TRAPPING THE THREE RIVER ZONE 
An Authentic Account of Trapping Life on 
the Headwaters of the Athabasca—Part Six 
OUR NEW HOME 
MOOSE—? 
LYNX CREEK LODGE 
A FTER leaving the Ninety Mile 
House that never-to-be-forgotten 
spring I married the little girl 
who waited for me at the end of the 
“Long, long trail a winding into the 
Land of My Dreams,” and thought my 
trapping days were over for good. 
Shortly after we were married we 
journeyed south to Washington, my 
childhood home, and visited my folks 
for several months. As fall drew nigh, 
the call of the Northland hit us so 
hard that the latter part of November 
saw us on our way back to Canada. 
It was pretty late in the season to 
think of trapping so I contented myself 
with catching a few furs in the neigh¬ 
borhood of the settlement; at the same 
time holding down a steady job in the 
railway office at Edson. 
I stuck to my job fairly well but the 
indoor occupation proved too much for 
me and my health failed miserably. It 
became evident to both the wife and 
myself that something must be done, 
either a change for an outdoor job or 
an interview with the undertaker. 
After much discussion we decided 
unanimously on a winter on the Atha¬ 
basca, where I would be free to trap 
and hunt as much as I liked. 
The latter part of July I was granted 
leave of absence from the office, and 
the wife and I hired a team and light 
buggy and drove over the old trail to 
Athabasca Crossing, where my old 
friends, the Rapeljes, now lived. It 
was an enjoyable trip, despite the 
roughness of the trail; we saw quite 
a bit of game, including several moose 
and deer to say nothing of smaller- 
feathered game. There was quite a 
change in the old place at the Atha¬ 
basca—Rapelje had torn down many 
of the old buildings and replaced them 
By RAYMOND THOMPSON 
with new ones, and a part of the 
meadows had been broken up and 
sowed to oats. We found my old 
friends in good health and more en¬ 
thusiastic than ever over their wilder¬ 
ness home. Mrs. Rapelje was es¬ 
pecially glad to hear that we were go¬ 
ing to settle near them for the winter 
as it was lonesome at times with no 
women to visit her. 'We left with the 
promise to return the following month. 
We purchased a couple of cayuses, 
ones that were broken to ride, drive, 
or pack, and transported our belong¬ 
ings in an old democrat from Edson 
to Athabasca Crossing. This trip was 
a story in itself and we had a very 
trying time in making some of the long 
steep hills. At times it was necessary 
for us to take a part of the load at a 
time and return later for the other. 
We arrived at the Crossing about two 
o’clock in the morning, tired and worn 
out but happy. 
The first thing on the program was 
to build a comfortable log-house; this 
we did with our own hands and no one 
to help us, as Mr. Rapelje was very 
busy getting his own place ready for 
the winter. My wife was a wonderful 
help to me, for she could handle an axe 
far better than a lot of men. Our cabin 
was twenty-two feet long by eighteen 
wide, inside measurement, and when 
completed was very warm and cozy. 
We had two stoves, a heater and one 
to cook on, so were well prepared to 
combat the rigorous winter. 
I never think of that winter without 
thanking God for the mate I had won, 
and I often wonder what would have 
happened had I married a girl who was 
totally unfit for such a life. Many 
girls would have shrunk from such 
crude housekeeping equipment as I 
was able to supply; but my wife was 
very proud of our little home, and since 
then has often voiced a longing to try 
the same thing over. I think it is a 
genuine tragedy for a nature-loving 
man to wed a girl who hankers for 
nothing but society. 
More than once my wife was called 
upon to face hazards that would have 
chilled the ardor of any but the bravest, 
and never once did she fail me. In 
order to get up to my old traplines to 
the north, it became necessary for us 
to cross the Athabasca; there being no 
other means at hand we started out 
on a raft. The river, swollen by a 
week’s steady downpour of rain, was 
ugly and swift. I asked the pal if she 
would rather not tackle it, but she 
laughed scornfully. We landed about 
a half mile downstream, but on the 
other side. Some time later we re¬ 
turned from up above (toward Kim¬ 
berly Lake) and of course were obliged 
to take the same raft to carry us back. 
The current bore directly toward the 
shore from whence we started and we 
drifted downstream a quarter of a mile 
before we could get away from that 
shore. There was a bad place below 
there, where the force of the current 
bore one against a log jamb and I was 
afraid of it. I worked desperately and 
the girl helped me as much as was in 
her power. When we finally landed 
on an island, I was so exhausted that 
I could hardly breathe and it was some 
minutes before I recovered. At that, 
I had to wade a narrow channel that 
separated the island from the main¬ 
land and carry my wife. 
After completing our little cabin and 
getting things ready for the winter, ! 
my wife and I started out for a trip 
across the Baptiste and up into Mars- 
Pagc 300 
