Across the sub-Arctics of Canada

Upon arriving at York we were kindly received by the officer of the Hudson’s Bay Company, Dr. Milne. Our men were given lodgings and rations in one of the many vacant houses in the Fort, while my brother and I were shown into the Doctor’s bachelor quarters and allowed to occupy the room of Mr. Mowat, the assistant trader, who was absent at the time.

The first articles essential to comfort were tubs and warm water. With travellers in the north, particularly during the winter season, the practice of performing daily ablutions is quite unheard of. This is not due to neglect, but is rather an enforced custom due to the painful effects produced by the application of ice-cold water to the skin. During the previous summer and autumn my brother and I adhered to the habit of daily washing our hands and face, until our skin became so cracked and sore that we were forced to discontinue.

Besides Dr. Milne and an old-time servant, Macpherson, Mr. Mowat, now temporarily absent, was the only other white resident in York. He had, only a few days before our arrival, been sent off with two Indians as a relief party to look for the Company’s autumn mail, which was now more than six weeks overdue. The mail should have come down the Hays River from Oxford House, 250 miles distant, before the close of navigation, but as nothing had yet been heard of it or the party, fears were entertained as to their safety. It was thought they must have been lost in the river.

As to York Factory, it is one of those places of which it may be said “the light of other days has faded.” In the earlier days of the Hudson’s Bay Company it was an important centre of trade, the port at which all goods for the interior posts were received, and from which the enormous harvests of valuable furs were annually shipped. Such business naturally necessitated the building of large storehouses and many dwellings to shelter the goods and provide accommodation for the large staff of necessary servants. As late as the summer of 1886, when I visited York, there was a white population of about thirty, besides a number of Indians and half-breeds in the employ of the Company; but things had now changed. Less expensive ways of transporting goods into the interior than freighting them hundreds of miles up the rivers in York boats now existed, and as the local supply of furs had become scarce serious results necessarily followed. Gradually the staff of servants had been dismissed or removed, and one by one the dwellings vacated, until York was now almost a deserted village. The Indians also had nearly all gone to other parts of the country.

One of the first duties receiving our attention upon reaching York was the placing of poor crippled Michel in the doctor’s hands. His frozen feet, still dreadfully sore, were carefully attended to, and it was thought that in the course of a few weeks they might be sufficiently recovered to allow him to walk. As to taking him any farther with us, that was unadvisable, for he was now in the care of a physician, and in a place where he would receive all necessary attention. Besides, we would have no means of carrying him, unless upon a sled drawn by our own men, and such an additional burden would seriously retard progress. It was therefore admitted by all that the best plan was to leave Michel in Dr. Milne’s care, to be forwarded as soon as he was well enough to walk. This was promptly arranged, and with as little delay as possible preparations were made for departure.

Two dogs from our Churchill team were purchased outright from Jimmie, who happened to be the owner of them, and a third having been secured from Morrison, the Indian, we only required one more to make up a fair team, and this was procured from the Doctor. Another team was hired from the Company, and it was at first thought, with the aid of these two, we might comfortably make the twelve days’ trip to Oxford House. But when supply bills were made out it was found that with the assistance of only two teams for so long a trip, each man would have to haul a heavily-loaded toboggan. The Doctor therefore, with some difficulty, raised a third team to accompany us for two days on the journey.

The next necessary preparation was the procuring of a guide and drivers for the teams. As the mail-carriers and two other Indians, Mr. Mowat’s companions, had already gone to Oxford House, few men were left at the Fort who knew the route; but happily a man was found who turned out to be another brother of our guide from Churchill. He was a very dark Indian, younger than Jimmie, and of much less noble appearance, and was known by the name of Charlie. He was said to be well fitted for the purpose, and we felt that a brother of our guide could not be a very poor man. Our party, including Arthur Omen, the driver from Churchill, who had determined to accompany us out of the country, was now complete. Twelve days’ rations, consisting of bacon, flour, sugar and tea, were served out to each man, with a warning to make them last through the trip or suffer the consequences. The flour was then baked up into the more convenient form of cakes. Dog-fish was also provided, and all being loaded upon the three sleds and two toboggans, the second stage of our sledding journey was begun on Tuesday morning, the 28th of November. The dog-sleds were not the same as those we had used in traversing the hard driven snow of the plains, but were what are known as “flat sleds” or large toboggans, they being better suited to woodland travel.

The condition of our party on leaving York was vastly different from what it had been on leaving Churchill. The two hundred mile tramp, although crippling some of us and causing all plenty of exertion, had hardened our muscles so much that, with the ten days’ “lie up” on the bank of the Nelson River, and a four days’ rest at York, we were now in first-class walking trim, and started up the Hays River at a brisk pace.

The first day’s march was upon the river ice, and our first camp was made on the bank, in two feet of snow, beneath the shelter of the evergreens. Beyond this our course led through the woods to the north of the river, and by many winding ways we journeyed on.

On the morning of the third day the assisting team from York, leaving its load with us, returned to the Factory. A readjustment of loads was then made, and with the two remaining teams we pushed on, though now more slowly, for Oxford House.

At about noon on the 1st of December we were pleased to meet Mr. Mowat, returning with the long-looked for mail and party, all safe. The delay in the arrival of the mail had been caused by one of the Indians becoming ill soon after leaving Norway House, and having to return to that post. After a brief halt, each party now having the advantage of the other’s track, we started on, pursuing opposite ways, they to their solitary home on the ice-bound coast of Hudson Bay, and we towards ours in the more genial south.

At this time the temperature remained pretty steady at about 25 degrees below zero, but with the exertion of the march during the day, and the shelter of blankets and the warmth of the camp-fire at night, we managed to keep fairly comfortable.

About sixteen miles beyond a large stream known as Fox River we came upon an ancient track. This in earlier days had been travelled by oxen and Red River carts, and over it hundreds of tons of freight had annually been hauled; but now it was so grown up with trees that it often required the skill of the guide to keep it. The track led directly to Oxford, so that from this forward it was to be our road.

Since leaving the banks of the Hays River no timber of any value had been seen. The wood had all been black spruce of a very scrubby character, but now poplar, birch and jack-pine were occasionally met with.

On December the 4th the temperature ran down to 34 degrees below zero, but on the following day this record was beaten, and 40 degrees below was registered. In this low temperature we naturally found some difficulty in keeping warm. When the day’s tramp was over, and our position taken for the night beside the camp-fire, it was found necessary either to slowly revolve or frequently reverse our position. It was a question of roasting or freezing, or rather doing both at the same time. While one’s face was turned to the fire and enduring a roasting heat, his back was freezing, and as the position was reversed the roasting and freezing process was also reversed. Our meals, after being prepared, were served up on the hot pan to keep them warm while eating, but even so they were sometimes frozen to the frying pan before they could be disposed of.

During the afternoon of the 4th and the morning of the 5th of December we crossed Deer Lake, twenty-seven miles in length, and at either end of the lake found camps of Indians. From one of them we purchased some fine whitefish, which they were catching through the ice.

By this time our guide Charlie had become pretty badly used up by the march. He was no longer able to hold the lead, but our own men managed to keep the track and Charlie hobbled along behind.

During the evening of the 6th and the morning of the 7th of December we crossed a succession of thirteen small lakes and some flat open plains, but the afternoon of the latter day saw a marked change in the character of the country. With the exception of two or three isolated patches, we had seen nothing in the shape of timber of any value since leaving York—indeed, I might say since leaving Churchill, or even a thousand miles or so farther back on the road. But now we had reached a heavy forest of white spruce, jack-pine, poplar and birch trees, and the change was a pleasing one.

For a distance of six or eight miles we trudged through this heavy forest, and then, just at nightfall, reached the shore of Back Lake, really an extension of Oxford Lake. One of my brother’s feet had become so sore during the day that he had been obliged to walk with only one snowshoe. On this account we had fallen several miles behind the leaders of the party, and when we arrived at the shore of the lake above described, nothing could we see of the outfit, and both because of darkness and the hard surface of the snow, it was with great difficulty we were able to follow the track. It led away across the lake, and for a time we managed to follow it. While doing so we carefully noted its bearing, but soon the faint tracks could no longer be followed, for the night was becoming dark. We feared to lose them, as there might be a change in their course and then our bearing would not lead us aright. For a time, upon hands and knees, we tried to follow the trail, but could not keep upon it continuously.

Keeping as straight a course as we could, we pressed on through the darkness toward the distant shore, the dark outline of which could just be discerned against the lighter sky. At length we reached the shore, when, after passing through a narrow strip of woods, to our joy there suddenly flashed out before us, a few yards ahead, the lights of Oxford House. A few minutes later we were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Isbister, one of the most hospitable old couples it has ever been my good fortune to meet. Mr. Isbister was the local agent of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and was a thorough old-time Canadian, one of those men filled with reminiscences of early Canadian life in the north and whose many stories were a delight to hear.

Having reached Oxford in safety, preparations were at once commenced for our journey to the next post—Norway House—150 miles farther west. Some delay was occasioned in getting dogs, but at length three miserable half-starved teams were secured, and with a new guide and drivers we set out on the third stage of our winter journey. Without narrating the many incidents by the way, I need only say that after a six days’ tramp, with the thermometer in the neighborhood of 40 degrees below zero, we arrived safely at Norway House, an important Hudson’s Bay Company’s post, situated at the northern extremity of Lake Winnipeg. Two of the dog-teams procured at Oxford had been intended to haul my brother and myself, and for a time they did so, but the poor animals were in such a wretched condition from the effects of former hard work that we preferred to walk most of the time, and before we reached our destination considered ourselves fortunate that we escaped without having to haul the dogs.

At Norway House the difficulties of the journey, so far as my brother and I were concerned, were practically ended. Enough strong, capable dogs were here secured to admit of our travelling in carry-alls for the remaining four hundred miles still separating us from West Selkirk, the northern terminus of the railway; but of course the Indians had to stick to their snowshoes. It was here decided to divide our party, and send the three western men home, assisted by the team of Eskimo dogs which had accompanied us the whole six hundred miles from Churchill. The valley of the Saskatchewan River would be their most direct course, in taking which route they would reach their several homes by travelling about the same distance as ourselves. Arthur Omen, the driver from Churchill, chose to go up the Saskatchewan with the western men, so that of the original party there only remained the two Iroquois, Pierre and Louis, to accompany my brother and myself. With the least possible delay four good dog-teams, as many drivers, and a guide were procured from Mr. J. K. Macdonald, the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Factor, who showed us much kindness, and two days before Christmas the last and longest division of our journey was begun.

My brother and I were now warmly rolled up in robes and blankets and lying in our carry-alls. Supplies and baggage were all loaded upon the two remaining sleds, and with a driver trotting along beside or behind each team, the guide running before, and the two Iroquois sometimes before and sometimes behind, we travelled on an almost due south course over the ice along the shore of Lake Winnipeg. About the same time that we started for the south, the other section set out across the lake to the westward for the mouth of the Saskatchewan River.

Our teams, of four dogs each, were for the most part fine powerful animals, and we soon found there was no necessity for my brother or myself exerting ourselves more than we desired. The teams travelled all day, and, indeed, day after day, at a rapid trot, sometimes breaking into a run, so that it gave the Indians all they could do to keep up with them.

Taking smooth and rough together we made an average of about forty miles per day, and some days as much as forty-six or forty-seven miles. When we had made about half the distance to Selkirk, and were in the neighborhood of a fishing station at the mouth of Berens River, poor Pierre played out; but, most opportunely, we met a man teaming fish to Selkirk and secured a passage for him, while we ourselves pushed on. When we had made another hundred miles Louis, the remaining Iroquois, also became crippled. Arrangements were made to have him, too, driven in with a horse and sleigh, and without delay we pursued our journey.

At length, after along and rapid trip, which occupied ten days, on the evening of the 1st of January, 1894, under the light of the street lamps of the little town, our teams trotted up the streets of West Selkirk, and thus was completed a canoe and snowshoe journey of three thousand two hundred miles.

I need hardly say that the telegraph office was soon found, and messages despatched to anxious friends, who, having heard nothing from us for some months, had begun to entertain grave fears for our safety. Thirteen hundred miles more of travel by rail and we were home again, after an absence of just eight months.