ACROSS THE DIVIDE
The gale continued all night with passing showers, which threatened
to riddle the tent with their force, and it was not till ten the
following forenoon that we were able to proceed, hugging the shore
as we went. Deer were about in all directions, and as we rounded a
point near the head of the lake, George, standing in the bow of the
canoe, and looking across to the woods beyond the big marsh, which
stretched away northward, said: "The wood over there is just moving
with them."
Camp was pitched on the point among the spruce and tamarack,
preparatory to scouting for George River waters, and lunch over,
Job and Joe were off to the task, while George and Gilbert built a
stage and put the caribou meat over the fire to smoke and dry
again. It was my golden opportunity to air my camp stuff, and bags
were emptied and everything spread out in the sunshine and wind.
Later my washing, neglected on Sunday on account of the storm, was
added to the decorations.
How very much I wanted to go scouting with Job and Joe! Here I
expected difficulties in finding the way. The map I carried
indicated a number of detached lakes stretching miles northward
from Lake Michikamats, and to find among the lakes of this upper
plain the one which should prove the source of the George River,
promised to be interesting work. Inwardly impatient I waited for
the return of the men. Less than two hours later I saw them come
down across the marsh to where they had left the canoe. There
mounting a huge boulder they sat down to watch the caribou.
This was trying, when I had so eagerly waited for the news they
were to bring; but a little reflection convinced me that it meant
simply - nothing definite about the George River. Otherwise they
would have come immediately to camp. The conclusion proved
correct, and when towards evening they came in, the report was -
more streams and lakes leading northward up the slope of the
plateau. We had not yet reached the real head of the Nascaupee
River.
Thursday morning, August 10th, we began our portage across the
marsh. Before leaving, the men had a few careless, ineffectual
shots at a crow which had alighted near the camp, the first of its
kind we had seen on the trip. The marsh was one mile wide from
east to west, and reached almost two miles northward from the upper
end of the lake. It was cut by many little streams, which, issuing
from a tiny lake one mile and a half above camp, wound about among
the grassy hummocks of the marsh, collecting half a mile below in a
small pond, to break again into innumerable tiny channels leading
down to Lake Michikamats.
The pond and streams above gave us some paddling. Then came more
portaging to the little lake. Below it lay a stretch of higher
ground which was a queer sort of collection of moss-covered
hummocks, crisscrossed by caribou trails cut deep into the soft
soil. Here cloudberries grew in abundance, and though not yet
ripe, they were mature enough to taste almost as good as the green
apples I used to indulge in surreptitiously in the days of my
youth. They seemed a great treat now, for they were the first
fruit found in abundance on the trip, though we had seen a few that
were nearly ripe on an island in Lake Michikamau, and on the 8th of
August Gilbert had gathered a handful of ripe blueberries on
Caribou Hill.
The lake was about one mile long and two hundred yards wide, and
was fed by a good-sized stream coming down from the north in
continuous rapids. The stream was deep, and the canoes were poled
up with all the outfit in them to the lake above, and on a great
bed of huge, packed boulders at the side of the stream we halted
for lunch. The quest was becoming more and more interesting. When
was our climbing to end? When were we really going to find the
headwaters of the Nascaupee, and stand at the summit of the
plateau? It was thoroughly exciting work this climbing to the top
of things.
That afternoon our journey carried us northwest through beautiful
Lake Adelaide, where long wooded points and islands cutting off the
view ahead, kept me in a constant state of suspense as to what was
to come next. About 4 P.M. we reached the northern extremity of
the lake, where the way seemed closed; but a little searching
discovered a tiny stream coming in from the north and west of this
the well marked Indian trail. What a glad and reassuring discovery
it was, for it meant that we were on the Indian highway from Lake
Michikamau to George River. Perhaps our task would not be so
difficult after all.
The portage led north one hundred yards to a little lake one mile
long and less than one quarter wide, and here we found ourselves at
the very head of the Nascaupee River. There was no inlet to the
lake, and north of it lay a bog two hundred yards wide which I knew
must be the Height of Land, for beyond it stretched a body of water
which had none of the appearance of a still water lake, and I felt
sure we should find its waters flowing north.
It was just 5 P.M. when, three hundred miles of my journey into the
great, silent wilderness passed, I stepped out of the canoe to
stand at last on the summit of the Divide - the first of the white
race to trace the Nascaupee River to its source.
I had a strange feeling of being at the summit of the world. The
country was flat and very sparsely wooded, but I could not see far.
It seemed to fall away on every hand, but especially to north and
south.
