at Nain, as a short time
previously he had hurt his hand severely and had gone up the coast to
Okak (where the Moravians have a hospital) in order that he might receive
the necessary surgical attendance.
This news was a great disappointment to us, as we had counted upon
Perrett’s assistance in finally deciding upon our route and in
questioning the Eskimo as to the direction they follow on the spring
deer-hunt which they undertake annually. But Bishop Martin and Mr.
Schmitt expressed their willingness to aid us in every way in their
power, and just as night was falling we sculled ashore and were soon
enjoying the luxury of a sleep in a chamber where the mosquito plague was
limited to the few which we had brought with us upon our clothing.
The next morning we were early astir and went out into the splendid
northern air. The sun was hardly up, and all Nain Bay lay stretched out
before us, with the good ship _Harmony_ looking quite imposing among the
cluster of fishing smacks and trap-boats which surrounded her. As soon
as we put in an appearance, the huts in the Eskimo quarter gave up their
inhabitants, for although Nain is the capital of Northern and Central
Labrador it is a metropolis which even so small an event as the arrival
of two white strangers can stir to its very depths. Soon we had a crowd
of natives round us, and, as it had leaked out on the previous night
that we had come to Nain with the intention of attempting to journey
over the barrens into the interior, we were stared at with the greatest
diligence and solemnity. And indeed, if we were objects of interest to
the citizens of the settlement, they were no less so to us. Many of them
were pure Eskimo, squat, broad, and powerful. They were, of course, in
their summer dress of light cotton _sillapaks_ with the hoods turned
back. They wore cloth trousers and sealskin boots tied below the knee,
and without exception sported mosquito veils of brown or blue netting or
cotton handkerchiefs pinned to their peaked yachtsmen’s caps. The dark
wind-blackened faces seen against these veils lent a curious effect to
the scene by the unstirred blue waters of the bay—a hint of something
Southern, entirely out of keeping with the bleak northern hills beside
the Polar current.
[Illustration: A Curious Iceberg.]
[Illustration: Okak.]
The Labrador day commences early, and soon we were summoned into the
mission house for breakfast, after which Mr. Schmitt very kindly placed
himself at our disposal. He has spent a number of years on the Labrador,
and has for some time past been in charge of the trade of the Mission
over the whole coast.
We began by explaining to him our scheme for reaching the George river;
and perhaps before going further it will be well if I deal a little more
fully than I have yet had occasion to do with the object of our journey.
The George, as those interested in Labrador travel are aware, is the main
river of the eastern half of the peninsula. Having its source in the
neighbourhood of Lake Michikamau, it keeps for the greater part of its
length a course high up near the summit of the Labrador plateau, until
from the Bridgman Mountains at the northern end of Indian House Lake (as
a widening of the river is called) it descends in a continuous succession
of rapids and even falls to its outlet at Ungava. The river is roughly
300 miles in length and flows parallel to the eastern coast of the
Labrador.
The shores of the George river in the neighbourhood of Indian House Lake
are the main camping-ground of the Nascaupee Indians, while further south
the Montagnais have their lodges. Both these tribes of Indians live, as
I have already said, on the caribou which they kill as the animals pass
in enormous herds on their spring and autumn migrations. The presence of
the Indians and the vast herds of deer have not unnaturally attracted the
attention of travellers to the George river, and its course, wholly or
in part, has from time to time been followed by various expeditions. The
first of these, that of Maclean and Erlandson, in the early part of the
last century, discovered Indian House Lake—then called Lake Erlandson—and
founded a Hudson’s Bay Company’s post in its vicinity. But no long time
passed before this was abandoned, and for many a year, until the journeys
of Mrs. Hubbard and Mr. Dillon Wallace, who succeeded in reaching it
by a route from Hamilton Inlet, the lake remained unvisited. Thanks to
their efforts, the course of the George was both explored and mapped; but
between it and the Atlantic coast lay the large blank area representing
the north-eastern region of Labrador.
These vast spaces, containing an area of many thousand square miles, lie
within 2,000 miles of Britain, and it seemed to us a pity that such a
_terra incognita_ should continue to exist under the British flag. The
object of our journey then was to cross this unknown country from the
Atlantic sea-board to the shores of the George river.
Our way must, we knew, lead us over the great eastern plateau of
Labrador, the crossing of which would be an event of geographical
interest. There were other inducements also, such as the hope of seeing
the mighty herds of caribou and their attendant wolves, as well as the
prospect of learning something of the northerly range of the black bear.
Before leaving England a study of the map had revealed to us tentative
indications of a river named the Fraser, which discharged into the head
of a bay some miles north of Nain. The fact, however, that on the same
map was depicted a certain “Barren-grounds River,” which has been proved
not to exist, rather made us doubt the knowledge of the cartographer, and
we were consequently delighted when Mr. Schmitt informed us that there
certainly was a Fraser river, though it as certainly did not discharge
into Tikoatokak, as the map stated, but into Nunaingoak Bay.
[Illustration: Bishop Martin.]
[Illustration: Brother Schmitt.]
Our plan of travel had, at any rate, the advantage of simplicity.
We intended to proceed up the Fraser river as far as it might prove
navigable for canoes, and then, when that point was reached, to continue
our advance on foot, carrying food and blankets upon our backs. In a
journey, the mileage of which is not very great, even amateurs, who
have some experience of the packing-strap, can carry necessaries of
life sufficient to cover a long period, and rations can be cut to very
attenuated dimensions without a very serious falling off in the extent
of ground traversed. On the other hand, in working with canoes and full
supplies it has to be remembered that every _portage_ means at least
a trebling of the actual distance advanced, and even where the water
is practicable—though it means the advantage that full supplies can be
carried—yet the rate of progress must fail in any way to compare with
that of a party of pedestrians loaded with a supply of necessaries
adequate, or as nearly adequate as is possible, to the journey
contemplated. We proposed therefore, having the whole Labrador summer
before us, to proceed up the Fraser or any other convenient waterway
which might assist us further west, to lighten our loads as we journeyed
on by making _caches_ at suitable intervals against our return, and
having arrived within reasonable striking distance of our objective to
provide ourselves each with a pack which could be dealt with in a single
journey, and continue our way on foot. If unable to supplement our
rations with game or fish (and no one knew anything of the conditions
obtaining upon the high plateau which we must cross) the scheme might
end in a more or less serious shortage of food towards the end; but if
the worst came to the worst we should at least have a _cache_ of food
to fall back upon at a distance, the covering of which should present no
insuperable difficulty even to insufficiently nourished men, especially
as _ex hypothesi_ the party would in such a case be moving exceedingly
light, with nothing save a rifle and a blanket to carry.
At the same time it was incumbent upon us to remember—and critics before
our start did not permit us to forget—that the only other party which had
trusted to a light stock of provisions had met with disaster, its leader
dying and the others only escaping by the narrowest of margins; but in
that case, the party having no intention of retracing their footsteps,
left no _caches_ worthy of the name.
Such then was our plan, and only upon two points did we need information.
The first was as to how far the Fraser might be navigable to canoes;
the second as to the route followed by the Eskimo on the dog-sledging
expeditions which they make after caribou over the snow.
On the first point Mr. Schmitt was able to supply us with valuable
details. The Fraser river, called probably after one of the two captains
of that name who in the past have commanded the Moravian supply boat
from England, flowed into Nunaingoak, a bay which would take us some
twenty miles west of Nain. The lower part of the Fraser river, though
obstructed in places by rapids impassable at low tide, might at high
water be traversed in a small sailing-boat, known locally as a trap-boat.
After a few miles, Mr. Schmitt added, we should come to a considerable
lake-expansion—some 25 miles long—and at the head of this we should have
to anchor our skiff and take to canoes, if the water were practicable
for them. Beyond this we could at first learn nothing. The Eskimo hunting
expeditions do not go as far as the end of this lake, but pass over its
frozen surface to a point called Poungassé, situated upon its southern
side, whence by way of a steep valley they attain the plateau, having in
one place to haul their _komatiks_ up the rocks with ropes. The Eskimo,
moreover, have no knowledge of canoe work, and their _kayaks_ of seal or
walrus skin, with their double-ended paddles, are wholly unadapted to
river travel.
In the afternoon Mr. Schmitt very kindly questioned all the Eskimos who
had any knowledge of the first stages of our proposed route. One of
these men, by reason of his clearness and accuracy (a rare virtue in an
Eskimo, who is usually readily confused), stood far ahead of his fellows.
His name was Filipus Hunter, and he had for some years used a trouting
camp at the head of Nunaingoak. From this place he had gone further
west than any of his compatriots, passed by Poungassé to the end of the
25-mile-long lake where he told us a swift and shallow river (the Fraser)
rolled out of a gorge. This gorge was very high and abrupt. Filipus,
sitting on the floor over a map, made this clear with a great deal of
gesticulation, and he further showed that as one travelled west the rocky
walls rose ever higher while the river split into a dozen channels.
Questioned as to whether it would be possible to climb out of the gorge
of the Fraser, Filipus replied that one could certainly do so to the
north, but on that side the plateau was so rough and so intersected
with ravines that an advance across it in a westerly direction would be
impossible for loaded men. To the south, however, the tableland was, as
far as he knew, more level, but it was open to doubt whether we should
be able to scale the cliffs. As to an advance along the Fraser valley,
he said that was out of the question, as after a time the valley became
choked with trees and boulders. Finally he gave it as his opinion that
should we fail to find a path up the cliffs we could return to Poungassé
and there climb on to the high ground. He further promised to draw us a
map, illustrating his knowledge. We then gave him a pipe and a tin of
tobacco, with which he departed in great delight to his cartographical
efforts.
As we were now certain from the information of Filipus that we could use
our canoes for a little distance at any rate, we decided to augment our
party, and applied to the missionaries to see if they could obtain for
us the services of a reliable Eskimo. There appeared to be no trouble in
finding such an individual, and we engaged one, Boaz Obed, a pure-bred
native from the north. This man was chosen because he had been a member
of the Eskimo hunting-party which in the previous spring had made a long
dog-sledge journey into the interior after deer, and though the course
they followed lay far to the south of that which we proposed taking, we
thought his knowledge might prove useful.
These Eskimo hunting trips are, as I have said, made in spring with the
view of killing deer at a season when the cold will preserve the meat for
an indefinite time, and when it is possible to haul out the carcases with
ease over the hard snow. The Eskimo hunters never go beyond a certain
distance, as their limit is always the limit of half the quantity of dog
food that they can carry with them. Long experience of hardships (and no
doubt, also, the protected life in the mission stations) has weaned the
squat men from their ancient deadly practice of expending the last of
their provisions and their strength in the attempt to find the caribou.
If that attempt failed the hunters left their bones in the wilderness.
Now, however, they carry dog food for a certain number of days—half of
this food is consumed on the way outwards, and half on the way home again.
As the Eskimo dog can travel great distances day after day, even over the
worst ground, fair journeys are accomplished. In winter a traverse of the
country, which then lies under many feet of snow, is with the help of the
husky teams not a very difficult matter, but it is of little geographical
value. Indeed, winter is, and always must be, the season of movement on
the Labrador peninsula. On the other hand, winter travel can have but
small results in determining the features of the country, when valleys,
lakes, rivers, and hills are practically obliterated under the deep
covering of snow, and the whole landscape lies in a white trance. During
the summer the difficulties of locomotion are increased ten-fold, but the
eye can then trace the true nature of the ground.
Having now completed our party and decided upon our route, we turned to
the question of provisions, and laid in the following stock, calculated
as rations for four men for 120 days. Flour and hard bread, 310 lbs.;
bacon, 85 lbs.; lard, 5 lbs.; pork, 5 lbs.; dried onions, 7 lbs.;
raisins, 20 lbs.; sugar, 12 lbs.; salt, 7 lbs.; baking powder, 4 lbs.;
tea, 7 lbs.; chocolate food, 5 lbs.; and also 70 ozs. McDoddie viands,
24 Lazenby soup squares, a bottle of saxine, and three of brandy. We
were, of course, aware that once at the end of navigable water only a
small proportion of these stores could be taken further, but it is
an excellent rule to carry a quantity of provisions to the furthest
possible point, so that in case of accident or delay a party may have
ample to fall back upon. We also fixed our start for the morning of the
next day but one—the 23rd of July; the slight delay being necessary, as
immediately on arrival we had set the Eskimos to work upon foot-gear and
gloves of skin, and these could not be ready in time for the next day’s
tide.
On the afternoon of the 22nd we had just returned from a walk upon the
hills when Mr. Schmitt came to us and informed us that our new henchman,
Boaz Obed, wished him to tell us that, in the opinion of the majority
of the Nain Eskimo, we were making a great mistake in attempting to
reach the George by way of the Fraser. All who knew the bay-head and
the lake, save Filipus, were agreed that we would find it impossible
to climb out of the valley, and that even were we to do so we should
in all probability starve long before we reached the George, as the
country there, which they had seen from distant hills, was exceedingly
barren. They strongly advised us to sail south and take the route by
which the Nascaupee Indians reach the coast, where we should be likely to
find game. But Hardy and I refused to change our plans, for three good
reasons. This trail was already known to the Indians, and also there was
a report that Mr. William B. Cabot had in the previous year expressed an
intention of again visiting the Indians by that route, and we felt it
would hardly be playing the game were we to take advantage of our early
arrival on the coast and to precede him along it. As a matter of fact,
Mr. Cabot, accompanied by Professor McMillan and two others, did, in
1910, penetrate, by the Indian trail, to the waters of the George. And
thirdly the Fraser was utterly unknown even by hearsay, and two days up
its stream would take us into country which even the Indians and Eskimo
had never trodden.
[Illustration: Capt. J. C. Jackson.]
[Illustration: Filipus.]
Boaz Obed received our decision with resigned regret, if no more.
Filipus, on the other hand, came with his map, which proved in the event
both useful and correct, and seemed very gratified that we had remained
firm. He quite obviously looked upon our decision in the light of a vote
of confidence in himself and his map, and he told us that both he and his
family would industriously hope for our success.
I wish now we had asked Filipus to go with us, but at the time we thought
that he was too old for so hard a journey.