CHAPTER II

Plan of the Journey: Early Stages : At Edmonton : A Peculiarity of Northern Rivers.

Thearea drained by the Mackenzie River is of vast extent, covering something over 450,000 square miles. Its principal tributaries flow from the west; they consist of the Athabaska, the Peace, the Liard and the Nahanni with many others of smaller size. To illustrate by comparison the size of the Mackenzie basin with that of some other streams, it is only necessary to say that the area of the St. Lawrence basin above the City of Montreal is about 310,000 square miles, while that of the Saskatchewan, including its two branches, is only 159,000 square miles; so that the Mackenzie basin exceeds that of the St. Lawrence above Montreal, including that of all the great lakes by 140,000 square miles, and is nearly three times as great in extent as the basin of the Saskatchewan, includingboth the north and south branches of that great river.

A journey down that immense valley with my objective a point near the Polar Sea was the last I had set myself to accomplish. I had also hoped, but scarcely dared to expect to find my way back again to civilisation by crossing the Rocky Mountains to streams, whose waters find their way to the Yukon. Thence South up the latter stream to Dawson and Whitehorse, thence over the White Pass Railway to Skagway and from there to Vancouver. However, notwithstanding many misgivings, this programme was literally carried out and that without encountering a single accident worthy of mention. Knowing that my plans could be best accomplished through the assistance of the Hudson Bay Company, I applied to my friend Mr. Chipman, the late Commissioner from whom I had previously received assistance on other trips in the North Country, and was soon in possession of a letter to their agents, which had merely to be presented to assure me all the hospitality that could be given, in a country where hospitality means so much.

On the last day of May, 1906, I found myself at Edmonton busily preparing for the journey. Edmonton, which but a few years ago was only known as theentrepôtof the Hudson Bay Company in the far West, is now, as the Capital of Alberta, putting on the appearance and assuming the airs of a modern City. Not only is it advancing commercially, but socially and intellectually it is not satisfied to remain in the background. With its semi-viceregal social establishment and its Provincial University, it already claims no inferior place to the Capitals of Sister Provinces. Edmonton’s resources are more varied and her population more cosmopolitan than most of them. By her doors flows one of the great rivers of America, with timber and coal along its banks all the way to its source, while stretching away on every side is the rich soil of that wonderfully fertile belt that is bringing riches to tens of thousands of pioneer settlers. To all this it may be added that this new northern City has tributary to it, the vast northern region even down to the Arctic Sea, with little fear of any future rival. In a word, Edmonton is destined tobe at once the Moscow and St. Petersburg of Canada.

Amid all the evidences of an active bustling life an incident occurred during the few days I spent there, which cast a dark shadow across the path of some of the older residents. During the early days, before the present invasion of new-comers began, the scattered settlements of half breeds and whites here and there over a large extent of country formed a somewhat close community, among the members of which there grew up a very warm attachment. This was further cemented by frequent intermarriages, and it was truly pleasing to hear the eager inquiries, from these people when we visited their homes beyond the Arctic Circle, concerning their relatives at Edmonton and even Winnipeg.

It so happened that the wife of a Hudson Bay Official, well-known throughout the country, had come down to Edmonton from Fort Simpson on the Mackenzie by the last (and I might say, the only) boat of the previous year, intending to return by the first transport in the following one, (1906)—that on which I was also to travel. Shehad all preparations made for her return trip and was about ready to start, when a sudden illness intervened and she was called to make a journey to a land even less known than the one we were to penetrate. There was an old time funeral at Edmonton, and many were the expressions of sympathy heard on the street for the husband twelve hundred miles away, who, all unconscious of what had occurred, would be looking for his wife when our boat reached Fort Simpson. We realised throughout the long days of our journey to that point that we were carrying to the widowed husband the saddest of all messages.

On a bright morning on June 2, in a comfortable conveyance and with a good span of horses, we turned our faces to the North, bidding good-bye to the Railway and various other adjuncts of modern civilised life, and in less than three days arrived at Athabaska Landing, in round figures, one hundred miles distant.

Little need be said concerning this first stage in my journey, though the country passed over for some twenty miles would certainly be a surprise to any one familiaronly with the new settlement in the wooded districts in the older Provinces. Certainly less than twenty years ago, this district was an unsettled part of a great wilderness. To-day, with its cultivated fields and with just enough woodland left to vary the monotony that characterises the treeless plains, as we looked across the country, really park like in appearance, we could almost fancy that we were passing through some of the rural districts of Old England. Early on the second day, we passed the height of land between the basin of the Saskatchewan and that of the Mackenzie River, though the land is so little elevated that it is imperceptible. Notwithstanding this, the waters of two neighbouring rivulets within almost a stone’s-throw of each other, finally find their outlet into two different oceans. The one by way of the Saskatchewan, Lake Winnipeg and the Nelson River to the Hudson Bay of the Atlantic, and the other via the Athabaska, Slave and Mackenzie Rivers to the Arctic.

Athabaska Landing is on a southerly bend of the Athabaska River. This stream was named the Elk River in Mackenzie’stime. At the “Landing” it is about sixty rods wide and the water is of the consistency and appearance of the Mississippi at St. Louis. Its general direction above this point is easterly, but here it takes a sharp turn north, which direction it maintains throughout its remaining course of 430 miles to Lake Athabaska, the latter called “The Lake of the Hills” by Mackenzie.

At Edmonton nearly every person met with had been talking land and town lots. The hotels were filled with “land lookers,” coming from various parts of Canada with a large percentage of visitors from the United States, most of them speaking the English language, varied in tone in accordance with the districts from which they came. There was the “blue nose” from the Maritime Provinces with a dialect not unlike that heard in parts of England: the French Canadian speaking French English: the man from Ontario, also with his distinctive mark branded on him, though not realising it himself: the Western American from Dakota, Montana, Idaho and Kansas, each also with his peculiar idioms, but all self-assertive and reliant.

At Athabaska Landing all was changed. The conversation here was of none of these things, but rather of last season’s hunt and the state of the river; conveyed largely in the language of the Cree Indian. This is certainly a border town consisting of two or three hundred inhabitants largely half breeds. It is perhaps worthy of remark that no offence is taken in applying the term “half breed” to one who by nationality deserves the name, while he will bitterly resent the epithet “breed.” A few years before I had made a journey from “The Landing” to Peace River, going from the latter place up the Athabaska some eighty miles, thence up a tributary, the Little Slave River into and across Lesser Slave Lake, thence overland eighty miles to the Peace River. I crossed near the entrance of Smokey River, where Sir Alexander Mackenzie had spent the winter to which I have already made reference.

TRACKING ON ATHABASKA RIVER

During this journey I came to admire those half breed river men. It is a peculiarity of most of those northern rivers that although the current is very strong there are few interruptions to their navigation with canoes,York boats or small barges. It is impossible to make much headway however in going up stream by means of paddles or oars, so “tracking” is resorted to. This consists of towing the boat by means of a line, one end of which is attached to the bow of the craft while to the other are usually harnessed four men, who walk or run along the shore, often making three or four miles an hour. On one of the usual river craft, the crew consists, at least, of ten men, four pulling for about half an hour, while the other four are resting in the boat during that time, then changing places. In addition to these there is a bow man and a steersman, the latter being the Captain. From twenty to twenty-five miles a day are frequently made in this manner. The discipline and order are as good as on any ship of His Majesty’s navy. The steersman’s orders are never interfered with, even if an official of the “The Company” is on board. These men will undergo the most fatiguing labour “from early dawn to dewy eve,” tugging away during those long northern summer days over slippery cut banks and fording or swimming tributary streams without murmur or complaint, andmoreover without profanity. The half breed seems to take this as his work to do, and well it is that he is so persuaded, for few others would so cheerfully perform such labour. His reward comes on the return trip when the boat is simply left to drift down stream both night and day, and the time of making a journey down is often less than one quarter of that occupied by the up trip.

The land rises in terraces from the shore of the Athabaska to a height of from one to four hundred feet. In some places where the river is straight enough to give a vista of a mile or two, and where the fire has been merciful enough to leave the hill sides clothed with spruce, balsam, aspen and birch, with an occasional lobstick standing up as a sentinel on the water’s edge, the scenery, if not strikingly beautiful, is at least pleasing in effect. I might here mention that the lobstick is always a curiosity to a new visitor. It will meet his view on his arrival at Athabaska Landing, and along the banks of all the rivers of the north, will be a familiar sight. It is a tree, usually a spruce, from which the branches have been trimmed off from a point, commencing, sayten feet from the top and extending down the trunk for eight or ten feet. The tree chosen is generally a tall conspicuous one, standing on a point on the shore, and on it near the ground certain hieroglyphics are inscribed, which record the event for which the lobstick was made.

In passing it may be observed that in my trip from Athabaska Landing to Fort McPherson, a distance of 1854 miles, no part of it was up stream, and consequently, the line was not used.

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