Ascent of the Mississippi above Queen Anne's Lake--Reach the primary
forks of the river--Ascend the left-hand, or minor branch--Lake
Irving--Lake Marquette--Lake La Salle--Lake Plantagenet--Encamp at
the Naiwa rapids at the base of the Height of Land, or Itasca
Summit.
A short halt was made on entering Queen Anne's Lake, to examine an
object of Indian superstition on its east shore. This consisted of one
of those water-worn boulders which assume the shape of a rude image, and
to which the Chippewas apply the name _Shingabawassin_, or image-stone.
Nothing artificial appeared about it, except a ring of paint, of some
ochreous matter, around the fancied neck of the image.[161] We were an
hour in crossing the lake southwardly from this point, which would give
a mean rate of five miles. At the point of landing, stood a small,
deserted, long building, which Ozawindib informed me had been used as a
minor winter trading station. I observed on the beach at this spot some
small species of unios, and, at higher points on the shore, helices. We
here noticed the passenger pigeon. The forest exhibited the elm, soft
maple, and white ash. Proceeding directly south from this spot a short
distance, we entered the Mississippi, which was found to flow in with a
broad channel and rapid current. This channel Lieutenant Allen estimated
to be but one hundred yards long, at which distance we entered into a
beautiful little lake of pellucid water and a picturesque margin,
spreading transversely to our track, to which I gave the name of Irving.
Ozawindib held his way directly south through this body of water,
striking the river again on its opposite shore. We had proceeded but
half a mile above this lake, when it was announced that we had reached
the primary forks of the Mississippi. We were now in latitude 47° 28´
46´´. Up to this point, the river had carried its characteristics in a
remarkable manner. Of the two primary streams before us, the one flowing
from the west, or the Itascan fork, contributes by far the largest
volume of water, possessing the greatest velocity and breadth of
current. The two streams enter each other at an acute angle, which
varies but little from due south, as denoted in the diagram.
[161] An object of analogous kind was noticed, during the prior
expedition of 1820, at an island in Thunder Bay of Lake Huron. _Vide_
p. 55.
[Illustration: Primary forks of the Mississippi River, in lat. 47° 28´
46´´.]
Ozawindib hesitated not a moment which branch to ascend, but shooting
his canoe out of the stronger current of the Itascan fork, entered the
other. His wisdom in this movement was soon apparent. He had not only
entered the shallower and stiller branch, but one that led more directly
to the base of the ultimate summit of Itasca. This stream soon narrowed
to twenty feet. We could distinctly descry the moving sands at its
bottom; but its diminished velocity was apparent from the intrusion of
aquatic plants along its shores. It was manifest also from the forest
vegetation, that we were advancing into regions of a more alpine flora.
The branches of the larches, spruce, and gray pines, were clothed with
lichens and floating moss to their very tops, denoting an atmosphere of
more than the ordinary humidity. Clumps of gray willows skirted the
margin of the stream.
It was found that the river had made its utmost northing in Queen Anne's
Lake. From the exit from that point, the course was nearly due south,
and from this moment to our arrival at the ultimate forks, which cannot
exceed a mile and a half or two miles, it was evident why the actual
source of this celebrated river had so long eluded scrutiny. We were
ascending at every curve so far _south_, as to carry the observer out of
every old line of travel or commerce in the fur trade (the sole interest
here), and into a remote elevated region, which is never visited indeed,
except by Indian hunters, and is never crossed, even by them, to visit
the waters of the Red River--the region in immediate juxtaposition
north. This semi Alpine plateau, or height of land for which we were now
pushing directly, is called in the parlance of the fur trade _Hauteurs
de Terre_. It was evident that we were ascending to this continental
plateau by steps, denoted by a series of rapids, presenting step by
step, in regular succession, widespread areas of flat surface spotted
with almost innumerable lakes, small and large, and rice-ponds and
lagoons. Thus, after surmounting the step of the Packagama Falls, we
enter on a wide and far stretching plateau which embraces the great area
of Leech Lake, and its numerous lacustrine beds. This step or plateau
may, in the descending order of the Mississippi, be called the fifth
plateau, and is, by barometrical observation, 1,356 feet above the Gulf
of Mexico. The next, or fourth step, is that of the plateau of Cass
Lake, caused chiefly by the lively waters of the Leech Lake, the Upper
Red Cedar, and the Winnepek outlets. The Cass Lake level extends west of
this lake to the foot of the Metoswa rapids. This is forty-six feet
above the Leech Lake level. The third plateau, on which the Mississippi
spreads itself, is that of the Queen Anne summit, which is elevated by
the Metoswa rapids sixty-four feet above the former. We had now entered
on this third plateau, on which we found the river flowing with a just
perceptible current, and frequently expanding itself in small lakes. On
the first of these, after ascending the left hand, or minor fork, I
bestowed the name of Marquette; and on the second, that of La Salle. We
proceeded beyond these to a third lake of larger dimension, which the
Chippewas call Kubba-Kunna, or the Rest in the Path, being the site of
crossing of one of their noted land-trails; I named it Lake Plantagenet.
Lt. Allen deemed this lake ten miles long and five wide. At a point a
short distance above the head of this lake, we encamped at a late hour.
It was now seven o'clock P. M., and we had been in our canoes sixteen
hours, and travelled fifty-five miles. It was not easy to find ground
dry enough to encamp on, and while we were searching for it, rain
commenced. We had pushed through the ample borders of the Scirpus
lacustris and other aquatic plants, to a point of willows, alders, and
spruce and tamarack, with pinus banksiana in the distance. The ground
was low and wet, the foot sinking into a carpet of green moss at every
tread. The lower branches of the trees were dry and dead, exhibiting
masses of flowing gray moss. Dampness, frigidity, and gloom marked the
dreary spot, and when a camp fire had been kindled it threw its red
glare around on strange masses of thickets and darkness, which might
have well employed the pencil of a Michael Angelo. Tired and overwearied
men are not, however, much given to the poetic on these occasions, and
they addressed themselves at once to the pacification of that uneasy
organ, the stomach. Travelling with men who strangely mix up two foreign
languages, one falls insensibly into the same jargon habits, of which I
convicted myself of a notable instance this evening. I had on landing
and pushing into the forest, laid a green morocco portfolio on the
branches of a little spruce, and could not find it. _Kewau bemuasee_, I
said to one of the men, _en petite chose ver, mittig onsing_? Have you
not seen a small green roll in a sapling? not recollecting that the
middle clause of the sentence, though in regimen with the Ojibwa, could
have only been construed by one familiar both with the Canadian French
and the Algonquin. Such, however, proved to be the case, and he soon
handed me the missing portfolio.
I observed, as the crews of the several canoes threw down their day's
game before the cook, there was a species of duck, the anas canadensis,
I think, which had a small unio attached to one of its mandibles, having
been engaged in opening the shell at the moment it was shot. With every
aid, however, from the tent and the tea-kettle, and our cook's art in
spitting ducks, the night here, in a gloomy and damp thicket, just
elevated above the line of the river flags, and quite in the range of
the frogs and lizards, proved to be one of the most dreary and forlorn.
It was felt that we were no longer on the open Mississippi, but were
winding up a close and very serpentine tributary, nowhere over thirty
feet wide, which unfolded itself in a savanna, or bog, bordered closely
with lagoons and rice ponds. Indian sagacity, it was clear, had led
Ozawindib up this tributary as the best, shortest, and easiest possible
way of reaching to, and surmounting the Itasca plateau, but it required
a perpetual use of hand, foot, paddle, and pole; nor was there a gleam
of satisfaction to be found in anything but the most intense onward
exertion. Besides, I had agreed to meet the Indians at the mouth of the
Crow-Wing River on the 24th of July, and that engagement must be
fulfilled.
At five o'clock the next morning (12th) we were on our feet, and resumed
the ascent. The day was rainy and disagreeable. There was little
strength of current, but quite a sufficient depth of water; the stream
was excessively tortuous. Owing to the sudden bends, we often frightened
up the same flocks of brant, ducks, and teals again and again, who did
not appear to have been in times past much subjected to these
intrusions. The flora of this valley appeared unfavorable. Dr. Houghton
has reported a new species of malva and some five or six other species
or varieties from the general region, but these have not, I think, been
elaborately described. The localities of the known species of fauna
might be marked by the occurrence, on this fork, of the cervus
virginianus, which had not been seen after leaving the Sandy Lake summit
till after getting above the primary forks, which flow from the south
and west.
We toiled all day without intermission from daybreak till dark. The
banks of the river are fringed with a species of coarse marshland grass.
Clumps of willows fringe the stream. Rush and reed occupy spots
favorable to their growth. The forest exhibits the larch, pine, and
tamarack. Moss attaches itself to everything. Water-fowls seem alone to
exult in their seclusion. After we had proceeded for an hour above Lake
Plantagenet, an Indian in the advance canoe fired at and killed a deer.
Although fairly shot, the animal ran several hundred yards. It then fell
dead. The man who had killed it brought the carcass to the banks of the
river. The dexterity with which he skinned and cut it up, excited
admiration. He gave the _moze_, which I understood to mean the hide and
feet, to my guide, Ozawindib. Signs of this animal were frequent along
the stream. But we were impelled forward by higher objects than hunting.
It was, indeed, geographical and scientific facts that we were hunting
for. To trace to its source an important river, and to fix the actual
point of its origin, furnished the mental stimulus which led us to care
but little where we slept or what we ate.
When the usual hour for breakfast arrived, the banks of the river proved
too marshy to land, and we continued on till a quarter past twelve P.
M., before a convenient landing could be made. After this recruit to
stomach and spirits, the men again pushed forward, threading the stream
as it wound about in a savanna, seldom halting more than a few minutes
at a time. Frequently, a shot was fired at the numerous water-fowl, so
abundant on these waters. Sometimes a small unio or anadonta was picked
up from the shores; occasionally a plant pulled up, for the botanical
press. Nowhere was the water found too shallow for our canoes, which
were only embarrassed at some points by the density of vegetable tissue.
Rain showers were encountered during the whole of the day, the
equilibrium of the atmosphere being disturbed by rolling, cumulous
clouds, which often poured down their contents with little warning, and
without, indeed, driving us from our canoes. For, on these occasions,
where a fixed point is to be made, and the showers are not anticipated
to be long or heavy, it is better to travel in the rain and submit to
the wetting, than to attempt landing. Neither can the meal of dinner be
stopped for. At length, at half past five o'clock in the evening, we
came to the base of the highlands of the Itasca or Hauteurs de Terre
summit. The flanks of this elevation revealed themselves in a high,
naked precipice of the drift and boulder stratum, on the immediate
margin of the stream which washed against it. Our pilot, Ozawindib, was
at the moment in the rear; halting a few moments for him to come up, he
said that we were within a few hundred yards of the Naiwa rapids, and
that the portage around them commenced at this escarpment. We had seen
no rock of any species, in place, thus far.
A general landing was immediately made at the foot of the hill, and as
the five canoes came up the baggage was prepared in bundles and packages
for being carried, the canoe-paddles and poles securely tied in bundles,
and the canoes lifted from the water and dried in the sun to make the
transportation of them as light as possible, and mended and pitched
wherever they leaked. It was found that the whole baggage, canoes and
all, could be arranged for eleven back-loads, this being the precise
number of our carriers, white and red; and being ready, Ozawindib led
the way, having a single canoe for his share, and he was soon followed
by the whole line, each one of our sitters falling in this line, charged
with the particular instrument of his observation, or record of it. The
hill was steep, and the footing soft and yielding in the crumbling
diluvion, and the scene, as the party struggled up the ascent, presented
quite a study for the picturesque. Lieutenant Allen carried his
canoe-compass, which I had had mounted by an artisan of Detroit; Dr.
Houghton grasped his hortus siccus under his arms; Mr. Johnston, our
interpreter, had his pipe and fowling-piece, and Mr. Boutwell had
wellnigh lost his pocket-bible and notes, while staying himself against
the treacherous influence of a steep sand cliff. While the party thus
took their way over the hill to cross a peninsula of a mile or two, and
strike the river above the junction of the Naiwa River, I went to
observe the rapids. The river, at this point, is forced through a narrow
gorge, where the water descends with loud murmuring over a series of
rapids, which form a complete check to navigation. The portage is two
miles. I judged the entire descent of the channel, from the beginning to
the terminus of the portage, to be forty-eight feet. Boulders of the
peculiar northern sienite, highly charged with hornblende, and of
trap-rock, or greenstone, quartz, and sandstone, were scattered over
this elevation, and mixed with the more finely comminuted portions of
the same rocks, and of amygdaloids and schistose fragments. Among these,
I observed some specimens of the zoned agate, which identifies the
stratum with the extensive drift formation of the upper Mississippi. It
would seem that extensive amygdaloidal strata formerly extended over
these heights, which have been broken down by the fierce and general
rush of the oceanic currents of the north, which once manifestly swept
over these elevations.
Darkness fell as we reached an elevation overlooking the river above the
Naiwa Rapids, and after some deliberation as to the spot where we should
suffer less annoyance from mosquitos, I proceeded to the lower part of
the valley near the river, and set up my tent there for the night. On
questioning Ozawindib of the Naiwa River, he informed me that it was a
stream of considerable size, and that it originated in a lake on a
distant part of the plateau, which was infested with the copper-head
snake; hence the name. Mr. Allen's estimate of this day's journey was
fifty-two miles. We had reached the second, or Assawa plateau of the
Mississippi, which is, barometrically, seventy-six feet above the Queen
Anne summit, and now had but one more to surmount.