1825, OCTOBER NOVEMBER. COW-A-LIDSK RIVER 61 



At four in the morning of the 24th, with the setting in of the tide, a violent 

 westerly wind obliged us to keep alongshore on the north side of the 

 river, and being unable to double Tongue Point, we hauled the canoe 

 over that neck of land. The wind moderated about nine and veered round 

 to the north-east, when the ship in the bay weighed anchor and put to 

 sea. We thus lost her only by an hour. We slept at the village of Com 

 Comly, the chief of the Chenook, on the north side of the river. This 

 old man sent his canoe and twelve Indians to ferry us across the river to 

 Baker's Bay on the south side, which they performed with great skill, 

 though we had the misfortune to be taken in a violent storm while in 

 the centre of the channel. We reached the shore in perfect safety, but 

 with the loss of a few pounds of flour and a little tea all our provisions 

 with the exception of a few ounces of chocolate which I had in my pocket 

 by the sea breaking over us, which put us to some inconvenience. We 

 camped for the night near Knight's River in Baker's Bay. 



The following day we made a short portage over the bite or neck 

 of Cape Disappointment to a small lake, out of which flowed a narrow 

 stream to the bay northward of the cape, which we descended, and put 

 on shore at dusk on Cape Foulweather. The rain fell in torrents without 

 intermission throughout the day. We sent the canoe to the Columbia 

 from this place in the evening, the Indians being anxious to return hastily 

 as we had not the means of feeding them. The wind about midnight 

 increased to a hurricane with sleet and hail, and twice were we obliged 

 to shift our camp, the sea rising so unusually high. We had no protection 

 save what a few pine branches and our wet blankets afforded, and no 

 food. Long ere daylight we were ready to leave Cape Foulweather, 

 which name it truly deserves, and we walked along the sandy beach 

 sixteen miles to Whitbey Harbour, where we found the village deserted, 

 our prospect not in the least bettered. We remained here several 

 days, faring scantily on roots of Sagittaria sagittifolia and Lupinus 

 littoralis, called in the Chenook tongue Somuchtan, and from continual 

 exposure to the cold and rain and the want of proper sustenance I be- 

 came greatly reduced. So soon as the weather permitted us to make a 

 large fire to attract the notice of our guide's friends residing on the 

 opposite side of the bay, they sent a canoe for us, with whom we 

 stayed some days, sharing of what they had to spare. 



We ascended this stream, the River Cheecheeler, sixty miles in an Indian 

 canoe, when from the deluges of rain and the advanced season our zeal cooled 

 and we gave up our voyage which was to have gone to its source. We 

 therefore paid our last guide, ' The Beard/ his fees for his attendance 

 and loan of his canoe, and took in our employ two fresh guides to conduct 

 us overland from this stream to the River Cow-a-lidsk, a stream of con- 

 siderable size which empties itself into the Columbia forty miles from the 

 ocean. This distance, though not more than forty miles, took two days. 

 The low places on the plain were lakes, the rivulets had overflowed 

 their banks, and the difficulty of ascending and descending the low 

 woody hills was increased thereby. It rained both days. We used all 

 the berries I had collected on this journey, and Mr. McKenzie suffered 



