This route has however of late years been disused and we
therefore turned towards the north and, crossing a small arm of the lake,
arrived at Hill Gates by sunset; having come this day eleven miles.
Hill Gates is the name imposed on a romantic defile whose rocky walls,
rising perpendicularly to the height of sixty or eighty feet, hem in the
stream for three-quarters of a mile, in many places so narrowly that
there is a want of room to ply the oars. In passing through this chasm we
were naturally led to contemplate the mighty but probably slow and
gradual effects of the water in wearing down such vast masses of rock;
but in the midst of our speculations the attention was excited anew to a
grand and picturesque rapid which, surrounded by the most wild and
majestic scenery, terminated the defile. The brown fishing-eagle had
built its nest on one of the projecting cliffs.
WHITE FALL LAKE AND RIVER.
In the course of the day we surmounted this and another dangerous portage
called the Upper and Lower Hill Gate Portages, crossed a small sheet of
water, termed the White Fall Lake and, entering the river of the same
name, arrived at the White Fall about an hour after sunset, having come
fourteen miles on a South-West course.