Читать книгу Paddling the Boreal Forest - Stone James Madison - Страница 10

1 The Iron Man of Canada

IROLL THE CANOE OFF MY aching shoulders onto sphagnum-covered boulders, as Jim wades slowly uphill through waist-high wet Labrador tea, bent under the food pack we are carrying for our six-week trip. Halfway across Long Portage, we collapse, exhausted, at the point where the faint trail disappears; this time for good. Soaked by yet another drenching rain, with the muskeg sucking at our boots and the blackflies sucking at our blood, we are forcefully struck again by the incredible stamina and endurance of previous travellers and the Aboriginals who guided them over this now half-forgotten route. We had expected that this 1000-km route from Naococane Lake, near the Quebec border with the western-most border of Labrador, to the community of Waskaganish, formerly called Rupert House, where the Rupert River dumps its waters into James Bay would be tough. But not this tough.

I am reminded of a poem by Alfred DesRochers that describes just how we feel at the moment:

We are the dwindled sons of a race of supermen,

The violent, strong, adventurous, from this strain,

We take a northbound homesickness, which comes

With the Grey Days that autumn brings again.”¹

One of these “supermen” was Albert Peter Low.

Albert Peter Low is a typical Canadian hero. He did much for Canada, but his accomplishments have been largely forgotten. Like many individuals who have helped to shape our view of the world, he has disappeared through the cracks of history. Low worked as a geologist for the Geological Survey of Canada (GSC), the pre-eminent scientific organization of that time, created in 1842 by Sir William Logan² and still in existence today. Low's career encompassed the last eighteen years of the 19th century and the first twelve years of the 20th, during which time he and his colleagues contributed much to filling in the cartographic blanks in the map of Canada. When Low began his work, it was only fifteen years after Confederation (1867) and much of Canada was still largely unknown and unmapped, particularly the vast northern areas obtained through the acquisition of Rupert's Land from the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) in 1870, for the sum of 300,000 British pounds — equivalent then to $1.4 million.³

Rising from relatively humble origins, Low became the director of the Geological Survey and then deputy minister of the Department of Mines. In his private life he was a keen sportsman, playing on some of the first hockey teams in Canada, and a figure of note in the early days of football in Ottawa. But it is his accomplishments as a map-maker, geologist, explorer and wilderness traveller, documenting and photographing the vast Quebec-Labrador peninsula, that he is almost without peer. Between 1881 and 1899 he spent over 2,500 days travelling by canoe and snowshoe — that's almost seven years — and describing by map and in written notes more than 200,000 square miles of the Quebec-Labrador peninsula. He was the first to detail the geology and the main river routes across this huge area, which was largely unknown except to a few quiet people in the Hudson's Bay Company and, of course, to the Aboriginals who had lived here for thousands of years. He also spent an additional 644 days in small sailing vessels, 423 days on the Neptune alone, and yes, even 180 days in Paris, France — a total of 3728 days (more than ten years!) away during a career of 24 years. But until now his full story has never been written or told to the general public.

A few wilderness paddlers know Albert Peter Low for his accurate descriptions of the extensive canoe routes he mapped through what is now northern Quebec and Labrador,⁴ and published in the annual reports of the Geological Survey of Canada during the closing years of the 19th century. These descriptions still guide intrepid canoeists intent on following obscure routes across the north of Quebec and Ungava. Portages are listed and rapids described with meticulous accuracy. Eastmain, Rupert, Caniapiscau, Leaf, Rivière aux Melézès, Mistassini, Nichicun, Clearwater, Hamilton (now called Churchill), Romaine⁵ — these are just some of the lakes and rivers Low mapped. Their names still ring out with adventure.

Albert Peter Low is best known for his tough canoe trips. Perhaps more than anyone else of his time, he perfected the skill of travelling by canoe over long distances and rough terrain, while at the same time making maps, recording observations and putting up with hardships that few today can envisage. Duke Watson⁶ of Seattle, who has a paddling resumé that few, if any, can match today, places A.P. Low at the top rank among the great Geological Survey of Canada explorers. He considers Low's 1893–94 trip through Quebec-Labrador — “more than 5,500 miles” — as one of the great canoe trips of all time!⁷ How's this for an itinerary — Chamouchouane River, Rupert River, Eastmain River, Lake Nichicun, Caniapiscau River, Koksoak River, Hamilton River, Lake Petitskapau, Lake Michikamau, Romaine River and St. John River to Mingan, just east of Sept-Îles on the north shore of the St. Lawrence River. His pencilled field notebooks and hand-drawn maps are a source of inspiration for the small cadre of extreme canoeists who have retraced his routes, unencumbered by his duty to map the route and geology of the terrain, but blessed by accurate maps and waterproof materials.

His best-known exploit shows the strength of the man. After the first six months of a year-long (1884–85) federal/provincial expedition to map Lake Mistassini, for which he was second in command, he had had enough of the numerous delays in the trip which he blamed on the leader, John Bignell. In February 1885, he decided to return to Ottawa to obtain authorization to take over the expedition. This determination required snowshoeing 200 miles or 320 kilometres from Lake Mistassini to Lac Saint-Jean in frigid weather and deep snow with one partner, then sledding to Quebec City to catch the train to Ottawa. Once armed with a letter giving him the mandate to assume leadership, he returned via a similar route with a party of six. The approaching spring thaw during unseasonably mild above-freezing temperatures forced them to travel at night when the mushy snow had frozen to form a solid crust. He arrived after 87 days of absence.

Canadian geologists know of Albert Peter Low. His descriptions and analyses of his mineral findings cover an immense area. He was the first to describe the vast iron ore deposits of the Labrador Trough (called Ungava Trough by the Quebec government, which does not recognize the Quebec-Labrador border); these were eventually the source of ore for the mines at Schefferville, Labrador City and Fermont. He also described the surficial geology of much of the northern Quebec-Labrador region, and applied his interpretations to describe the role of glaciers in sculpting the land and redistributing its mineral treasures, using the relatively new theory of continental glaciation.⁸ He was one of the last of the golden era of generalist geologists, which included Robert Bell,⁹ Joseph Tyrrell¹⁰ and many others who worked for the Geological Survey of Canada before the 20th century. His work predated the concept of the term “shield”¹¹ as applied to the extensive areas of exposed ancient igneous and metamorphic bedrock that cover vast reaches of northern Canada.

This Topley Studio (Ottawa) photograph of A.P. Low shows him in the prime of his at the age of 26 (May 1887). During this period he was an avid hockey and football player. Courtesy of LAC photo collection, PA-214276, William James Topley.

For the geographer, Low's descriptions of the geology, geography, forest, history, peoples and lifestyles in northern Quebec and Labrador in the waning years of the 19th century, all based on first-hand experience, were described by one admirer as “une Bible, le plus important texte jamais paru sur le Quebec-Labrador.”¹² Though he did not discover new lands, he meticulously mapped long travel routes used by others in the area, and put precision into what had only been roughly described before, along with a wealth of details based on his observations. His reports published by the Geological Survey of Canada are a vivid benchmark of a vast area that is now in the throes of rapid and irrevocable change — a vivid portrayal of what was then as compared to what is now.

This is believed to be the McGill University football club of 1882. Though not named in the photograph, A.P. Low is seated in the centre of the second row. Courtesy of the McCord Museum, Notman Collection, photo 11–64364.

For the anthropologist and historian, Albert Peter Low is best known for his command of the Canadian government expedition in 1903–04, dispatched to reinforce Canada's sovereignty claim to much of the eastern Arctic. His book, The Cruise of the Neptune,¹³ records a glimpse of life in the eastern Arctic just after the turn of the century. It is replete with photos of Inuit and descriptions of their culture, meetings with American whalers, accounts of the marine wildlife and an evaluation of the navigational potential of Hudson Bay, as well as some new observations of geology of this vast area.

We unexpectedly discovered that his sporting exploits, as well as his geological and geographical accomplishments, also merit a place for him in Canadian history. While a student in engineering at McGill College and University in Montreal, during 1881 and 1882, Low played hockey for the newly established McGill team. Organized hockey was just coming into being, and the earliest known photograph of a hockey team in uniform shows Albert Peter Low. He took his experience with him when he moved to Ottawa in 1882, and was an early member of organized hockey in Ottawa before the founding of the Stanley Cup in 1892. A football player on the McGill team, he also took his football skills to Ottawa, where he was president of the Ottawa Football Club for several seasons in the 1890s. As he matured, he turned to more sedate sports and became an avid curler.

As a volunteer in the Active Militia in Ottawa between 1896 and 1901, he rose to the rank of lieutenant in the 43rd Regiment of Infantry. Militia service was not a career for him, but his experience was a common one, used at the time to build social contacts and bolster career advancement. As a citizen of Ottawa during the period from 1882 until his death in October 1942, he experienced the nation's capital during its transformation from a rough lumber town notorious for its taverns and drunken brawls to a large city, a political, social and cultural centre of Canada, with sedate civil servants carrying briefcases replacing the rowdy lumbermen. During his time he saw the introduction of sewers, telephones, electricity and automobiles. He and his wife, Isabella, the daughter of an influential alderman of Ottawa, C.R. Cunningham, had three children. But Low lost both sons and his wife long before he died. Only his eldest child, a daughter named Estelle who never married, outlived him.

As a lifetime employee in the Geological Survey, he was part of the federal government, and his career is a window beckoning us to look into its workings during that era. A trained scientist in the premier government scientific institution of its day, his career was one of slow progression in an institution that was often starved of funds. Like some of his colleagues, he complained about the low pay scales and finally left for better pay in the private sector. Unlike many of these colleagues, he, however, soon returned to the Geological Survey. In 1906, he was appointed director of the Geological Survey “over the heads” of some geologists who bitterly resented that he had fewer years of service than themselves. The following year, he was appointed deputy minister of the newly formed Department of Mines, but was struck with a debilitating disease that eventually ended his career. His illness was officially described as cerebral meningitis, but whispered to be syphilis by his enemies, even though there is no evidence for this. Low went on medical leave a few months after becoming deputy minister, and never returned to work again.

So why haven't we heard more of him? While he lived to 81, he left little of the story of his life behind. At least, we did not find any treasure troves of private papers and diaries left in some long-forgotten trunk in a dusty attic. Not one personal letter turned up anywhere. What did his friends call him — Bert? Pete? One of the few living relatives that we found, Mrs. Wynn Turner of Perth, Ontario, great-grand-niece of Albert Peter Low, told us that oral family history has always referred to him as “A.P.”

In contrast, several of his colleagues in the Geological Survey — such as Joseph Tyrrell and Robert Bell — left behind large volumes of letters, diaries and clippings which are accessible and which provide extensive insights into their professional and personal lives. Perhaps the illness that caused Low's retirement also deprived him of a productive period when many write their memoirs or organize their materials. Perhaps this dearth of memorabilia is due to a lack of surviving family members in a position to ensure that his materials were not lost. As noted, Low's two sons and wife died before he did. Only his spinster daughter survived him and little is known of her or what she may have done with any of her father's personal papers. The only known trove of Low's handwritten material is his survey notebooks housed in the Library and Archives Canada in Ottawa. Perhaps this dearth is due to Low's reticence to put himself in the public spotlight. He was a modest man. In contrast, and in the same decades, Joseph Tyrrell captured the public imagination with his trips across the central Barren Lands. His brother's report on the first expedition, “Across the Sub-Arctics of Canada” has become a well-known book for Arctic collectors. Tyrrell also had the luck to find dinosaur bones in southern Alberta, a discovery that ultimately led to a museum being named after him. Low, on the other hand, only wrote exceptionally detailed and accurate geological reports, which do not make vibrant reading — unless you are a wilderness paddler. His book, The Cruise of the Neptune, is a good read for those who are interested in the era and locale, but is long out of print. Lastly, Low's tenure in the office of director of the Geological Survey was short, and his tenure as deputy minister of Mines was marred straightaway by his debilitating illness, so that he had little time to make his mark as a senior bureaucrat.

In Low's time there were still vast unknown areas of Canada yet to be explored — a time when no one knew what riches were hidden just beyond the next bend in the river, or over the next hill; a time when basic knowledge of geography, vegetation, wildlife and the indigenous peoples who lived in these shadowy unknown lands could be revealed and brought into the knowledge and consciousness of the Canadian society, largely clustered to the south, close to the border with the United States. Canada then was a young and emerging nation, defining its dreams and visions of the future. When the first Canadian National Park, Banff, was established in the Rocky Mountains in 1885, Low was exploring vast Lake Mistassini in rugged country east of James Bay. The next year, the Canadian Pacific Railway was completed while Low was in wild country west of James Bay. The Northwest Rebellion, the Klondike Gold Rush, the death of Canada's first Prime Minister, Sir John A. MacDonald, the election of Sir Wilfrid Laurier's Liberal Party in 1896, all occurred in his time.

For those whose passion is history, it is well known that historical research can be both exhilarating and exhausting. Jim is determined to make known the exploits of this remarkable, yet largely unknown, Canadian explorer. Jim is also addicted to dark green, the colour of spruce. I too have a serious addiction — to watching landscape pass before my eyes at the speed of a canoe. So we put our addictions together and hatched a plan to retrace some of A.P. Low's exceptional canoe explorations. How better to come to know someone than to follow in his footsteps, to sweat over the same portages and to be bitten by direct descendents of the same blackflies and mosquitoes that bit him. Thus was born the A.P. Low Expedition 2002.

GETTING READY

This expedition begins in the depths of the Library and Archives Canada, where we find a wealth of Low's photographs and government reports. We strike gold; here are Low's original maps and his handwritten field notebooks. But sniffing out old documents only reveals what happened to him and what he did. There is still much missing. To really understand the character of A.P. Low, we need to follow in at least some of his actual footsteps. As canoeists in need of a good excuse for a trip, we decide to follow some of Low's canoe routes, to retrace the portages that he used, and face the same navigation challenges that he overcame. But we want to do more than simply retrace his canoe routes. We want to find a way into his mind and heart, and maybe even touch his soul. Only by doing so can we truly achieve an appreciation of the magnitude of his extraordinary accomplishments, his determination and his resourcefulness.

One evening in the darkness of January 2002, Jim came over to my home, to find me sitting cross-legged on the floor of the dining room, which at the time was covered with 1:250,000 scale topographic maps.

“Jim,” I said, bewildered by the array of information, “we'll never find our way through this country. It's a maze, and everything looks just the same.” By then I had been reading A.P. Low's reports to the Geological Survey and trying to transcribe the route he took onto modern maps. “Admit it, Jim. We're hopelessly lost and we're not even out of the house yet.”

However, with perseverance and help from the original maps drawn by Low and his assistants, we put together a route that combines several of his explorations. From the village of Mistissini¹⁴ on the lake bearing almost the same name, about 400 kilometres north of Quebec City, we will fly by floatplane to Lake Naococane, near the Quebec border with Labrador. We choose this as a starting point because the lake appears on the maps as a most amazing body of water, with thousands of islands, peninsulas and elongated bays. Here, even the redoubtable Low became lost in this maze of land and water while on his 1895 expedition,¹⁵ and turned back from his attempt to reach the then-operational Hudson's Bay Company post at Lake Nichicun. With the help of modern maps and our Global Positioning System (GPS), we hope to complete what we call “Low's Gap” and paddle to Lake Nichicun. From there, our plan is to work our way up the Nichicun River (a tributary of the La Grande River) and over the height of land to the Eastmain River. We will descend the Eastmain to another abandoned HBC post, Neoskweskau, and then travel through a maze of lakes and creeks, both upstream and downstream, along a once well-travelled route to Lake Mistassini. From there, we will follow the traditional trade route of the Hudson's Bay Company brigades from Lake Mistassini, descend the Natastan branch of the Rupert River, the Marten River, and finally the Rupert itself, to end at Waskaganish on the coast of James Bay. The trip is about 1000 kilometres in length, with some 87 portages.

Although this route is rarely travelled in its entirety by canoe today, the country it passes through is by no means forgotten or abandoned. This is the traditional homeland of the Cree, who continue to trap and hunt in this area, and to use these ancient trails as highways (often in winter as snowmobile routes). We are also keenly aware that the Grand Council of the Cree have signed an agreement with the government of Quebec that gives the go-ahead to Quebec Hydro for the construction of the next phase of the James Bay Project — to create a new 600-square kilometre reservoir on the Eastmain (above the existing diversion to the La Grande watershed and the turbines at the massive dam on the La Grande River called LG-2,¹⁶ and to divert the mighty Rupert River northwards so some of its flow will also end up turning the turbines at LG-2. We may be one of the last parties to see these rivers unfettered and free, flowing as they have since the melting of the great ice sheets of the Pleistocene Period. It is unnerving to think that the water flowing under the canoe on this trip is already destined for reservoir on the Eastmain River and ultimately the turbines. In a few years, this will become a reality. In this case, it is the hunger of our civilization for electrical power that is creating this devastation that we think of as “The Turbines That Ate the Rivers of Quebec.”

Both Jim and I discuss, somewhat hesitantly, our plans with our true loves, of course. We are not the wild men of our youth any more. In fact, I guess we never were, outside of our imaginations. And it is somewhat arguable, for me at least, whether or not I have worked off my diaper-debt to my wife, Connie, from my last excursion, the third summer of retracing Alexander Mackenzie's route across Canada.¹⁷ Connie is a biologist and has spent many long bug-infested days researching wildlife in various far-flung parts of Canada. She is no stranger to long expeditions and is not overly concerned with my safety. “Paddling the boreal forest,” she smiles, “I'd like to go along too, except for Isaac.”

Jim is also “negotiating” with his wife, Michaela. Michaela, who is from England, has no concept of what we are facing. She prefers world travel with a nice hotel to stay in at the end of each day and is convinced we'll be quickly devoured by bears and wolves. While Jim attempts to explain the trip, she mutters something about the “quirkiness” (the actual term was slightly more colourful) of Canadian males who prefer to be eaten by bugs in a rainy bog than take their wives on a Caribbean cruise.

Connie loans us her beat-up old Toyota Tercel for the two-day drive to Mistissini. My mechanic friend Tom Gifford assured me that the car had a 90% chance of getting there. (“Don't ask me about the odds of it making it back to Ottawa,” he quipped.) But our friend Don Haines looks doubtful, and generously volunteers to accompany us to Mistissini in his somewhat spiffier station wagon. And so, on August 2, we load our gear — consisting mainly of one green 17.5' Hellman “Prospector” canoe and three huge very hard-to-lift packs — into our vehicles and start the long drive north.