After another hour’s progress we camped for the night at the eastern end of the lake[17], and at six o’clock next morning proceeded on our way along Bruly [sic] River. A little way up this stream our “bow” Indian[18] ejaculated “Chemung, chemung” (Chippewa for canoe), and sure enough approaching us from the east we made out a big birch bark containing the first human beings, outside of our own party, we had seen in nearly four days.
On coming to close quarters, we found the strangers to be two Indians bound from Savanne with a load of merchandise, which they hoped to dispose of at Nequaquin, where, in the course of a few days, the treaty redskins were to be paid their annual allowance by the Government agent. These “payment” days the Indians make occasions for furious orgies, and the traders usually succeed in securing all the aborigines’ money before the celebrations are concluded.[19]
On Bruly portage into Baril Lake I first saw the remains of a portion of the old Dawson route, which, before the days of the C.P.R., formed the link of communication between the head of Lakes Superior[sic] and Winnipeg. The long chain of lakes and rivers extending through this territory, and connected by portages, was made use of in this thoroughfare between the east and the west. Wolseley and his soldiers, it will be remembered, went over this road in their journey west to cope with the Riel rising of 1870. The route has been discontinued for years, and at many points along it I saw the rotted remains of the barges used on the lakes in the old days. Were the road somewhat repaired and the bridges between Lakes Superior and Shebandowan restored, the thoroughfare might yet be employed as a means of reaching certain sections of the mining country which even the Ontario and Rainy River Railway will not touch.[20]
Baril Bay
Still following the Dawson route, we crossed the portage from Baril Lake into Baril Bay, where a mother partridge with a brood of chicks flew at us like a barnyard hen in defence of her little ones. Baril Bay is the extreme southwesterly arm of Lac de Mille Lac [sic]. This lake of a thousand lakes is a big body of water, divided, as its name implies, by promontories and archipelagoes of islands into a myriad of arms. One unaquainted with its intricacies with difficulty finds his way about in it, and, to add to the unpleasantness of navigating it, no matter which way you are bound, head winds are always churning the shallow waters into choppy seas, which unmercifully toss a small canoe about. The distance from Baril portage to the northern end of the lake is about 28 miles, but after an all-day paddle in the face of a gale, with two stops to replenish the inner man, we accomplished the journey. A further stage of a mile and a half up the sluggish Savanne River brought us about 10 p.m. to Savanne, a station on the C.P.R. about 70 miles west of Port Arthur.[21] This point, of which I will say more about in another letter, is the coldest, it is said, in Ontario, and, though the heat had been intense on the lake all day, here, as we stood around on the railway platform, we all shivered in our boots. Adjoining the little station is a hospitable little hostelry kept by a Mrs. Grant, but upon our arrival all the available beds had been taken by a number of travelers, just in from Partridge Lake, Oshinawe Lake and Shebandowan gold regions [22] , among whom were Mr. Thomas Marks of Port Arthur, a gentleman, who, though 65 years of age, still likes to rough it in the woods: Mr. Peter McKellar of Fort William, Mr. D.M. Owen of Nova Scotia, and Mr. H. St. J. Montizambert of Toronto.[23] As a result, most of us had to make shift to sleep upon the floor as best we could. In one room Messrs. Wiley and Montizambert and myself tried to share two pillows without any covering except the clothes we had worn all day, but our efforts proved rather futile, and we were all glad when the train from the west came along about 3 a.m., and took us aboard for Port Arthur. A canoe trip of something like 200 miles in and about the Saw Bill, Upper Seine and Atik Okan districts, with an energetic fellow-traveler like Mr. Wiley[24], whose motto seems to be “I never sleep”, taxes the physical energies of the bravest, and I think that at the end of it my genial companion himself felt rather tired out (though, of course, he maintained that he didn’t), for, on reaching home, he is reported to have indulged in a snooze of some hours’ duration.
F.D.L.S.
END NOTES
17 Today, Highway 11 traces the southeastern shore of Windigoostigwan Lake. Further to the northeast is the main pond of Windigoostigwan, through which this canoe party traveled. A string of ponds leads to the southern pond which Hwy. 11 skirts. Portaging from Elbow Lake to the main pond, the canoe party heads to the east end and the Brûlé River. In reaching this lake, they have crossed an invisible line, the 91st meridian east, and have left Rainy River District and are now travelling in Thunder Bay District. The Brûlé River runs a very short distance westward from Windigoostigwan. It drains Brûlé Lake. Another short stream drains Baril Lake into Brûlé Lake. Baril Lake is the last lake, going northeastward, before Lac des Mille Lacs. A portage links Baril Lake with Baril Bay on Mille Lacs.
18 This is the only acknowledgement that the canoe party depended on Indigenous paddlers. This was a common practice for wilderness travelers in the 19th century, continuing into the 20th. The non-Indigenous people were passengers; the Indigenous people acted as guides and performed most of the camp duties; on this trip they would have caught the fish and gathered the seagull eggs and cooked the meals.
19 Treaty No. 3 specified that every Indigenous person received an annual payment of five dollars. In return, the people “surrendered” to non-Indigenous people the right of passage through their land and reasonable use (not exclusive use) of their resources. They never anticipated that 55,000 square miles of territory would be “surrendered” forever for the exclusive use of non-Indigenous people. So, every treaty day, once a year, Ojibway and Métis gathered to get their “free money” from a non-Indigenous government. It was indeed a cause for celebration. Incidentally, the place name Nequaquin is not found on modern maps.
20 The Dawson route or trail (sometimes called a road), named after Simon Dawson, who surveyed it, was started in early 1869. It was a chain of lakes, rivers, portages, and primitive roads which linked Port Arthur with Winnipeg. In late May of 1870, Colonel Garnet Wolseley led a contingent of militia and soldiers over this route which was still under construction. Wolseley was charged with putting down the Louis Riel “rebellion”, which historians today deem a resistance, not a rebellion.
21 Savanne was a watering stop on the Canadian Pacific Railway. The first spike in the CPR was driven in June 1875 at Fort William, and the first train traveled from there to Winnipeg in May 1883. In 1897, the Dawson Trail had been abandoned for 14 years, but canoeists still utilized it to access the roadless and railless interior.
22 The Partridge Lake, Oshinawe Lake and Shebandowan Lake gold regions were located north of Savanne and Lac des Mille Lacs. The Dawson route jogged sharply north from these regions to Mille Lacs. The extract from Colonel Wolseley’s 1871 account alludes to the portage into Mille Lacs. This writer can find no mention of an Oshinawe Lake.
23 Thomas Marks: An entrepreneur and financier, first mayor of Port Arthur, who played a major role in the development of the community.
Peter McKellar: Prospector and mine-finder, brother of the first mayor of Fort William who both played a major role in the development of that community, discoverer of the Atikokan iron range in 1870.
H. St. J. Montizambert: Lieutenant-Colonel Harold St. John Montizambert, shortly after his trek in the wilderness, assumed command of the Royal Canadian Artillery detachment in Kingston, Ontario. His father, Dr. Frederick Montizambert, worked in public service in Quebec, and in 1899, assumed the post of Director General of Public Health in Canada.
24 The reader learns that F.D.L.S.’s canoe companion was a Mr. Wiley, probably Harold A. Wiley, who, along with Thomas Marks and Peter McKellar, owned properties in the Atikokan iron range.
[That’s all, folks!]