go EXPLORATIONS IN THE FAR NORTH 



The party leaving Edmonton on the 26th of April, 1893, 

 consisted of Captain "Joe" Faville, an old English metis, 

 master of the "Grahame," then lying at Chippewyan; Captain 

 J. W. Mills, going in to take charge of the "Wrigley," the 

 writer and four engaged servants of the Company. To "go 

 in," by the way, is to descend the Athabasca; to return to civili- 

 zation is to " go outside.'' We passed the last farm houses on 

 the first day. The snow still lay in the poplar thickets. The 

 nights were cold, the road rough and muddy, and the dreary 

 monotony of the scrubby bush was yet unrelieved by the 

 awakening of spring. 



The officer at Edmonton had supplied us with " everything 

 that we required" until we should reach the landing. Upon 

 opening our stores we found tea, bacon, and a short allowance 

 of bread. This thoughtful genius had concluded that we should 

 begin our training for the straight meat and tea of the North by 

 foregoing butter, sugar, etc., while we still had such luxuries as 

 bacon and bread. As we discussed at mealtime the considera- 

 tion of our commissariat, Captain Mills voiced the sentiments 

 of the party in select colloquialisms, taken from the several 

 languages with which he was acquainted and which he could 

 combine most artistically, even for a steamboat captain. 



On the third day we followed the course of the Towwatin- 

 now Creek beyond the divide between the waters flowing to 

 the Arctic Ocean and to Hudson's Bay. The appearance of 

 the country had changed; the sandy hills were scantily clothed 

 with "jack pines," and the spruce became more abundant on 

 the lower grounds. A few Indian lodges were seen at a dis- 

 tance with a herd of ponies near them. 



We overtook several metis freighters, whose lank and bony 

 cayuses crept along at a pace that must have taken a week to 

 reach the landing. They slept at night under their wagons, 

 while their horses grazed upon the dried grass of the preceding 

 season — their only food. Upon reaching the crest of the hill 

 overlooking the picturesque valley of the Athabasca, at its 

 northward bend, we were greatly disappointed to behold the 

 river still locked in the ice of winter. We were compelled to 

 wait four days before it opened and we could safely follow the 

 retreating floes. The lakes about the country were still frozen 

 so that there was no shooting to be had, though the waterfowl 

 were passing daily. 



