Fort George, B. C., 19th Dec., 1874.
On the 13th, we were 45 miles from Quesnelle, having had some fearfully
bad trail over side hill and deep snow. Of course, side hills are good enough
for mule trains but when you try dogs, you will find they won't work worth a
cent. The dogs go straight enough but the sled will not keep after them, being
more inclined to seek the valley below. So as you can imagine it requires a
good deal of work and patience to keep the sled in the road while the dogs
haul.
The 13th was Sunday, and we had a very heavy fall of snow, but wore
able to make 12 miles that day. As the snow was now very heavy I gave my train
to Johnny and went ahead with Jarvis, who in addition to the work of breaking
track had been very busy all the time counting his stops, so as to get the
correct distance. Henceforth I shared his labour, and I can't say that I like
pacing distances. Hard work it is to break track, but when you have anything to
think of it is pleasanter. But when you walk all day and think of nothing but
1, 2, 3, &c., &c., it is monotonous enough for anything. However, all
this is a part and a necessary one of the proposed exploration, and I shan't
growl at anything we have had so far.
We had a hard bit of work at the Blackwater River, 50 miles from
Quesnelle. The river is bridged by poles and telegraph wire, but on this side
it is bare ground and the hill is very steep indeed. The poor dogs did their best
to get up, but the end of the matter was that we hauled the loads and they
looked on. I went back to my own train, and with three men hauling, we got it
up at last, but lam afraid my whip did more than its share of duty that day. We
got on top of the hill about noon, and had rest and lunch there. We now had
about two feet of snow, which was very soft and clung to our snowshoes in great
masses; it was also very hard on the dogs, this wading through snow, only
freshly beaten down by two pair of snowshoes.
On account of the heavy snow we had, on the 16th, to make another cache
(No.2) of provisions, stationery box, &c., and on the 17th one of our sleds
rolled down a steep hide hill, and when recovered wasn't worth much, except as
kindling wood. The dogs were all right; how they manage themselves I don't
know, so we had to cache what stuff we could spare, put some on the one remaining
sled, and take the rest on our backs, the four dogs running with only their
harness to trouble them (Cache No. 3.)
I forgot to mention that after crossing the Blackwater we left the
telegraph trail, which goes on north, and took a C. P. B. trail to Fort George.
This latter is if possible a worse one than the telegraph trail. At noon on the
18th, as we were at lunch, an Indian from Fort George came along, and in reply
to our questions said we wouldn't get to the fort that night, as it was "
siah,” a long way. This Indian had a small dog, on which had
his kettle, blanket and grub, he himself carrying the axe and some fuel. Happy
thought for us, why not make these beasts of ours do some of our work, and take
the packs which are wearing our shoulders away. No sooner said than done, we
loaded them and started, Jarvis ahead, counting one, two. three, I next,
calling along the packed dogs, and Johnny behind, poking up the lagging ones
with a stick. Alec drove the sled behind. It was a comic sight to see the dogs
who had never packed before, go rolling from side to side with their loads. As
sure as one would try to jump a log, the weight of the load would tumble him back,
and if he did manage to get on the top of the log, the weight would tumble him
forward in the snow, where he would lie till helped up, but they soon got used
to it and were able to follow us, and we went at a good pace, being on a hard
track and in a hurry. At any rate we got into Fort
George about & p.m. that (last) night, though Alec and his train didn't
arrive for some hours after. Distance by oar pacing, 125 miles from Quesnelle.
By the river it would have been 83 miles. We spent 12 days on the way, one of which
was at Pollock's. Greatest distance we did was on the last day, 23 miles. On the way,
we had used up one sled completely, and the other is fit for nothing now. We made three caches,
containing in all about two-thirds of our original loads. This looks bad for our
future journey, of which this is scarcely a beginning, but the road we have
come over is a most fearful one, while the river which we will follow from here
will be much better. At any rate, and we express it, " the country is
quite safe," meaning we are quite safe.
The country between Quesnelle
and here is wooded; in some places burnt over, in others green. It is very
hilly and broken, and the trail generally runs from the top of one hill to the
top of the next, making it first rate for a telegraph line, but very tough on
the dogs and us. On the whole it is the worst place I ever saw to do this kind
of travelling, and I shall never try it again.
We found Fort George in charge of Mr. Bovil, a son of the
Chief Justice of England. With him is staying Charlie Ogden from Stewart's Lake
Post. He, the latter, came down to help us get a fair start, and seems very
ready to put us in the way of getting dogs, men, &c.
After supper last night, we lit our pipes, and we spent the evening
discussing the plans to be adopted &c., &c. Ogden is pretty well posted
in the country. Bovil is just out from England, and consequently very green in
those matters. He is a gentleman and a good cook. As his rations in the H. B.
Co. don't amount to more than 25 lbs. dried salmon per week, flour and tea in
addition, he won't have much chance to exercise his knowledge of the culinary
art! At present he has killed one of
his working oxen and we are living well. What he will do for his next
year's crop I don't know, but he hates the sight of a dried salmon and I hardly
wonder at it.
I'll put some more to this shortly.
