16 - Womans Way Through Unknown Labrador by Mina Benson Hubbard

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.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador by
Mina Benson Hubbard. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Chapter sixteen The Barren Ground People. On Sunday morning, August twentieth,
I awoken state of expectancy. We had slept three times
since leaving the Monteney camp, and unless the Barren Grounds
people were not now in their accustomed kemping place, we

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ought to see them before night. Many thoughts came of
how greatly mister Hubbard had wished to see them, and
what a privilege he would have thought it to be
able to visit them. It seemed this morning as if
something unusual must happen. It was as if we were
coming into a hidden country. From where the river turned
into the hills, it flowed for more than a mile
northward through what was like a great, magnificent corridor leading
to something larger beyond. When Joe and Gilbert, who were

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usually the first to get off, slept away down the river,
I realized how swift flowing the water must be. It
looked as still as glass and very dark, almost black.
The quiet surface was disturbed only by the jumping of
the fish. We saw the canoe push off, and turned
to put a few less touches to the loading of
our own with Again, they were already far away. Soon, however,
we had cut them up, and together two canoes ran

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out into the widening of the river. Here it bent
a little to the northeast, but two miles farther on
it again bore away to the north. In the distance
we could see the mountain tops standing far apart, and
knew that there between them a lake must lie. Could
it be Indian House Lake, the Mushawuan Nippie or barren
Ground's water of the Indians. We were still farther south
than it was placed on the map I carried, Yet

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we had passed the full number of lakes given in
the map above this water. Even so, I did not
believe it could be the big lake I had been
looking forward to reaching so eagerly. As we paddled on
at a rather brisk rate, I sat thinking how beautiful
the river, the mountains, and the morning were. I had
not settled myself to watch seriously for the Nascopi camp,
when suddenly Georgie exclaimed, there it is there. It was, indeed,

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a covered wigwam high up on a sandy hill which
sloped to the water's edge and formed the point round
which the river flowed to the lake among the mountains.
Soon a second wigwam came in sight. We could see
no one at the camp at first. Then a figure
appeared moving about near one of the wigwams. It was
evident that they were still unconscious of our presence. But
as we paddled slowly along, the figure suddenly stopped. A

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whole company came running together, and plainly our sudden appearance
was causing great excitement. There was a hurried moving to
and fro, and after a time, from the sound of
two rifle shots, I replied to my revolver again. They fired,
and I replied again, Then more shots from the hill.
As we drew slowly near the men ran down towards
the landing, but halted above a narrow belt of trees

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near the water's edge. There an animated discussion of the
newcomers took place. We all shouted bojou, bojou, bonjour. A
chorus of Bojeou's came back from the hill. George called
to them an Indian, we are strangers that are passing
through our country. The sound of words in their own
tongue reassured them, and they ran down to the landing.
As we drew near, we could hear them talking. I,

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of course could not understand a word of it, but
I learned later from George what they said. Who are
they see? The man's stirrings like an Indian? That surely
is an Indian. Why there is an english woman? Where
have they come from? As the canoe glided towards the landing,
one who was evidently the chief, stepped forward, while the
others remained a little apart, putting out his hand to

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catch the canoe as it touched the sand. He said,
of course you have some tobacco, only a little. George replied,
we have come far. Then the hand was given in
greeting as we slipped ashore. It was a striking picture
they made that quiet Sabbath morning, as they stood there
at the shore, with the dark green woods behind them,
and all about them the great wilderness of rock and
river and lake. You did not see it all, but

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you felt it. They had rocked. The Indian faces, and
those of the older men showed plainly the battle for
life they had been fighting. They were tall, lithe and
active looking with a certain air of self possession and dignity,
which almost all Indians seemed to have. They wore dressed
deer skin breeches and moccasins, and over the breeches were
drawn bright red cloth leggings, reaching from the ankle to
well above the knee, and held them placed by straps

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fastened about the waist. The shirts, some of which were
of cloth and some of dressed deer skin, were worn
outside the breeches, and over these a white coat, bound
about the edges with blue or red. Their hair was
long and cut straight below the ears, while tied about
the head was a bright colored kerchief. The faces were
full of interest. Upon the hill, the women and children
and old men stood watching, perhaps waiting till it should

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appear whether the strangers were friendly or hostile. Where did
you come into the river, the chief asked. George explained
that we had come the whole length of the river,
that we had come into it Fromlake Michikamau, which we
reached by way with the Naskapi. He was greatly surprised.
He had been at Northwest River and knew the route.
Turning to the others, he told them of our long
journey Then they came forward and gathered eagerly about us.

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We told them we were going down the river to
the post at Angava. Oh, you are near now, they said,
you will sleep only five times if you travel fast.
My heart bounded as this was interpreted to me, for
it meant that we should be at the post before
the end of August. For this was only the twentieth
there was still a chance that we might be in
time for the ship. Then where is the long lake
in this river? George inquired, It is here, the chief replied.

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We inquired about the river. All were eager to tell
about it, and many expressive gestures were added to their
words to tell that the river was reaped and all
the way. An arm held at an angle showed what
we were to expect in the rapids, and a vigorous
drop of the hand expressed something about the falls. There
would be a few portages, but they were not long,
and in some places it would be just a short
lift over. But it was all rapid nearly, and when

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you come to a river coming in on the other
side in quite a fall, you are not far from
the post. There was a tightening in my thropes. I thought,
what if I had decided to turn back rather than
winter in Labrador. Did you see any Indians? The chief asked, yes,
we have slept three times since we were at their camp.
Were they getting any caribou? With an ext degree question?
Had they seen any signs of the crossing? George told
them of the great numbers we had seen, and had

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followed an earnest discussion among themselves as to the probability
of the caribou passing near them. Are you going up,
we inquired? They replied, no, not our country. There were
inquiries as to which way the caribou were passing, and
again they talked among themselves about their hopes and fears.
We learned that only three days before they had returned
from davis Inlet, where they go to trade for supplies
as do the Montenay. They had come back from the

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long journey, sick at heart to meet empty handed those
who waited, and glad in his of this the great
event of the year, the return from the post. The
ship had not come, and the post store was empty.
As they talked, the group about the canoe was growing larger.
The old men had joined the others, together with a
few old women. As the story of their disappointment was
told when old man said, you see the way we live,

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and you see the way we dress. It is hard
for us to live. Sometimes we do not get many caribou.
Perhaps they will not cross our country. We can get
nothing from the Englishman, but even ammunition. It is hard
for us to live. All summer they had been taking
an occasional caribou, enough for present needs, but little more
than that, And the hunters, on their return from the coast,
found the hands at home as empty as their own.

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Now the long winter stretched before them with all its
dread possibilities. We inquired of them how far it was
to the coast, and found that they make the outward
journey in five days and the return trip in seven.
They informed us that they had this year been accompanied
part of the way in by an Englishman. All white
men are Englishmen to them, as George interpreted to me,
he said that must be mister Cabot. Instantly the chief

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caught at the name and said, Cabot, Yes, that is
the man. He turned back two days journey from here.
He was going away on a ship. When during the
winter I had talked to the mister Cabot of my
trip he had said, perhaps we shall meet on the
George next summer. Now I felt quite excited to think,
honr we had come to doing so. How I wished
he had sent me a line by the Indians. I
wanted to know how the peace conference was getting on.

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I wondered at first that he had not done so,
but after a little laughed to myself, as I thought
I could guess why how envious he would be of me,
for I had really found the home camp of his
beloved Esscopies. Meanwhile, the old women had gathered about me
begging for tobacco. I did not know, of course, what
it was they wanted, And when the coveted tobacco did
not appear, they begin to complain bitterly, she is not
giving us any tobacco. See, she does not want to

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give us any tobacco. George explained to them that I
did not smoke, and so had no tobacco to give them,
but that I had other things I could give them.
Now that we were so near the post, I could
spare some of my provisions, for the supply was considerably
more than we should need now to take us to
our journey's end. There was one partly used bag of flour,
which was lifted out of the canoe and laid on
the beach. Then Job handed me the tea and rice bags.

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Two not very clean colored silk handkerchiefs were spread on
the beach when I asked for something to put the
tea and rice in, and a group of eager faces
bent over me as I lifted the precious contents from
the bags, leaving only enough tea to take us to
the post and enough rice for one more pudding. An
old tin pail lying near was filled with salt, and
a piece of bacon completed the list. A few little
trinkets were distributed among the women, and from the expression

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on their faces, I judged that they had come to
the conclusion that I was not so bad after all,
even though I did not smoke a pipe and so
could not give them any of their precious to seiche Temau. Meantime,
I had been thinking about my photographs. Taking up one
of my kodaks. I said to the chief that I
should like to take his picture, and motioned him to
stand apart. He seemed to understand quite readily and stepped
lightly to one side of the little company in a

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way which showed it was not a new experience to him.
They had no sort of objection to being snapped, but
rather seemed quite eager to pose for me. Then came
an invitation to go up to the camp. As George interpreted,
he did not look at all comfortable, and when he
asked if I cared to go, I knew he was
wishing very much that I would say no. Oh, But
I said yes indeed, So we went up, while the
other three remained at the canoes. Even in barren Labrador

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are to be found little touches that could to prove
human nature the same the world over. One of the
young men, handsomer than the others, unconscious of the fact,
had been watching me throughout the evident interest. He was
not only handsomer than the others, but his leggings were redder.
As we walked up towards the camp, he went a
little ahead and to one side, managing to watch for
the impression he evidently expected to make a little distance

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from where we landed was a row of bark canoes
turned upside down. As we passed them, he turned, and
to make sure those red leggings should not fail their mission,
he put his foot up on one of the canoes,
pretending as I passed to tie his moccasin, the while
watching for the effect. It was some little distance up
to camp. When we reached it, we could see northward
down the lake for miles. It lay like a great,
broad river, guarded on either side by the mountains. The

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prospect was very beautiful. Everywhere along the way we found
their camping places, chosen from among the most beautiful spots,
and there seemed abundant evidence that in many another Indian
breasts brought the heart of Saltatha Warburton, pike 's famous guide, who,
when the good Priest had told them of the beauties
of heaven, said, my father, you have spoken well. You
have told me that heaven is beautiful. Tell me now
one thing more? Is it more beautiful than the land

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of the muscocks? In summer? And sometimes the mist blows
over the lakes, and sometimes the waters are blue, and
the loons call very often. This is beautiful, my father.
If Heaven is more beautiful, I shall be contented to
rest there till I am very old. The camp consisted
of two large wigwams, the covers of which were of
dressed deer skins sewn together and drawn tight over the poles,
while across the doorway hung an old piece of sacking.

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The covers were now worn and old and dirty gray
in color, save around the opening at the top, where
they were blackened by the smoke from the fire. In
the center of the wigwam. Here the younger women and
the children were waiting, and some of them had dawned
at best attire for the occasion of the stranger's visit.
Their dresses were of cotton and woolen goods. Few wore
skin clothes, and those who did had on a rather
long skin shirt with hood attached, but under the shirt

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were numerous cloth garments. Only the old men and little
children were dressed altogether in skins. One young woman appeared
in a gorgeous purple dress and on her head the
black and red took with beaded band wore by most
of the montone women, and I wondered if she had
come to the Nascopi camp the bride of one of
its braves. There was about her an air of conscious
difference from the others, but this was unrecognized by them.

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The faces here were not bright and happy looking as
that at the Montonee camp. Nearly all were sad and wistful.
The old woman seemed the brightest of all, and were
apparently important people in the camp. Even the little children's
faces were sad and old in expression, as if they
too realized something of the cares of wilderness life. At first,
they stood about rather shyly, watching me with evident interest,
than making no move to greet her welcome me. I

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did not know how best to approach them. Then, seeing
a young mother with her babe in her arms, standing
among the group near one of the wigwams, I stepped
towards her, and, touching the little bundle, I spoke to
her of her child, and she held it so that
I might see its face. It was a very young baby,
born only the day before, I learned later, and the
mother herself looked little more than a child. Her face
was pale, and she looked weak and sick. Though she

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held her child towards me, there was no lighting up
of the face, no sign of responsive interest. Almost immediately, however,
I was surrounded by nearly the whole community of women,
who talked rapidly about the babe and its mother. The
little creature had no maide garments on, but was simply
wrapped about with old clothes, leaving only its face and
neck bear The uttermost covering was a piece of plaid shawl,
and all were held tightly in place by a stout cord,

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passing round the bundle a number of times. It would
be quite impossible for the tiny thing to move hand
or foot, or any part of its body except the face.
As one might expect, it wore an expression of utter wretchedness,
though it lay with closed eyes, making no sound. I
could make almost nothing of what they said, and when
I called George to interpret from me, they seemed not
to want to talk. Taking out my kodax, I set
about securing a few photographs. Already the old women were

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beginning to prepare for the feast. They were to have.
Two large black pots that stood on three legs were
set out, and one of the women went into the
tent and brought out a burning brand to light the
fire under them. Soon interest was centered in the pots.
I had a little group ranged up in front of
one of the wigwams. When the lady in Purple, whose
attention for a time had been turned to the preparations
for the feast, seeing what was taking place, came swiftly

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across and placed herself in the very center of the group,
all apparently understood what was being done and anxious to
be in the picture. During the stay at camp, I
saw little sign of attempt at ornamentation. The moccasins and
skin clothing I saw were unadorned. There was but the
one black and red too cluebraided band. The chief's daughter
alone wre the beaded band in her hair, which was
arranged as that of the women in the Matane camp.

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One woman coveted the sweater I wore. It was a
rather bright green with red cuffs and collar, and the
color had greatly taken her fancy. I wished that I
had been able to give it to her, but my
wardrobe was as limited as I dared to have it,
and so I was obliged to refuse her request in
a way which I had not in the least expected.
I found these people appealing to me, and myself wishing
that I might remain with them for a time, But

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I could not risk a winter in Lumbrador for the
sake of the longer visit. Even had I been able
to persuade the men to remain Already George was strowing
his anxiety to get away, and I realized it was
not yet certain we should be in time for the ship.
It might easily be more than five days to the post.
I could not know how far the Indian mind had
been influenced in getting the disc stants by a desire
to reduce the smallest possible limit the amount of tobacco

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the men would need to retain for their own use.
It was not far from the last week in August.
Now I felt that not simply a day, but even
an hour, might cost me a winter in Labrador. When
the word went forth, we were about to leave, all
gathered for the parting, Looking about for something which I
might carry away with me as a souvenir of the visit.
My eyes caught the beaded band which the chief's daughter
wore on her hair, and, stepping towards her, I touched

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it to indicate my wish. She drew sharply away and
said something in tones that had a plainly resentful ring.
It was that is mine. I determined not to be discouraged,
and made another try. Stretched on a frame to dry,
was a very pretty deer skin, and I had George
ask if I might have that. That seems to appeal
to them as an unreasonable request, and they suggested that
I should take one already dressed. The woman who had

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wanted my sweater went into the wigwam and brought one out.
It was very pretty and beautifully soft and white on
the inside. She again pleaded for the sweater, and as
I could not grant her request, I hinted her back
the skin, but she bade me keep it. They gave
George a piece of deerskin, dressed without the hair, to
line a pair of mits, they said, as they stood about.
During the last few minutes of our stay, the chief's
arm was thrown across his little daughter's shoulders as she

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leaned confiding thee against him. While the parting words were
being exchanged, he was engaged in a somewhat absent minded,
but none the less successful examination of her head. Many
of the others were similarly occupied. There was no evidence
of their being conscious that there was anything extraordinary in
what they were doing, nor any attempt at concealing it.
Apparently it was as much a matter of course as eating.
When I said good bye, they made no move to

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accompany me to the canoe. Good bye, said George. Send
us a fair wind. Smilingly, they assured him that they would.
In a minute. We were in the canoe and pushing
off from shore. As we turned down the lake, all
eager to be shortening the distance between us and the post.
I looked back. They were still standing, just as we
had left them, watching us. Taking out my handkerchief, I
waved it over my head. Instantly the shawls and kerchiefs

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flew out as they waved a response. And with this
parting look backward to our bilderness friends, we turned our
faces to Angava. End of chapter sixteen.