646 
FOREST 
AND STREAM 
November, 1918 
WITH PADDLE AND PACK IN THE DOMINION 
IN THE CANADIAN WILDERNESS IS FOUND A RESTFUL CHANGE FOR ALL WHO 
ARE CHAINED TO LIFE’S WHEEL IN THE WHIRL AND BUSTLE OF THE CITY 
By H. L. RUSSELL 
Stumbling across the portages and slipping down the rivers, with now and then a stop to pitch a leaky canoe 
T vVO bankers, a business manager, two 
teachers, and a kid, make a curious 
combination for an outing, yet they 
were all imbued with a common purpose— 
to reach a place “far from the madding 
crowd” where not even the news of the 
War could penetrate. There are many 
places where this can be done in the States, 
but when you want the real simon pure 
article the Canadian wilds furnish a splendid 
objective for those who live in the Missis¬ 
sippi Valley. Duluth was our gateway. 
Boarding the sleeper for Fort Francis on 
the International boundary, we had the ex¬ 
perience of getting two sleeps for one fare, 
as we had to change sleepers at Fort Fran¬ 
cis for the east bound Port Arthur train. 
The conductor kindly stopped the train for 
us at Lawrence’s Trail, “Okokan” (Bull 
Moose) at daylight and we found ourselves 
on the shores of Lake Windigoostigwan at 
the delightful lodge of our friends. 
From this base station we struck into the 
wilderness and for the next twelve days 
were lost to the outside world, and, what 
was more important, it to us. Is there really 
anything that quite so restores jaded nerves 
and tones up a man as to be able to drop 
absolutely your vocation in life and lay hold 
of your avocation with all the best of a boy? 
There’s nothing like a hobby! Every man 
to keep his balance properly should have 
one, and when you choose one, make it as 
different as possible from your regular job 
in life as change is the secret of rest. 
The Chief went to a fashionable mountain 
hotel the other day for a few days’ rest, but 
every time he appeared in the lobby some¬ 
body waylaid him and proceeded to detail a 
most important plan—to them. The result 
was he retreated to his room, played soli¬ 
taire for two days, and came back to his 
desk vowing no more vacations for him. 
With a hobby in full possession, if you are 
a country dweller go to the city where you 
can see all you want of palaces, lobster or 
otherwise, and the great white way (unless 
perchance it is now shrouded in darkness by 
reason of lightless nights). But for those 
of us who are chained to life’s wheel in the 
whirl and bustle of the city, what a restful 
change this wilderness affords. 
I had my boy along because I believe in 
inoculating youngsters early in life with this 
wilderness germ. If they get it into their 
systems early enough, it will persist through 
life. My father gave it to me and now 
every summer my boy gets it from his dad. 
Of such are the lovers of Forest and Stream 
made, from generation to generation. 
I N those twelve days we paddled and por¬ 
taged our outfit over one hundred and 
twenty-five miles of black wilderness 
water; made twenty portages with an aggre¬ 
gate carry of nearly eight miles, counting 
the triple trips that we had to make at the 
start. When we left the railway near the 
water tank at Windigo that serves to stop 
the train long enough to take on water, 
civilization dropped out of sight. The trail 
led to the lake and from this sheet of water 
to the next and so on in a chain, broken 
only by the carries which it was necessary 
to cross in order to continue the journey. 
Our first initiation in portaging was a 
gruelling one. We were all fresh from the 
office and soft. The duffle bags were full of 
larder and to most of the party carrying the 
canoes was a new experience. The first 
portage—Lake Windigoostigwan to Elbow 
Lake—was the longest and much the hardest 
of the trip. Sixty-nine chains (practically 
seven-eighths of a mile), part of it over a 
On the scales he registered twelve pounds 
new trail which we brushed out to save a 
stiff, rocky climb, was our first tryout. 
Clambering over smooth, solid, rocky ledges, 
then walking a pole to keep out of the 
swamp while balancing a canoe on our 
shoulders tested out each of us thoroughly 
for the first day. When we reached the “put 
in” at the end of the third carry late in the 
afternoon, the white caps were dancing 
down Elbow Lake and we were glad of the 
excuse to make camp, even though the site 
was far from ideal in many ways. 
From Elbow to Crooked Pine and then 
through Ogema brought us into Partridge 
River, a tributary of the Seine, down which 
we were to voyage until we struck the rail¬ 
road at Atikokan. But in this country it 
makes but little difference whether you are 
on lake or stream, as the river is often only 
a series of wide spreads strung on a thread. 
These water highways mark the only trail 
where the foot of civilization has left its 
imprint. On the deep stretches of the 
waterway no trace of man is left, but over 
the portages, around the'obstructions in the 
stream, the foot of the Indian, the trapper, 
the courier du bois, the carrier of the sup¬ 
plies to the Hudson Bay posts for centuries, 
have passed. Like the buffalo trails on the 
prairies or the deer runways in the woods, 
these are often worn deep into the soil, 
if there is any chance to register the 
path of these human birds of passage. 
I N spite of the fact that our course led us 
beyond the pale of civilization and al¬ 
though we had cut loose from mankind 
and saw none of his ilk until the day we 
completed our trip at Atikokan, yet we ran 
into the trail of the dollar chaser deep in 
the recesses of the forest. Our map showed 
the claims of the gold hunters here and 
there, mainly along the streams, for even 
the prospector in this country would fare 
hard if he were to forsake the waterways. 
From our camp near Reserve Island we 
sought out an old claim, numbered 282 on 
the map. Crossing a meadow, the soft muck 
of which was all cut up with moose tracks, 
we threaded the trail back into the woods 
and came suddenly on a weatherbeaten 
stamp mill that had been built some 
twenty years ago. The boiler house 
had its machinery all intact; the bags 
of coal lying on the floor had burst 
open, and the contents were scattered 
about. The mill itself proved an equal sur- 
