444 



Sierra Club Bulletin 



of grub, and, as we had a cache at the forks, we did not want to kill a 

 moose until we absolutely had to, as we had a game warden along with 

 us, but finally we had to do it. But just when we wanted one we could 

 not get it and lived on squirrels and bear-root for a couple of days. 

 When we did get a moose he was the oldest and toughest bull in the 

 province of Alberta and we could not eat it, but boiled large pails of it 

 and drank the broth, which was not very satisfying, and we were get- 

 ting weaker each day. On the 29th the water started rising rapidly, and 

 on the 30th the ice pulled about fifteen miles. We gave it an hour and 

 followed. That was the most exciting afternoon of the whole trip. The 

 river was running like a millrace and full of rocks and stranded ice- 

 bergs, and we went over two falls that we could not see on our way up, 

 as the ice was level over them in February. We went under both times, 

 but the prospect of grub ahead cheered us and we only laughed. Round- 

 ing a bend there was ice jammed on the right; so we steered for the 

 left, and swinging sharply around the point a big boulder loomed up 

 directly in our path and we struck it head on and the ropes that lashed 

 the front end together parted and the raft spread out like a fan and all 

 our stuff fell through. We caught my sled, which had all our speci- 

 mens on and most of our equipment, and managed to get it back up on 

 the raft and crosswise of the logs, as the rear end was up on the boulder 

 out of the water. Then I got a rope and got down in the icy water and 

 pulled the logs together and made temporary repairs while cakes of ice 

 striking the rear end threatened to start us on again. With a shove we 

 were away again and poling madly for an eddy on the opposite side a 

 half mile below. We just made it and tied up and took stock of our 

 losses. The game warden had lost everything except his camera and 

 glasses, which he had on his back at the time. All our cooking outfit 

 was gone except one tin plate and a tea-pail and all but one piece of the 

 moose meat. Making all safe again we started on, the poor dogs having 

 all they could do to keep up on the shore. We found the dog-feed pail 

 on a bar and recovered it, but that was all, mile after mile of mad water 

 and ice cakes until our nerves were strained to breaking point and 

 poles were broken or wrenched from our hands, and we would land and 

 get a fresh supply. Just before dark we caught up to the ice again, now 

 piled ten to twelve feet high. Wet and cold, we landed and hung our 

 things up to let the water drip out of them and built a big fire of dry 

 Cottonwood, and, supperless, lay down exhausted. In the morning the 

 ice was out of sight, but too much still running to risk rafting; so two 

 of us started at daylight for the cache five miles below. Had to build a 

 small raft to get over to it and bring some back to our side, where we 

 cooked some rice, bacon and cornmeal mush. It was so long since I 

 had had a square meal that two cups of mush made me feel as if I had 

 swallowed a bale of hay, and I could hold no more. The next day we 

 moved down to the cache and added a couple more logs to our raft and 

 ran out into the large rapid-flowing Wapite, and in twenty hours made 



