The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



the boat nearest the bank we were ascending. 

 Then I pulled with all my weight to turn the 

 bow across stream, and at the same moment the 

 boys on the bank hauled for all they were worth, 

 which strain broke out the rope from the tree 

 it had fouled. This accomplished, I slackened 

 up my short rope in the boat, thus allowing her 

 head to turn once more to the bank, when she 

 was again hauled along until held up once more 

 by some other obstacle. 



Under such conditions the journey took us 

 five and a half days ; we had rocks and rapids 

 innumerable to negotiate, and very often anxious, 

 exciting work. At last the lake and the Indian 

 house. The tow-rope showed the hard usage to 

 which it had been subjected : it was worn out, 

 and useless. But without it the ascent of the 

 river would have been impossible. My ribs also 

 showed signs of wear and tear, many bruises in 

 blue showing where the short rope had caught 

 me when hauling on it, for I had constantly 

 taken a turn round my body and then round the 

 thwarts in order to get more purchase. 



Early next morning we started to row across 

 the lake to a shack that Dawson had built a 

 year before. The scenery was magnificent, 

 mountains and glaciers coming right down to 

 the lake. The distance we had to go was about 

 three miles, a stiff pull, for there was a strong head 

 wind blowing, and, in consequence, quite a big 



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