



Produced by Martin Schub










THE LONG LABRADOR TRAIL

by

DILLON WALLACE

Author of "The Lure of the Labrador Wild," etc.

Illustrated

MCMXVII






             TO THE
       MEMORY OF MY WIFE



  "A drear and desolate shore!
  Where no tree unfolds its leaves,
  And never the spring wind weaves
  Green grass for the hunter's tread;
  A land forsaken and dead,
  Where the ghostly icebergs go
  And come with the ebb and flow..."

  Whittier's "The Rock-tomb of Bradore."



PREFACE

In the summer of 1903 when Leonidas Hubbard, Jr., went to Labrador to
explore a section of the unknown interior it was my privilege to
accompany him as his companion and friend.  The world has heard of the
disastrous ending of our little expedition, and how Hubbard, fighting
bravely and heroically to the last, finally succumbed to starvation.

Before his death I gave him my promise that should I survive I would
write and publish the story of the journey.  In "The Lure of The
Labrador Wild" that pledge was kept to the best of my ability.

While Hubbard and I were struggling inland over those desolate wastes,
where life was always uncertain, we entered into a compact that in case
one of us fall the other would carry to completion the exploratory work
that he had planned and begun.  Providence willed that it should become
my duty to fulfil this compact, and the following pages are a record of
how it was done.

Not I, but Hubbard, planned the journey of which this book tells, and
from him I received the inspiration and with him the training and
experience that enabled me to succeed.  It was his spirit that led me
on over the wearisome trails, and through the rushing rapids, and to
him and to his memory belong the credit and the honor of success.

D. W. February, 1907.



CONTENTS

CHAPTER

     I  THE VOICE OF THE WILDERNESS
    II  ON THE THRESHOLD OF THE UNKNOWN
   III  THE LAST OF CIVILIZATION
    IV  ON THE OLD INDIAN TRAIL
     V  WE GO ASTRAY
    VI  LAKE NIPISHISH IS REACHED
   VII  SCOUTING FOR THE TRAIL
  VIII  SEAL LAKE AT LAST
    IX  WE LOSE THE TRAIL
     X  "WE SEE MICHIKAMAU"
    XI  THE PARTING AT MICHIKAMAU
   XII  OVER THE NORTHERN DIVIDE
  XIII  DISASTER IN THE RAPIDS
   XIV  TIDE WATER AND THE POST
    XV  OFF WITH THE ESKIMOS
   XVI  CAUGHT BY THE ARCTIC ICE
  XVII  TO WHALE RIVER AND FORT CHIMO
 XVIII  THE INDIANS OF THE NORTH
   XIX  THE ESKIMOS OF LABRADOR
    XX  THE SLEDGE JOURNEY BEGUN
   XXI  CROSSING THE BARRENS
  XXII  ON THE ATLANTIC ICE
 XXIII  BACK TO NORTHWEST RIVER
  XXIV  THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL
        APPENDIX



ILLUSTRATIONS

The Perils of the Rapids (in color, from a painting by Oliver Kemp)

Ice Encountered Off the Labrador Coast

"The Time For Action Had Come"

"Camp Was Moved to the First Small Lake"

"We Found a Long-disused Log Cache of the Indians"

Below Lake Nipishish

Through Ponds and Marshes Northward Toward Otter Lake

"We Shall Call the River Babewendigash"

"Pete, Standing by the Prostrate Caribou, Was Grinning From Ear to Ear"

"A Network of Lakes and the Country as Level as a Table"

Michikamau

"Writing Letters to the Home Folks"

"Our Lonely Perilous Journey Toward the Dismal Wastes...Was Begun"

Abandoned Indian Camp On the Shore of Lake Michikamats

"One of the Wigwams Was a Large One and Oblong in Shape"

"At Last...We Saw the Post"

"A Miserable Little Log Shack"

A Group of Eskimo Women

A Labrador Type

Eskimo Children

A Snow Igloo

The Silence of the North (in color, from a painting by Frederic C.
Stokes)

"Nachvak Post of the Hudson's Bay Company".

"The Hills Grew Higher and Higher"

"We Turned Into a Pass Leading to the Northward"

The Moravian Mission at Ramah

"Plodding Southward Over the Endless Snow"

"Nain, the Moravian Headquarters in Labrador"

"The Indians Were Here"

Geological Specimens

Maps.





CHAPTER I

THE VOICE OF THE WILDERNESS

"It's always the way, Wallace!  When a fellow starts on the long trail,
he's never willing to quit.  It'll be the same with you if you go with
me to Labrador.  When you come home, you'll hear the voice of the
wilderness calling you to return, and it will lure you back again."

It seems but yesterday that Hubbard uttered those prophetic words as he
and I lay before our blazing camp fire in the snow-covered Shawangunk
Mountains on that November night in the year 1901, and planned that
fateful trip into the unexplored Labrador wilderness which was to cost
my dear friend his life, and both of us indescribable sufferings and
hardships.  And how true a prophecy it was!  You who have smelled the
camp fire smoke; who have drunk in the pure forest air, laden with the
smell of the fir tree; who have dipped your paddle into untamed waters,
or climbed mountains, with the knowledge that none but the red man has
been there before you; or have, perchance, had to fight the wilds and
nature for your very existence; you of the wilderness brotherhood can
understand how the fever of exploration gets into one's blood and draws
one back again to the forests and the barrens in spite of resolutions
to "go no more."

It was more than this, however, that lured me back to Labrador.  There
was the vision of dear old Hubbard as I so often saw him during our
struggle through that rugged northland wilderness, wasted in form and
ragged in dress, but always hopeful and eager, his undying spirit and
indomitable will focused in his words to me, and I can still see him as
he looked when he said them:

"The work must be done, Wallace, and if one of us falls before it is
completed the other must finish it."

I went back to Labrador to do the work he had undertaken, but which he
was not permitted to accomplish.  His exhortation appealed to me as a
command from my leader--a call to duty.

Hubbard had planned to penetrate the Labrador peninsula from Groswater
Bay, following the old northern trail of the Mountaineer Indians from
Northwest River Post of the Hudson's Bay Company, situated on Groswater
Bay, one hundred and forty miles inland from the eastern coast, to Lake
Michikamau, thence through the lake and northward over the divide,
where he hoped to locate the headwaters of the George River.

It was his intention to pass down this river until he reached the
hunting camps of the Nenenot or Nascaupee Indians, there witness the
annual migration of the caribou to the eastern seacoast, which
tradition said took place about the middle or latter part of September,
and to be present at the "killing," when the Indians, it was reported,
secured their winter's supply of provisions by spearing the caribou
while the herds were swimming the river.  The caribou hunt over, he was
to have returned across country to the St. Lawrence or retrace his
steps to Northwest River Post, whichever might seem advisable.  Should
the season, however, be too far advanced to permit of a safe return, he
was to have proceeded down the river to its mouth, at Ungava Bay, and
return to civilization in winter with dogs.

The country through which we were to have traveled was to be mapped so
far as possible, and observations made of the geological formation and
of the flora, and as many specimens collected as possible.

This, then, Hubbard's plan, was the plan which I adopted and which I
set out to accomplish, when, in March, 1905, I finally decided to
return to Labrador.

It was advisable to reach Hamilton Inlet with the opening of navigation
and make an early start into the country, for every possible day of the
brief summer would be needed for our purpose.

It was, as I fully realized, no small undertaking.  Many hundreds of
miles of unknown country must be traversed, and over mountains and
through marshes for long distances our canoes and outfit would have to
be transported upon the backs of the men comprising my party, as pack
animals cannot be used in Labrador.

Through immense stretches of country there would be no sustenance for
them, and, in addition to this, the character of the country itself
forbids their use.

The personnel of the expedition required much thought.  I might with
one canoe and one or two professional Indian packers travel more
rapidly than with men unused to exploration work, but in that case
scientific research would have to be slighted.  I therefore decided to
sacrifice speed to thoroughness and to take with me men who, even
though they might not be physically able to carry the large packs of
the professional voyageur, would in other respects lend valuable
assistance to the work in hand.

My projected return to Labrador was no sooner announced than numerous
applications came to me from young men anxious to join the expedition.
After careful investigation, I finally selected as my companions George
M. Richards, of Columbia University, as geologist and to aid me in the
topographical work, Clifford H. Easton, who had been a student in the
School of Forestry at Biltmore, North Carolina (both residents of New
York), and Leigh Stanton, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, a veteran of the
Boer War, whom I had met at the lumber camps in Groswater Bay,
Labrador, in the winter of 1903-1904, when he was installing the
electric light plant in the large lumber mill there.

It was desirable to have at least one Indian in the party as woodsman,
hunter and general camp servant.  For this position my friend, Frank H.
Keefer, of Port Arthur, Ontario, recommended to me, and at my request
engaged, Peter Stevens, a full-blood Ojibway Indian, of Grand Marais,
Minnesota.  "Pete" arrived in New York under the wing of the railway
conductor during the last week in May.

In the meantime I had devoted myself to the selection and purchase of
our instruments and general outfit.  Everything must be purchased in
advance--from canoes to repair kit--as my former experience in Labrador
had taught me.  It may be of interest to mention the most important
items of outfit and the food supply with which we were provided: Two
canvas-covered canoes, one nineteen and one eighteen feet in length;
one seven by nine "A" tent, made of waterproof "balloon" silk; one
tarpaulin, seven by nine feet; folding tent stove and pipe; two
tracking lines; three small axes; cooking outfit, consisting of two
frying pans, one mixing pan and three aluminum kettles; an aluminum
plate, cup and spoon for each man; one.33 caliber high-power
Winchester rifle and two 44-40 Winchester carbines (only one of these
carbines was taken with us from New York, and this was intended as a
reserve gun in case the party should separate and return by different
routes.  The other was one used by Stanton when previously in Labrador,
and taken by him in addition to the regular outfit).  One double barrel
12-gauge shotgun; two ten-inch barrel single shot.22 caliber pistols
for partridges and small game; ammunition; tumplines; three fishing
rods and tackle, including trolling outfits; one three and one-half
inch gill net; repair kit, including necessary material for patching
canoes, clothing, etc.; matches, and a medicine kit.

The following instruments were also carried: Three minimum registering
thermometers; one aneroid barometer which was tested and set for me by
the United States Weather Bureau; one clinometer; one pocket transit;
three compasses; one pedometer; one taffrail log; one pair binoculars;
three No. 3A folding pocket Kodaks, sixty rolls of films, each roll
sealed in a tin can and waterproofed, and six "Vanguard" watches
mounted in dust-proof cases.

Each man was provided with a sheath knife and a waterproof match box,
and his personal kit, containing a pair of blankets and clothing, was
carried in a waterproof canvas bag.

I may say here in reference to these waterproof bags and the "balloon"
silk tent that they were of the same manufacture as those used on the
Hubbard expedition and for their purpose as nearly perfect as it is
possible to make them.  The tent weighed but nine pounds, was
windproof, and, like the bags, absolutely waterproof, and the material
strong and firm.

Our provision supply consisted of 298 pounds of pork; 300 pounds of
flour; 45 pounds of corn meal; 40 pounds of lentils; 28 pounds of rice;
25 pounds of erbswurst; 10 pounds of prunes; a few packages of dried
vegetables; some beef bouillon tablets; 6 pounds of baking powder; 16
pounds of tea; 6 pounds of coffee; 15 pounds of sugar; 14 pounds of
salt; a small amount of saccharin and crystallose, and 150 pounds of
pemmican.

Everything likely to be injured by water was packed in waterproof
canvas bags.

My friend Dr. Frederick A. Cook, of the Arctic Club, selected my
medical kit, and instructed me in the use of its simple remedies.  It
was also upon the recommendation of Dr. Cook and others of my Arctic
Club friends that I purchased the pemmican, which was designed as an
emergency ration, and it is worth noting that one pound of pemmican, as
our experience demonstrated, was equal to two or even three pounds of
any other food that we carried.  Its ingredients are ground dried beef,
tallow, sugar, raisins and currants.

We had planned to go north from St. Johns on the Labrador mail boat
_Virginia Lake_, which, as I had been informed by the Reid-Newfoundland
Company, was expected to sail from St. Johns on her first trip on or
about June tenth.  This made it necessary for us to leave New York on
the Red Cross Line steamer _Rosalind_ sailing from Brooklyn on May
thirtieth; and when, at eleven-thirty that Tuesday morning, the
_Rosalind_ cast loose from her wharf, we and our outfit were aboard,
and our journey of eleven long months was begun.

As I waved farewell to our friends ashore I recalled that other day two
years before, when Hubbard and I had stood on the _Silvia's_ deck, and
I said to myself:

"Well, this, too, is Hubbard's trip.  His spirit is with me.  It was
he, not I, who planned this Labrador work, and if I succeed it will be
because of him and his influence."

I was glad to be away.  With every throb of the engine my heart grew
lighter.  I was not thinking of the perils I was to face with my new
companions in that land where Hubbard and I had suffered so much.  The
young men with me were filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of
adventure in the silent and mysterious country for which they were
bound.



CHAPTER II

ON THE THRESHOLD OF THE UNKNOWN

"When shall we reach Rigolet, Captain?"

"Before daylight, I hopes, sir, if the fog holds off, but there's a
mist settling, and if it gets too thick, we may have to come to."

Crowded with an unusual cargo of humanity, fishermen going to their
summer work on "The Labrador" with their accompanying tackle and
household goods, meeting with many vexatious delays in discharging the
men and goods at the numerous ports of call, and impeded by fog and
wind, the mail boat _Virginia Lake_ had been much longer than is her
wont on her trip "down north."

It was now June twenty-first.  Six days before (June fifteenth), when
we boarded the ship at St. Johns we had been informed that the steamer
_Harlow_, with a cargo for the lumber mills at Kenemish, in Groswater
Bay, was to leave Halifax that very afternoon.  She could save us a
long and disagreeable trip in an open boat, ninety miles up Groswater
Bay, and I bad hoped that we might reach Rigolet in time to secure a
passage for myself and party from that point.  But the _Harlow_ had no
ports of call to make, and it was predicted that her passage from
Halifax to Rigolet would be made in four days.

I had no hope now of reaching Rigolet before her, or of finding her
there, and, resigned to my fate, I left the captain on the bridge and
went below to my stateroom to rest until daylight.  Some time in the
night I was aroused by some one saying:

"We're at Rigolet, sir, and there's a ship at anchor close by."

Whether I had been asleep or not, I was fully awake now, and found that
the captain had come to tell me of our arrival.  The fog had held off
and we had done much better than the captain's prediction. Hurrying
into my clothes, I went on deck, from which, through the slight haze
that hung over the water, I could discern the lights of a ship, and
beyond, dimly visible, the old familiar line of Post buildings showing
against the dark spruce-covered hills behind, where the great silent
forest begins.

All was quiet save for the thud, thud, thud of the oarlocks of a small
boat approaching our ship and the dismal howl of a solitary "husky" dog
somewhere ashore.  The captain had preceded me on deck, and in answer
to my inquiries as to her identity said he did not know whether the
stranger at anchor was the _Harlow_ or not, but he thought it was.

