August 19, 2025 • 19 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 seventeen of A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador by
Mina Benson Hubbard. This LibriVox recordings in the public domain.
Chapter seventeen, The Race for Ungova. Five days to Ungova.
Seated in the canoe, with time to think, I could
not seem to realize the situation Indian House Lake, five
days to Ungova. Oh, how I wanted it to be true. Ungava,
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in spite of hopes and resolves, had seemed always far away,
mysterious and unattainable. But now it had been suddenly thrust forward,
almost within my reach. If truth, this would mean the
well nigh certain achievement of my heart's desire, the completion
of my husband's work. Yet there were the rapids where
the skill and judgment of the men were our safeguards.
One little miscalculation and it would take but an instant
to wolm us in disaster. But we had come so
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far with success. Surely it would be given to us
to reach the goal in safety. But here, inevitably, thought
flew to one who had been infinitely worthy, but who
had been denied five days to Ungova. And because I
so much wished it to be true, I was afraid
for the hard things of life will sometimes make cowards
of its pilgrims. The barren ground's water was very fair
in the morning sunshine. It was as if while exploring
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some great ruin we had chased into a secret, hidden chamber,
the most splendid of them all. And when after lunch
the promised fair wind sprang up and the canoes with
boll filled sails were speeding northward, the lake and its
guardian hills became bluer and more beautiful than ever. Nowhere
did we find the lake more than two miles wide.
Long points reaching out from either shore cut off the
view and seemed to change the course, but in reality
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they did not, for it was always northward, to right
and left. There were the hills, now barren altogether, or again,
with a narrow belt of green woods, spruce, balsam, tamarak
along the shore. In many places skelet and wigwams marked
the sites of old Mascapi camps. The hills on the
east in places rose abruptly from the water, but on
the west they stood a little back, with sand hills
on terraces between, and an occasional high wedge shaped point
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of sand and loose rock reached almost half way across
the lake. Often, as I looked ahead, the lake seems
to end, but the distant point passed it stretched on
again into the north hill. With repetition of this experience,
it began to seem as if the end would never come.
Streams entered through narrow openings between the hills, or roared
down their steep sides. At one point the lake narrowed
to about a quarter of a mile in width, where
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the current was very swift. Beyond this point we saw
the last caribou of the trip. It was a three
year old dough. She stood at the shore, watching us
curiously as we came towards her, then stepping diaintily in,
she began to swim across. We soon caught her up,
and after playing round her in the canoe for a time,
the man with the shouts of laughter, headed her in shore,
and George and the bow leaning over, caught her by
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the tail, and we were towed merrily in the wake.
Every minute I expected the canoe to turn over. However,
George was soon obliged to relinquish his hold, for the
dough's feet touched bottom, and in a moment she was
speeding up the steep hillside, stopping now and then to
look back with wondering, frightened eyes at the strange creatures
she had so unexpectedly encountered. Here, where the caribou were rare,
George River mosquitoes made life miserable for us. The flies,
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which in the Naskapi country had been such a trial
to me, had not driven the men to the use
of their veils except on rare occasions. But now they
are being worn. Even out on the lake where we
were still tormented. Backs and hats were brown with the
vicious wretches where they would cling, waiting for a lull
in the wind to swarm about our heads in such
numbers that even their war song made one shiver and creep.
They were larger, by far than any Jersey mosquitoes ever
dreamed of being, and their bite was like the touch
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of a live coal. Sometimes in the tent, a continual
patter on the roof as they flew against it sounded
like a gentle rain. The foot of the lake was
finally reached on Monday evening, August twenty first, at sunset,
and we went into camp fifty five to sixty miles
from where we had entered it, and within sound of
the first pitch in the one hundred and thirty miles
of almost continuous rapids over which we were to travel
that night, Job had a dream of them. He believed
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in dreams a little, and it troubled him. He thought
we were running in rapids which were very difficult, and
becoming entrapped in the currents, were carried over the brink
of a fall. In the morning, he told his dream,
and the others were born of danger ahead. My canoe
was to lead the way with George and the bough
and drob in the stern, while Joe and Gilbert were
to follow close behind. When we left our camp, an
extra puddle was placed with an easy reach of each
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canoe man, so that should one snap at a critical moment,
another could instantly replace it. This was a new attitude
towards the work ahead. And as we paddled slowly in
the direction of the outlet, where the hills drew together
as if making ready to surround and imprison us, my
mind was full of vague imaginings concerning the river far
beyond my wildest thlot. However, was the reality immediately at
the outlet. The canoes were caught by the swift current,
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and for five days we were carried down through almost
continuous rapids. There were long stretches of miles where the
slope of the river bed was a steep gradient, and
I held my breath as the canoe shot down to
bug and pace. There was not only the slope down
the course of the river, but where the water swung
past long points of loose rocks which reach out from
either shore, a distinct tilt from one side to the
other could be seen, as when an engine rounds a bend.
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There were foaming roaring breakers where the river float over
its bed of boulder shallows, or again, the water was
smooth and apparently motionless, even with the slope downward was
clearly marked. Standing in the stern of the canoe, guiding
it with firm unerring hand, Job scanned the river ahead,
choosing out our course, now shouting his directions to Georgie
and the bed, or again to Joe and Gilbert as
they followed close behind. Usually we ran to the shallow
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water near shore, where the rocks of the river bed
looked perilously near the surface. When the sun shone, sharp
points and angles seemed to reach up into the curl
of the waves, though in reality they did not, and
often it appeared as if we were going straight to destruction.
As the canoe shot towards them, I used to wish
the water were not so crystal clear, so that I
might not see the rocks, for I seemed unable to
accustom myself to the fact that it was not by
seeing the rocks the men chose the course, but by
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the way the water flowed. The water course was usually
in shallow water near the shore. Sometimes, for no reason
apparent to me, we turned out into the heavier swells
of the deeper, stronger tide. Then faster and faster and
faster we flew, Jobe still standing in the stir and
shouting his directions louder and louder as the roar of
the rapid increased, or the way became more perilous, till
suddenly I could feel them dropping to his seat behind me,
as the canoe shot by a group of boulders, and
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George bedding to his paddle, The Might and Maine turned
the bow inshore again, quick as the little craft had
won up to the wild rush of water pouring round
the outer end of this boulder barrier. Jobe was on
his feet again as we spread onward, still watching the
river ahead that we might not become and trapped. Sometimes
when it was possible, after passing a particularly hard and
dangerous place, we ran into a quiet spot to watch
Joe and Gilbert come through. This was almost more exciting
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than coming through myself. But more weird and uncanny than
wildest cascade or rapid was the dark vision which opened
out before us at the head of slanting lake. The
picture in my memory still seems unreal and mysterious, but
the actual one was as disturbing as an evil dream.
Down down down the long slope before us, to where
four miles away Hedees Hills lifted an uncompromising barrier across
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the way. Stretched the lake and river black as ink,
now under leaden sky and shadowing hills. The lake, which
was three quarters of a mile wide, dipped not only
with the course of the river, but appeared to dip
also from one side to the other. Not a ripple
or touch of white could be seen anywhere. All seemed motionless,
as if an unseen hand had touched and stilled it.
A deathlike quiet reigned, and as we glided smoothly down
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with the tide. We could see all about us a
soft boiling motion at the surface of this black flood,
which gave the sense of treachery as well as mystery.
As I looked down the long slope where the river
appeared to lose it into the side of the mountain,
it seemed to me that there, if anywhere the prophecy
of Job's dream must be fulfilled, Cerberus might easily be
waiting for us. There he would scarcely have time to
fawn upon us till we should go shooting past him
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into the pit. But after all, the river was not
shallow up in the mountain. It only turned to the west,
and swifter than ever. We flew down, with its current
no longer smooth and dark, but broken into white water,
over a broader bed of smooth worn boulders, till three
miles below we passed out into a quiet expansion, where
the tension relaxed, and with minds at ease, we could
draw in long, satisfying breaths. The traveling day was a
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short one during this part of the trip, and I
wondered often how the bend stood the strain. Once I
asked Job if running rapids did not tire him very much.
He answered yes, with a smile and look of surprise
that I should understand such a thing. The knights were
made hideous by the mosquitoes, and I slept little. The
loss of sleep made rapid running trying, and after a
particularly bad night I would sit trembling with excitement. As
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we raced down the slope. It was most difficult to
resist the impulse to grasp the sides of the canoe,
and to compel myself instead to sit with hands clasped
about my knee, muscles relaxed, so that my body might
lend itself to the motion of the canoe. Sometimes, as
we ran towards the west, the river glittered so in
the afternoon sunshine that it was impossible to tell what
the water was doing. This made it necessary to land
now and again, so that JOB might go forward and
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look over the course. As the bow of the canoe
turned inshore, the current caught the stern and rolled it
round with such force and suddenness that only the quick
setting of the pedal on the shoreward side kept a
little craft from being dashed to pieces against the rocks.
On Thursday August twenty fourth, I wrote in my diary,
such a nice sleep last night, albeit blankets and comfortable,
so wet the stopper of my hot water bottle had
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not been properly screwed in the night before, and they
were soaked. Beautiful morning mountains ahead, standing out against the
clear sky, with delicate clouds of white mists hanging along
their sides or veiling the tops. One just as the
bend is very very fine. It reminds me of an
Egyptian pyramid. Job was not feeling well this morning, and
it bothers me. I asked him if it were too
many rapids. He smiled and said, I don't know, but
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as if he thought that might be the trouble. Later,
just a little below our camp, we found a river
coming in with the wild rush from the east. It
was the largest we had yet seen, and we wondered
if our reckoning could be so far out of this
might be the river not far from the post of
which the Nascopis had told us. Then, so anxious for
the noon observation and so glad to have a fine
day for it. Result fifty seven degrees forty three minutes
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twenty eight seconds. That settled it, but all glad to
be rapidly lessening the distance between us and Angava. Afternoon,
more rapids than I got out above one of them
to walk, I climbed up the river wall to the
high sandy terrace above. This great wall of packed boulders
is one of the most characteristic features of the lower River.
It is thrown up by the action of ice in
the spring floods, and varies all the way from twenty
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feet at its beginning to fifty and sixty feet further down.
One of the remarkable things about it is that the
largest boulders lie at the top. Saw of them so
huge as to weigh tons on the terrace. Moss berries
and blueberries were so thick as to make walking slippery.
The river grows more magnificent all the time. I took
one photograph of the sun's rays slanting down through a
rift in the clouds and letting up the mountains in
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the distance. I am feeling wretched over not having more films.
How I wish I had brought twice as many. While
warning the rapid George and Job were nearly wrecked. Job
changed his mind about the course a little too late,
and they had a narrow escape. They were whirled round
and banked up against a cliff with the bottom of
the canoe tipped to the rock, and held there for
a while, but fortunately did not turn over till an
unusually tempestuous rush of water reached up and lifted the
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canoe from its perch down into the water again. Then
tying a rope at either end, they clambered out to
a pecarious perch on a slope in the cliff. By
careful maneuverings succeeded in turning the canoe round and getting
in again, thus escaping from the trap. Joe and Gilbert
came through without mishap. Practically the whole river from Indian
House Lake is like a toboggan slide. I shall be
glad for everyone, and especially for job, when we have
left the rapids behind, he says, he feels better. To
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night saw our fresh caribou tracks upon the terrace. I've
been finding beautiful bunches of harebell cornwall uniflora in the
clefts of the rocks along the river. They are very lovely.
Once to day, the lonely cry of both came down
to us from high up on the mountain side. The
mountains are splendid. We are in the midst of scenes
which have a decidedly Norwegian look. Have passed one river
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and several good sized streams coming in from the east,
and one of some size from west, but we have
seen nothing from the west which could be called the river.
Much more water comes in from the east. As we
turned northward this evening, just above camp, a wind came
up the valley that felt as if straight from the Arctic.
Fire in an open place tonight, and I do not
like to go out to supper it is so cold.
Thinking now we may possibly get to the post to
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day after tomorrow, George says he thinks the river must
be pretty straight from here. I rather think it will
take us a little more than two days. All feel
that we may have a good hope of catching the steamer.
Perhaps we shall get too tide water tomorrow. There have
been signs of porcupine along the way to day, and
one standing wigwam. There is a big bed of mossberries,
a small BlackBerry which grows on a species of moss
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and is quite palatable right at my tent door tonight.
So strange, almost unbelievable to think we are coming so
near to Angava, I begin to realize that I never
actually counted on being able to get there. The country
grew more and more mountainous and rugged and barren, the
wood growth which is of spruce and timmerek, with here
and there a little balsam, whilst for some distance below
the barren grounds of water rather more abundant than it
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had been along the lake shores. At best it was
but a narrow bolt along the water's edge, covering the
hills to a height of perhaps two hundred feet, and
dwindling gradually towards the north to On some places it
was absent altogether, and our tents were pitched where no
trees grew. The ridges on either side crossed each other
almost at right angles, turning the river now to the northeast,
again to the northwest. Down the mountain sides, broad bands
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of white showed where the waters of numberless lakes and
streams on the heights came tumbling down to join the river,
or again a great gap in the solid mountain of
rock that threw a rush of blue, green, foaming water.
The hills have the characteristic Cambrian outline, and it is
the opinion of mister low that this formation extends continuously
eastward from the Canniapiscau to the George. The mountains on
the right bank were more rugged and irregular than those
on the left, and Bridgeman mountains and places stead out
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to the river, quite distinct and separate, like giant forts. On
the morning of August twenty fourth, they had closed round
us as if to swallow us up, and gazing back
from our lunching place, George said, with something of awe
in his tone, it looks as if we had just
got out of prison. And still the river roared on
down through its narrow valley at Helen Falls, dropping by
wild and tempestuous cascades, and then by almost equally wild
rapids to a mile below, where it shoots out into
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an expansion with such terrific force as to keep this
great rush of water above the general level for some
distance out into the lake. Here we made the longest
portage of the journey down the George River, carrying the stuff.
One and a quarter mile below Helen Falls, the mountains
spread in a wider sweep to the sea, and the
river gradually increased in width, as in near Dungava. Still
it flowed on in rapids so often we had asked
each other will they never end? However, in the afternoon
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in August twenty sixth we reached smooth Water and had
a few hours paddling. Then darkness began to close in.
If only we could keep on, I knew from my
observation that day that we could not be many miles
from our journey's end now, But it was not to
be that we should reach our destination that night, and
camp was pitched at a point which I thought must
be about seven or eight miles above the post. It
was very disappointing, and when George said, if the ship
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is there, they will be sure to try to get
off Saturday night, I felt rather desperate. Still, it would
not do to take chances with the George River in
the dark in spite of anxiety. As I slept that night,
but felt quite strong in the morning. At breakfast, I
used last the Crystallois in my tea. It seemed very
wonderful that the little ounce bottle of this precious sweet
had lasted us as long as sixty pounds of sugar.
There was just a little of our tea left, and
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I filled the bottle with it to keep as a
souvenir of the trip, the remainder I put into one
of the waterproof salt shakers, and I gave this to George.
I learned later that there was a bit of quiet
fun among the men as I did it. They had
no great faith in my calculations, and it was their
opinion that the tea would pearl would taste quite good
at lunch. After what seemed a unnecessarily long time the camp,
things were a gun in the canoe. When we were
off about a mile below the camp, we found that
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the rapids were not yet passed here. A heavy, though
short one made a portage necessary, and then we dropped
down where the river spreads out two miles or more
in width. For several miles we paddled on in smooth water,
the river swinging a little to the west. How eagerly
I watched the point where it turned again to the north,
for beyond that we should see the post. As we
neared the bend, there was an exciting escape fro running
into an unsuspected rapid. Nothing was to be seen ahead
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but smooth water. The wind was from the south, and
not a sound was heard till suddenly we found ourselves
almost upon the brink of the and only by dint
of hard paddling, reached the shore just at its edge.
It was the first and only time we had been
caught in this way. Again came the question will they
never end? The rapids stretched on before us, turbulent and
noisy as before, first west, then swinging abruptly to the north.
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Joe and Gilbert decided to port ite across the point,
but George and Job, after much consideration, prepared to run
down to the canoe, while I walked across to the
little bay below. As they were starting off, I said
to George, when you get out beyond those points, you
should be able to see the island office at the post.
All right, I'll watch for it, he replied with a smile.
When they started pushing off, they worked the canoe cautiously
out to where they meant to take the rapid. It
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was something more of the feat than they had looked for,
and suddenly, after strenuous but ineffectual efforts to make the
canoe do what they wanted, they dropped into the bottom,
and to my amazement I saw it shoot forwards, turn
foremost into the rapid. The men had been quick as
the water, though, and in dropping to their places, had
turned a boat so that they were not quite helpless.
I stood watching them, hardly daring to breathe. The canoe
danced like an autumn leaf in the swells of the
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rapid and Job's excited shouting came pietly over the sound
of the water. At what a pace they were going?
Was the canoe under control? I could not tell what
would happen when they reached the point where the water
swings round to the north. Again, in an agony of suspense,
I watched and waited. Now they were nearing the critical point,
and now they had passed it, and with a wild
cry of triumph, turned towards the little bay below. As
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they drew into where I waited for them, George waved
his caf to me and shouted, I saw the island
we passed out beyond the point below, and there it
lay some miles away in the quiet water, with the
sunshine of the calm Sabbath morning flooding down upon it.
But the post was not yet in sight. Quite out
of harmony with the still dignity of the day and
the scenes of desolate grandeur about was the mind within me.
The excitement at the rapid had seemed to increase the
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strain I was under, and every moment it became more intense.
I did wish that the men would not chat and
laugh in the unconcerned way they were doing, and they
paddled as leisurely as if I were not in a
hurry at all. If only I could reach the post
and ask about the ship, if only I might fly
out over the water without waiting for these leisurely paddles,
and now from being in an agony of fear for
their lives, my strong desire was to take them by
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their collars and knock their heads together hard. This was
not practicable in the canoe, however, and I was fain
to control myself as best I might. Once I said
to George, do hurry a little, and for two minutes
he paddled strenuously. But soon it was again the merry
chat and the leisurely dip dip of the paddles. I
think they were laughing at me a little, and had
also in their minds the fun it would be to
see me bring out my precious tea again for lunch.
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Suddenly we described a white speck on a point some
distance away, and drawing nearer, saw people moving about. Then
we discovered that the boat was out at some nets,
and our reaching it found an Eskimo fisherman and his
son taking in the catch. He smiled broadly as he
came to the end of his boat to shake hands
with us, and my heart sank dolly for his face
and manner fainly indicated that he had been expecting us.
This could only be explained by the fact that the
ship had been to the post, bringing with her the
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news of my attempted crossing. We spoke to him in English,
which he seemed to understand, but he replied an Eskimo,
which we were helpless to make anything of, And after
a vain struggle for the much desired news as to
the ship, we left him and proceeded on our way.
I sat thinking desperately of the eskimaux, of the way
he had received us, and its portent. There could be
only one explanation. I had no heart now for the
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competition as to who should first sight the post. Yet
how we hope? Even when there was nothing left to
us but the absence of certainty, I could not quite
give up. Yet suddenly George exclaimed, there it is somehow
he seemed nearly always to see things first. There it
was deep in a cove on the right bank of
the river, a little group of tiny buildings nestling in
at the foot of a mountain of solid rock. It
seemed almost microscopic in the midst of such surroundings. The
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tide was low, and a great boulder strewn mud flat
stretched from side to side of the cove. Down from
the hills to the east flowed a little stream winding
its way through a tortuous channel. As it passed out
to the river. We turned into it and followed it up,
passing between high mud banks which obscured the posts, till
we reached a bend where the channel bore away to
the farther side of the cove. Then, to my surprise,
the men suddenly changed paddles for poles, and, turning the
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boughs in shore, pulled right on up over the mud bank.
It was such a funny and novel performance that it
snapped the spell from me, and I jo went with
the men in their shouts of laughter over the antics
of the canoe on the slippery mud bank. When we
find reached the top and slid out onto the flat.
We saw a man, who we supposed must be mister Ford,
the agent out of the post, coming over the mud
with his retinue of Esquimaux to meet us. We were
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all on our feet now waiting. When he came within hearing.
I asked if he were mister Ford, and told him
who I was and how I had come there. Then
came the for me great question. Has the ship been here?
He said yes, and gone again. Yes, that is what ship.
Do you mean? Is there any other ship expected here
in the company's ship? No, it is the company's ship,
I mean the Pelican. Has she been here? Yes, he said,
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she was here last September. I expect her in September again,
about the middle of the month or later. End of
Chapter seventeen.
Chapter seventeen of A Woman's Way through Unknown Labrador by
Mina Benson Hubbard. This LibriVox recordings in the public domain.
Chapter seventeen, The Race for Ungova. Five days to Ungova.
Seated in the canoe, with time to think, I could
not seem to realize the situation Indian House Lake, five
days to Ungova. Oh, how I wanted it to be true. Ungava,
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in spite of hopes and resolves, had seemed always far away,
mysterious and unattainable. But now it had been suddenly thrust forward,
almost within my reach. If truth, this would mean the
well nigh certain achievement of my heart's desire, the completion
of my husband's work. Yet there were the rapids where
the skill and judgment of the men were our safeguards.
One little miscalculation and it would take but an instant
to wolm us in disaster. But we had come so
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far with success. Surely it would be given to us
to reach the goal in safety. But here, inevitably, thought
flew to one who had been infinitely worthy, but who
had been denied five days to Ungova. And because I
so much wished it to be true, I was afraid
for the hard things of life will sometimes make cowards
of its pilgrims. The barren ground's water was very fair
in the morning sunshine. It was as if while exploring
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some great ruin we had chased into a secret, hidden chamber,
the most splendid of them all. And when after lunch
the promised fair wind sprang up and the canoes with
boll filled sails were speeding northward, the lake and its
guardian hills became bluer and more beautiful than ever. Nowhere
did we find the lake more than two miles wide.
Long points reaching out from either shore cut off the
view and seemed to change the course, but in reality
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they did not, for it was always northward, to right
and left. There were the hills, now barren altogether, or again,
with a narrow belt of green woods, spruce, balsam, tamarak
along the shore. In many places skelet and wigwams marked
the sites of old Mascapi camps. The hills on the
east in places rose abruptly from the water, but on
the west they stood a little back, with sand hills
on terraces between, and an occasional high wedge shaped point
(01:51):
of sand and loose rock reached almost half way across
the lake. Often, as I looked ahead, the lake seems
to end, but the distant point passed it stretched on
again into the north hill. With repetition of this experience,
it began to seem as if the end would never come.
Streams entered through narrow openings between the hills, or roared
down their steep sides. At one point the lake narrowed
to about a quarter of a mile in width, where
(02:11):
the current was very swift. Beyond this point we saw
the last caribou of the trip. It was a three
year old dough. She stood at the shore, watching us
curiously as we came towards her, then stepping diaintily in,
she began to swim across. We soon caught her up,
and after playing round her in the canoe for a time,
the man with the shouts of laughter, headed her in shore,
and George and the bow leaning over, caught her by
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the tail, and we were towed merrily in the wake.
Every minute I expected the canoe to turn over. However,
George was soon obliged to relinquish his hold, for the
dough's feet touched bottom, and in a moment she was
speeding up the steep hillside, stopping now and then to
look back with wondering, frightened eyes at the strange creatures
she had so unexpectedly encountered. Here, where the caribou were rare,
George River mosquitoes made life miserable for us. The flies,
(02:54):
which in the Naskapi country had been such a trial
to me, had not driven the men to the use
of their veils except on rare occasions. But now they
are being worn. Even out on the lake where we
were still tormented. Backs and hats were brown with the
vicious wretches where they would cling, waiting for a lull
in the wind to swarm about our heads in such
numbers that even their war song made one shiver and creep.
They were larger, by far than any Jersey mosquitoes ever
dreamed of being, and their bite was like the touch
(03:15):
of a live coal. Sometimes in the tent, a continual
patter on the roof as they flew against it sounded
like a gentle rain. The foot of the lake was
finally reached on Monday evening, August twenty first, at sunset,
and we went into camp fifty five to sixty miles
from where we had entered it, and within sound of
the first pitch in the one hundred and thirty miles
of almost continuous rapids over which we were to travel
that night, Job had a dream of them. He believed
(03:38):
in dreams a little, and it troubled him. He thought
we were running in rapids which were very difficult, and
becoming entrapped in the currents, were carried over the brink
of a fall. In the morning, he told his dream,
and the others were born of danger ahead. My canoe
was to lead the way with George and the bough
and drob in the stern, while Joe and Gilbert were
to follow close behind. When we left our camp, an
extra puddle was placed with an easy reach of each
(04:00):
canoe man, so that should one snap at a critical moment,
another could instantly replace it. This was a new attitude
towards the work ahead. And as we paddled slowly in
the direction of the outlet, where the hills drew together
as if making ready to surround and imprison us, my
mind was full of vague imaginings concerning the river far
beyond my wildest thlot. However, was the reality immediately at
the outlet. The canoes were caught by the swift current,
(04:21):
and for five days we were carried down through almost
continuous rapids. There were long stretches of miles where the
slope of the river bed was a steep gradient, and
I held my breath as the canoe shot down to
bug and pace. There was not only the slope down
the course of the river, but where the water swung
past long points of loose rocks which reach out from
either shore, a distinct tilt from one side to the
other could be seen, as when an engine rounds a bend.
(04:43):
There were foaming roaring breakers where the river float over
its bed of boulder shallows, or again, the water was
smooth and apparently motionless, even with the slope downward was
clearly marked. Standing in the stern of the canoe, guiding
it with firm unerring hand, Job scanned the river ahead,
choosing out our course, now shouting his directions to Georgie
and the bed, or again to Joe and Gilbert as
they followed close behind. Usually we ran to the shallow
(05:04):
water near shore, where the rocks of the river bed
looked perilously near the surface. When the sun shone, sharp
points and angles seemed to reach up into the curl
of the waves, though in reality they did not, and
often it appeared as if we were going straight to destruction.
As the canoe shot towards them, I used to wish
the water were not so crystal clear, so that I
might not see the rocks, for I seemed unable to
accustom myself to the fact that it was not by
seeing the rocks the men chose the course, but by
(05:26):
the way the water flowed. The water course was usually
in shallow water near the shore. Sometimes, for no reason
apparent to me, we turned out into the heavier swells
of the deeper, stronger tide. Then faster and faster and
faster we flew, Jobe still standing in the stir and
shouting his directions louder and louder as the roar of
the rapid increased, or the way became more perilous, till
suddenly I could feel them dropping to his seat behind me,
as the canoe shot by a group of boulders, and
(05:47):
George bedding to his paddle, The Might and Maine turned
the bow inshore again, quick as the little craft had
won up to the wild rush of water pouring round
the outer end of this boulder barrier. Jobe was on
his feet again as we spread onward, still watching the
river ahead that we might not become and trapped. Sometimes
when it was possible, after passing a particularly hard and
dangerous place, we ran into a quiet spot to watch
Joe and Gilbert come through. This was almost more exciting
(06:09):
than coming through myself. But more weird and uncanny than
wildest cascade or rapid was the dark vision which opened
out before us at the head of slanting lake. The
picture in my memory still seems unreal and mysterious, but
the actual one was as disturbing as an evil dream.
Down down down the long slope before us, to where
four miles away Hedees Hills lifted an uncompromising barrier across
(06:30):
the way. Stretched the lake and river black as ink,
now under leaden sky and shadowing hills. The lake, which
was three quarters of a mile wide, dipped not only
with the course of the river, but appeared to dip
also from one side to the other. Not a ripple
or touch of white could be seen anywhere. All seemed motionless,
as if an unseen hand had touched and stilled it.
A deathlike quiet reigned, and as we glided smoothly down
(06:50):
with the tide. We could see all about us a
soft boiling motion at the surface of this black flood,
which gave the sense of treachery as well as mystery.
As I looked down the long slope where the river
appeared to lose it into the side of the mountain,
it seemed to me that there, if anywhere the prophecy
of Job's dream must be fulfilled, Cerberus might easily be
waiting for us. There he would scarcely have time to
fawn upon us till we should go shooting past him
(07:11):
into the pit. But after all, the river was not
shallow up in the mountain. It only turned to the west,
and swifter than ever. We flew down, with its current
no longer smooth and dark, but broken into white water,
over a broader bed of smooth worn boulders, till three
miles below we passed out into a quiet expansion, where
the tension relaxed, and with minds at ease, we could
draw in long, satisfying breaths. The traveling day was a
(07:31):
short one during this part of the trip, and I
wondered often how the bend stood the strain. Once I
asked Job if running rapids did not tire him very much.
He answered yes, with a smile and look of surprise
that I should understand such a thing. The knights were
made hideous by the mosquitoes, and I slept little. The
loss of sleep made rapid running trying, and after a
particularly bad night I would sit trembling with excitement. As
(07:52):
we raced down the slope. It was most difficult to
resist the impulse to grasp the sides of the canoe,
and to compel myself instead to sit with hands clasped
about my knee, muscles relaxed, so that my body might
lend itself to the motion of the canoe. Sometimes, as
we ran towards the west, the river glittered so in
the afternoon sunshine that it was impossible to tell what
the water was doing. This made it necessary to land
now and again, so that JOB might go forward and
(08:13):
look over the course. As the bow of the canoe
turned inshore, the current caught the stern and rolled it
round with such force and suddenness that only the quick
setting of the pedal on the shoreward side kept a
little craft from being dashed to pieces against the rocks.
On Thursday August twenty fourth, I wrote in my diary,
such a nice sleep last night, albeit blankets and comfortable,
so wet the stopper of my hot water bottle had
(08:33):
not been properly screwed in the night before, and they
were soaked. Beautiful morning mountains ahead, standing out against the
clear sky, with delicate clouds of white mists hanging along
their sides or veiling the tops. One just as the
bend is very very fine. It reminds me of an
Egyptian pyramid. Job was not feeling well this morning, and
it bothers me. I asked him if it were too
many rapids. He smiled and said, I don't know, but
(08:55):
as if he thought that might be the trouble. Later,
just a little below our camp, we found a river
coming in with the wild rush from the east. It
was the largest we had yet seen, and we wondered
if our reckoning could be so far out of this
might be the river not far from the post of
which the Nascopis had told us. Then, so anxious for
the noon observation and so glad to have a fine
day for it. Result fifty seven degrees forty three minutes
(09:15):
twenty eight seconds. That settled it, but all glad to
be rapidly lessening the distance between us and Angava. Afternoon,
more rapids than I got out above one of them
to walk, I climbed up the river wall to the
high sandy terrace above. This great wall of packed boulders
is one of the most characteristic features of the lower River.
It is thrown up by the action of ice in
the spring floods, and varies all the way from twenty
(09:36):
feet at its beginning to fifty and sixty feet further down.
One of the remarkable things about it is that the
largest boulders lie at the top. Saw of them so
huge as to weigh tons on the terrace. Moss berries
and blueberries were so thick as to make walking slippery.
The river grows more magnificent all the time. I took
one photograph of the sun's rays slanting down through a
rift in the clouds and letting up the mountains in
(09:56):
the distance. I am feeling wretched over not having more films.
How I wish I had brought twice as many. While
warning the rapid George and Job were nearly wrecked. Job
changed his mind about the course a little too late,
and they had a narrow escape. They were whirled round
and banked up against a cliff with the bottom of
the canoe tipped to the rock, and held there for
a while, but fortunately did not turn over till an
unusually tempestuous rush of water reached up and lifted the
(10:18):
canoe from its perch down into the water again. Then
tying a rope at either end, they clambered out to
a pecarious perch on a slope in the cliff. By
careful maneuverings succeeded in turning the canoe round and getting
in again, thus escaping from the trap. Joe and Gilbert
came through without mishap. Practically the whole river from Indian
House Lake is like a toboggan slide. I shall be
glad for everyone, and especially for job, when we have
left the rapids behind, he says, he feels better. To
(10:41):
night saw our fresh caribou tracks upon the terrace. I've
been finding beautiful bunches of harebell cornwall uniflora in the
clefts of the rocks along the river. They are very lovely.
Once to day, the lonely cry of both came down
to us from high up on the mountain side. The
mountains are splendid. We are in the midst of scenes
which have a decidedly Norwegian look. Have passed one river
(11:01):
and several good sized streams coming in from the east,
and one of some size from west, but we have
seen nothing from the west which could be called the river.
Much more water comes in from the east. As we
turned northward this evening, just above camp, a wind came
up the valley that felt as if straight from the Arctic.
Fire in an open place tonight, and I do not
like to go out to supper it is so cold.
Thinking now we may possibly get to the post to
(11:22):
day after tomorrow, George says he thinks the river must
be pretty straight from here. I rather think it will
take us a little more than two days. All feel
that we may have a good hope of catching the steamer.
Perhaps we shall get too tide water tomorrow. There have
been signs of porcupine along the way to day, and
one standing wigwam. There is a big bed of mossberries,
a small BlackBerry which grows on a species of moss
(11:42):
and is quite palatable right at my tent door tonight.
So strange, almost unbelievable to think we are coming so
near to Angava, I begin to realize that I never
actually counted on being able to get there. The country
grew more and more mountainous and rugged and barren, the
wood growth which is of spruce and timmerek, with here
and there a little balsam, whilst for some distance below
the barren grounds of water rather more abundant than it
(12:03):
had been along the lake shores. At best it was
but a narrow bolt along the water's edge, covering the
hills to a height of perhaps two hundred feet, and
dwindling gradually towards the north to On some places it
was absent altogether, and our tents were pitched where no
trees grew. The ridges on either side crossed each other
almost at right angles, turning the river now to the northeast,
again to the northwest. Down the mountain sides, broad bands
(12:23):
of white showed where the waters of numberless lakes and
streams on the heights came tumbling down to join the river,
or again a great gap in the solid mountain of
rock that threw a rush of blue, green, foaming water.
The hills have the characteristic Cambrian outline, and it is
the opinion of mister low that this formation extends continuously
eastward from the Canniapiscau to the George. The mountains on
the right bank were more rugged and irregular than those
on the left, and Bridgeman mountains and places stead out
(12:45):
to the river, quite distinct and separate, like giant forts. On
the morning of August twenty fourth, they had closed round
us as if to swallow us up, and gazing back
from our lunching place, George said, with something of awe
in his tone, it looks as if we had just
got out of prison. And still the river roared on
down through its narrow valley at Helen Falls, dropping by
wild and tempestuous cascades, and then by almost equally wild
rapids to a mile below, where it shoots out into
(13:06):
an expansion with such terrific force as to keep this
great rush of water above the general level for some
distance out into the lake. Here we made the longest
portage of the journey down the George River, carrying the stuff.
One and a quarter mile below Helen Falls, the mountains
spread in a wider sweep to the sea, and the
river gradually increased in width, as in near Dungava. Still
it flowed on in rapids so often we had asked
each other will they never end? However, in the afternoon
(13:29):
in August twenty sixth we reached smooth Water and had
a few hours paddling. Then darkness began to close in.
If only we could keep on, I knew from my
observation that day that we could not be many miles
from our journey's end now, But it was not to
be that we should reach our destination that night, and
camp was pitched at a point which I thought must
be about seven or eight miles above the post. It
was very disappointing, and when George said, if the ship
(13:50):
is there, they will be sure to try to get
off Saturday night, I felt rather desperate. Still, it would
not do to take chances with the George River in
the dark in spite of anxiety. As I slept that night,
but felt quite strong in the morning. At breakfast, I
used last the Crystallois in my tea. It seemed very
wonderful that the little ounce bottle of this precious sweet
had lasted us as long as sixty pounds of sugar.
There was just a little of our tea left, and
(14:11):
I filled the bottle with it to keep as a
souvenir of the trip, the remainder I put into one
of the waterproof salt shakers, and I gave this to George.
I learned later that there was a bit of quiet
fun among the men as I did it. They had
no great faith in my calculations, and it was their
opinion that the tea would pearl would taste quite good
at lunch. After what seemed a unnecessarily long time the camp,
things were a gun in the canoe. When we were
off about a mile below the camp, we found that
(14:32):
the rapids were not yet passed here. A heavy, though
short one made a portage necessary, and then we dropped
down where the river spreads out two miles or more
in width. For several miles we paddled on in smooth water,
the river swinging a little to the west. How eagerly
I watched the point where it turned again to the north,
for beyond that we should see the post. As we
neared the bend, there was an exciting escape fro running
into an unsuspected rapid. Nothing was to be seen ahead
(14:54):
but smooth water. The wind was from the south, and
not a sound was heard till suddenly we found ourselves
almost upon the brink of the and only by dint
of hard paddling, reached the shore just at its edge.
It was the first and only time we had been
caught in this way. Again came the question will they
never end? The rapids stretched on before us, turbulent and
noisy as before, first west, then swinging abruptly to the north.
(15:15):
Joe and Gilbert decided to port ite across the point,
but George and Job, after much consideration, prepared to run
down to the canoe, while I walked across to the
little bay below. As they were starting off, I said
to George, when you get out beyond those points, you
should be able to see the island office at the post.
All right, I'll watch for it, he replied with a smile.
When they started pushing off, they worked the canoe cautiously
out to where they meant to take the rapid. It
(15:35):
was something more of the feat than they had looked for,
and suddenly, after strenuous but ineffectual efforts to make the
canoe do what they wanted, they dropped into the bottom,
and to my amazement I saw it shoot forwards, turn
foremost into the rapid. The men had been quick as
the water, though, and in dropping to their places, had
turned a boat so that they were not quite helpless.
I stood watching them, hardly daring to breathe. The canoe
danced like an autumn leaf in the swells of the
(15:56):
rapid and Job's excited shouting came pietly over the sound
of the water. At what a pace they were going?
Was the canoe under control? I could not tell what
would happen when they reached the point where the water
swings round to the north. Again, in an agony of suspense,
I watched and waited. Now they were nearing the critical point,
and now they had passed it, and with a wild
cry of triumph, turned towards the little bay below. As
(16:19):
they drew into where I waited for them, George waved
his caf to me and shouted, I saw the island
we passed out beyond the point below, and there it
lay some miles away in the quiet water, with the
sunshine of the calm Sabbath morning flooding down upon it.
But the post was not yet in sight. Quite out
of harmony with the still dignity of the day and
the scenes of desolate grandeur about was the mind within me.
The excitement at the rapid had seemed to increase the
(16:40):
strain I was under, and every moment it became more intense.
I did wish that the men would not chat and
laugh in the unconcerned way they were doing, and they
paddled as leisurely as if I were not in a
hurry at all. If only I could reach the post
and ask about the ship, if only I might fly
out over the water without waiting for these leisurely paddles,
and now from being in an agony of fear for
their lives, my strong desire was to take them by
(17:01):
their collars and knock their heads together hard. This was
not practicable in the canoe, however, and I was fain
to control myself as best I might. Once I said
to George, do hurry a little, and for two minutes
he paddled strenuously. But soon it was again the merry
chat and the leisurely dip dip of the paddles. I
think they were laughing at me a little, and had
also in their minds the fun it would be to
see me bring out my precious tea again for lunch.
(17:21):
Suddenly we described a white speck on a point some
distance away, and drawing nearer, saw people moving about. Then
we discovered that the boat was out at some nets,
and our reaching it found an Eskimo fisherman and his
son taking in the catch. He smiled broadly as he
came to the end of his boat to shake hands
with us, and my heart sank dolly for his face
and manner fainly indicated that he had been expecting us.
This could only be explained by the fact that the
ship had been to the post, bringing with her the
(17:43):
news of my attempted crossing. We spoke to him in English,
which he seemed to understand, but he replied an Eskimo,
which we were helpless to make anything of, And after
a vain struggle for the much desired news as to
the ship, we left him and proceeded on our way.
I sat thinking desperately of the eskimaux, of the way
he had received us, and its portent. There could be
only one explanation. I had no heart now for the
(18:03):
competition as to who should first sight the post. Yet
how we hope? Even when there was nothing left to
us but the absence of certainty, I could not quite
give up. Yet suddenly George exclaimed, there it is somehow
he seemed nearly always to see things first. There it
was deep in a cove on the right bank of
the river, a little group of tiny buildings nestling in
at the foot of a mountain of solid rock. It
seemed almost microscopic in the midst of such surroundings. The
(18:27):
tide was low, and a great boulder strewn mud flat
stretched from side to side of the cove. Down from
the hills to the east flowed a little stream winding
its way through a tortuous channel. As it passed out
to the river. We turned into it and followed it up,
passing between high mud banks which obscured the posts, till
we reached a bend where the channel bore away to
the farther side of the cove. Then, to my surprise,
the men suddenly changed paddles for poles, and, turning the
(18:49):
boughs in shore, pulled right on up over the mud bank.
It was such a funny and novel performance that it
snapped the spell from me, and I jo went with
the men in their shouts of laughter over the antics
of the canoe on the slippery mud bank. When we
find reached the top and slid out onto the flat.
We saw a man, who we supposed must be mister Ford,
the agent out of the post, coming over the mud
with his retinue of Esquimaux to meet us. We were
(19:09):
all on our feet now waiting. When he came within hearing.
I asked if he were mister Ford, and told him
who I was and how I had come there. Then
came the for me great question. Has the ship been here?
He said yes, and gone again. Yes, that is what ship.
Do you mean? Is there any other ship expected here
in the company's ship? No, it is the company's ship,
I mean the Pelican. Has she been here? Yes, he said,
(19:32):
she was here last September. I expect her in September again,
about the middle of the month or later. End of
Chapter seventeen.
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