CHAPTER IV

A Burial in the Wilderness : From Grand Rapids to Fort McMurray : Tar Sands.

OnWednesday, June 20, about 9.30P.M., as we were sitting around a smouldering fire on the bank close to where the steamer lay, and watching the day darkening into night, a gun shot was heard at the Rapids, which meant the return from Fort McMurray of some of the river men, and we were soon possessed of the very welcome news that the steamerGrahame, which plied between McMurray and Smith’s Landing on the Slave River, was again in commission for the season, and would be waiting for us at McMurray as soon as we could get there. This news was very welcome, for it was the first tidings we had received regarding this boat. What if she had been burnt or had met some serious accident since she was last heard from the season before? I do not know whether any of the other passengers had feared thepossibility of such a report, but now with only ninety miles in barges between us and McMurray, when we would be below the rapids and have smooth sailing, we all felt like rejoicing. In a few minutes, however, it was suddenly noticed that every voice on the steamer was hushed, and a moment later one of the crew came over the gang plank and whispered something to a man on the shore. We soon learned that the angel of death had visited theMidnight Sunand claimed as his victim Herbert Bray, our cook. We had just before listened to uncharitable words from one of the men to the effect that his illness was only feigned; that the night before he had seen him walking the deck when all were supposed to be asleep. While the poor fellow’s condition was too serious to permit us to believe that he was only acting a part, we rather hoped that this story might be true, and it may have been that in his delirious state he had wandered during the night from his room, for he had no nurse to watch over him. He was a young Englishman of good appearance, who had been a few years out, living in the neighbourhood of Edmonton. Like many others in thecountry he had by camp experience learnt something of the culinary art, and had engaged in this capacity with the Company. Only a few days after leaving “The Landing” he was taken ill. Many were the remedies proposed and a number tried, but all to no effect. It was probably a case of appendicitis, which even in expert hands often proves fatal, but it caused us to realise our situation here in the wilderness where no medical attendance was obtainable.

FUNERAL OF HERBERT BRAY ON THE ATHABASKA RIVER

The following day a rough coffin was made and we buried him on the bank of the river. I carved his name and date of death on a small tree near by and Mr. Stefansson made a lobstick from a spruce growing higher up the bank. As the grave was being closed over him, one could not but think of his relatives in the old country, who probably at that moment were going through their ordinary round of daily duty, while this wanderer, impelled by the spirit of adventure, was destined to make his long sleep in this sylvan solitude.

At eight o’clock in the evening of the 21st, we all very gladly took leave of theMidnight Sun. We had been nearly two weeks onboard and had made but 160 miles. From this point to Fort McMurray the river is very rough and it was necessary to make the passage in scows. Two days were spent in getting the supplies over the Rapids, during which time a few of the men were out hunting and succeeded in killing a very large moose, the fresh meat of which was much relished, since it was the first we had tasted since leaving “The Landing.”

Specimens of petrified wood are found along the banks in the neighbourhood of Grand Rapids. Here, too, are seen protruding from the high sandstone banks and lying along the beach, stones which are accretions of the same formation, but apparently of a harder texture but quite separated from the stratified rock. They are of a perfectly spherical shape and vary in size from two to ten feet in diameter, and when viewed from the river, one might fancy they were huge bells that had been shot into the banks by some gigantic mortar.

STONES ON THE ATHABASKA RIVER

During the next eight days spent in reaching Fort McMurray, the weather was almost tropical, registering over 90° Fahrenheit in the shade, and the period of daylightwas very long. The sun usually rose long before any of us, and in the evening lingered around the north-western horizon as if loath to sink below it. When finally the twilight set in, the ubiquitous mosquito never failed to sound his musical lay and to feast on his victims. It seems that as if to make up for the short summer in those northern latitudes, these pests are more industrious than farther south. They are certainly found in greater numbers as we go north, and are not less vicious in character. To illustrate their persistency it is only necessary to repeat the remark of a young Englishman of our party as he vigorously attempted to drive them away. He said they seemed “quoite determined to not go awoye.”

While it would be wearisome to relate the frequent delays on this part of the journey or to describe the numerous rapids that impeded our progress, I cannot refrain from mentioning the two cascades. The first appearance of limestone is met with near Boiler Rapid, about fifty-five miles below “Grand Rapids,” and the scenery along the banks becomes more picturesque. Both the Upper and Lower Cascade are formed by thecleavage in the limestone. It is as if some engineer had laid out a curved line entirely across the river, after which his workman had cut with a saw down into the rock, in one case, two feet, and in the other four, and then removed the rock below this point to that depth, causing the Cascades.

Owing to the dip of the rock formation, the limestone, which at “The Landing” is some 1800 feet beneath the surface, makes its first appearance at the surface of the river’s bed some 220 miles below, where we first meet the tar sands. These sands bear a good percentage of bitumen. They extend for about ninety miles along the Athabaska. This bitumen is, the geologists tell us, an inspissated petroleum, derived from the subjacent limestones, and reports state that indications of its presence extend over an area of 1000 square miles of country. It is more than probable that some day this may be one of the greatest oil producing districts in the world, though up to this time I am not aware that it has yet been found in paying quantities, and I would be sorry that any words of mine should tempt the small capitalist to invest in prospective oil sharesin that wilderness region till further developments have been made. An analysis of these sands made by the Geological Department at Ottawa gives the following result:

and a cubic foot of this bituminous sand rock would give 41·59 pounds of bitumen. In the report accompanying the above analysis it is estimated that the area covered by this tar sand is, as I have stated, 1000 square miles in extent, and of sufficient depth to give a bulk of 6·50 cubic miles of bitumen. A further deduction is that the amount of petroleum, which must have issued from the underlying limestone, would produce by weight 4,700,000 tons of bitumen. I should say that in many places near McMurray the tar was oozing out along the banks of the river and emitted a very distinct odour.

It was the first of July, the natal day of the Dominion, that we arrived at Fort McMurray. Upwards of twenty large boats and barges, with boatmen and passengers numbering over 100 in all, made a rather imposingappearance as we rowed and floated down the river on that bright and exceedingly hot morning. Every craft had some kind of a flag flying in honour of the day, which caused us to realise that though we were in a wilderness beyond the borders of civilisation, we were still in our own country and viewing our own possessions.

About noon, on rounding a point where the Clearwater joins the Athabaska, a welcome object came in view, the steamerGrahame, tied to the bank at McMurray.

We soon shook off the dust of travel and entered once more upon a civilised state of existence. We had now been over three weeks in making the journey from Athabaska Landing, a distance of only 252 miles, while before us on the route to Fort McPherson lay 1600 miles. Unless we should make better time henceforth, we would find ourselves just about in time to be frozen in for the long arctic winter on our arrival there. We were, however, assured that our difficulties were now over and that with the exception of one portage, which will be referred to later, we would have hereafter uninterrupted navigation all the way down, and Imay as well anticipate here by stating that on July 21, in precisely three weeks’ time, we arrived at McPherson.

Fort McMurray, situated at the junction of the Clearwater with the Athabaska, is not at present a post of very much importance, but it has a history of considerable interest. It was here that the wearyvoyageurin the early days from far away Montreal, figuratively speaking threw down his pack and gave a sigh of relief as he reached one of the great tributaries of the Mackenzie. Let us follow him on his journey from his leaving his home under Mount Royal. We need not fear that our imagination is misleading us as we see him push his bark canoe out from the shore and ascend the St. Lawrence, to the junction of the Ottawa, thence turning northwards he soon encounters the rapids of St. Annes, whose beauties have been extolled in immortal verse by the Irish poet, Tom Moore, in his “Canadian Boat Song.” Having made a portage here and offered up prayers to his patron saint in the little church hard by, he bids good-bye to his friends, who have accompanied him thus far. With his crew of canoemen as adventurousas himself (singing those songs that may still be heard by his compatriots from the St. Lawrence to the Yukon) they urge their frail craft against the stream. For over 300 miles they ascend the Ottawa with the familiar Laurentides to the right. Then turning to the left, they enter the Mattawa, which they ascend to its source near Lake Nipissing. A portage is made here into the latter lake. Crossing this sheet of water, they follow its outlet, the French River, down many rapids and cascades to the Georgian Bay and Lake Huron; up Lake Huron to Sault Ste Marie; over the rapids here to the largest body of fresh water in the world, Lake Superior; up this lake, over 300 miles to Grand Portage; thence up the Pigeon River, and numerous tributary streams and inland lakes, till the height of land dividing the St. Lawrence basin from that of the Hudson Bay is passed; thence down streams and lakes little known even at the present day, till Rainy Lake is entered and passed; until he finds himself at Fort Frances. Here he meets canoes laden with furs from far away Chippewyan on the Lake of the Hills. They exchange cargoes and each crew starts on hisreturn journey, the one for Montreal with bales of peltries from the shadows of the Rocky Mountains, the other for the interior of the far North, his canoe laden with supplies, passes down that beautiful stream, the Rainy River, to the Lake of the Woods; across that lake, down Winnipeg River to Lake Winnipeg; up that lake to the mouth of the great Saskatchewan, thence up the latter to Cumberland House, and from there through lakes and rivers only known to him and the native Indian, till finally after a journey of 2500 miles he arrives at this far away post, McMurray.

But the name, McMurray, is now beginning to be heard in our Legislative Halls at Edmonton and at Ottawa. Politicians are commencing to search for it on the maps of the new Province of Alberta, and probably within two or three years, the whistle of the railway locomotive will awaken echoes on the surrounding hills. With a railroad completed from Edmonton to Fort McMurray, the easterner will be able to see the midnight sun within one month from the day he leaves Montreal or Toronto.

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