August 19, 2025 • 13 mins
In 1905, Mina Benson Hubbard embarked on a remarkable 576-mile canoe expedition through the uncharted wilderness of Labrador, guided by four skilled companions. This journey was not only a personal quest but also a tribute to her late husband, Leonidas Hubbard, who tragically lost his life while attempting the same route in 1903 as a writer for an outdoor magazine. Mrs. Hubbard became the first to accurately document the river paths of her expedition, and her story is complemented by her husbands diary detailing his ill-fated adventure, along with George Elsons gripping account of survival and the recovery of Mr. Hubbards remains. A map created by Mrs. Hubbard during her travels is also featured on this page—narrated by Zach Hoyt.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fifteen of A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador by
Mina Benson Hubbard. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Chapter fifteen, the Monteney Indians. The night was very still
when I awoke, but it was cold. Frost sparkled in
the moonlight on willows and low growth, and when at
first sign of dawn I reached from my stockings and
duffel to put them on, they were frozen stiff. I
(00:22):
did not wait hunt out dry ones, but slipped them on,
for I was too anxious to be on the march again,
and meant to go on to Angova now, no matter
what befell. Perhaps we could yet be in time for
the ship. She might be delayed. The men were astir early,
and at a quarter to six we were off. Already
the lake was almost too rough again to go forward.
The wind had risen and blew cold across the water,
(00:44):
driving the morning mists before it. Now and then they
lifted a little, giving a glimpse of the farther shore,
or parted over head, where a patch of deep blue
could be seen. It was rather shivery, but I loved it.
Two hours later the mists were gone, and for the
first time since leaving Lake Hubbard, we saw the sun again.
It was a glorious day, the kind which almost all
the eventful days of our journey had been. I wanted
(01:06):
to compel it to yield me something of value and interest,
and it did. For after we had passed down the
stretch of river below Long Lake and out into the
larger one afterwards named Resolution, we came upon the first
camp of the Indians. When we entered the lake, we
were surrounded by numbers of islands in its upper extremity,
but beyond it was clear and stretched away northward, calm
and beautiful after the storm. Its shores were low for
(01:26):
the most part, but four miles down the lake a
high sandy point reached far out from the east shore,
and it was there we found the Indians. At first
we could only see a shapeless, dark mass on the hillside.
It moved and swayed, now this way, now that, and
the first thought was that it was Cariboo. But when
there came the flash of sunlight on metal from the
midst of it, and the sound of rifle shots, there
was no longer any mistaking it for Cariboo. As we
(01:49):
came towards them. The firing continued at intervals, and now
and then I sent back an insering shot from my revolver.
But it was not without a feeling of uneasiness that
we approached. I thought of many things which might happen,
and the un paddled very slowly. But our amusement may
be imagined when, on drawing near, we found that they
were all women and children. There was much screaming and
shouting from the hill. Go away, go away, they shrieked,
(02:10):
we are afraid of you. Our husbands are away. Their
speech was that of the Monteney Indians, which George understood,
having learned to speak it while at Northwest River Post
in the winter of nineteen oh three to nineteen o four.
Tanta Sabo, where is the river? Shouted job and to
the din Tanta Sabo. When they ceased the screaming to listen,
George called to them in Montennay, we are strangers and
(02:31):
are passing through your country. A swift change followed these
few words in their own familiar tongue. There was eager
talking together. The screams of terror were changed to laughter,
and four of the older women ran down to the
landing to welcome us. We were greeted with much hand shaking,
and their number was gradually swelled from the camp on
the hill. They displayed not the least sign of shyness
or embarrassment, being altogether at their ease. Their clothing was
(02:53):
of a quite civilized fashion, the dresses being of woolen
goods of various colors, made with plain blows and skirt,
while on their feet they wore muccasins of dressed deer skin.
The jet black hair was parted from forehead to neck
and brought round on either side, where it was round
into a little hard roll in front of the ear
and bound about with pieces of plain cloth or a
pretty beaded band. Each head was adorned with a tuck
made from black and red broadcloth, with beaded or braided
(03:16):
band around the head. Both the manner of wearing the
hair and the touch were exceedingly picturesque had becoming, and
the types were various as those to be found in
other communities, ranging from the sweet and even beautiful face
to the grossly animal like. They were not scrupulously clean,
but were not dirtier than hundreds of thousands to be
found well within the borders of civilization, and all, even
the little children, wore the crucifix. Their men had gone
(03:38):
down to davis Inlet on the east coast to trade
for winter supplies. They had been away five days and
were expected to return soon, the outward trip being made
in three or four days, while the return requires five.
The camp was not eagerly awaiting the arrival of the tea,
sugar and tobacco, the new gowns, the gay shawls, and
the trinkets, which make the return from the post great
event of the year. As their speech indicated, These people
(04:00):
were found to belong to the Montane tribe, which is
a branch of the Cree nation and a tributary to
the posts along the Saint Lawrence. There After the winter's hunt,
they gathered in hundreds at Minga and Seven Islands, and
it is then they received from the Roman Catholic missionary's
instruction in the Christian faith. This camp, the only one
of the tribe to do so, had for some years
traded at davis Inlet on the northeast coast. We could
(04:20):
gather little from the women about the route to davis Inlet,
further than that it is a difficult one, and for
this reason they do not accompany the hunters on the
early journey there. The Mashawa Eyuits barren ground's people, the
Nauscapi Indians, whom mister Herbert had been so eager to visit,
and who are also a branch of the Cree nation.
They informed us have their hunting grounds farther down the river.
(04:40):
You will sleep twice before coming to their camp. They said,
we were assured of a friendly reception there, for the
two camps are friendly and sometimes visit each other. But
they could tell us little about the river because in
making the journey between the two camps they use a
portage route through lakes to the east of the river.
The journey to the George River post at Angava, they
thought would take two months. My heart sank at the
this was interpreted to me. In that case, I could
(05:02):
no longer entertain any hope of being in time for
the ship. It would mean too the entire journey back
in winter weather. I had counted that even if we
missed the ship, we could probably reach Lake Michikamau on
the return before winter set in, but that also would
be impossible. In the midst of the sickening feeling of
disappointment and uncertainty which came with its information. I was
conscious of being thankful that the main question had been
(05:22):
decided rather disconsolately. I went up for a brief look
at the camp on the hill. The situation was beautiful
and commended a view from end to end of resolution lake,
which extended about four miles both north and south of
the point, and was divided into two distinct parts. Just
opposite the camp by a long island, with the points
of land reaching towards it from north and south. Beyond
the island lay a broad sheet of water which seemed
(05:43):
equal in size to the one we were on, and
along its farther shore, low blue ridges stretched away northward.
The skies seemed trying to make reparation for the week
of storms, and the mood of the camp corresponded with
that of the day. Children played about quietly or clung
to them mother's skirts as they watched the strangers with
curious inns, and the mothers were evidently happy in their
motherhood as mothers otherware. We are poor, said one, and
(06:06):
we live among the trees, but we have our children.
The camp consisted of two wigwams, one large oblong and
the other around. They were covered with dressed deer skins
drawn tight over the poles, blackened round the opening at
the top by the smoke of the fires which are
built in the center within. I was not invited to
go into the wigwams, but through the opening which served
as doorway in front of one of them, I had
(06:27):
a glimpse of the interior. It seemed quite orderly and clean.
Four rifles, which lay on the coppet of balsam boughs,
looked clean and well cared for. The dishes, pans, teapots,
et cetera, which were mostly of white enamel, with some
china of an ordinary sort, were clean and shining. Long
strings addressed deer skin, and a few moccasins hung from
the poles round the opening at the top. The moccasins
(06:49):
were not decorated in any way, nor were those worn
by the women, and I saw no sign of ornamentation
of any kind save the toaks with their beaded or
braided bands and the bands on the hair. Except for
their children, they were poor indeed, now, for there was
not a taste of sugar, tea or tobacco at the camp.
They rarely have flower which with them not one of
the necessities of life. They were living on what fish
(07:11):
they could catch while the hunters were away, and were
not having the best success with their fishing. They did
not know the presence of the caribou so near them,
and I thought regretfully if how easily we could have
brought down one or more had been known of their need,
and where we should find them. Some six or eight
splendid Eskimo dogs prowled about, snarling at one another and
occasionally indulging in an ugly fight, at which there was
a rush for clubs or tent poles to separate them.
(07:33):
For less separated, they never stopped till the one that
goes down is killed. At whatever hour of the day
or night a fight begins, the dogs have to be separated,
otherwise one or more of the number will be lost,
and the loss of a dog is a calamity in
the north country. While I wandered over the hillside a little,
keeping a wary eye on the dogs, the women devoted
their attentions to the men. They were anxious to have
(07:53):
the visit prolonged, and every inducement was held out, even
to offering them wives temporary if they would remain. But
after take a few pictures, for which they posed easily
and without sign of self consciousness, I bade them farewell,
and we returned to the canoes. They did not accompany
us to the landing. With the prospect of so long
a journey before me, I had to resist the impulse
to share my provisions with them. But before we left,
(08:15):
George curred a few ounces of tea up the hill.
There was a merry chase as each tried to possess
herself of the treasure. They were like children, and their
delight A pair of moccasins was offered in return, but
the gift of tea was too slight, and they were
not accepted. Soon we were slipping slowly away towards the river,
with an occasional glance back to the group on the hill,
when a few rods from shore Job, who had the
(08:37):
faculty of making his English irresistibly funny whenever he chose,
stood up in the stern of the canoe, and, taking
off his hat to them with a very elaborate bow,
called good bye, good bye, my lady. The directions we
had received enabled us to find the river without difficulty,
and passing down through a succession of small expansions with low,
swampy shores where the wood growth was almost altogether. Tamarak
becamped in the evening ten miles below Resolution Lake, at
(08:57):
the point where the river drops down through three rocky
gorges to flow with strong swift current in a distinct valley.
The lakes of the upper country were here left behind,
and when we resumed our journey the following morning, it
was to be carried miles on a current in which
the puddles needed only for steering. Stretches of quiet water
was succeeded by boisterous rapids, and sometimes I walked to
lighten the canoe. Where the rapid was shallow. Tributaries entered
(09:20):
on either hand. The river increased in force and volume,
and when we halted for lunch, some ten miles below
Kenyan Camp, the George had come to be a really
great river. We were getting down to the hills now,
and the country which had been burned over was exceedingly
barren and desolate. On the slopes which had been wooded,
the gray and blackened tree trunks were still standing like
armies of skeletons, and through their ranks the hills of
(09:41):
everlasting rock showed gray and stern stripped even of their
covering of reindeer moss. Heavy showers passed during the day,
but it was otherwise beautiful, and we made good progress.
When we camp that evening below Thousand Island expansion, it
was with twenty two miles to our credit. It seemed
very fine to have another good day's work behind, and
I felt less heavy hearted. Some thinking had convinced me
(10:02):
that the two months estimate for the journey to Angova
was far from correct, but I still feared it was
useless to entertain hope of being in time for the ship.
Yet one does hope even when it is plainly useless. Nevertheless,
life would come to be a serious matter with us,
all now excepting Gilbert, for the men too were reversed
to spending a winter, and Labrador and had rather advocated
a return by way of Davis Inlet or the Grand River.
(10:22):
Gilbert alone sang and laughed as merrily as ever, undisturbed
by doubts or fears. That evening, the sunset was of
clear gold, and the sudden chill which a Labrador always follows,
sent me shivering to the camp fire, where below the
bank on the solid, smooth, worn rock of the river bed.
We had supper of charmagan, but neither hunger nor perplexities
could shut out the impress of the desolate grandeur of
(10:43):
our surroundings. This was the wilderness, indeed, with only the
crystal river the beautiful skies to make it glad only
or was there more? Or was it glad? Perhaps? Yes,
surely somewhere within it there was gladness. But everywhere it
was beautiful, with the beauty which alone, to some heart
can carry the still small voice. If only a would
(11:03):
never say what dost thou hear? One must wish to
stay and listen to it always. Through the stillness came
up the sounds of the rapids below our camp. Above,
fish jumped in the quiet waters, where the afterglow in
the sky was given back, enriched and deepened. Then came night,
and the stars, bright northern lights, bright moon shadows on
the tent dreams. A termagant whirred up from the corner
(11:26):
of my tent, and I awoke to find the sun
shining and everything outside sparkling with frost. The men had
already begun portaging for below camp. The rapids were too
heavy to take the outfit down. But when breakfast was
over and the last blow had been taken forward over
the half mile portage, the canoes were run down the river.
A short distance below the river drops rapidly round many
little islands of pink and white rock by a succession
(11:47):
of picturesque falls and rapids and shoots, extending for more
than a mile, and here a number of short portages
were made. We reached the last of the islands shortly
before eleven o'clock and then landed to clam a hill
to the east. It rose six hundred and three feet
above the river, but the view from the top afforded
doth little satisfaction so far as the route was concerned.
The river could be seen for only a few miles ahead,
(12:07):
flowing away to the northwest toward higher hills, where we
could see patches of snow. Lying some miles to the
east was a large lake, its outlet a river of
considerable size, joining the George River, three quarters of a
mile north of where we had left the canoes. Below
the junction, there were many Indian signs along the shores,
and we knew that there the portage route of which
the Montoney women had spoken must lead to the river again.
(12:29):
Steadily through the afternoon, we approached the higher hills ever
on the watch for the Nascopi camp, but we did
not find it. There was a short lift over a
direct drop of four or five feet, and two portages
of about half a mile past heavy rapids, at the
second of which the river drops fifty feet to flow
between high sandy banks. The hills on either side standing
back from the river, their broken faces red with a
(12:50):
coating of iron rust. The intervening spaces were strewed with
the boulders of unusual size. Fresh Cariboo tracks the only
one scenes as leaving the head of Long Lake were
found on the first port, and on the second I
gathered my first moss berries. A heavy shower passed late
in the afternoon and the sky remained overcast, but we
were not delayed, and towards evening arrived at the point
twenty miles below Thousand Island expansion, where a large tributary
(13:13):
comes in from the west and the George River turns
abruptly northward among the higher hills. The proposal to go
into camp had already been made when George discovered some
ptarmagan high up the bank. There was a brisk hunt,
and eleven were taken, so again we supped on Ptarmagin.
That night. I took mine in my tent on account
of the mosquitoes, which were so thick that, as George
expressed it, it was like walking in the snowstorm to
(13:33):
move about outside. End of chapter fifteen.
Chapter fifteen of A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador by
Mina Benson Hubbard. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Chapter fifteen, the Monteney Indians. The night was very still
when I awoke, but it was cold. Frost sparkled in
the moonlight on willows and low growth, and when at
first sign of dawn I reached from my stockings and
duffel to put them on, they were frozen stiff. I
(00:22):
did not wait hunt out dry ones, but slipped them on,
for I was too anxious to be on the march again,
and meant to go on to Angova now, no matter
what befell. Perhaps we could yet be in time for
the ship. She might be delayed. The men were astir early,
and at a quarter to six we were off. Already
the lake was almost too rough again to go forward.
The wind had risen and blew cold across the water,
(00:44):
driving the morning mists before it. Now and then they
lifted a little, giving a glimpse of the farther shore,
or parted over head, where a patch of deep blue
could be seen. It was rather shivery, but I loved it.
Two hours later the mists were gone, and for the
first time since leaving Lake Hubbard, we saw the sun again.
It was a glorious day, the kind which almost all
the eventful days of our journey had been. I wanted
(01:06):
to compel it to yield me something of value and interest,
and it did. For after we had passed down the
stretch of river below Long Lake and out into the
larger one afterwards named Resolution, we came upon the first
camp of the Indians. When we entered the lake, we
were surrounded by numbers of islands in its upper extremity,
but beyond it was clear and stretched away northward, calm
and beautiful after the storm. Its shores were low for
(01:26):
the most part, but four miles down the lake a
high sandy point reached far out from the east shore,
and it was there we found the Indians. At first
we could only see a shapeless, dark mass on the hillside.
It moved and swayed, now this way, now that, and
the first thought was that it was Cariboo. But when
there came the flash of sunlight on metal from the
midst of it, and the sound of rifle shots, there
was no longer any mistaking it for Cariboo. As we
(01:49):
came towards them. The firing continued at intervals, and now
and then I sent back an insering shot from my revolver.
But it was not without a feeling of uneasiness that
we approached. I thought of many things which might happen,
and the un paddled very slowly. But our amusement may
be imagined when, on drawing near, we found that they
were all women and children. There was much screaming and
shouting from the hill. Go away, go away, they shrieked,
(02:10):
we are afraid of you. Our husbands are away. Their
speech was that of the Monteney Indians, which George understood,
having learned to speak it while at Northwest River Post
in the winter of nineteen oh three to nineteen o four.
Tanta Sabo, where is the river? Shouted job and to
the din Tanta Sabo. When they ceased the screaming to listen,
George called to them in Montennay, we are strangers and
(02:31):
are passing through your country. A swift change followed these
few words in their own familiar tongue. There was eager
talking together. The screams of terror were changed to laughter,
and four of the older women ran down to the
landing to welcome us. We were greeted with much hand shaking,
and their number was gradually swelled from the camp on
the hill. They displayed not the least sign of shyness
or embarrassment, being altogether at their ease. Their clothing was
(02:53):
of a quite civilized fashion, the dresses being of woolen
goods of various colors, made with plain blows and skirt,
while on their feet they wore muccasins of dressed deer skin.
The jet black hair was parted from forehead to neck
and brought round on either side, where it was round
into a little hard roll in front of the ear
and bound about with pieces of plain cloth or a
pretty beaded band. Each head was adorned with a tuck
made from black and red broadcloth, with beaded or braided
(03:16):
band around the head. Both the manner of wearing the
hair and the touch were exceedingly picturesque had becoming, and
the types were various as those to be found in
other communities, ranging from the sweet and even beautiful face
to the grossly animal like. They were not scrupulously clean,
but were not dirtier than hundreds of thousands to be
found well within the borders of civilization, and all, even
the little children, wore the crucifix. Their men had gone
(03:38):
down to davis Inlet on the east coast to trade
for winter supplies. They had been away five days and
were expected to return soon, the outward trip being made
in three or four days, while the return requires five.
The camp was not eagerly awaiting the arrival of the tea,
sugar and tobacco, the new gowns, the gay shawls, and
the trinkets, which make the return from the post great
event of the year. As their speech indicated, These people
(04:00):
were found to belong to the Montane tribe, which is
a branch of the Cree nation and a tributary to
the posts along the Saint Lawrence. There After the winter's hunt,
they gathered in hundreds at Minga and Seven Islands, and
it is then they received from the Roman Catholic missionary's
instruction in the Christian faith. This camp, the only one
of the tribe to do so, had for some years
traded at davis Inlet on the northeast coast. We could
(04:20):
gather little from the women about the route to davis Inlet,
further than that it is a difficult one, and for
this reason they do not accompany the hunters on the
early journey there. The Mashawa Eyuits barren ground's people, the
Nauscapi Indians, whom mister Herbert had been so eager to visit,
and who are also a branch of the Cree nation.
They informed us have their hunting grounds farther down the river.
(04:40):
You will sleep twice before coming to their camp. They said,
we were assured of a friendly reception there, for the
two camps are friendly and sometimes visit each other. But
they could tell us little about the river because in
making the journey between the two camps they use a
portage route through lakes to the east of the river.
The journey to the George River post at Angava, they
thought would take two months. My heart sank at the
this was interpreted to me. In that case, I could
(05:02):
no longer entertain any hope of being in time for
the ship. It would mean too the entire journey back
in winter weather. I had counted that even if we
missed the ship, we could probably reach Lake Michikamau on
the return before winter set in, but that also would
be impossible. In the midst of the sickening feeling of
disappointment and uncertainty which came with its information. I was
conscious of being thankful that the main question had been
(05:22):
decided rather disconsolately. I went up for a brief look
at the camp on the hill. The situation was beautiful
and commended a view from end to end of resolution lake,
which extended about four miles both north and south of
the point, and was divided into two distinct parts. Just
opposite the camp by a long island, with the points
of land reaching towards it from north and south. Beyond
the island lay a broad sheet of water which seemed
(05:43):
equal in size to the one we were on, and
along its farther shore, low blue ridges stretched away northward.
The skies seemed trying to make reparation for the week
of storms, and the mood of the camp corresponded with
that of the day. Children played about quietly or clung
to them mother's skirts as they watched the strangers with
curious inns, and the mothers were evidently happy in their
motherhood as mothers otherware. We are poor, said one, and
(06:06):
we live among the trees, but we have our children.
The camp consisted of two wigwams, one large oblong and
the other around. They were covered with dressed deer skins
drawn tight over the poles, blackened round the opening at
the top by the smoke of the fires which are
built in the center within. I was not invited to
go into the wigwams, but through the opening which served
as doorway in front of one of them, I had
(06:27):
a glimpse of the interior. It seemed quite orderly and clean.
Four rifles, which lay on the coppet of balsam boughs,
looked clean and well cared for. The dishes, pans, teapots,
et cetera, which were mostly of white enamel, with some
china of an ordinary sort, were clean and shining. Long
strings addressed deer skin, and a few moccasins hung from
the poles round the opening at the top. The moccasins
(06:49):
were not decorated in any way, nor were those worn
by the women, and I saw no sign of ornamentation
of any kind save the toaks with their beaded or
braided bands and the bands on the hair. Except for
their children, they were poor indeed, now, for there was
not a taste of sugar, tea or tobacco at the camp.
They rarely have flower which with them not one of
the necessities of life. They were living on what fish
(07:11):
they could catch while the hunters were away, and were
not having the best success with their fishing. They did
not know the presence of the caribou so near them,
and I thought regretfully if how easily we could have
brought down one or more had been known of their need,
and where we should find them. Some six or eight
splendid Eskimo dogs prowled about, snarling at one another and
occasionally indulging in an ugly fight, at which there was
a rush for clubs or tent poles to separate them.
(07:33):
For less separated, they never stopped till the one that
goes down is killed. At whatever hour of the day
or night a fight begins, the dogs have to be separated,
otherwise one or more of the number will be lost,
and the loss of a dog is a calamity in
the north country. While I wandered over the hillside a little,
keeping a wary eye on the dogs, the women devoted
their attentions to the men. They were anxious to have
(07:53):
the visit prolonged, and every inducement was held out, even
to offering them wives temporary if they would remain. But
after take a few pictures, for which they posed easily
and without sign of self consciousness, I bade them farewell,
and we returned to the canoes. They did not accompany
us to the landing. With the prospect of so long
a journey before me, I had to resist the impulse
to share my provisions with them. But before we left,
(08:15):
George curred a few ounces of tea up the hill.
There was a merry chase as each tried to possess
herself of the treasure. They were like children, and their
delight A pair of moccasins was offered in return, but
the gift of tea was too slight, and they were
not accepted. Soon we were slipping slowly away towards the river,
with an occasional glance back to the group on the hill,
when a few rods from shore Job, who had the
(08:37):
faculty of making his English irresistibly funny whenever he chose,
stood up in the stern of the canoe, and, taking
off his hat to them with a very elaborate bow,
called good bye, good bye, my lady. The directions we
had received enabled us to find the river without difficulty,
and passing down through a succession of small expansions with low,
swampy shores where the wood growth was almost altogether. Tamarak
becamped in the evening ten miles below Resolution Lake, at
(08:57):
the point where the river drops down through three rocky
gorges to flow with strong swift current in a distinct valley.
The lakes of the upper country were here left behind,
and when we resumed our journey the following morning, it
was to be carried miles on a current in which
the puddles needed only for steering. Stretches of quiet water
was succeeded by boisterous rapids, and sometimes I walked to
lighten the canoe. Where the rapid was shallow. Tributaries entered
(09:20):
on either hand. The river increased in force and volume,
and when we halted for lunch, some ten miles below
Kenyan Camp, the George had come to be a really
great river. We were getting down to the hills now,
and the country which had been burned over was exceedingly
barren and desolate. On the slopes which had been wooded,
the gray and blackened tree trunks were still standing like
armies of skeletons, and through their ranks the hills of
(09:41):
everlasting rock showed gray and stern stripped even of their
covering of reindeer moss. Heavy showers passed during the day,
but it was otherwise beautiful, and we made good progress.
When we camp that evening below Thousand Island expansion, it
was with twenty two miles to our credit. It seemed
very fine to have another good day's work behind, and
I felt less heavy hearted. Some thinking had convinced me
(10:02):
that the two months estimate for the journey to Angova
was far from correct, but I still feared it was
useless to entertain hope of being in time for the ship.
Yet one does hope even when it is plainly useless. Nevertheless,
life would come to be a serious matter with us,
all now excepting Gilbert, for the men too were reversed
to spending a winter, and Labrador and had rather advocated
a return by way of Davis Inlet or the Grand River.
(10:22):
Gilbert alone sang and laughed as merrily as ever, undisturbed
by doubts or fears. That evening, the sunset was of
clear gold, and the sudden chill which a Labrador always follows,
sent me shivering to the camp fire, where below the
bank on the solid, smooth, worn rock of the river bed.
We had supper of charmagan, but neither hunger nor perplexities
could shut out the impress of the desolate grandeur of
(10:43):
our surroundings. This was the wilderness, indeed, with only the
crystal river the beautiful skies to make it glad only
or was there more? Or was it glad? Perhaps? Yes,
surely somewhere within it there was gladness. But everywhere it
was beautiful, with the beauty which alone, to some heart
can carry the still small voice. If only a would
(11:03):
never say what dost thou hear? One must wish to
stay and listen to it always. Through the stillness came
up the sounds of the rapids below our camp. Above,
fish jumped in the quiet waters, where the afterglow in
the sky was given back, enriched and deepened. Then came night,
and the stars, bright northern lights, bright moon shadows on
the tent dreams. A termagant whirred up from the corner
(11:26):
of my tent, and I awoke to find the sun
shining and everything outside sparkling with frost. The men had
already begun portaging for below camp. The rapids were too
heavy to take the outfit down. But when breakfast was
over and the last blow had been taken forward over
the half mile portage, the canoes were run down the river.
A short distance below the river drops rapidly round many
little islands of pink and white rock by a succession
(11:47):
of picturesque falls and rapids and shoots, extending for more
than a mile, and here a number of short portages
were made. We reached the last of the islands shortly
before eleven o'clock and then landed to clam a hill
to the east. It rose six hundred and three feet
above the river, but the view from the top afforded
doth little satisfaction so far as the route was concerned.
The river could be seen for only a few miles ahead,
(12:07):
flowing away to the northwest toward higher hills, where we
could see patches of snow. Lying some miles to the
east was a large lake, its outlet a river of
considerable size, joining the George River, three quarters of a
mile north of where we had left the canoes. Below
the junction, there were many Indian signs along the shores,
and we knew that there the portage route of which
the Montoney women had spoken must lead to the river again.
(12:29):
Steadily through the afternoon, we approached the higher hills ever
on the watch for the Nascopi camp, but we did
not find it. There was a short lift over a
direct drop of four or five feet, and two portages
of about half a mile past heavy rapids, at the
second of which the river drops fifty feet to flow
between high sandy banks. The hills on either side standing
back from the river, their broken faces red with a
(12:50):
coating of iron rust. The intervening spaces were strewed with
the boulders of unusual size. Fresh Cariboo tracks the only
one scenes as leaving the head of Long Lake were
found on the first port, and on the second I
gathered my first moss berries. A heavy shower passed late
in the afternoon and the sky remained overcast, but we
were not delayed, and towards evening arrived at the point
twenty miles below Thousand Island expansion, where a large tributary
(13:13):
comes in from the west and the George River turns
abruptly northward among the higher hills. The proposal to go
into camp had already been made when George discovered some
ptarmagan high up the bank. There was a brisk hunt,
and eleven were taken, so again we supped on Ptarmagin.
That night. I took mine in my tent on account
of the mosquitoes, which were so thick that, as George
expressed it, it was like walking in the snowstorm to
(13:33):
move about outside. End of chapter fifteen.
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